(An important note: Our story is just one very specific experience that comes nowhere close to encapsulating what so many have gone through. My desire is to be as open and clear as possible about what we went through, but I can’t begin to cover the loss and impact that these fires have had on so many we love and respect. This is a long post and if you’re not inclined to read it, please scroll to the bottom and consider donating to some of the many worthy causes. Also, Substack says my post is too long for email, so you may need to click it to read the entire post on the site. Thanks friends.)
On Tuesday, the morning of the 7th, I had just hopped off a zoom with a Canadian pal and began writing. I was ironically working on a dystopian novel about the effects of climate change on children in the near future. Now the topic feels a little too prescient.
At 11:26am Ash texted me. She was on day two of a writer’s retreat in the Yucca valley with some pals and had received a text from our neighbor asking if we could see the smoke. I got up and walked to Ashley’s office, the back bedroom in our apartment, and immediately saw the dark plums rising. My heart sank… I had witnessed wildfires in both Canada and the US, but this was different. It was close. Really close.
I sent a video to Ash and we immediately felt that I needed to pack some things. I threw together a small ‘go bag’ of hard-drives and sensitive documents and decided to walk down to Palisades Park to get a better view.
By 11:32am I had already received the first warning on my phone. We live in Santa Monica between Wilshire (a major artery through the city of Los Angeles) and Montana (a sort of local’s street that borders the North Montana neighborhood, home to some of the most beautiful and expensive real estate in the country). Further north, above that neighborhood is a little canyon (Rustic Canyon) that separates us from the Pacific Palisades. It’s full of the gorgeous homes of recognizable figures in media and business. We often wander through the winding streets of that canyon on long weekend walks, sometimes stopping at the Golden Bull for a drink on the way home.
By the time I had left the apartment to walk down to the park, everything up to the North Montana neighborhood was under an evacuation order. Things happened so quickly it was hard to keep track. It didn’t feel real… yet.
By noon I was at the park and could see the smoke flowing out over the Pacific. It was a large angry cloud and it was clear that it was growing fast. In the days leading up to the fire, we had red flag warnings, which signify dangerous windy conditions ripe for fire. I’ve experienced many in my three years of living here, and never felt in any immediate danger. The largest danger we normally face is having a palm frond fall on us while trying to coax our silly golden doodle into going potty instead of sniffing (and barking at) every passerby.
I decided to walk north and investigate further. At the north end of Santa Monica there is a set of stairs most often used by people for morning exercise. I arrived at a crowd of people staring at the Pacific Palisades in silence. The image was indescribable. A massive black cloud painted the sky above raging flames. It ate away at the Santa Monica mountains, tearing in each direction. As we all stood there in silence, reports started to pour in about a chaotic evacuation in the area that caught our gaze.
Strangers shared updates, hushed phone calls, tweets and texts. We were hungry for news of what was happening and how bad the situation was.
By this point something started to rattle me. City workers, police, fire department staff, all slowly rolled by and watched along with the crowd. They were quiet. Even more unsettling; they looked worried. There was small talk. Murmurings. Everyone was trying to connect with friends or family north of us. The last thing I heard before I left that area was an officer describing his fear that the winds would pick up and push south, and put our homes in danger.
After watching the fire sweep over miles of land and homes for two hours, I went back to grab a bite and pack more. I went back along the park and for the first time actually felt fear rather than shock. I kept looking back over my shoulder and the initial clouds of smoke had grown to fill the sky. You could no longer see the mountains north of us that led to Malibu. This is when it really started to sink in; this was a desperate situation and many people and homes were going to be harmed. Possibly ours as well.
By 3pm I was back at the apartment gathering more things. It was a mad dash of trying to coordinate with Ash out in the desert, update friends and family, and keep one eye on the news. In those few hours of getting organized it was evident that things were escalating at a rapid rate. I could see smoke sweeping west of us now, heading south over the ocean. The sky was growing dark as the sun was blocked. Reports were coming in all over the city. It was no longer about whether or not I should leave, but when.
