Urban Arts Club

Misty woke up alone.  The right song at the wrong time had her crying into sleep.  In her right hand, she held a ball of tissue - cemented by her tears and the tightness of her grip.  In her left, an old photo of her and Blue was peeling and cracked.  They stood on a wooden deck overlooking the beach.  Misty's green bikini top and crimson sarong complemented the glowing copper of her skin.  Blue had his arms wrapped around her, bare chest against her back, linen pants hanging low on his hips. 

But that was a long time ago by her reckoning.  Today is Independence Day and Misty longs to be free. 

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Copyright 2002-2009 by Maxie D. Collier.

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For my children, Godchildren, nieces, and nephews: Maxie J., Monica H., Sebastin, Orissa, Miyozaidai, Jaiden T., Tiaa, Jaiden M., Calib, Kamar, and Nia'l G. And everyone who believes in the power of their creativity.

I'm looking for great webcasts, vlogs, & internet TV shows to feature as case studies in my online course, WEBCAST YOURSELF! Please register and contact me on this site or message me here.

Misty didn't cry.  As a rule, she just didn't feel the necessary sentiment.  Not when it wasn't her pain.  Blue was, on the other hand, going to catch a fistful of hurt.  She had replaced the contents of his billfold - every card, note, and photo back in its place.  But the love was left out.  It had been long gone.

The radio was tuned to her favorite station.  Michael was singing "Pretty Young Thing".  Then Misty shed her tears .

Misty had it all lain out in front of her.  On the soft down of her comforter, she had set the black leather wallet - graying with age and frequent handling.  The contents were arranged in precise order.  The receipts were unfolded and sequenced by height and date.  They were a kind of statistical analysis of his purchases.  They were markers of his goings and comings.  Each of the fading paper strips matched Blue’s credit cards.  Except for the one that was missing – just like the condom she knew he always carried.

Beyond the fickle world of Hollywood vanity credits, lies a real art form and the true meaning of the title producer:

Members of the Paper Chasers documentary production team during a planning session.

Over the years, I’ve been fortunate to work with some fantastic producers, even if I have only grown to appreciate their talents years later. I now recognize the distinctions between the roles and responsibilities of the various types of producers, from Executive Producer to Associate Producer.

By comparing the people I’ve worked with, I also see the most important attributes of good producers.  The specific responsiblities and obligations depends on the type of producer.

The following notes summarize a bit about my relationships with some of the producers of Paper Chasers.

Misty sifted through the battered billfold searching for clues.  She knew there had to be evidence.  A little too much cash, maybe.  Or a credit card receipt proving his extracurricular expenses.  She had been dating Blue for a few months now but she still didn't trust him.  Of course, Misty took care of herself and she didn't really trust anyone.

When my parents divorced in 1977, my father Dr. Maxie T. received sole custody of all 6 of his children. He took on this challenge, despite the fact that he had just graduated from medical school, at 32 years old, and still had years of psychiatric residence and internship work to complete to become a licensed physician.

I was 9 years old when I attended his graduation. Unlike my younger siblings, I recall all of my father's medical career, from the very beginning until the very end. I have witnessed and chronicled the lives of many successful dreamers, but my father's was the first.