andy lives in highland park, los angeles, by way of illinois, florida, santa barbara, alaska, and london. in addition to his ongoing conservatory training with gregory berger-sobeck, he holds degrees in film and environmental science from uc santa barbara. he has worked on television, regional & experimental theater, independent film, national commercials, videogames, animation, and audiobooks.
CLIENTS
General Motors, Twitter, Salesforce, Anthem, Amazon, Samsung, New Balance, Dipsea, Honey, Norton Antivirus, Intuit, American Spirit, Chick-Fil-A, ThriftBooks, 5 Hour Energy, Envato, Misen, TriHealthNow, Soylent, Kinecta, Massive Assembly, HVMN, Cercacor, SunMed, DMI, FIS, Lighthouse, OneBlade Shave, Indiana University, Five BN Games, Asus, Kona Brewing Co, Museum Audiobooks, Southern Illinois University Press, Beacon Publishing, Clarissa Wild, Northern Vancouver Resource Council, Atlantic Lottery Corporation, Oklahoma Lottery, Peacock
about
“i want people to smile when they hear my name. i love everyone. i want to help make it a better time for the kids after me.”
—lil b
{the following is excerpted from The Paris Review, Fall 1991}
interviewer: since you don’t have plot, what is it that carries you forward in the narrative?
wright morris: let me illustrate. my short story, “victrola,” is about an old man and a dog he has inherited from his neighbor. they tolerate—but do not like—each other. the man is ill at ease with the dog’s appearance, which he finds prehistoric, the head skull-like, the eyes too small, etc. there is a standoff when they look at each other. predictably, they will have a confrontation. the origin of this is that one day i had seen this creature at the foot of the driveway. his odd appearance disturbed me. his tail did not wag. his short white pelt had been worn through on the high spots. as i approached he turned and slunk away. not seeing him again, i often thought about him. in my story the character inherits the dog from his neighbor. they are never at ease with each other. their daily walk is an ordeal for them both. this walk takes place in mill valley, where i live, and follows a prescribed route to the village park. along this route i am scrupulous about details, but all that takes place on the walk is fiction. this commingling of a real place and imagined events provides the framework for my fiction. there is a narrative line, but no plot. i accept what happens (what occurs to me) and imagine an appropriate resolution.