A reclusive young woman braves a night out in NYC and is confronted by an increasingly isolating series of strange events.

Multiverse has screened at The Crosby Street Hotel , Indieworks , and the Katra Film Series in Manhattan; at the Local Filmmaker Showcase at Videology in Brooklyn; and at the Encore IndieFilm Showcase in Portland.

“By the end, you can easily imagine Franz Kafka watching this, putting his arm fraternally around DiBiasio and then buying him a beer.” — Scott Beggs, Film School Rejects

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Short films are a unique space for filmmakers to test ideas that feel too strange or too personal for a feature. In a few minutes, a director can build an entire world, hint at a character's inner life, and leave the audience with a lingering question. That compression forces creative choices. Every scene has to carry weight, and every silence has to mean something. For writers and directors still finding their voice, the short form is less a stepping stone and more a laboratory where instinct gets sharpened and unexpected themes come into focus through trial and experimentation over time.

The process behind a short film often mirrors the larger challenges of a feature, only compressed. Casting the right face, finding a single location that feels like a character of its own, shaping a script that breathes and moves quickly, and surviving a tight shooting schedule all demand the same kind of problem solving that a feature requires. Many of the lessons learned on a short, including how to communicate with a small crew and how to protect a fragile idea from being over explained, carry forward into bigger projects and become part of a filmmaker's working language.

Screening a short film at festivals and curated series is a grounding experience. The audience is usually small, attentive, and willing to meet a story halfway. That kind of room teaches a filmmaker how scenes land, where attention drifts, and what moments spark laughter or unease. Feedback from a single screening can reshape the next draft of a script or the next attempt at a similar project. For independent creatives working without the safety net of a big budget or a marketing team, those intimate screenings become essential checkpoints, offering honest signals about whether a story is connecting with real people.

Independent filmmaking is as much about persistence as it is about craft. Securing locations, coordinating schedules, wrangling gear, and keeping a cast comfortable on long days all require a quiet kind of leadership. The hardest part is often the mental one: believing that the project is worth finishing when momentum stalls or when self doubt creeps in. Creatives who keep making work learn to treat those dips as part of the process, much like an editor treats a rough cut. Pushing through a difficult week on set or in the writing room is what eventually turns an idea into something a wider audience can experience.

Writing for film is a strange blend of discipline and daydreaming. Some days the words pour out in a single sitting. Other days a single scene refuses to resolve no matter how many approaches are tried. The trick is to keep showing up, to keep reading widely, and to keep paying attention to the small observations that make a character feel real. Over time, a body of work accumulates, and patterns emerge in what a writer keeps returning to. That growing awareness is what allows a creative voice to mature, and it is what gives readers and viewers a sense that the person behind the project is steadily becoming more themselves with each new piece.