Every aspiring filmmaker eventually reaches the same crossroads. One path is filled with endless books, YouTube tutorials, podcasts, and discussions about filmmaking. The other requires picking up a camera, accepting failure, and learning through experience. In this episode, we welcome Harrison Smith, a filmmaker whose career has been built on choosing the second path. As the writer, producer, and director behind films including The Fields, Camp Dread, Six Degrees of Hell, and Zombie Killers: Elephant’s Graveyard, Harrison has spent years navigating the realities of independent filmmaking, and his advice is refreshingly simple: stop waiting and start making movies.
Harrison’s passion for cinema began early. Growing up in Philadelphia, Saturday afternoons were spent watching classic horror films with his grandmother, discovering legendary performers like Vincent Price, Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, and Peter Lorre. But one movie changed everything. Seeing Jaws in theaters as a child convinced him that filmmaking wasn’t simply something he admired—it was what he wanted to dedicate his life to. That dream eventually led him to Los Angeles, where instead of completing film school, he found himself working at Universal Studios. Looking back, Harrison believes those experiences on real productions taught him far more than any classroom ever could. His perspective isn’t anti-education; it’s pro-experience. If you want to become a filmmaker, he argues, you have to make films. No amount of theory replaces solving problems on an actual set.
That philosophy extends directly into screenwriting. Harrison doesn’t believe there’s a single correct writing method. Some projects begin with outlines and beat sheets. Others start with pure inspiration and evolve organically through rewrites. What matters most is getting the story onto the page. Too many writers become trapped trying to satisfy formulas before discovering the heart of their story. Harrison encourages writers to treat the first draft as creative freedom—allowing ideas to flow naturally before worrying about structure, pacing, or page counts. As he explains, writing is often only a small part of the process. The real work happens during rewriting, where difficult decisions must be made and favorite scenes are sometimes sacrificed for the good of the story.
One of the conversation’s most valuable lessons comes from Harrison’s experiences producing his first feature, The Fields. Based on true events from his childhood, the film represented a lifelong dream finally becoming reality. Yet the production quickly taught him that filmmaking is rarely glamorous. Managing SAG paperwork, coordinating locations, feeding crews, handling budgets, solving weather problems, and balancing countless moving pieces became a crash course in producing. The experience was exhausting, frustrating, and occasionally overwhelming, but it also shaped the producer he would become. Rather than discouraging him, it reinforced the reality that filmmaking is less about inspiration than perseverance. Every finished film represents thousands of invisible problems solved behind the scenes.
Harrison also offers thoughtful insight into financing independent films. Unlike many filmmakers eager to promise investors massive returns, he believes honesty builds stronger relationships than exaggerated projections. Independent filmmaking remains one of the riskiest investments anyone can make, and he refuses to pretend otherwise. Markets change. Distribution shifts. Audience tastes evolve. Even completed films face unpredictable futures. By being transparent about those realities, Harrison has earned a reputation for integrity that continues attracting investors who value realistic expectations over empty promises. In an industry built on uncertainty, trust often becomes a filmmaker’s greatest asset.
The discussion also explores why so many modern films struggle to leave lasting impressions. Harrison argues that technology has made filmmaking easier than ever while simultaneously encouraging creators to rely too heavily on polished visuals instead of compelling stories. Great cameras, digital workflows, and visual effects can make almost any production look impressive, but they cannot compensate for weak writing. Whether discussing horror classics, modern remakes, or blockbuster franchises, he continually returns to the same conclusion: audiences remember stories, not algorithms. Original ideas, memorable characters, and emotional honesty will always outlast trends or formulas designed solely to satisfy market research.
Perhaps the most inspiring aspect of Harrison’s journey is his unwavering belief in simply doing the work. He doesn’t encourage filmmakers to wait until they have perfect equipment, major investors, or studio backing. He encourages them to begin where they are, using whatever resources they have available. Every finished short film, screenplay, feature, or independent production becomes another step forward. Reputation grows through completed work, not unfinished ideas. Opportunities appear because people recognize consistent execution, not endless planning. It’s advice that sounds deceptively simple but has guided Harrison through decades of filmmaking.
The path into filmmaking will always be uncertain. Budgets will fall apart. Scripts will need rewriting. Productions will face unexpected obstacles. Critics will have opinions. Markets will shift. But Harrison Smith reminds us that every successful filmmaker shares one thing in common: they eventually stopped talking about making movies and actually made one.
