JONATHAN CANE
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Jonathan Cane

How did you discover The Santa Barbara International Screenplay Awards and how did you decide to enter this contest among all the others?
I discovered The Santa Barbara International Screenplay Awards the same way all great discoveries happen: by clicking "Next" on FilmFreeway until my coffee got cold. It stood out because of its reputation for celebrating creativity, not just rewarding it—which, let’s face it, is a rare trait these days. Plus, Santa Barbara has the kind of vibe that makes you feel like even your rejection email will be written on parchment, rolled up, and delivered by a seagull wearing a tiny beret. That kind of class? Irresistible.
 
Where do you live (City, State, or Country)?
I live in Oceanside, California. It’s paradise.
 
Your script stood out among hundreds of others. What was the inspiration for your story and why did you write a script instead of a short story or a novel? What inspires your overall journey into screenwriting?
Ace’s Wilde III came to life as a love letter to Luigi Pirandello’s Six Characters in Search of an Author—with a twist. I wondered: what would happen if those characters weren’t existential wanderers but over-the-top, 80s and 90s action heroes armed with outrageous one-liners, slow-motion explosions, and a complete disregard for physics? The result was a world where absurdity meets introspection, and the characters don’t just break the fourth wall—they obliterate it with a grenade launcher.
Why a script? Because this story begged to be seen, heard, and felt in Dolby Surround Sound, not confined to the page. Screenwriting lets me channel my passion for larger-than-life cinematic moments and storytelling that punches you in the gut—figuratively, of course. It’s my way of blending art and adrenaline, with a side of self-aware chaos.
 
How do you decide which stories to tell, and what draws you to these particular themes? 
I decide which stories to tell the way a cat decides where to sit: instinctively, unpredictably, and with a complete disregard for practicality. I’m drawn to tales that explore identity, connection, and the occasional explosion—because why not? At their core, my stories ask, “Who are we when the masks come off?” Sometimes, they ask this literally, like when a character is disarming a bomb while holding their third slice of pizza.
What draws me in? Contrasts. The deeply human and the hilariously absurd. Themes like the chaos of self-discovery, the blurry line between reality and performance (thanks, Pirandello!), and the sheer joy of a good, over-the-top spectacle. If I can make you laugh, cry, and think about the meaning of life—all before the end credits—I know I’ve hit the jackpot.
 
What is your typical writing routine? How do you structure your workday to stay productive?
My writing routine is a finely tuned symphony of chaos and caffeine. I start the day walking my dogs, Whiskey and Rye, and then make a coffee so strong it could bench press a typewriter. Then I tend to give myself a dramatic internal monologue pep-talk about how today will be the day I write the perfect scene. Spoiler alert: it’s not, but that’s why editing exists.
Mornings are for brainstorming and first drafts—when the coffee buzz is high, and my inner critic is still hitting snooze. Afternoons are for refining and untangling plot knots, which I do with a playlist of epic movie scores blasting in the background, because everything feels more important with a Hans Zimmer crescendo. Truly, everything.
That tends to work, but if all else fails, I walk the dogs again. Nothing inspires productivity like getting the blood flowing.
 
How long did it take you to write your script...and what is your writing process? Do you outline...use index cards...white board...or just start with FADE IN?
It took about a year to hammer out the first draft of Ace’s Wilde III, and by "hammer out," I mean produce a glorious mess of gold and garbage. Over the next two years, I chipped away at that mess through edits, turning it into something resembling a story you could proudly share—like a Michelangelo sculpture, if Michelangelo had to deal with plot holes and typo-filled dialogue.
As for my process, I write fearlessly, which is a nice way of saying I sprint through ideas like a kid in a candy store, grabbing everything that shines. I start with an outline because even chaos needs a roadmap. Sometimes, I scribble on my office closet mirror, which acts as both a reflection of the writer (me) and a proper whiteboard thought-map.
Then it’s FADE IN. I dive in, knowing full well that Act One might feel like Shakespeare, and Act Three might read like a first draft of a grocery list. But that’s the beauty of writing fearlessly—it sets the stage for the real art: editing. Editing is where I trade in the garbage for gold, one rewrite at a time.
 
