1. Making Mean Creek wasn't easy.
It took seven years between the time I wrote the first draft of the
script and the first day of production. In between, I optioned the script
twice, rewrote it probably a hundred times, went to film school, wrote
four other scripts, won a couple screenwriting contests, made three
short films, ran my credit rating into the dirt and nearly gave up on
a career in film at least fifty-five times. Of course, there were a
lot of disappointments along the route that would eventually lead to
Sundance, Cannes and Worldwide distribution. Disappointment comes with
the territory. However, to find the promised land, there had to be something
more than disappointment, some other unifying theme that kept Mean
Creek on course. For me, that theme is encapsulated by the strange
yellow sign that is placed at the center of this text.
2. The unifying theme I'm talking about is generosity of spirit, which
is hard to come by, and which is represented here in the form of a handmade
sign that was created by Mean Creek's location
manager Simon Hill, who (in the spirit of many other incredible people
who made their imprint on Mean Creek before
and after him) labored all night 24 hours before our first day of production
to create probably thirty duplicate handmade signs, so that the production
drivers could easily navigate their way from the hotels to the river
where we were shooting. What so impressed me about these signs (when
I saw the first one at 5am on route to the river on Day One of the shoot)
was the care and creativity Simon had put into the creation of each
individual sign, so that the production would have something unique
and beautiful to look for when lost or when confused about which way
to go. Of course, Simon could have taken the path of least resistance
and made fully functional signs on a computer to have them printed at
Kinko's in half-an-hour, but Simon chose instead to express through
the creation of these signs his exuberance for his job, his art and
therefore life itself. For me, his signs were more than signs. For me,
his signs were at once an indication of the spirit of generosity that
existed amongst my crew, and also a reminder that I too should do my
job with enthusiasm and joy.

3. Although some on our production team may have seen these signs and
thought Simon a whack-job, after I saw them, I thought Simon had done
us all a service. And now when I look at this sign, which by the way
hangs in my living room by my desk where I write, I think of the continuous
theme of generosity that allowed me to make Mean
Creek. There were friends who read the script, mentors who helped
me shape it, optimistically conceived contests I won that helped amp
the movie's profile, film professors who encouraged me to continue
with my pursuits, a cinematographer who refused to settle for a bad
idea, thirteen-year-old actors who took mature risks on set in front
of skeptical eyes, an editor who refused to settle for a bad moment,
a story board artist who made such beautiful drawings that several people
asked me if they could have one to frame, and so on and so forth. What
makes all this amazing, is the fact that most of this energy and product
was created by people who never got paid a dime. Or who were paid the
equivalent of a dime.
4. As I said at the start of this little missive, making Mean
Creek wasn't easy, you certainly couldn't buy your way out of
a problem and you couldn't pay people anything remotely equivalent to
the effort they had to exert. Simply put, if not for a continual stream
of generosity from the people who I collaborated with, who kept each
other afloat and motivated by their handmade signs, by their homegrown
and downright inspiring passion, making Mean Creek
literally would not have been possible.