Once upon a time there was a boy. He lived on a council estate in the North East of England until his father joined the army. For more than a decade the boy moved around the world, only stopping when it was time for him to further his education.
The boy graduated university with a degree in fine art and a bloody-minded ambition to direct. Starting at the bottom, he climbed up through the ranks of production, until he had shot and directed several hours of documentary television.
Then, driven by a desire to make features, the boy started writing. His short screenplays became longer as he taught himself the craft. Immersing himself in the gangster, horror, and science fiction genres; writing about revenge, punishment, and loyalty; developing a style that has been described as “imaginative and very visual, with an intelligent handle on ideas”.
The boy is older now and a little wiser but no less bloody-minded. He thinks of himself as a writer. In part because he has devoted so much time developing the skills needed to make that claim. But mostly because writing’s a fight and this boy needs a battle.