I notice detail, I move fast, and I don't need much of a runway.
Co-wrote a 49-episode micro-drama — script, character creation, storylines — that became the breakout role for its two leads, Tristan Pons and Brooke Baxter.
Went in with zero micro-drama experience and gung-ho energy. Learned the format on the fly and got it across the finish line as co-producer, managing logistics, schedules and team coordination while working full-time as a locum pharmacist.
Worked internationally end-to-end: script and story with the South Korean platform, Vigloo, visual/audio integration with a Chinese post-production team.
Watch Episode 1 on the Vigloo App →
Made after wrapping Vampire's Forbidden Kiss, when the burnout caught up with me. It started as an experiment — I wanted to see what the vertical medium could actually achieve, beyond the telenovela-style stories platforms kept pushing me to write. I was a little fed up with the kind of stories I felt boxed into, so I went back to regional work as a locum pharmacist and used the road time to explore the format on my own terms — camera in hand, no plan beyond that.
The turning point happened in Warrnambool, a small town three and a half hours from Melbourne: the woman who checked me into my hotel turned out to be a fan of the drama, and so were her two mates. Without thinking much about it, that encounter inspired me to use the skills I'd gained and document my locum pharmacy experience instead — a visual diary. There was no script — it was pieced together entirely from my own experience: the locum work, and the fans of vertical drama I kept running into across Australia.
Cut into 16 bite-sized episodes to honour the vertical format it's about, and released in three parts: a trailer, the documentary itself, and a post credit — where the story turns into a pitch for a new drama, backed by a companion pitch deck. Shot and edited solo across rural Australia, on nothing but a phone.
Currently pitching this as a full production partnership: a 61-episode vertical romance drama, Sydney-set, and ready to package for production. Watch the pitch video, or download the full deck below.
In 2020, I wrote a script for my friend Lazarus Ho, a talented actor and stuntman I met on the set of Shang-Chi. He asked me to create a character he could play, so I wrote Blood of Vengeance around him.
We pitched it to student filmmakers, but the complexity of shooting real action work made it too big an ask, and the idea was turned down. Then in 2024, I met Theo Trevena, another gifted martial artist, and decided to modify one of the characters to highlight his unique skill. That decision turned into something bigger: a short film about the feud between two brothers, Raven and Ren, starring both Theo Trevena and Lazarus Ho, built to showcase their martial arts ability.
That concept found its way to filmmaker Jamie Pan, who loved it enough to want it made as a short film. We created a proof of concept together — shooting an action sequence in the backyard of a friend's house with professional stunt people. A genuinely crazy experience. We never raised the funding to take it further — but the experience is exactly what gave me the skills and the confidence to step into Vampire's Forbidden Kiss when the chance came.
An experimental vertical piece — trying to tell a story while incorporating brand awareness, rather than straight advertising. Kevin, the owner of Chemist Outlet, became the reluctant male lead — poor Kevin, I annoyed him into it once more. He tried to impress me with Hydralyte; I danced to Michael Jackson's "The Way You Make Me Feel." It ended up becoming one of the most-watched videos on Chemist Outlet's social media, and Hydralyte's own social team gave it their nod of approval.
Pharmacists are generally camera-shy, so I went the other way. While locuming in Dubbo, I fell for the Australian larrikin culture and sense of humour — and, if I'm honest, got a little boganised in the process. Around the same time, I was experimenting with Grok and ended up creating an AI-generated ad starring the owners of Blooms the Chemist. Tongue-in-cheek, a bit rough around the edges, and — by pharmacy industry standards — probably a little inappropriate.