1670954383.0828.2594 Key players dropping out: Past script writers for Grave Mood Rings have retired themselves, but I couldn't let that kill my momentum, so I made the conscious decision to feel freer.  I had to choose to flip the negatives into positives, so instead of being left in a lurch, I manifested heightened creativity in their absence.  Sure, there was disillusionment and dismay to process, but I could also celebrate saying "good riddance" to those who weren't, at the end of the day, genuine supporters of the project.  They may have dallied with the idea, they may have contributed according to their own comfort levels, but they ultimately got left behind because they simply weren't running fast enough.  The thing is, art takes on its own impetus.  My show may seem like my "baby" that I nurture, but babies develop according to their own natures.  I have to keep running, too, to see where the project is going.  Sure, I try to steer things, but it would be delusional for any creator to feel in total control of a work of art.  

Headaches of collaboration: Collaboration has been the lifeblood of my show.  I could work in a vacuum, shooting hoops by myself in my own driveway, as it were, but that feels too lonely.  Grave Mood Rings isn't an egotistic pet project, and I'd much rather showcase additional talents by making the show a game with multiple players or (since I don't really know sports metaphors) a soup improved by lots of interesting spices.  To date, the show has featured 40 guests.  But, oh, the headaches involved!  There have been uncountable collaborators who never responded to queries, who made false promises (sometimes repeatedly!), who had enough time to type out complex excuses in the time it would have taken to film the 10-second clip for the show, and those who did in fact follow through but took a year to deliver.  Project management could be a full-time job in itself, for without follow-ups and cajoling, disappointment is all but guaranteed.  It's fascinating to see just how precious people can be with their time and supportiveness.  No judgement (well, maybe some!).

Money issues: Dealing with a zero budget can lead to greater innovations, so I actually embrace not being funded (though, let's face it, I wouldn't turn down money if it were ever offered).  Incrementally over 2 years, I have spent $1000 on props, costumes, and a green screen.  The phone's camera and the tripod I already had.  A family member has gifted me an occasional prop, wig, and even the costume for a haunted tree character.  A co-writer who fired himself bought a branded t-shirt we needed for a particular theme, but that apparently drained his entire fund for investing in our production.  I haven't factored what my time has been worth over the course of producing 200+ episodes.  The editing alone averages to 8 hours per 3 minutes of completed footage, and work on pre-production easily doubles that.  My partner, who plays all the characters except for my own Prof. Oddfellow, takes time away from his paying job to complete the post-production, and I haven't tallied the money he'd technically be owed for over 2,000 hours should we ever secure funding.  We're both dedicating our time and our own money to make Grave Mood Rings happen, and we're the only ones doing that because we're the only ones who believe in the show enough to do that.  All the boo-hoo-hoos aside, it's actually pretty cool because it puts us in a class of our own.  We'd prefer to be who we are than to trade places with anybody who has let us down or let us go along the way.