Ryan Dunlap's Blog

My memory is kind of terrible.

It is somewhat fitting that the movie I have watched the most in my adulthood is Memento. Lenny’s life was shaped around the things of which he thought worthwhile to remind himself.

Years ago I established a rule for myself: No public negativity on social media.

I don’t always succeed, but posts that make it past the filter usually only live about 20 minutes before they are deleted.

An app I use daily is Timehop. It shows me what I’ve posted every year on today’s date. Yesterday I came across a post from eight years ago. I was very mad about…something. I was Vaguebooking ™ enough to where it took a bit of thinking to remember why I was mad.

I wasn’t better off remembering.

But, since the no negativity rule was established, I am daily reminded of the better moments and am freed from the personal hell of refreshing of the angers and frustrations that I’ve evidently forgotten about naturally. I’d rather not recall the trivial annoyances of life if I can help it.

.:The Digital Family Tree

The second part of this curation is digital legacy. I’m within the generation that is first to overdocument ourselves to where my week to week life could be easily referenced by my descendants. 

I am the patriarch of the digital side of my family, and if/when any of my kids or their kids want to look something up, I don’t want my posting history to cause me to be disregarded as the bitter, ranting guy they are glad they didn’t wind up knowing. (Not to say that there aren’t elements of life that really bother me, but if I daily took to the internet to build my digital heritage with such things, a different curated life would be created altogether.)

Maybe it’s a bit of hubris to hope that anyone will read this or remember me or learn about me from what I write after I pass. But, I’d rather become the person who hits a feedback loop of remembering and focusing on the things I’m grateful for as the years go by, and maybe that will help me to become the person who could brighten someone’s life somewhere down the line.

vcD,
-R

Last month we lost a dear friend and family member.

I admit, I took many candid photos during Tammy’s 7 year battle with cancer. My mother-in-law had Stage 3 cancer during almost 90% of my marriage to Sarah so far, and there were seasons we were uncertain about how much time we would have left with her. So, I kept a heightened awareness to note moments like these.

Tammy was as encouraging, loving, and welcoming of a mother-in-law as I could have ever asked for. Through losing her, she taught me something for which I’m very grateful.

All of our time with one another is limited.

Once that sinks in, trivial things aren’t worth the time we spend on them in the long run. Priorities shift. Granted, nobody is guaranteed tomorrow, but when there is a comprehendible timeline in place, you work within those constraints.

.:Budgeting Time

When you budget your finances, you do better with your money. When you budget your caloric intake, you can become healthier.

But what about budgeting time?

My children each have roughly 940 weeks, Lord willing, from birth to when they depart for college. MC has already used 138 of those weeks (15%), Poppy, only 25 weeks (2%). I like to think I have made the best of them so far, but I know I could do better.

Tammy has taught me to be more cognizant of the time I get to spend with those around me, and for that, I’m forever grateful. I’ll see to it that Nana’s memory will give her granddaughters a better childhood.

vcD,
-R

Everyone says to cherish these moments because they go by so fast, and I’m finding there’s a fine line between appreciating the now and living in a state of memorial of the present, feeling like I should be sad that I can’t hold onto this moment forever to the point I can’t actually enjoy it for what it is.

People take a lot of flak for over-documenting life, but part of me feels like having photos of moments like these allow me to appreciate these times knowing they won’t ultimately be forgotten (my memory is already pretty spotty), and that I don’t have to look at happy moments through a melancholy lens because I’ve been told innumerable times that this won’t last.

And yes, this is curated life. Yesterday was a draining day, filled with ups and downs, including our home’s A/C unit completely blowing unexpectedly and needing a full replacement. But when I look back at my photos in 5 years, I’d rather today be remembered for the time MC asked to sit on my lap with her sister and have me read the book she picked out.

vcD,
-R

Chasing this little one for over an hour through McKay’s while we awaited the evaluation of our old books and movies hammered home a personal epiphany.