By 4:45pm I was packed and updated Ash. The plan was to leave by 8-8:30pm at the latest. We weren’t yet under an evacuation warning, but I was unsettled by the untamed blaze I had watched earlier and the wind storm that was just beginning to kick up. I decided to grab my camera and wander out one more time to see if there was any noticeable change to the north.
By 5:20pm I was back in Palisades Park. Another crowd had gathered, watching the sunset fight through the cloud of smoke. For the first time I could see flames ripping through the western side of the Palisades and Malibu where the land meets the water. Seeing that the flames had moved that close to home brought a sense of urgency. I was determined to head back north to the stairs to see how it was progressing through the Palisades. At this point, we weren’t aware of the level of devastation in the beautiful community north of us.
In 2022 about a month into living in LA, Netflix had screened our short film ‘Forgive Us Our Trespasses’ at their newly minted Bay Theatre. It sits in the heart of the Palisades village and has always been a core memory of my early days here. It was an incredible welcome to the city that is now my home and whenever we head home from events in the east we would try to take Sunset blvd, passing through this beautiful community. To know that the surrounding area is gone is just one small heartbreaking piece in this devastating experience.
As I arrived back at the stairs at 4th and Adelaide I knew immediately that I wouldn’t stay that night. The fire had moved so far from its original footprint a few hours earlier that it was clear this situation was out of control, especially with the horrible winds. I snapped some pictures and wandered through the crowd with a very nervous Olive until the smoke and ash started to get to me. As I rushed back to our apartment I saw FD and PD cruisers rolling slowly through the streets inspecting for fire. I decided to bump up my timeline and leave as soon as I got home. I didn’t want to go to sleep knowing that the fire was growing with winds fanning it towards us, and so many had to abandon their cars earlier that afternoon.
I feel guilt even typing these words as I know so many didn’t have the luxury of time that I was afforded. It’s hard to comprehend.
I’m very fortunate that Ashley’s sister and brother-in-law live about an hour east in Corona, a small city in the Inland Empire. Our dog Olive is obsessed with their pup Coco (who tolerates Olive to an extent) and we made our way out at 5:50pm. The winds started to kick up and it was a dicey drive along the 91 freeway into the night. Shortly after I hit the road, the city of Santa Monica put the neighborhood two blocks north of us into an evacuation warning.
From there the next 24 hours just brought heartbreak after heartbreak. It seemed like every 10-20 minutes I would receive news of another friend fleeing, a home being lost, another fire starting. There was a constant flurry of messages, news, alerts, misinformation, devastating updates and just general fear and confusion. Between Ash being out in the desert and me in Corona we tried to connect with pals, each other, arrange places for friends to stay, and keep an eye on our place from afar.
That first night I laid in bed tossing and turning, checking our internal and external cameras constantly. That time is the biggest blur. So much happened so fast, that even as I sit and type this on Friday morning, it’s hard to recall the exact events. There’s just too much to track.
At midday on Wednesday, Ash and her friends had lost power in the desert. The Yucca valley was cycling power to avoid additional fires. We were at risk of being disconnected for a while, but I knew she was safe, and we just continued to coordinate in whatever way we could.
By 2:30pm on Wednesday, the city had officially put our area on evacuation warning and extended the mandatory evacuation two blocks away from our home. We were convinced at that point that the neighborhoods around us would be impacted directly by fire.
By Wednesday night the feelings of powerlessness, hopelessness and devastation were peaking across our community. We had started to receive news of pals who had lost homes. The Hollywood fire had started up out of nowhere forcing many friends to flee in gridlock. The fires were exploding in all directions with no containment. It began to feel as if the whole city was going to go up.
This is when I started to feel as though we were going to lose our apartment and everything inside. I began to agonize over what I hadn’t grabbed, and the truth is no matter what you take in a mad dash, it will never be “enough.” Ash and I debated on a return to Santa Monica to grab more personal items, but with the windstorm in full effect and the chaos from the other fires sparking up, we decided to sleep on it (or rather, toss and turn on it). If things remained stable in the morning, we’d make a call.
