When the moon is excessive and the muse is low, we regularly discover ourselves in deep dialog with our personal souls, asking, “Why do I do this?” And on right now’s episode, we welcome the steadfast and visionary Ron Newcomb, a former Marine and police officer who has traded in his uniform for a digicam, answering that very query not simply with thought—however with motion.
Many stroll the tightrope between goals and actuality. But Ron doesn’t stroll it; he builds it. With a full-time job, household obligations, and the unrelenting buzz of each day life, filmmaking turns into greater than a pursuit—it turns into a pilgrimage. In our dialog, Ron unveils the uncooked fact behind being a modern-day storyteller, caught between the 9-to-5 grind and the everlasting name of the inventive. His journey isn’t just about making movies; it’s about making area in a crowded world to recollect who we actually are when the credit roll.
You see, filmmaking, as Ron correctly places it, “isn’t a want—it’s a calling.” It’s not about lighting up a display screen; it’s about lighting a fireplace. There is a reverence in his strategy, a type of worship in the way in which he speaks of impartial cinema. He isn’t serious about chasing fame or fortune however in answering that whispering voice inside that claims, “Tell this story. It matters.” In an age the place distractions are foreign money, Ron is cashing in for readability. He’s found out that doing the work is the actual prayer.
As a self-proclaimed “storyteller,” Ron lays out three sacred paths for the indie filmmaker: in search of a supervisor to interrupt by way of studio gates, discovering a producing associate to align energies with, or rallying buyers to go it alone. “I’m going to bang the drum on all three,” he says. That’s not only a plan—it’s a mantra. And true to that vow, he’s organizing a daring, DC-based pitch occasion to attach filmmakers with gatekeepers. It’s a phenomenal paradox—ready for nobody whereas creating alternatives for everybody.
We explored how the each day self-discipline—rising at six, household dinners, late-night writing—turns into the framework for resilience. This isn’t nearly making motion pictures; it’s about making that means. Ron explains, “Contentment is found in the process, not the end result.” How very Zen. Each movie, every failed Kickstarter, every late-night script rewrite just isn’t a detour—it’s the path. As he places it, “You should feel filmmaking breathe within you.” And if it doesn’t? It could also be time to let go.
Ron additionally speaks with reverence for collaboration, realizing that the alchemy of filmmaking lies not within the lone genius, however within the orchestra of souls rowing in rhythm. He is beneficiant in spirit and grounded in grit, reminding us that the true energy isn’t simply in elevating capital or climbing a ladder—it’s in elevating one another. “If we all just left ego aside for a moment, I believe that all of us could get what we wanted.” There’s greater than knowledge in that; there’s a means ahead.
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