My name is not David Copperfield, it’s James Killough, and it’s not really my birthday.  It’s my niece Savannah’s.  But today this blog is born.  Today I slip out of the insular, shy womb of low-profile-ness and join the teeming typists online vying for attention.  Will this survive past infancy?  We shall see.

Still not sure what to do with this, where it is leading.  No doubt most nascent bloggers start out with a bit of “Huh? Where am I?  Who are you?  Jesus, how drunk was I last night? SOMEONE TURN ON THE LIGHTS!”  I suppose I will chronicle my adventures and misadventures, and it’s quite the roller coaster ride, believe me.  Never a dull moment in my life, and I know how to over-dramatize better than Wagner.

I’m a writer, a film-maker, a creative director.  I’m an Australo-American, which I like to say is a new breed of caveman: half Australian, half American.  I’ve got passports from both countries.  I grew up in Italy, a son of the American Empire during the height of the Cold War.  I speak five languages fluidly, having lived on four continents as well as having an ear for mimicry.

Apparently I’m supposed to beat my own drum really loudly so Google will hear me and increase my ranking, which is the point of this blog.  Okay, more:

I began my film career in India.  Odd, I know, and way odd back then before call centers put it on the map.  I’m not sure why I did it.  Cheap, plentiful drugs?  That was probably ten percent of it … okay, twenty-five.  But the other seventy-five percent is there’s nothing I hate more than the beaten path.  Just repels me.  Apparently it’s a common trait for the ENTP personality, for which I am the poster child; we don’t just march to the beat of a different drummer, we have our own sixteen-piece percussion bands following us (yes, following, never leading).

Most of my friends went out to Hollywood, a sensible thing to do if you want a career in film.  My drummers took me to Bollwyood.  Still, I ended up here in Hollywood by circumstance, twice.  The first time, I was literally blown off Puerto Rico by Hurricane Georges (I lost my job as a consequence of that French-named disaster), so I relocated to LA to kickstart my film career once again, even though I had sworn never to go back to it.  This was after seven years in India, and I crawled back broke, emotional, and talking to God.  Swearing off film didn’t do much good; once you’re in, you’re in.  You can try to run, but film knows where you’re hiding. Even during my First Futile Swearing-Off I was getting up at 5 am to write screenplays like a sleep-writer, even when I was trudging in the salt mines of Citibank, writing “communications” and muttering to myself, “All jobs are equal.  All jobs are equal.”  (Yes, all jobs are equal, but not all are suited to every job, as I learned.)  The second time was this time.  The vagaries of the recession have swept me back like a French hurricane from London and New York.  So here I am in Hollywood, once again.  Struggling in paradise, but by and large loving the challenge.

I have two companies, and I’m building a third.  The first is the parent operation, Pure Film Limited, which specializes in feature films and TV.  The second is Pure Film Creative, which makes content for the web (my portfolio is here).  The third will be Pure Film Screen Test, which will make high-end original content for actors’ demo reels.  Very excited about that.  Unlike many film directors, I love working with actors.  I wanted to be one myself when I was a kid, I just couldn’t take the stage fright.  If I could have remained in rehearsal my whole acting career, I would have.

Well, there we go.  I’ve started.  A star blog is born.  Well, not star yet.  Gimme a few years.  DO YOU HEAR ME GOOGLE?