We passed by shelves upon shelves of previously discarded books, films, and albums, all of which took hundreds to thousands of man hours to create, market, and get sold. Now most of them are $0.25, and there are full bins of books that were valued at nothing by the used market sitting outside in the cold.

I spent most of my twenties throwing thousands of hours into projects, some which might wind up on these shelves, some which won’t ever reach enough popularity to make it to the used market.

As I chased my laughing daughter through row after row, I felt that being a good father would have more of an impact for good on this world than a piece of entertainment that takes 2-10 hours to consume (and then move on from).

Yes, I still plan to create. I find it hard not to, honestly. But my 30s are emphasizing that if I make it to a deathbed decades from now, it’s not going to be my books and movies I want surrounding me.

vcD,
-R

P.S. This post was mostly a reminder to myself on prioritizing my life and what will hold value in the long run.

Also of note, I understand things are different when you are putting food on the table because of art. That’s never been the case for me as all of my non-full time job projects usually just pay for themselves and the next project, so they aren’t a drain on my family financially. All that said, I respect the hard work of the artists who create the beautiful and inspiring bits of storytelling, and don’t value it less because of what people think it should cost down the line.

P.P.S. (addressing a comment someone left on one of the shared posts) I’m not saying that if you don’t have children, you are leaving a lesser legacy by creating things. I think it’s more the case that once one is entrusted with a child’s life, making the choice to prioritize creative works to the detriment of the child(ren) will lead to more regrets in the long run.

I spent almost all of my 20s focusing on directing films and writing novels, and my first little girl showed up a month before I turned 30. I can’t keep up the same creative schedule because I still only have the same 24 hours and there’s someone new who needs a portion of that time now. It would be irresponsible of me and harmful to her if I ignored her and her future to focus on trying to build a legacy with what I create.

I still write because it’s a better balance with family than being on set for 12 hours a day 6 days a week, so I still take that into account as legacy (and still pursue it). I also still cherish the notes and messages I’ve gotten from people who have told me they were moved by what I made, so I know there is power to do good with storytelling.

Mercy’s War encapsulates so much into one song. It just joined the ranks of my absolute favorites and continues to solidify Jon as my favorite artist.

Today, this happened:

greyscale, a neo-noir, is for sale.

I remember turning to look at my assistant director Gloria on the first day on the set of Greyscale. With a smile I couldn’t lose, I said, “Hey. We’re making a movie.”

(this was the first shot we took. It didn’t make it into the film)

That became our mantra. It became our code that we would bandy back and forth across the crew that became a surrogate family.

Nobody tells you that the time you spend on set would be the most fun part of the process. Nobody mentions that once you yell “That’s a wrap!”, eat the celebratory cake, and take the group photo, that you’re maybe halfway to the finish line.

This day was long in coming. Some would say too long. Most would, I think.

Aside from the logistical hurdles and lessons I didn’t know I needed to learn before embarking, I bordered on perfectionism. I re-color graded the film three times, went through a polish session from orchestration to sound design, and even wrote a novel to pay for a surround sound mix (if you were curious, yes, there are easier ways to earn $1,500).

Some might wonder why I spent so much time to get this film out to the public. Of the elements that were within my control, the choices were based on wanting to do right by the film family that came together to help make Greyscale a reality.

If I released anything short of the best product I could muster, I felt like I would fail my film family.

They’re the kind and forgiving sort, and many have reassured me that they don’t hold this view, but I knew they deserved my best.

(Brian Shoop is one of my mentors/heroes who taught me what it took to make a film. I wouldn’t have embarked on it if it weren’t for him making his own film first.)

After too many all nighters, wild oscillations over how I felt about the film, and lessons learned… I have come to the place where I can take it no further.

The proverbial boulder is atop the hill. It took 4 years, 4 months, and 4 days from shooting to making the final creative decision, and 7 years, 1 month, and 7 days from shooting to release.

I hope you enjoy the film, and thank you for caring for this long.

And to all of my cast and crew: “Hey. We made a movie.”

vcD,
-R

You know the Norman Vincent Peale quote, “Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.”?

