“I’m lucky,” I just said. My dad and I were on the phone.
“I understand how to be on-camera and how to write macros to make that happen.”
It’s an unusual combination, both sides of the camera. It allows me to do what I do at home. It’s probably why there won’t be many more like me, yet. You have to live in both worlds.
In one of the best tech support calls ever I explained this whole concept to a senior video engineer at NewTek. He seemed to get it. There is a whole new set of buyers for their products if they can make the tech part a little more invisible. A whole army of one-man-band content producers, like me.
Any steps in this direction make my life easier. Any productivity gains from me working less are welcomed. I expect to help shape their direction.
Alas, the reason I’m talking with the guys who write the code is because my problems are VERY unusual. At one point I described my TriCaster as being haunted. They are totally stumped. I can’t begin to count the number of hours lost while trying to revive a desperately ill computer.
My correspondence on continuing problems is now over 100 pages.
Even though the reason for my problems seems obvious, the exact piece of miscreant code isn’t! Something in my macros is doing the damage. But what? It’s all happening in the background. These macros are pounded in the same exact order day-after-day. I’m probably their only user (of thousands) who does this.
My whole business revolves around that one piece of equipment. When it works as designed it’s amazing. I make TV alone in the room next to our kitchen. Everything happening behind the camera is controlled by me in front of the camera in real time. It’s totally mind boggling and one-of-a-kind in the world.
It’s the world’s coolest garage.