My involvement with the independent feature film The Wind began as a dream. Mike Mongillo, director, producer, and co-writer of The Wind, and I were struggling to come up with an idea for a low budget film using minimal cast and minimal locations. We were having a tough time of it. Then, one night, I slept the lucky sleep of the sometimes creative, and I found myself acting out the part of Clair, the female lead of the movie, then, as yet to be written. I wasn't just walking and talking like Clair, possessed of her body with my thoughts. I was in her head; I was having her thoughts. I had become another person who lived by a set of rules all her own that were, at the same time, repulsive and fascinating. In that dream, I found out what evil can be. The plot, a gift that some might argue was my own subconscious blathering away at me, was hatched. Without sounding too mystical, I prefer to think of the experience as a trip to the land where dreams come true. Even nightmares. The next morning I wrote a synopsis, called Mike, told him my idea, we spent a day or two bouncing around ideas, then we began writing the screenplay for The Wind. The rest is a part of my personal history I will be proud of forever.

Director Michael Mongillo (left) shares a laugh with actor Philipp Karner.(Photo by David Zajac.)

Everything you are about to read is from the journal I kept at the time of the production of the independent feature film The Wind. Everything is in precise order and the rendition of facts is indisputable because it was written moment by moment -- a log so accurate as to be presentable in a court of law. But even you who don't know me would know me to be a liar. To wax philosophical for a moment, what else is a writer but a very organized liar. As to my role in The Wind, I was the co-writer, fight coordinator, PA (Production Assistant) and, as the producer/director Mike Mongillo called me, the general Buddha of the production. In regards to the last, while recently discussing this writing assignment, Mike told me, "You're about the only one that someone wasn't mad at by the end of it all." The truth of that statement is anybody's guess, but I think it has something to do with my main role really being that of observer and chronicler. It has been more than a year since the end of shooting. I am of the firm belief that time -- detachment -- is a good thing when writing a piece such as this. Actually, for me, a gap of time is necessary for most of my writing. I suppose if I had a deadline, I would have been able to bang it out, but given the year that has passed, I am more capable of judgment and conclusion at this point than I was then. Of course, what follows are still my judgments and conclusions, but that is the beauty and terror of writing. No one else's hand holds the pen but my own. Therefore no blame or credit can be given or taken other than my own. So, with this quasi-explanation/disclaimer in perpetuity throughout the universe, I begin.

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