A thank you to the co-creators of Howl Habor

It's past time to express my gratitude and thanks to my co-creators who, for one night only, collectively transformed a mid-city Los Angeles bar into Howl Harbor.

Last month, I produced and hosted my annual immersive Halloween experience, Dark Corners. It was called The Monsters of Howl Harbor.

It was wildly successful. First time guests are still being found on the side of the road, unable to return to their normal lives because, “wow that was so great,” and “‘life just isn’t the same after Howl Harbor,” and “I think I’ll just wait here on the side of the road until next year.”

But actually, previous Dark Corners guests told me that it was by far their favorite in the series.

I agree.

And now that nearly 20 days have passed, I’ve had time to realize that it wasn’t random chance that made this year’s the best yet. It was the collective collaboration of an unpredictable group of wildly talented artists who came together to co-create this fantastical portal to another world.

And each of them did it because they too believe that playfulness, mystery, and storytelling should be core values for adults.

And now it’s time to express my gratitude to them all individually.

First, Howl Harbor wouldn’t have been wildly successful without the groundwork laid in Stolen, an experience Laura Boutros and I created together last summer. Laura and I met in 2023 at a wedding and, as the story goes, that meeting changed the course of my life. Her story-driven background pushed (cajoled? coerced? bitch slapped?) me to sharpen my storytelling skills. In the past, I had focused a lot on marketing and ticket sales. Now, I trust the main driver of ticket sales: focusing deeply on telling a story that resonates across a diverse group of people.

Even parties need to be about something.

Thank you, Laura.

For Stolen, I invited half the guest list. Laura invited the other half. One of her invites went out to Luka Salib. Luka won our game that night, which meant that he was the star of our epilogue—reading out loud, one by one, secrets disclosed by each of our guests as they entered the event. Luka became an impromptu co-host as he pulled people into the theater of that moment with impressive presence and commitment to the moment. A few months later, I asked him if he would play a leading role in Dark Corners and was lucky that he said yes. Not only did he kill Dracula, but he also killed the role. After the party, many of the guests told me how entertaining he was as Wolfman-Mummy, once again pulling the guests into the bits of pieces of the story his character knew. It was an honor to work with him—an honor I hope to repeat again in the future.

It’s not easy to trust someone you don’t know to not make you look silly. I’m honored that he trusted me.

Thank you, Luka.

Back in 2019, a friend brought me to a random hip-hop dance class in West Hollywood, created and run by Australian-born Yolanda Thomas. I was uncomfortable as that was the first dance class I had ever taken. But her approach to making anyone regardless of their skill level feel like a pro was masterful. I ended up taking a few private lessons with her over the years. Last year we collaborated on choreographing the performance for Dark Corners. She was brilliant, so I asked her to do it again.

And she did. And it was an incredible experience.

Thank you, Yolanda.

And thank you for figuring out how to raise the stakes. Yolanda grabbed a coffee with me one afternoon and we worked through her own network of folks that could potentially be additional dancers in the performance. She recruited three incredible ladies to join: Donna Morrison, Elena Saenz, and Danielle Ayres¹. I’m shocked at how all three of them said, “ooh this event looks fun” and jumped on board without knowing anything about me. But that’s community, right? They trusted Yolanda. Yolanda trusted me.

Must be that transitive trust property or math or something it’s goddamn beautiful.

Thank you, Donna, Elena, and Danielle.

Joe Anton was an Associate Producer on the film Ghosted that I edited back in 2023. We hit it off mostly because he was the tallest person in the office and I was the shortest. And at some point over the course of the movie, he mentioned that he was into vinyl DJing, which, as an experience designer, you know, that sort of thing sticks with you. And it did. And I reached out to him in late August and asked if he’d DJ Dark Corners. He said yes. He said disco. I said yes. The dance floor said yes. Everyone else said yes and it was a killer set of throwback and modern-disco tunes.

There’s something magical about the analog energy he brought to that night—an unforgettable vibe that allowed us to dance on Dracula’s grave with grace.

We did it, Joe. Thank you.

Robin Rusnak is an incredible friend and artist who helped craft the initial design of the now-iconic Howl Harbor poster. No surprise, as she works at one of the most successful creative agencies in the business. But for me, her greatest contribution was to my confidence as a creative director. I threw together the first Zoom session without much of a plan. One of my toxic traits is feeling as though I have to appease everyone all the time. So I often default to “I’m good with what everyone else wants.” Which is good when you’re deciding where to order dinner. It’s bad when you’re trying to bring your unique artist vision to life. After that first Zoom, we had more questions than answers. We had stumbled into collaboration paralysis. I was super frustrated, but after Robin gave me some beautifully blunt feedback on taking ownership of my abilities as the captain of the ship, I returned to our next meeting with focus, drive, and confidence. I had an agenda! I had things to delegate. And you know what, everyone was more than happy to take ownership of the side-quests they were best suited for.

From there, the momentum never stopped.

Thank you, Robin.