How do you handle writer's block or moments of doubt (we all have them) during your creative process?
When writer’s block strikes, I embrace it like an old friend. First, I take my dogs, Whiskey and Rye, on a walk. They’re like my four-legged therapists, except their advice mostly involves sniffing everything and chasing squirrels. Somehow, watching them live so unapologetically in the moment shakes something loose in my brain.
If that doesn’t work, I’ll play a game—board games, video games, or some garbage on my phone. Games remind me why I love storytelling: the stakes, the strategy, the surprises. And if all else fails, I lean into the doubt and write the worst scene imaginable on purpose. There’s something freeing about putting your inner critic on mute and just letting the words flow—garbage or not. Sometimes, the cure for writer’s block is just showing up and proving to yourself you can push through, one terrible sentence at a time.
 
What tools or software do you find essential to your workflow as a screenwriter?
Final Draft, Google and Pandora. I have two screens, one is always parked on Final Draft while the other is an open browser. Pandora gives me a nice soundtrack I don’t need to think about.
 
How do you approach competition entries, and what have you learned from participating in these contests?
I approach competition entries as my creative pep rally—they keep me motivated and give me that extra push to keep going. There’s something about having a deadline and knowing my work will be seen that lights a fire under me. Plus, entering contests is a great way to stay connected to a community of writers who understand the grind.
What I’ve learned is that it’s less about winning and more about the positive reinforcement. Every time I hit submit, it feels like a mini victory: proof that I’m showing up, putting myself out there, and moving forward. Even if I don’t place, just seeing my name on the list of entrants reminds me that I’m part of something bigger—and that’s enough to keep me inspired and writing.
 
Can you share a specific challenge you've faced in your screenwriting and how you overcame it? 
One of my biggest challenges has been transitioning from over 20 years as an unscripted producer and director to being taken seriously in the scripted space. It’s like trying to convince a crowd that the magician can also be a mind reader—it takes a bit of work to shift perceptions.
I’ve tackled this by letting my storytelling speak for itself. I’ve poured everything I’ve learned about character, pacing, and audience connection in unscripted into my scripts, proving that good storytelling transcends formats. I’ve also leaned into competitions and workshops to build credibility and show that I belong in the scripted world.
It’s been an uphill climb, but every win—no matter how small—reminds me that persistence is the key to rewriting not just scripts, but the narrative around my career.
 
Where do you see yourself in five years as a screenwriter?
Probably still in Oceanside, CA. Hopefully, with a few of my scripts optioned, though.
 
What is your ultimate ambition as a writer?
 My ultimate goal as a writer? To leave a legacy of stories so compelling, so impactful, that people can’t help but remember them—like that song you can’t get out of your head, except you actually like it. Whether it’s a killer brand campaign, a cinematic tale, or the world’s most perfectly crafted dad joke, I’m here to make connections that matter.
Writing, for me, is about that magical moment when someone reads your work and thinks, “Wow, it’s like they’re speaking directly to me.” If I can create those sparks—turning casual observers into superfans—I’ll consider it a job well done.
And hey, who knows? Maybe someday, I’ll throw in a memoir filled with whiskey-fueled adventures, dad jokes gone wrong, and behind-the-scenes chaos from a life spent chasing great stories.
 
The film and television industry is constantly evolving. How do you see the role of screenwriters changing, especially with the rise of streaming platforms and emerging technologies like artificial intelligence?
Sure, the rise of streaming platforms and AI is changing the game, but here’s the thing: storytelling is fundamentally human. It’s messy, it’s weird, and it’s powered by our emotions, experiences, and, let’s be honest, a touch of caffeine-induced brilliance. AI might help with organizing ideas or suggesting a plot twist, but it’s not going to write the scene where two characters fall in love over a shared childhood trauma—or a perfectly awkward pun.
I see the role of screenwriters evolving in exciting ways. We’re not just writing scripts anymore; we’re building entire universes, shaping cultural moments, and, occasionally, creating the next viral meme. Technology gives us tools, sure, but the heart of storytelling? That’s our turf. No robot can replicate the magic of connecting with an audience on a deeply human level.
So, I’m not worried. The bots can help with formatting, maybe even brainstorm a few ideas, but they’ll never understand the joy of nailing a line so good it gives you goosebumps. The humans aren’t going anywhere—we’ve got too many stories left to tell. And also, we have coffee.
 
