Early that October, I'd met his mother on a cross-province train ride to a book signing in London, Ontario. She and I liked each other very much, and she told me that her son was an aspiring writer and filmmaker. I told her to bring him along to the signing the next day. Dexter and I hit it off like a house on fire, and I asked to see some of his work, which was excellent for his age.
Over the past two and a half years, I’ve been reading and critiquing his short stories and his screenplays, providing feedback and a sounding board, helping him take himself seriously as a young artist. He's made some ambitious short films during that time and, in fact, he won his first film award last year.
The film he shot this past weekend—which we debriefed last night—was done from an excellent, very short, very tight screenplay. When I first read it, I was struck by his evolving confidence and maturity. As a mentor, it was a moment of the purest pride to see the growth and progress of his ambition, skill, and vision.
For my own part, I’m also the product of mentors—life mentors, of course, but also literary ones. The gift of an older writer's time, skill, patience, encouragement, and nurturing is one that I’ve been honoured to pay forward with Dexter.
But honestly, the best part of this whole process is how much fun it is to work with such an unambiguously talented young artist. Calling him a “great kid” obviously has a shelf-date, because, even at 16, he’s showing signs of being the real deal, even though he is, absolutely, a great kid. But we should also remember his name, because he’s going places.
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