For nearly 25 years, I’ve spent nights and weekends chasing stories—writing, shooting, and editing short films with a friend I’ve known since high school. What began as a creative outlet became a ritual of experimentation, collaboration, and storytelling.
The Hobby That Stuck
It all started with a favor. Eric, my longtime friend, was working on a video project for a high school English class and asked if I could help out. I said yes, not knowing that moment would kick off a creative partnership—and a passion—that would shape both of our lives. We quickly discovered that we loved the process: coming up with ideas, figuring out how to shoot them, editing them together, and making something we could actually show people.
In 2002, Eric—who was friends with the folks organizing a new competition called the 48 Hour Film Project—convinced me we should give it a shot. We signed up, not even knowing if we could actually shoot and edit a film in two days. But we figured: what have we got to lose?
If you’re not familiar, the 48 Hour Film Project is a global filmmaking competition where teams are handed a random genre, a character, a line of dialogue, and a prop on Friday night—and then have exactly 48 hours to write, shoot, edit, and submit a finished short film by Sunday evening. There’s no time for overthinking or perfectionism. You run on instinct, adrenaline, collaboration, and lots of coffee.
That first film—a detective/cop story called Go (now sadly lost to history)—was rough. But we did it. And once we knew we could do it, we kept going. The 30+ films since have been funny, quirky, heartfelt, chaotic, and sometimes accidentally great. Other times… less so. But every single one taught us something—about storytelling, teamwork, resourcefulness, and what’s possible when you just start.
Somewhere along the way, we gave ourselves a name—Cup O’Meat Productions—a nod to the slightly offbeat, slightly irreverent flavor that’s always defined our work. It started as an inside joke, but over time, it’s become part of our identity as a creative team that’s not afraid to get a little weird.








Selected Short Films by Cup O’Meat Productions
Unexpected Lessons
When we made that first film, I was working as a graphic designer at CBRE, formatting property flyers for industrial buildings—not exactly the most creatively fulfilling work. I was eager to stretch my creative muscles, and filmmaking quickly became the outlet I needed—and, more importantly, the training ground I didn’t know I was looking for.
At first, it felt like pure fun. But I started to notice something: I was developing skills I’d end up using every day in my marketing life.
Leadership showed up fast. When you’ve got 48 hours to pull off a film, someone has to steer the ship. You learn how to make decisions quickly, motivate a team, and keep things moving—even when the unexpected hits. That ability to patiently lead under pressure became one of my greatest strengths.
Storytelling was the constant thread. There’s no time for fluff in a weekend film. You get to the emotional core fast, strip away anything unnecessary, and focus on what will make an audience feel something. That same discipline applies to marketing—cutting through noise with a message that connects.
I also built confidence—in my creative instincts and in my ability to execute. Each film pushed me to trust myself and my team, solve problems on the fly, and make the most of limited resources. That confidence carried into pitches, presentations, and campaign strategy sessions.
Then came process and organization. You’d be surprised how much detailed planning goes into a spontaneous-seeming creative sprint. Timelines, shot lists, edit plans—it all has to run like clockwork. Those muscles translated directly to managing complex campaigns with calm and clarity.
And, of course, creativity and technical skills. From camera work and lighting to editing and sound design, I quickly learned how use my tools to bring ideas to life. That scrappy creativity has served me well in lean teams and tight turnarounds.
What started as a creative escape from the beige world of real estate flyers became a long-running masterclass in leadership, storytelling, and making things happen.
Why I Keep Doing It
After all these years—and all those sleepless weekends—you might think I’d have moved on. But I haven’t. And honestly, I don’t see that changing anytime soon.
There’s something deeply rewarding about the process. Every time we dive into another 48 Hour Film Project, it’s like jumping into the unknown with nothing but a deadline and a loose idea of what’s possible. And yet, somehow, a story always emerges. That challenge—to make something from nothing, to build a narrative with limited time, tools, and sleep—never gets old. It keeps me creatively sharp and reminds me how much you can accomplish when you commit, collaborate, and stay open to discovery.
But even more than that, I keep coming back because of the people. Over the years, we’ve built a small, scrappy, and wildly talented team—friends, collaborators, and fellow creatives who bring their full selves to every project. They show up with ideas, energy, and an uncanny ability to turn even the most ridiculous concept into something real. There’s a deep trust that’s formed between us—a shared creative shorthand that only comes from years of working under pressure and having each other’s backs. Cup O’Meat Productions has truely found our rhythm.
Perhaps most importantly, this work brings me back to the “why” of creativity. In the day-to-day of marketing—where there are strategies, stakeholders, and slide decks—it’s easy to forget the pure joy of making something simply because you love it. These films keep that spark alive. They ground me in the thrill of telling a good story well and remind me that great work, whether it’s a film or a campaign, is always a team sport.
This past weekend, we completed our 36th short film, Sketches of a Murder. It came together like most of our others—fast, fun, and full of collaboration—organized chaos, but with a purpose. It’s the rhythm we’ve built, and honestly, it’s one of the things I look forward to most each year.
So yeah, the films are often weird. Sometimes messy. Occasionally brilliant. But the process? The people? That’s what keeps me coming back.







