Hello All,
A couple of pictures… proof of the T-shirt “sweatshop” in Wilmington, moving SGP shirts. Caught red-handed in the act are James Burton and Hilarie.. looks like they are busy rolling shirts… whoops.. I better get back to work before they notice that I’m goofing off…
kt
‘olla,
There is an old industry adage that gets knocked around as a sorta joke/sorta truism that I want to share with you:
The Seven Stages of Production
(excess baggage deliberately omitted, go ahead and Google other 5)
I’ve done quite a few shows since those humble days at WECT and have seen those stages in various forms via production to production. The one thing I have learned about that is that the truly great managers know how to build on the positive and solve potential problems before they get any bigger than they need to. In this business, a mole hill can turn into a mountain pretty damn fast for worse – or better.
Remember your first job, or even your latest job, somebody had to teach you the ropes… right? Most probably gave you only enough information to get by, nothing more… you learned the rest yourself. A few people go the extra mile, go above and beyond what is traditionally called “getting the new guy up to speed” and those folks are called mentors…
I’ve been incredibly lucky to have had some amazing mentors – mentors who have become friends: Garrett (who you’ve met), Bob Girolami, Jim Dyer, Jim Davidson (see IMDB)… and of course, Mark Schwahn and Joe Davola and most importantly my business partner Hilarie Burton. Each of them has taught me to see the humor in awkward situations, creativity in solving crisises, show resiliency and professionalism at all times – and above all treat everyone with respect.
My mentors know how to surround themselves with talented, positive people. I’m still learning how amazing that can be.
As I write this, I’m seeing 234,500 page reads, from 146 countries along with 769 Registered Followers,
And enough T-shirts selling in one day to be able to finally see a self-sustainable company… all in the last 3 months.
Shout from the rooftops with me:
The SoGoPro Crew Rocks!
Infinite possibilities…
Onward!
kt
Share with us some of your Mentors… and how they have enriched your lives…
Hilarie and Nick tell us secrets… what one aren’t they telling us?
i’ve pretty much left it up to mr. nichols to verse you on mr. booth. i trust him.
i do owe you something though, don’t i?
okay.
i’ll tell you what the palm of his hand looks like.
his left hand.
*each of his fingertips are different.
*his pinky is short.
*his ring finger is long.
*his knuckles are noticeable.
*the flesh beneath his thumb is greatly raised, and is home to many small weak lines.
*the flesh at the bottom of his hand below the pinky is greatly raised, and is home to a deep X, and another mark that resembles a whirlpool.
*there is a good amount of flesh beneath his pointer finger.
*the middle of his palm sinks low.
*his head line is deep.
*his head line starts below his pointer finger and extends with a slight downward curve below the ring finger.
*his head line sits far from his heart line.
*his heart line is also deep.
*his life line begins above his head line and crosses through it.
*his life line and head line are intercepted by several Xs.
*there is a deep semi-circle that extends from the left of his middle finger to the right of his ring finger.
*the lines at the base of his thumb are broken.
*his destiny line starts from across his life line, and while broken twice along the way, proceeds straight up to the middle finger.
*there is a star on the fingertip of his pointer finger.
scavenge away.
yours.
n.gray
we love names. this you already know.
from pedestrian, you have already met lincoln booth and mona mills. and soon, maybe soon, you’ll meet a young boy named tar and a curious hitchhiker named harley dean delphin.
sloooooowly, you are starting to meet Boyfriend and Girlfriend from the true-love tale of Boyfriend and Girlfriend. with my writing, i usually start with names. this short is a just example of that. a boy named Girlfriend, a girl named Boyfriend… there exists a story in both of those names whether it’s told or not. it lives there. it begs for telling. the names are strong when on their own, and serendipitious as one. where these names came from was my pal’s dog, girlfriend. one of my own personal rules of naming (and the experts might disagree) is that a name should be fun to say, and when i see that little mutt, i say, ‘hey, girlfriend,’ and her tail starts a-waggin’, and that’s sure fun.
i’ve been a-workin’ on my hopeful second feature called the dying words of edison strange. yep. there’s a name there. edison strange is special. you’ll see. i wrote a character for a pretty lady you may know, and that character’s name is oh-so-good, oh-so-grand. but you’ll have to wait on that one.
there’s a line from a play i’m developing called population: 8. it occurs amongst a whirlwind of other lines within a dream that a woman named ugly is having about her love-gone-missing, jacob john stanley. “Jacob met a man named Frostbite. A man named Fire. A man named Rickshaw. A man named Spider.” even out of context, i like that line. i like those names. what i don’t like is that i’m realizing i owe a rewrite to that darn play…
names i love.
shane. from the eponymous shane.
ruth fisher. from six feet under.
charlotte “chuck” charles. from pushing daisies.
enoch emery. from wise blood.
shadowcat/kitty pryde. my favorite x-man.
rizzo. from grease.
boner. from growing pains.
tybalt. from romeo and juliet.
