Telling stories for 20 years. Here’s mine.

Telling stories for 20 years. Here’s mine.

My passion, my dreams — the thing I did every single day — melted before me. It was OVER. Not through any fault of my own, but because of ego. I was a threat who might take something away.

I’d been working in the comic book industry since I was 18. By 26, I was an artist, writer, and editor. I loved it with every bone in my body.

That’s when the industry imploded for me. I worked for Jim Shooter, and when Broadway Comics closed, I was on my own. Even though I’d worked on some of the biggest comics in the industry — with Dwayne McDuffie, Chris Claremont, and Denys Cowan — I was rejected by the main players because of my affiliation with Jim (who is a great talent, man, and friend).  

During a job interview with a comics publisher, I was discussing a property I created and wrote for Broadway called Knights on Broadway. He interrupted me and basically said: “Well, we know that Shooter writes everything wherever he works, so, yeah…” I was shocked. He didn’t think I actually wrote a comic I had written. How could I defend that? Brutal. There was more of the same from others in the comics industry as well.

Pretty much, I was Jim’s guy — so I was out too. 

I was broken-hearted when I left comic books because I loved telling stories.

Avi Arad, from Toy Biz, knew about my history in comic books, so he had me put together a Spiderman bible for screenwriter, David Koepp. I worked with Toy Biz to design toys for WWF (now WWE) and Avengers. I designed POS items for Procter & Gamble, AND1, Walmart, and Martha Stewart. I was making good money — but my heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t telling stories anymore. It was about a paycheck.

Enter Yamilca. Yamilca worked at the commercial production company, Hungry Man. We talked about the industry; she would tell me about production. I told her, “I’m just a guy who draws.” But somewhere along the way, she saw the parallels between my work and hers. She said, “I’ve seen your work. You’ve done comics for Marvel. You tell stories! Why can’t you do storyboards?” 

I shrugged it off. She was nice, and meant well, but I was fine. I mean, I was orphaned by my industry, but I was fine! Let’s just say 27-year-old Joe didn’t understand himself as well as I do now. 

One day Yamilca calls and says, frantically: “I just pitched you for a job. They need it tomorrow. Please?!” 

I talked to the producers and drew the frames that night. It was a concept for how a scene would be staged. No problem.

They dug it. I got paid. And I went back to being a tumbleweed. 

So, while I’m tumbleweeding, Yamilca starts showing my work around.

Suddenly I get a call from Allen Coulter’s producer to work on the Budweiser’s “How you doin’? Campaign. (The sequel to Budweiser’s “Wassup” campaign).

Next, I get a call from Bryan Buckley (with whom we still have the pleasure of working).

This was my first taste of storyboards. And it was amazing. I was good at it. And I got to tell stories again.

Yamilca made it happen.

A little while later, Yamilca whips out a document — a Saint James Studios business proposal. It was printed and bound at Kinkos and everything. If you know Yamilca, you know she’s business-minded and unstoppable. It was accordingly impressive.

That is exactly when our business was born. 

Without Yamilca, Saint James Studios wouldn’t have happened. I’d probably still be a sad tumbleweed.

But I’m not. For 20 years, I’ve been doing what I love — telling stories — for incredible clients. 

So, aside from 20 years of experience and iconic projects, why work with us? 

At SJS, we get it. Yamilca’s intimate understanding of production. My passion for helping you share your vision with others. We know what you need, and we can make your job easier. 

This is my story of adversity and triumph. Let me tell yours.