By Thursday morning it seemed the severity of the events were becoming clear to friends and family across the US and Canada. We started to receive a swell of support and kind messages. I heard from family, friends, old coworkers, high school peers that I hadn’t spoken to in decades. As they say, these situations tend to bring out such an incredible side of people whether directly affected or at a distance. People drop everything to check in, offer support and resources. It’s beautiful. We’re grateful to all of you who have reached out to us. It means so much.
Ash and I had decided that it was safe enough for me to make a run into the city. The fire had only spilled into small pockets in the canyon north of us, and I figured I could turn around at any point if it seemed unsafe. I hopped on the freeway and headed home.
It’s surreal driving into an area that you consider your home and yet a threat hangs over it. What would normally be around a 2-2.5 hour drive at that time of day due to the morning commute was just under an hour. As I approached downtown, the heavy grey smoke hung stale over the city. The traffic was thin. Idiots raced each other on the open roads. I moved between pockets of smoke and sunshine, trading each as I approached the 405 freeway, the border of “the westside.” By the time I approached Cloverfield to exit, I was the only car heading west.
The streets were lined with debris from the wind storms. Usually our neighborhood is stacked with cars on each side of the street, seeking desirable spots in the sea of densely populated low-rise apartments. Each block only had a car or two, if any.
I parked out front of our building and saw Fidel, one of our incredible groundskeepers preparing the property for any potential fire. He was working selflessly to protect our homes, and I was overwhelmed with emotion seeing his dedication to helping us. We had a really great heart to heart, shared an emotional moment and I headed up to try and grab more personal things. The AQI was 200 and the ash was everywhere. Fortunately, our place was sealed up pretty well, and we had minimal smoke inside.
After packing the car, I wanted to walk down to the park again and see progress. We were desperate for an update on the fire fighting in the canyon. We hadn’t received any concrete news on how the fire was progressing north of us, and I wanted to get as close as I could. As soon as I hit Ocean ave, I could hear the hum of the Canadair cl-415 super-scoopers working as a duo over the Pacific. They were flying in a line, scooping up sea water as a last resort and dropping it a mere 10 blocks north of our home. I stood with a very small group of Santa Monican’s that stuck around and watched them drop water over and over again for about 20 minutes. I’ve seen a lot of cool things in my life, but few things were as amazing as seeing these elite professionals make it look easy. They were flying so low that they were basically at my eye line as they entered the canyon less than a mile in front of me.
I went back to the car and took a couple of photos of the exterior of our apartment, wondering if it would be the last time I saw it standing. I drove home in silence. It was the first time since Tuesday morning that I wasn’t glued to a tv/phone/laptop/radio. By the time I returned to Corona I was so emotionally and physically exhausted that I just laid in the family guest bed and stared at the ceiling. I felt a hollow relief knowing we had grabbed a few more things, but knew so many others didn’t have that privilege, and the threat of losing our home was still possible.
There is a lot to say about the media environment and culture at large. There’s a lot going on here philosophically. There’s a lot going on here politically. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about the complexity and nuance surrounding this event as do many of us that live here. But I’m too emotionally and physically fried to do it justice, but there is one thing worth expanding on, and that’s about the spirit of Los Angeles.
I believe that Los Angeles is one of the most misunderstood cities in the world. Before visiting for the first time in 2017, I also believed many of the falsehoods. If you believe ‘everything you see on TV’ so to speak, you’d think it was a vapid hellhole of wealth signaling, plastic surgery and greed. I was prepared to meet a bunch of people that turned their nose up at me as some outsider, but it was the opposite. Many of the people that I met in this city were hardworking dreamers, both native to LA and from around the world. People showed an interest in me, my work, my life, my interests. They invited me into their worlds. I was embraced by Ashley’s community, and then by the community that I built when I moved here in January 2022.
When I arrived in LA, I rapidly made some of the best, most loyal, helpful, generous and just plain awesome friends. People that went out of their way to support us in various life moments and emergencies and vice versa. People who went out of their way to throw us work during strikes and slowdowns. Canadian visitors marvel at how friendly Angelenos are, and their visits often demystify the nuanced culture of this city.