I’ve known and worked with the wickedly talented John Heppe since college. He was the gaffer on my junior thesis film, Welcome to Apartment Place Landings. Ever since then, John and I have been friends and frequent conspirators. Since about 2009, we each hosted our own, separate Halloween parties—him and his crew in Culver City, me and my crew in the Valley. Circa 2019, the gravitational pull of collaboration was simply too powerful and we co-created a 40-person seated murder mystery dinner called The Veil. John has been a frequent collaborator since. He’s a mood master. Appropriately hyper-focused on how lighting affects and defines each moment.

The dynamic and increasing energy over the course of an evening wouldn’t be possible without him.

Thank you, John.

I met Danny Clapp through overlapping Los Angeles social circles and have come to immensely respect Danny’s cultivated sense of taste. This year in particular, I was truly stunned at how a single one-on-one meeting changed so much about how the run of show went. We met up a few days before the event. Danny looked over their character—Igor’s—character information sheet and the major story beats. Then we analyzed the run of show. Danny’s intense attention to detail in the smallest of moments was astounding. We talked about how even the tiniest moments need to be put through the same filter of theme, with intention and precision. Danny radically improved how we’d bring the audience in on the experience with more honesty. And way more fun.

The truth is, despite Danny’s ridiculously demanding work schedule this year, their contributions were just as intentional and valuable as they always have been.

Thank you, Danny.

For about three years in college, I had a part-time job at Best Buy in Orlando. That’s where I met Daniel Baxter. Baxter and my friendship is quintessential “can pick up right where we left off as if no time has passed.” We’re both busy nerds. We both have a lot of interests. But when those nerdy interests overlap: fireworks. As I sat in my early planning stages this year, I thought through my rolodex of folks that I’d be lucky to work with. Baxter was one of them. I reached out, he said yes, and I was estatic. He’s someone who can easily zoom in and out between the big picture vs the micro details. “This is what would be cool” vs. “this is how we make this cool thing actually happen” In the past few years, Baxter has gone deep into his artist self, leaning into production design for many things, including visually stunning music videos for his parter, Dalloway.

He effortlessly brought his visual talents to the set and prop design for Howl Harbor. Without him, it would have remained a simple, mid-city bar.

Thank you, Baxter.

Jason Chadwick was introduced to me by my friend Cassidy (oh don’t worry, Cassidy, we’ll get to you!). He was one of Cassidy’s newer friends, but that didn’t stop him from buying a ticket and then immediately confessing his interest in wanting to help out. It turned out that Jason is an incredibly talented production designer, who had worked on some cool shit, including but not limited to Euphoria. I refunded his ticket and brought him on board. He also wanted to participate in our annual murder-mystery, saying, “I’ll help out as long as that doesn’t spoil the mystery.” So, through a series of hilariously spoiler-free, joke-rich meetings, Jason proved himself to be an invaluable team member with that same “this is how we make this cool thing actually happen” energy as Baxter. Their overlapping sensibilities manifested our art department.

I’m also unsure if Jason ever did figured out the mystery. Some say he’s still trapped in Howl Harbor to this day!

Thank you, Jason.

Some friends complain about driving 30 minutes to meet you for dinner. Other friends fly across the country and agree to co-host your party with you. That latter friend is, and always will be, Patrice Majewski. Patrice and I went to high school together.² She’s the encapsulation of how adult friendships can and should work. They can be vulnerable and mutual. Understanding and space-giving. Without awkwardness. With humility. Last year, Patrice co-hosted Dark Corners: Machine 83. She played a leading role, singing and dancing the night away and due to a wardrobe malfunction was fired from the dance team, never to be asked back. At least that’s what she told everyone this year. The truth is that she had moved to Florida and it’s just not easy to learn choreography remotely. At least that’s what I told everyone this year. Either way, what she lacked in dancing, she more than made up for in bringing the underrated Creature From the Black Lagoon to life. With an impressively specific amount of dedication, she took a would-be-throwaway-monster and created a three-dimensional character that guests were obsessed with.

You can’t easily quantify vibe, but Patrice has it, and it’s on fleek and are we still saying on fleek?

Thank you, Patrice.

Cassidy pitched to several of her kickball team members coming to the party as guests. Jason was the first on her team to grab a ticket, but shortly after he reached out to me and said, “I’m a production designer, I’d love to help with this in any way I can, and I also want to still play the murder mystery so don’t spoil me on that.”

While we’re on vibe, I want to shine a special spotlight on the person with the most underrated Instagram account, Cassidy Alexander, who I was introduced to through overlapping post-production social circles. I don’t know what made me so confident that Cassidy would be an incredible co-host for Dark Corners this year, aside from her incredibly infectious, upbeat energy. It turns out, the thing she brought in bulk this was was her incredibly infectious, upbeat energy. One of the hardest things about Dark Corners each year is getting people to come. Cassidy not only got several friends to join our shenanigans, but she recruited Jason from her kickball team, who ended up being a key member of our team. You know that person who just makes a group chat work? Responsive but not annoying? Engaged but not spammy? The non-obvious but flawless GIF choice? And always just fucking funny? Ladies and gentlemen, Cassidy Alexander single-handedly kept the energy up despite some really hard work, and really late nights.

There are just some people you need on a team because they find ways to become the glue that holds it all together.

Thank you, Cassidy.