jay gatsby and daisy buchanan. from the great gatsby.
crumpet. from santaland diaries.
huckleberry finn. from the adventures of tom sawyer.
miss havisham. from great expectations.
sylar. from heroes.
heathcliff. from wuthering heights.
boo radley. from to kill a mockingbird.
indiana jones. duh.
and for some reason, i can’t quite articulate, nearly every character from scream. sidney prescott, billy loomis, cotton weary, um, gale weathers…
and hilarie burton.
and kelly tenney.
and austin nichols.
sweet lord, do i love those names!
now. kindly.
tell me the names you love.
and oh, p.s.
much thanks for those sweet birthday wishes! my allergies punished me dearly on my birthday, not to mention i worked and had play rehearsal (or as hilarie calls it, “practice”) but you all truly made it a memorable april 2nd for this guy…
yours.
n.gray
everyone needs a friend
even if they’re eight feet tall and furry
everyone needs a listener
even if they drink til everything goes blurry
harvey was a bunny
he could be funny
no one could hear him
but one tall man who was slim
the whole world thought him crazy
Elwood P. Dowd
an inconsequential drunk
just a face in the crowd
a lunatic
a no-name
a has-been
a never-was
or…
a prophet
a priest
an angel
a dreamer…
your faithful servant,
austin nichols
Nick and I are the same age. But he is 3 months older.
Wiser. Stronger. Faster.
I have more gray hair, but I swear he’s gonna
go bald first. Or not. He does have an amazing
head of hair.
This year we turn 27.
The 27th year is cursed.
All the greats die at 27. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin,
Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain.
Nick will not die. Not on my watch.
I’ve already hired a militia to watch him
around the clock. They are lurking, making sure
that no radios fall in his bathtub. They are there
to assist him crossing the street. They sit next to him
at dinner to ensure that he doesn’t choke on the veal
cheeks at Caprice Bistro.
They’ve even replaced all the do-dads in his medicine
cabinet with placebos.
Yes, my darling is under close watch, because 27
is going to be his year. This is the year he will
get his movie made. The year he will win a radio call in
contest. The year he will find a hundred dollar bill on
the street.
The year he will save a baby from a burning building
and get the key to the city. I see big
things for Mr. Gray. And I see things. A lot.
On the anniversary of his great birth, please celebrate
with us and tell us what you see for our dear, talented,
dashing Nick.
Love you madly, my friend.
xoxo
hil
Hey Guys,
SGP team out on the street… watch out Wilmington!
kt
those i keep close are few in number and great in practice. i’m shy. i’m awkward. and in the past, i have been cold, but since have mostly outgrown such iciness. (such ickiness, too.) there have been those so generous, keepers of chisels that have hammered away my go-away demeanor until i resigned my friendship to them. i love these people dearly. and so, often without knowing it (neither they nor i), they wriggle their way into my words and pictures.
jay moore is just that, a short love letter to my near-and-dear, one i will call S.
i met S. my sophomore year at emerson college. our first night together left us with a photograph of her tongue firmly pressed against my face. while that reads rather loose, i assure you it was comfort. from there on, it was the best of times. and to this day, we’ve yet to experience the worst of times. i doubt we will. we are honest in each others ears. we touch too much. we kiss on the lips. hey, S., i miss your face…
for my thesis in college, a study in postmodern theory, i adapted moulin rouge for the stage, and S. was my satine. looking back, i realize now she was my first muse. so yes, S. is beautiful. she is beautiful in all the ways you would expect, and as much so, in the ways you would not.
lincoln booth knows he is strange, and for that, may pretend that he wants to be lonely. but as i know well, all of us so strange and lonely want a friend. be it a pigeon that harasses our window or our very own harvey bunny. or what is actually needed, a true real person. i knew i wanted lincoln to have a friend. jay moore became that for him.
now jay is not S. quite simply for the reason that S. is my age, and jay (J.) is probably past forty. instead jay is what i imagined S. would butterfly into.
jay is an actress, rather, jay is a movie star. there is a difference, yes?
jay is a movie star second, and a very real person first.
the clothes jay wears fit her perfectly.
jay is a statue. a monument.
jay speaks in compliments.
if jay hurt herself, you would never ever laugh. but she would.
jay is a ten. she thinks she is a seven.
jay is a mama bear.
jay sees things that lincoln doesn’t.
jay keeps it real.
jay knows when you are looking at her.
jay wants you to cut the crap.
jay is the love child of susan sarandon and laura linney. thank god for science. thank god for imagination.
less sunburnt than yesterday, but still yours,
n.gray
Well, after a long sunny day of shooting on the short film…
(Yep… Nick and kt got a little sunburned…)
We are sitting around enjoying a couple of freezer pops and shooting the breeze when
the topic comes up of who were a couple of actors that inspired us
to get into this industry? I just happened to have a camera nearby…
Maybe Nick’s is a little tongue in cheek…
kt
Southern Gothic Productions 