Share

One day, I’ll actually have a set desk.

There will be a mini fridge filled with flavoured sparkling water and loads of small meaningful objects that tell the story of a life and career filled with joy, triumph, happiness and not the slightest sign of challenge, stress or hardship.

There will also be a picture of my smiling, future child who came out of the womb with the decision to never cry or complain.

For now though, here are the objects that follow me around, as I try to concentrate for 20 minutes at a time in the FERN office here in Copenhagen, where the only child in sight is the one I see when I look in the mirror.

The Notebooks

Every day since October 2023, I’ve written at least four pages of freehand in notebooks like these.

I learned the practice through The Artist’s Way, and I couldn’t be a functioning creative without it.

I start my mornings by writing down all my insecurities and fears until I tire them out.

They tend to leave me alone for the rest of the day, while I free-write about problems that need solving, whether they’re my own, a client’s or a character’s.

I’ll do that all day until I’m ready to put those thoughts into a treatment, an email or say them out loud in a meeting.

The Drawing Book

Any time I see something that makes me laugh, I write it down on my phone.

Then, when I get the chance, I turn that note into a small drawing with a caption in this little notebook I carry everywhere.

The last one had over 400 entries when I lost it.

I was really sad and almost didn’t buy a new one, but we can’t let the hurts of our past keep us from trying again in the present!!

The Gabriel García Márquez Book

I’m currently finishing Love in the Time of Cholera, my third Gabriel García Márquez book of 2026.

Some time ago, I realised the films I write can be characterised as “magical realism”, stories set in a world that feels realistic but reveals unexplained, surreal elements.

Some say Márquez created the genre, which is what first drew me to his work.

I haven’t stopped since.

It’s so good, and it helps me romanticise my own writing, even in treatments and emails, which makes the more everyday parts of being a director feel creatively engaging.

The Skateboard

To my surprise, it turns out people don’t enjoy having huge coloured signs, wrestling masks or other props from previous productions lying around the office.

But... nobody has noticed that this skateboard from one of my first productions is hiding under the bookcase.

Leaving it there is my small act of rebellion.

My revolutionary Cuban ancestors are probably rolling their eyes in their graves at me, but fortunately I don’t think they can get to me in this world.

Share