Screenwriter / writer-director · Atlanta

I want to break you.

Not shock you. Shock is cheap, and most of it is forgotten by the parking lot.

I write movies about people who have lived inside an explanation long enough that it starts to rot around them: the marriage is fine, the grief is handled, the thing they did was understandable, tomorrow will be different.

Sometimes the cleanest way into that is two people in a room. Sometimes I need a ghost, a war, a pit bull, an AI wife, a black hole, or Glen Powell being perfectly pleasant in Missouri while somebody else loses his mind.

I write across genres because genre is a tool. If the movie is still riding home with you, it did its job.

Poster for THE BATTLES OF BIRDTOWN

Featured screenplay · Current priority

The Battles of Birdtown

After his mother's death, a Philadelphia musician returns to the Missouri town he escaped, where his estranged father, old friends and soldier brother's absence force him to confront how little he knows about the people he left behind.

This is the one I’m trying to make.

It started as my MFA thesis, which means I have had enough years to be embarrassed by old versions of it.

Since then it has been through festivals, outside readers, notes I agreed with, notes I ignored, notes I fought, and notes that turned out to be right. The script kept surviving because every serious pass found another thing I had made too easy.

I know this town. I know these people. I know how funny a family can be while everyone in the room is avoiding the same sentence.

If you want one script to figure out what I do, start here.

  • Semifinalist — Atlanta Film Festival
  • Finalist — Richmond International Film Festival

The rest of the shelf.

Birdtown is the cleanest place to start. It is not the only place I go.

There are soldiers, ghosts, bad marriages, dead friends, a pit bull who refuses the job people bred him for, technology that gives a grieving man exactly what he asked for, and a filmmaker who commits felonies because admitting the movie is dead would require admitting something worse.

Pick the problem that interests you.

See all the work
Poster for THE RESERVIST

THE RESERVIST

A punk Army Reservist facing deployment to Iraq turns to his active-duty younger brother, but after his brother is killed in action he considers vanishing rather than reporting—and must decide whom his refusal would leave behind.

Feature · Military family drama / war-era character drama

  • Finalist — Richmond International Film Festival
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Poster for KING OF THE DEAD

KING OF THE DEAD

A lonely repairman discovers a door that returns the dead at the cost of twenty-five years of his life per hour, then devotes decades to undoing the one loss no bargain can repair.

Feature · Southern gothic fantasy / family drama

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Poster for SOULECHO

SOULECHO

A grieving husband reconstructs his dead wife with an AI service, but when the replica reveals a marriage he never knew, he must choose between preserving a version that agrees with him and accepting the real woman he lost.

Feature · Near-future science-fiction / psychological relationship drama

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Night road seen through a car windshield

Making now

KEEP DRIVING

I spent enough years waiting for somebody else to decide whether I was allowed to make a movie.

This one is small enough that I can stop pretending permission is the problem.

One car. One night. Two people who need the other person to stay alive for reasons neither one wants to admit.

I intend to make it.

Script locked / production development and planning.

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Selected Journal

The scripts are where I lie on purpose.

This is where I try not to.

Movies. Family. Death. Religion. Work. Failure. Taste. Ambition. Getting older. Trying to become somebody I can stand.

Every once in a while I get several hundred words in and discover the asshole I was arguing with was me.

Read the Journal

The receipts.

I can tell you I believe in the work. That is not evidence.

These are the placements, selections and recognitions from people who had no obligation to agree with me.

Every result stays at the level the awarding organization published. A quarterfinalist is a quarterfinalist. A finalist is a finalist. Nobody gets promoted because the better word looks nicer in a bio.

If you know what to do with the work, talk to me.

Represent it. Finance it. Develop it. Produce it. Publish it. Hire me to write something else.

Or tell me I got something wrong and bring the receipts.

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