The truth is, most people here are incredibly generous, cool, talented, hardworking and social. It’s a city of dreamers all united by a fire inside that drew them here. In LA you can dream big and no one is going to cut you down or question your passion. In fact, they will usually ask; how can I help? You quite literally have to go out of your way to run into the artificial people that our media portrays. Literally every single friend or peer that I have the pleasure of getting to know has worked their asses off to be here, have gone through feast and famine, and are usually self-made people, moving here with talent and a couple of bags (I moved here with just two bags in January 2022). This is a city of immigrants and hustlers. I’m proud that it feels like home. It is home.
If you have a misconception or negative viewpoint of LA, or California for that matter, I encourage you to reach out. I encourage you to visit (we have a guest room). I encourage you to ask yourself where this perception came from and why. Who does it serve? Ask yourself why you write things off without seeing for yourself. Then ask yourself how much that’s holding back the rest of your life.
Today, Friday January 10th, is the first time the tide has turned for our family. It’s emotional even typing those words because we are so fortunate and thankful for how our situation has developed, but also mourning alongside our fellow Angelenos. It’s complicated. It makes you feel guilty and also inspires a sense of wanting to roll up your sleeves and fix what you can.
This morning Ash and I reunited in a Trader Joe’s parking lot in Redlands. We went for lunch and shared stories and reflected on the last 4 days. As I type this, I’m sitting on the couch at Kay and Andrew’s house with KCAL on. Jax, my 1 year old nephew is running around while Ash and Kay catch up. The evacuation warnings in our neighborhood have lifted, yet more have been added in Brentwood northeast of us. For each new positive development there is something negative to balance it out. It feels like we are still very much at the beginning of this new chapter. The future feels more unknown than ever.
Many of you have asked how you can support us in this time, and honestly, your well wishes and conversations have been amazing. If you want to subscribe to this Substack at the cost of a cup of coffee once a month, that would go a long way to help. I took the last year off this blog as I hustled through new writing projects, editing work, and spending two days a week watching our infant nephew. I’m returning to regular posts throughout 2025. And if you don’t have the resources, feel free to hop on a free subscription - most if not all of the posts will be free either way.
The past two years Ashley and I have been underemployed with the double whammy of the strike and then an industry wide slowdown. We’ve survived through the generosity of friends and family throwing freelance work, grants we have landed, and side-hustles like this. But beyond that, it’s more important to us that you consider supporting these families or initiatives as our city works to fight these fires and rebuild. There will be more reflections on this time, but for now, please consider helping the people below however you can. Thanks.
A few friends and acquaintances we have directly donated to:
https://www.gofundme.com/f/la-fires-help-our-friends-rebuild-their-homes (these are awesome friends of ours)
https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-katherine-rebuild-after-altadena-fires
Gofundme pages at less than 20% funded (and many other links)
Larger efforts and orgs:
A great list from the LA Homeless Services Authority:
https://www.lahsa.org/newsArticle/resources-to-support-those-during-the-la-fires
https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/how-to-help-victims-los-angeles-wildfires-rcna187274
UPDATE WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 15
I type this as I lay in my own bed, on day three of battling some type of Norovirus/flu combo that ripped through my sister-in-law’s house this past weekend. It took us all down one-by-one and I was the last one to get sick on Sunday night, right as we returned home. I have been sick as a dog and will spare you the details, but today I feel well enough to make this post and share a small update.
We are no longer in any kind of immediate danger. The fires seem under control for now and we have quite an army of firefighters providing help across the city. We still have one more day of winds to deal with, but I think the general fear has lifted and there is a sense things will move forward.
But the devastation as I’m sure you have seen is endless. So many families have been displaced, homes lost, treasures gone. I could never do any of it justice and people more qualified than I have reported on what these specific areas represent to so many. I encourage you to look up the history of black families who built a thriving community in Altadena, to support those who have lost their homes and loved ones and to take a deeper look at the root causes of many of the issues here.
One fantastic watch is Lucy Walker’s Bring Your Own Brigade, an incredible documentary looking at the history of wildfires and our current militarized firefighting practices vs. the proven techniques of indigenous people who cared for this land long before the Europeans arrived.
Thanks again for taking the time to check in on us. There is a lot ahead for this city. Sending love.
Wow! Shawn!