I saw Gravity. Nobody wants that.

I jest, but looking back at some of the bigger efforts of my life… I’ve missed many moons. I’ve worked hard, tried the best I knew how, and failed. And if not complete failure, then at least I didn’t have my expectations properly calibrated and it felt pretty close to complete failure.

Yes, one of my all time heroes has said,
“Far better is it to dare mighty things,
to win glorious triumphs,
even though checkered by failure…
than to rank with those poor spirits
who neither enjoy nor suffer much,
because they live in a gray twilight
that knows not victory nor defeat.”

But a guy could hope for a glorious triumph now and again once, right T.R.?

Two things.Thinking you can reach the moon isn’t always bad (even if you can’t).
When I set out to make a movie on my own time, I had naively allowed myself to believe that I could finish it quickly, make a profit, and turn around and do it again the next year.

Obviously, this didn’t happen.

But, I learned way more than if I had taken an objective look and said to myself, “You’re probably not going to see this getting picked up by a major film festival, then have a bidding war over it from distributors, and someday talk about your first films with Christopher Nolan.”

If I had thought the effort was impossible, I may never have started. If I never had started, I wouldn’t have learned what I needed when the opportunity for a directing job in Nashville became available.

Sometimes the moon is a Death Star.
A part of me wonders what would have happened if everything had gone according to how I had planned. If I had somehow become wildly successful and never left Tulsa… my daughter(s) wouldn’t have been born.

Granted, I think too much about cause and effect in a time travel sense, but I also look at what I’ve learned from parenting. There are some things that my child really, really wants, but it would wreck her if I allowed it.

Sometimes I wonder what God kept me from by allowing circumstances to cause the film to drag out so long that moving away for work was a necessity. I wonder if I would have let a success get to my head. I wonder if what my children will accomplish someday will be greater than anything I could ever have managed, and them existing meant things not lining up the way I had hoped on one endeavor.

I don’t know. I don’t get to see the big picture. But I trust the one who does, and right now He has blessed my family with so much that it heavily outweighs the frustrations I have that things took far longer than I had hoped to finish what is the largest endeavor I have ever undertaken.

For that I am grateful.

It was a proud parenting moment to correct my daughter when she saw this and said, “Moon!”

vcD,
-R

P.S. In other moon-missing news, I recently lost a weight loss contest even though I dropped 18 pounds in 5 weeks. I was super-close to crossing the finish line first, then my body screamed ‘PLATEAU’ just before I could win.

I’m still working towards the consolation prize (which was graciously offered), but I’d like to think that yet another loss means that this effort toward health means I might get to spend more time with my family in the long run.

P.P.S. I don’t consider Greyscale a failure, and I don’t chalk up its timeline due to a lack of quality in the film. If anything, it was the long learning curve that comes with trying to scale a mountain of that size and shutting my ears to anyone who would say “Just put it out,” and instead trying to make it as perfect as possible when I can (which is another topic that deserves its own blog post as to why I held this mindset).

I’m hoping to release it soon, and I’m excited to see it across the finish line and into the hands of others.

I make a point of distinguishing the difference between travel and vacation.

The former includes packed itineraries, pressure to experience once-in-a-lifetime moments, and the requirement of recuperation afterward.

This past week has been a proper vacation. Thanks to the generosity and kindness of friends and family, Sarah and I were able to choose among options that included “walk along the beach,” “sit by a pool,” and “leisurely explore a nearby city.”

Another distinction of a vacation is that there is margin to be surprised.

Without a set schedule, we were able to focus on each other and stumble upon things like an important spot where Sarah’s favorite movie was filmed (Forrest Gump’s bench), try out various local coffee shops while we talked about what the other loved to do (and why we enjoyed the things we do so much), and visit very old trees to gain a bit of perspective.