Which film or television writers inspire you? Why?
Charlie Kaufman is my go-to answer here because, honestly, who else writes like that? The man doesn’t just tell stories; he cracks open the human condition, sprinkles in existential dread, and somehow makes it all wildly entertaining. His scripts feel like he’s taken a deep dive into the tangled mess of our brains and come back with something profound, hilarious, and deeply weird.
Take Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It’s not just a love story—it’s a gut punch about memory, loss, and whether we’re doomed to repeat the same mistakes. Or Adaptation, where he literally writes himself into the script and somehow pulls it off. That kind of meta brilliance? It’s the narrative equivalent of a triple axel.
Kaufman inspires me because he’s fearless. He doesn’t shy away from the uncomfortable or the unconventional; he leans into it. He’s a reminder that great writing isn’t about playing it safe—it’s about taking risks, breaking rules, and trusting that audiences are smart enough to follow you into the rabbit hole.
 
What’s your all-time favorite movie or television show?
Sesame Street. Always has been, always will be. And no, it’s not just nostalgia talking (though I’ll admit the sight of Big Bird still gets me right in the feels). Sesame Street is the gold standard for storytelling that’s both meaningful and entertaining. It’s not just a kids’ show; it’s a masterclass in empathy, humor, and the art of connecting with your audience.
Think about it: this is a show that manages to tackle everything from counting to complex emotions, all while introducing you to a vampire who’s really into math. It’s clever without being condescending, heartfelt without being sappy, and somehow makes learning the alphabet feel like an adventure. Plus, let’s not overlook its ability to attract an A-list guest lineup—there’s something magical about watching Oscar the Grouch go toe-to-toe with a celebrity.
Sesame Street inspires me because it proves you can create something universally relatable while still being creative and innovative. It’s a reminder that storytelling, at its best, transcends age, language, and even species (shoutout to Cookie Monster). And let’s be real: the world would be a better place if we all spent a little more time hanging out on that sunny street where the air is sweet.
 
What advice do you have for writers hoping to win a contest or place as a finalist as you have?
If you’re gunning for a contest win—or even to snag that shiny finalist spot—here’s my advice: don’t write what you think the judges want to see. Write what only you can bring to the table. It’s tempting to chase trends or second-guess what’ll stand out, but the scripts and stories that resonate most are the ones that feel undeniably authentic and uniquely yours.
And don’t be afraid to take risks. Bold choices might alienate a few people, but they’ll also grab the right kind of attention. A memorable, risky idea beats a perfectly safe one every single time.
 
What else are you working on that the world needs to know about? (links to your projects?)
I’m thrilled to share a glimpse of King of Alaska, a project that I’m incredibly proud to be part of. Set at the dawn of the 20th century, it tells the true story of Captain Mike Healy—a man who was equal parts legend and enigma. As the sole representative of the U.S. Government across the vast Pacific Northwest, Healy was a force of nature: feared, respected, and larger than life. But behind his ironclad command style was a deeply personal secret—he was a Black man passing as white, a truth that could shatter everything he had built.
This isn’t just a historical drama; it’s an exploration of a quintessentially American figure. Healy’s life was full of contradictions—brutality and compassion, authority and vulnerability. King of Alaska delves into the immense pressures he faced as whispers about his race began to threaten the respect and power he’d fought so hard to earn. Think The Revenant meets Hidden Figures, with a heavy dose of raw, untamed frontier energy.
Collaborating with the United States Coast Guard and inspired by Dennis L. Noble and Truman R. Strobridge’s book, this project uncovers a long-overlooked chapter of American history. It’s not just a story about survival in the Arctic wild—it’s about survival in a society that demanded Mike Healy live a double life. This is a tale of resilience, legacy, and the cost of being a pioneer. Stay tuned—this one’s going to be unforgettable.
 
Where can the world find you online? (Social media links, etc.)
You can stay up to date on my projects at www.hurricanemedia.us – or find me on LinkedIn, Instagram or Facebook @goatcane 

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