I’ve been making films for a decade now, and I absolutely love it. But let’s not sugarcoat it, filmmaking is hard. When I started, it was tough, and I told myself, just keep going, and eventually, it’ll get better, easier. That’s how it’s supposed to work, right?

Wrong.

The more I did it, the harder it got. The stakes got higher, the risks even higher. So no, it doesn’t get easier. But somewhere along the way, something strange happens, the line between filmmaking and personal life gets so blurry that it disappears. It all becomes one. Every film I make now feels like a piece of me, and with every project, I get better. But it wasn’t always like this.

I still remember the first short film I directed. It was an ambitious mess. A ten-minute drama with a cast of two, neither of whom had ever acted before. The script was written in a single day over coffee. By the end of the shoot, I was exhausted, but I couldn’t stop smiling. That’s when I knew it – this is it! This was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

But with every film I make, I question my path. Was it the right choice to become a director? Or was it the biggest mistake of my life? All my friends who aren’t in the film industry seem to have ordinary lives, a house, a pet, a steady routine. That life feels so distant to me. It’s a life I’ll never fully understand because I’ve never experienced it.

All my adult life, I’ve made films. And since I made my first “big” film, Despair, back in 2017, I’ve realized there’s no other job I’d want to do. That said, I’m not afraid of hard work. Every time it gets harder, I look at a specific picture – a photo of me growing up in a tiny village in Ukraine. I had nothing. I worked from sunrise to sunset, planting produce and taking care of farm animals, and I was happy. At a very early age, I understood the importance of hard work and the value of hardship in life.

When I moved to London, I learned how to live on my own in a foreign country. And when I moved to Los Angeles, I learned that no one cares about you as a filmmaker until you make it. Until you prove yourself worthy. I learned how to be a true independent filmmaker. There were months I couldn’t afford to rent proper equipment, so I borrowed cameras from friends or worked with what I had. I edited films on a laptop so old it would crash if I added too many video clips. But somehow, I got it done.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that persistence beats perfection. You don’t have to make the perfect film, you just have to keep making films. Every project teaches you something new, even if it’s what not to do.

As I’ve gotten older, there’s this question that keeps gnawing at me: When will it finally happen? When will I be able to call myself a full-time director? I’m not chasing fame or fortune. I just want to pay my rent, cover my bills, take care of my wife, and maybe, just maybe, go on a little holiday once a year. That’s not too much to ask, right?

I’ve been asking myself that same question for years now. Every day. The only answer I’ve ever come up with is to keep going. Don’t quit. Make it happen. Keep making films.

Maybe this year will be the year. The year I finally make that film. The one that gets someone’s attention. The one that launches careers. The one people can’t stop talking about.

Until then, I’ll keep rolling.