Life is getting ready to explode again come November in new and beautiful ways. This week has served as a reminder that while driving toward goals and prioritizing efficiency can yield benefits, making sure that there is margin for connection and being surprised by one’s surroundings shouldn’t be forgotten.

vcD,
-R

p.s. Relaxing was evidently the thing needed to let loose on a new bit of creativity my mind had been hinting at as of late. I bought a new notebook and my pen has barely stopped any chance I get to jot down some thoughts.

I spent the first 27 years of my life in and around Tulsa, Oklahoma. My dresser is full of free college t-shirts that remind me on a daily basis. Much of my identity is rooted in this.

Tulsa didn’t have much in the way of sports… I attended a handful of AA baseball games as a kid, and had to farm out my favorite pro teams to Texas (baseball), Kansas City (football), and Los Angeles (hockey).

There was little in the way of easily identifying someone else and knowing you cheered for the same things in the way someone from St. Louis might give a knowing nod to someone wearing Cardinal red and white (at least from what I’ve observed on my many visits to Sarah’s hometown).

I bring all of this up because I am five years removed from what had been the norm for my entire life.

Come November, when Poppy is born, both of my children will call Nashville their hometown. My parents adapted to Tulsa and dug in after I came along one year into their time there, and now I find myself in a similar situation.

I want my girls to grow up with a strong sense of place and identity from a family and location perspective. I want to be intentional about growing a culture of tradition and building memories together.

So, tonight we rooted for the home team.

(The MC is for Music City, but I kind of had to buy it for Mary Clementine)

I bought the cheapest seats available, because I had a hunch my toddler would be more interested in running around the concourse than sitting and paying attention to the field.

After .5 innings of eating baseball park food and 3.5 innings of chasing a toddler around said concourse, Sarah and I decided it was a worthwhile experiment and that we might have a higher likelihood of success at an older age…

We didn’t get there early enough for the free blanket and we didn’t stay late enough for the free fireworks, but we took a step toward forging our family identity.

While the Nashville Sounds may have lost tonight, I rooted for the home team and came back with a win.

vcD,
-R

p.s. New adventure-in-parenting moment: I was chasing MC around then I heard someone cry out for a fly ball. Everyone was looking in our direction… I frantically searched the sky but couldn’t find the ball, so I crouched and hovered over MC until the ball landed somewhat nearby. At least some paternal instincts are intact…

Today I walked out of Disney’s Tomorrowland with my wife and unborn child (we’re expecting Dunlap Dos in November! Yes, it’s been a while since writing here…). The film has caught some flack for being preachy. I can see where the critics are finding their ammunition, but an element stuck with me.

It is far easier to decide that things are getting worse and recalibrate one’s opinion of the world than it is to try and be a force for good. How can someone attempt to make this world a better place with the mindset that it’s all going to pot anyway? Is it just damage control then?

I’m surrounded by new life in my children, even if I haven’t met (or named) our second little one yet. I don’t want to look at the world and think there’s nothing I can do to contribute to making it a better place for them, or that they can be on the side of Good themselves.

Yes, there is a fascination with the negative in the media. Yes, terrible things happen…  But, part of me wonders if we pull too much from the elements of storytelling into the real world. So many stories are about a singular person (or small group) with extraordinary abilities or power standing up for what’s right… while the rest of the world cowers and runs away.

We see ourselves in that running crowd because we don’t relate directly to the comic book hero(ine), and because two of the cardinal rule of storytelling are 1) ALWAYS have conflict, and 2) ALWAYS have the world react in a challenging and unexpected way, we start to map out the world with the overlay that “of course all we see in the news are terrible stories full of conflict and sadness” because we pull our cues too directly from entertainment.

Am I saying story is bad? No. I think it can be a powerful tool and a force for good, if used properly.

I saw Mad Max, and I saw Tomorrowland. Both were entertaining in their own right, but only one had me feeling like there’s a possibility that my children could have a brighter future than I have.

I think I’ve probably had my fill of post-apocalyptic storytelling for a while. Why dream of mere survival when you can inspire others to do more than to lose heart when they see bad winning?

I’d rather see more everyday good guys get in the fight.

vcD,
-R