Websites, filmsand small tools,built in the open, by a studio of one in Orlando.

Every weekday on the log:
what shipped, what broke,
what it taught.

Tell me what you're building

Building from Orlando.

here, right now. The office moves.

Where the log left off.

Day 8 · the Swan and Dolphin, Walt Disney World · September 30, 2026

Claude can run Premiere Pro now. So we tested it on real work.

Day 7 · the library lounge at Disney's Riviera · September 29, 2026

I asked one AI whether to install the other one's review tool.

Day 4 · a convention hallway at the Contemporary Resort, Disney · September 24, 2026

Google read the site in minutes. Nobody could find the login.

Day 3 · a hotel lobby at Coronado Springs, Disney · September 22, 2026

My AI said the snowflake melted. It fell off the rock.

This page was written before it was drawn.

Every section here has one job and one feeling, and they were mapped on paper first: who the page is for, where her story starts, where it ends, what each screen is supposed to make her feel. The drawing came after the writing.

If you build things, you might want to see the map. Flip the switch and the page shows its bones.

  1. 1 the opening
  2. 2 the watch
  3. 3 the days
  4. 4 the drawings
  5. 5 the rod and the staff
  6. 6 the shelf
  7. 7 the film
  8. 8 the chair

Listen first.
Guide, don't push.
Prove, don't promise.

That's the shepherd's rod and staff in the name. A rod protects and a staff guides, and neither one pushes. It's the only way I know how to work, and it's how I'd want to be worked with.

I'm a Christian, and following Jesus is the reason I care about people being heard and about families being provided for. I'd rather say that plainly than hide it.

AI does a lot of the work here. I make the decisions and I own the corrections. If I didn't measure something, I don't say it, and when I get something wrong I fix it in the same place I said it.

What I'm studying this month.

Three things, in order. How a page tells a story: one person, three acts, one feeling per screen, and the drawing comes after the writing. Motion as a system: a handful of values picked once and repeated, so a site has one personality instead of a bag of tricks. And building a site from nothing, without a framework: pages that swap without reloading, a scroll you can feel, one canvas behind everything.

The AI does most of the reading and writes the notes; I read the notes, decide what we keep, and we build one page at a time to find out if any of it moved. The page you're on is the test.

On the shelf: Buechner, Wishful Thinking.

I started in music.

After that came collision work, and then some years as a contractor. Now I build websites and small tools, and I make and edit films.

The music never left. It's how I hear a film, where the score tells as much of the story as the picture does, and telling a story well is what I'm after in everything I build.

What I'm building doesn't have a settled name yet. I'm early in it, and I'd rather tell you that than fake a title for it. The log is where you can watch it get one.

Tell me what you're building.

Write and say what it is and where it's stuck. I read every one and I write back myself. If you're where I was, I'll walk you through what I did.