Inside the butterfly cage was blood — red blood like you and I bleed.

There was a little puddle the size of a few droplets as well as speckles of blood the size of red poppy seeds on the white disks where the empty cocoons were hanging.

The newly hatched butterflies were clinging to the mesh walls of the cage and flexing their new wings. Ten cocoons split open and nine butterflies were counted on the walls.

Following the tiny puddle of blood to the smaller flecks and even smaller speckles — like tracking a deer in November — led to a crumpled up, half open butterfly lying on the ground in the corner of the cage. Two of its six little insect legs were kicking — sporadic in fits and spurts — while one of its balled-up wings struggled back and forth like it was trying to flex and stretch like its brothers.

There was no predators and no obvious wound, so the blood could have been leaking from anywhere. That butterfly could have been vomiting blood from its new mouth that was meant for nectar instead of leaves.

This dying butterfly had gone from caterpillar to pupa and hatched as this wretched thing that would never know flight, only pain, then death.

Horror.

Terror.

The pain of existence laid bare and a representation of both primal and existential dread and fear in a single moment all from some Amazon butterfly kit.

Reality.

But, we persist.

We must do our best to love and cherish and mourn the 10th butterfly while we celebrate and live and fly as the other nine. The world is terrifying and beautiful at once.

It’s the nature of this brutal, fallen universe.

And we must hope.

I must hope.

Aragorn and the men of Rohan held out until Gandalf rode in.

This all happened on the same day that I found out the deal for Esperanza is dead.

The shortened but still technical version of how the deal died is like this: we had — well, [REDACTED] had — a pool of investors that would frequently put up a couple million dollars for indie movies. This pool of investors started giving money more frequently when distributors would “pre-buy” the movie. Distributors would “pre-buy” if there was an actor attached. The filmmakers would scrape together $50K to use on a down payment on an actor who would then attach.

$50K to an actor made the distributor happy and would go for the “pre-buy” and would purchase for a million or two. The investors would be made whole and released their money and the movie would go into production.

This is where I thought I was just a few weeks ago. I’d been talking to actors, producers, directors — everybody on set with any interest in doing big stuff. Want to executive produce?

There were enough people interested that it looked like the $50K was happening and soon.

So I called the producer attached to Esperanza asking him what documents I needed to show these people or if I should send them straight to him.

“Oh, we haven’t talked in a while,” he said.

That did not sound like good news.

He explained his most recent movie died because the deal structure — not just his deal, but the whole structure — went sour.

Distributors’ “pre-buy” deals were capping what investors could make back so they stopped investing in that type of project. If you wanted to make a movie, you needed brave, bold, and brash investors who were ready to throw 2 million dollars in the lake. Take big risks and love it.

So Esperanza now had no soft money attached, no reason to pursue the seed investment of $50K, and no more conversations with Aaron Eckhart or Alan Ritchson.

I’m free to try and make it by myself. I’ll even have a smooth runway for distribution, but I would have to find a million bucks on my own and figure it out.

I’ve made some short films that have been in post for four years because I need an editor. It is a skill I have humbly accepted as outside of my skill and dedication. There’s a few things I’ve cut, but it’s always my weak point. That and production design.

But where does that lead my future?

I was almost a produced feature film screenwriter, but now I’ve only got shorts to my name.

I’m not a filmmaker because I’ve hardly completed any films.

There’s not a single novel to my name and only a handful of published short stories and short comics and those have all been indie publications.

So what am I doing? Where am I going?

I do know that I am extremely lucky to have some very supportive (and sometimes tough while supportive!) friends and family and peers.

I keep going while refining a strategy.

*Grey Cat Dreams of Space* is almost complete. I’ve got some second-grade fans I don’t want to let down.

My most recent feature I’ll rewrite until July and then get some eyes on it. When it’s ready, it will go to contests and managers.

One short story is being reviewed by an editor before I submit to some bigger sci-fi / fantasy magazines.

Those short films will be cut and posted soon.

My screenwriting workbook is done and available for anyone who needs it.

Panopticon Volume 3 is on schedule with more (excellent) submissions rolling in.

I think I’m going to read all my old short stories and release them as a podcast.

Not certain what I’m writing next beyond all that. There’s ideas bubbling, but I don’t have a full strategy yet. Might need to reach out to all the pros I know and see if they can suggest a plan.

Don’t think I could stop if I wanted to. It’s my nature.

I’m still here, stretching, no idea if my wings are okay but I know the stretching is right and good.

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P.S. — If you want a shot at having your sci-fi short story in real, physical media, Panopticon Volume 3 submissions are due in about a month on July 1st. Email your word or text file to Panopticon2032 [at] protonmail.com