While we’re shining special spotlights³, I want to thank my boyfriend—and closest friend—Noah Finn for agreeing to help me. Working with a partner is difficult. Working with me is difficult. So working with me as your partner is like… I dunno, math squared difficult. But Noah is a natural producer. He can visualize a situation and walk through it in his mind like no one else I know. He knows the questions to ask to get us moving in the right direction. Obvious questions that are overlooked. Unobvious questions that no one would have thought to ask until it’s too late. With buckets of humility and the ego of a monk, Noah went into overdrive on the day of the event, racing across town with Patrice as his hostage, making sure all of the final elements we needed for Howl Harbor were acquired.

I know without a doubt that this work helped him become a better producer. And I know it helped us become a better couple.

Thank you, Noah. I love you.

At the end of last year, I felt like I was finally making progress on unwinding the most difficult year of my life. Around November, my progress was supercharged by Julia Cameron's book, The Artist’s Way. In it, Cameron talks about shadow artists—people drawn to creative fields but hindered by self-doubt and fear of failure. She says that shadow artists find artist-adjacent jobs.⁴ The book changed my life. But what also changed my life was that I had Kyle Maddock working through this book simultaneously. We’d read and do the exercises separately, and then meet in person weekly to discuss what we had excavated. It was always shocking. I visualized this entire process as rusted, stuck gears getting cleaned and slowly churning for the first time in years. I blame self-doubt compounded across 30 years for this rust, but I also blame COVID.⁵ All of this is to say: without this period of introspection with Kyle, I don’t think I would have seen him as someone who could have contributed to such a massively complex artistic endeavor like Dark Corners. And I don’t think he would have seen himself that way, either. Over the course of this project, Kyle collaborated on beating out key story details, untangling many of the problems with unintuitive solutions. He also grinded in monotonous tasks like a kid trying to level up his Pokemon—consistently adding his signature optimistic charm every step of the way. On the day of Dark Corners, he played a leading role as The Invisible Man and dare I say, it was as though he wasn’t even there.

I’m confident this process would have been a lot less exciting and a lot more anxiety-inducing without him along for the ride.

Thank you, Kyle.

And finally, there’s Juba Babad. I’ve saved this thank you for the end because it was my most unexpected and cherished collaboration this year. Juba and I met when I interviewed him to work with our editorial team on Godzilla x Kong. At that time, he was still recovering from a difficult time on a really tough movie. In our interview, I knew he’d be a perfect fit for our team. Still, I underestimated just how good of a fit he’d be. Juba moved from “someone I hired” to someone I could call a friend. And while that transition may have seeded from our shared sense of absurdist humor, it blossomed out of a shared vision of overlapping core values. We agreed that making adult friends is really, really hard. We agreed that adults are overly serious. Overly worried. Overly thinking from the moment they wake up, until the moment they stay up past their bedtime. Adults aren’t playful enough. With Juba, it was effortless to plan a party to coax guests to bring forth their inner summer camp kid. And as I sit here trying to explain just what, exactly, he contributed to the project, I’m increasingly aware of how difficult it is to describe because of the dump truck of inspiration he unloaded at each and every meeting we had. From storytelling and game mechanics, to designing and executing the bartending experience, to co-crafting the most powerful ending to a party I’ve ever hosted… he is, by definition, a renaissance friend.

One that only fate could provide.

Thank you, Juba.

Okay, I lied, that wasn’t finally. As I sit here thinking about how to close out this post, I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge how guests are co-hosts in their own right. With that, I’d love to take a moment and celebrate everyone who showed up and walked through a portal into another dimension where we each could be our true monster selves for a night… thank you Alex, Anastasia, Anika, Annmarie, Ashley, Benny, Bernie, Caleb, Catie, Courtney, Eric H., Eric R., Eva, JJ, Jim, Jon, Jonathan, Julia, Kayla, Kelly, Kenny, Kiri, Kris, Kyle, Laura, Lili, MC, Mara, Mark, Matt, Mike, Mitch, Nicole, Peter, Phillip, Rachel, Rex, Sylvana, Tiffany, Tina, Xander, Yoni, Zach L., and Zach S. Each of you are part of an unforgettable storytelling experience—one I can’t wait to continue next year.

And with that, I present Dark Corners: The Monsters of Howl Harbor.

And with that, I deal you one card:

1. Danielle wasn’t able to make the performance due to a death in the family. As I said in my text and will say here again publicly: I’m so sorry for your loss and hope that you and your family are healing the best you can. Much love.

2. And to clarify on on-going rumor at Howl Harbor, Patrice and I never dated in high school. Who the fuck started that rumor? Probably Mike.

3. Reminder that these spotlights are actually just tiny flashlights I ordered from Amazon.

4. And fuck if she doesn’t specifically call out film editors. But I needed to hear it. As a film editor, we’re bringing our tools to the table but it’s always in service of someone else’s vision. Admitting this has been life-changing. Prior to this book, I had relied on editing to fulfill my entire artistic self. After this book, I understand that it’s just one (important) part of a whole.

5. I am a big believer in many of us still deeply socially and emotionally affected by COVID, whether we realize and admit that or not.