Why I left Production to build the only business model I could trust

For 10 years I worked in the unpredictable, high-pressure world of physical film and television production. I climbed the ranks the way most do, no shortcuts and no safety nets, from the early days as a PA running on four hours of sleep to coordinating managing the moving pieces of network series, studio-backed features, and award-winning festival films. I knew what it meant to hold a production together when the stakes were high, when a location fell through hours before shooting, when a key prop didn’t arrive, or when an actor’s contract dispute threatened to bring everything to a halt.

I came into this business through storytelling. I believed in the work. I believed, like so many still do, that if everything fell into place at the right time, the money would follow. It’s the myth the industry runs on and now more than ever…it’s wrong. Talent doesn’t automatically get funded. Good ideas don’t move simply because they matter. Even the most brilliant packages can’t close if the business structure is missing.

By the time we reached 2025, the film industry I knew had changed beyond recognition. The 2023  strikes didn’t just delay projects, they revealed how fragile the entire system already was. The studio slate is now dominated by tentpoles and sequels. Original mid-budget films, the $10–$40 million range that used to launch new voices, have all but vanished. Between 2010 and 2024, the number of these projects greenlit by major studios fell by over 60%. Streaming, once positioned as the great equalizer, has shifted from growth to contraction. Completed films are being shelved for tax write-offs, catalog titles quietly removed to cut liabilities, and content budgets reduced. Theatrical release slots for original work have been consumed by franchise dominance. The risk tolerance at the top is near 0.

The impact on independent film has been devastating. Independents have always been the pressure valve of the industry, the place where creative risk could still find a path to reward but the financing gap has widened to the point where most projects never make it past a PDF pitch. In the US, fewer than 2% of independent films seeking outside financing reach full funding. Of those rare few, 97% fail to recoup their investment. This isn’t pessimism, it’s data confirmed by multiple market analyses, including Noam Kroll’s widely-cited breakdown of indie film profitability.

When people approach me now, the conversations are painfully familiar.

“We have all the experience, credits, and talent we don’t need your expertise, just the financing”“We need 8 figures - fast - for reasons I can’t really explain.”“We have no budget and no money, but will you work for free?”

And when the answer is no: 

“You must be a scammer! That’s not how the industry works! F*ck You!” 

Except it is how the industry works, at least if you’re doing it legally, ethically, and with investor trust in mind. Raising OR securing capital is not about enthusiasm or urgency, it’s about discipline. Without it, the conversation is over before it begins.

For me, the turning point wasn’t theoretical. It was personal. After a decade in production, I hit a wall. The old paths to steady work collapsed. Studios weren’t hiring at pre-pandemic levels. Streaming wasn’t expanding. Independent projects I had aligned with were stalling out for lack of funds. There was no payroll job to pivot to, no studio retainer to fall back on. I had nothing to fall back on and survival meant I had to create a new path.

I didn’t set out to start a business, I set out to keep myself alive in an industry that had stopped offering stability. What I did have was a network of serious investors, a deep understanding of the operational and logistical realities of filmmaking, and hard-earned insight into why so many projects failed to close financing. I decided that if I couldn’t guarantee capital, I could guarantee that the projects I worked on were truly investment-ready. That meant shifting from production execution to capital strategy by building structures that could survive first contact with an investor.

Over time, that became its own model. One that doesn’t pretend, doesn’t pad, and doesn’t flinch from hard truths. There are rules I cannot break. I cannot misrepresent a project to an investor and every claim must be backed by verifiable evidence. I cannot skip the steps that make a project investable because proper packaging, market analysis, legal documentation, and risk mitigation are not optional. I cannot work for free on speculation because if a project can’t justify paying a professional upfront, it won’t convince an investor later. And I will not attach my name, or the trust of my investors, to something that doesn’t meet the threshold for fundability. These rules are not about being difficult, they’re about protecting the project, the investor, and my own credibility.

The market backs up the need for that approach. Investors in 2025 are behaving differently. Private capital is moving toward co-investment models, preferring shared risk across multiple partners rather than taking on a film alone. They are demanding multiple revenue streams, foreign pre-sales, IP exploitation, brand integrations before even considering a term sheet. Investment timelines are shorter as many want a path to liquidity in 24 to 36 months. And more capital is coming from sectors outside entertainment such as tech, real estate, family offices which brings higher standards for due diligence and lower tolerance for vague promises.

I’ve seen what happens when these realities are ignored. In one case, a producer came to me in early 2025 with a $11 million package they swore was 80% funded. Within 2 weeks of basic due diligence, 2 of the 3 “committed” investors walked. The letters of intent were non-binding and expired. The talent attachment had a pay-or-play clause that voided without firm financing. The budget had no contingency line. Within a month, the project collapsed, not because the script was bad, but because the structure was paper-thin.

These are preventable failures BUT they require a shift in mindset. Independent film cannot operate like a passion project that hopes to stumble into funding. It has to operate like a capital-intensive business. That means realistic timelines, professional packaging, credible financial models, and investor-ready structures from day 1.

The studio system will not save us. The streamers will not suddenly reverse course and start funding mid-budget originals. If independent film is going to survive, it will be because creators and producers have accepted that investor logic matters as much as creative vision and that the 2 must be aligned before the first check is ever cut.

I know this because I’ve lived it. I’ve kept projects alive when there was no safety net. I’ve had to figure out how to move forward when every old path was blocked. And I’ve built my work around making sure that if a project reaches an investor, it does so with a foundation strong enough to withstand scrutiny. 

In 2025, the only projects that will survive are the ones built right the first time.