In addition to being a filmmaker, I am the proud father of a beautiful, energetic, highly imaginative four-year-old girl. It has become clear to me that these two jobs, dad and director, have much in common.

My specialty as a director is performance-driven storytelling. Directing actors, when it’s all said and done, is really about achieving desired results without making these results explicit. In other words, leading a horse to water while instilling in the horse a belief that the water’s divination is his or her idea.

With proper direction, these profound discoveries are – truly and in fact – the actor’s idea. My job is to provide clues so they can find their water. If they don’t believe it is theirs, the well is tainted. And the product, the visual story oasis we want audiences to trust and immerse themselves in, is a mirage.

In that sense, being a parent is no different than directing actors. The best actors retain a childlike capacity for wonder and make believe. Like children, they are impressionable, open to suggestion, and geared toward exploring the limitless possibilities of “What If?”

Also, like children, actors are vulnerable. So care must be taken not to abuse authority. A director must never manipulate, but rather channel the forces of imagination to a healthy, constructive end.

If an actor feels tricked, browbeaten, or coerced, they will shrink from the task. They will act out – or, worse – they will lie. Sound familiar, mom and dad? But if they know, implicitly, you may lead them somewhere unexpected, but never dangerous, they will tap their most private and inspired places to deliver everything the moment requires.

And more. So much more.

I am constantly in thrall of actors, and my own daughter. Their uncanny ability to block out, and transcend, the everyday bullshit that mires the rest of us in an inhibited and creatively finite space, makes both of my jobs a never-ending joy.