A Billion Ideas and One Website: Chasing Dreams on a Neurodivergent Brain

I didn’t necessarily set out to be a film critic back in 2010. 

Sure, I’ve always loved movies. I mean really loved them. But when I first dreamed of writing professionally, it was as an author of books and novels. 

That’s still the ultimate dream. Fiction was the big goal. Drawn to the world-building, character arcs, epic twists, and hopefully someday, shelf space in a bookstore. 

When I launched my original blog, my inspirations were a quirky mix: Scott Keith, the wrestling blogger who shaped how I thought about pop culture writing; and John Scalzi, the sci-fi author and sharp-witted online personality who made blogging look like an artform. Toss in some Roger Ebert for good measure, because if you love movies and love writing, you’re probably going to fall in love with Ebert at some point. 

That may have been the moment the path curved toward movie reviewing. But that’s the thing: I didn’t just want to be a film critic. I wanted to write everything. About movies, sure. About parenting. Creativity. Wrestling. Mental health. Theatre. Silliness. Life. 

All the wonderful, chaotic stuff that makes up a human existence, especially one wired like mine. 

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on where this site is headed. What is the main goal of Beyond the Balcony? What’s my "brand," if we’re being all professional about it? 

Truthfully, that’s one of the trickier parts of having a neurodivergent brain. I don’t have one tidy focus. I have roughly one billion ideas bouncing around in my skull at any given moment, and each of them demands to be explored right now. 

Narrowing it all down into one clear identity is like asking a firework to pick just one spark. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe Beyond the Balcony doesn’t have to fit neatly into a single box. Maybe it’s about embracing the sprawl. Celebrating the curiosity. Honouring the tangled road that brought me here from aspiring novelist, to pop culture junkie, to film reviewer, to exhausted dad with a lot of thoughts and a stubborn need to keep sharing them. 

Whatever it becomes, this space is mine to shape. And if you’re here, reading this, then maybe it’s a space for you too. Thanks for coming along.

Things are a bit tight now, and if you appreciate this jouney, then I'd be so grateful for some support.