Why hasn’t your firm made the videos yet?
Every quote you have ever been handed for a film covered the producer’s costs. None of them covered yours.
Yours is the real number. The hours getting ready to appear. The practice. The takes and the retakes. The make-up chair. Standing around while the crew relights the room and does it all again after lunch. That is where a production really blows up, and it is why you never did this. It was never the few thousand dollars. It was the busy life it would cost you.
It was impractical. Our method and your digital twin make it practical — and the film here makes that whole argument in one sitting.
We are not a shop that does everything for everybody, and we are not going to compare ourselves to one. We are a boutique firm in the true meaning of the word: professional service practices, and nothing else.
That is not a niche somebody picked off a whiteboard. It is where fifty years of my own working life were spent — which is why we already know what your clients need to hear, and why we know what you are not allowed to say. And you will be dealing with me directly — founder to founder.
Film, trailers, social media, scripts, your digital twin, and internal communication. The work is what sells the job. Everything written here is only so you can satisfy yourself we are safe to hand it to.
I'm Adrian Keith Skane. I have been a CPA since 1973, I opened my own firm in 1977, and I never worked anywhere else again until I sold my interest to my partner last December.
What I actually did for those fifty years was sit across a desk from the person who owns the business and ask questions. Ten thousand times over. How the money is really made. Where it leaks. What he wants the thing to become. Then I did it again the following year with the same people, and again the year after that. Some of those families I advised into a fourth generation.
That is an unusual seat to sit in. Most people who advise a business get a snapshot. I got the whole picture, one year at a time, with the results landing on my desk every twelve months to settle whether what we decided last year had actually worked. Do that ten thousand times and it rewires you. I can hear a business now.
A tax return tells a story. Any accountant who has been at this long enough can read a set of them like a diary: the year he overhired, the year he bought the building, the year he quit taking a salary and hoped nobody would notice. Twelve months of decisions, told in numbers.
A film tells a story too. Same interview. Same listening. Same judgment about what matters, what is noise, and what a professional firm must never say out loud. The only real difference is who is allowed to read it. The tax return's story is told to the government and to you. The film's story is told to every person you are trying to reach.
That is what a producer does, and it is the title I use here. I am not the artist. I am the one the client hires, the one who decides what gets made, and the one who answers for it when it is finished.
Founder to founder.
The person who hires me is almost always a founder — or a co-founder, or the founder's son or daughter still running it the way the old man thought about it. You know your business better than anybody alive. I know businesses. Put those two people in a room and nothing has to be explained twice. You should not have to teach a twenty-six-year-old account executive what a partnership buy-in is, or why that particular case is never going in a video. And where I do not know your corner of it, I know exactly which question to ask next.
And one thing about the price, because it decides every invoice we send.
I have never once asked what the most is that I could charge. I look at what it costs to do the work properly, and at what the work is worth to the person buying it, and I set the price off those two numbers. Fifty years of that has left a great deal of money on the table. It is also why clients stayed with me for thirty years at a stretch. I do not waste money or time — not mine, not my staff's, and not yours. You are handing me a budget out of a business you built with your own hands, and I intend to spend it the way I would spend my own.
Rule one. Start a business that makes economic sense — and that you are actually built to run. The numbers have to work before anything else does, and you need three things to reach profitability: the skills, the temperament, and the money. Missing any one of them is enough to end it. The good news is that you can find out faster than you ever could before — a business plan, a website and a marketing plan can be built and tested in under three months, for a reasonable number. You no longer have to bet the house to learn whether the idea is any good.
Rule two. Founders are optimists. Get somebody who will tell you the truth. Smart people can talk themselves into almost anything, because they can picture exactly how it would work. Picturing it is not the same as doing it. You need somebody who knows you, knows the business, and will say the hard part out loud — an honest count of what you stand to gain, what you stand to lose, and what it will actually take. That is not pessimism. It is the only way an optimist gets to keep being one.
Rule three. Do not ride a mission-critical mistake all the way down. Every business makes mistakes. The ones that kill you are the ones nobody stopped. Modern marketing will tell you inside a week whether something is working — not at the end of the quarter, when the money is already gone. When the potential loss is catastrophic, cut early and change direction. You are still in business on Monday.
Everything you are looking at — this site, the writing, the video, the systems running behind it — we built in under three months, with our own team, using the same tools we would point at your business. That is not a boast. That is Rule One, and you are standing in it.
A production studio is a professional service firm. The deliverable is a film instead of a return, and everything that determines whether it is any good is identical. Somebody has to hire well. Somebody has to train relentlessly and hold a standard on the days when letting it slide would be easier and nobody would notice. Somebody has to take care of the client like the relationship is going to run twenty years, because the good ones do. That is what I have spent my working life doing, and it is why our studio team is not a line item to me. Those are my people.
You will see “Producer & CPA” on this site. The CPA is there because it is the lens I have spent fifty years looking through, and it is where the compliance instinct, the structure, and the straight talk about what a dollar actually returns all come from. But on this site I am not acting as your CPA, accountant, or advisor. Nothing here is tax, accounting, legal, or financial advice, and nothing here creates a professional relationship. Night Sun Productions is a content and production company, and my job inside it is producer.
Almost everybody producing AI video today came through one of two doors: production and design, or software. Both are real trades, some of that work is very good, and the tooling has become remarkable in a very short space of time. Almost nobody came through the door we came through.
What that door gives you is not opinions about what marketing works. It is ten thousand interviews and the results that came in afterward — fifty years of sitting with the same firms, with the actual numbers arriving every twelve months to settle the argument one way or the other. Anybody can be taught to cut a video, and the tools now do a great deal of it. Knowing what a professional firm should say, what it must never say, and what its buyers are actually listening for is not a tool. That is not a knock on anyone. It is where we are standing, and it decides what we make.
Because that is exactly who built this industry. Carl Laemmle, who founded Universal, was a bookkeeper. Adolph Zukor of Paramount was a furrier. Samuel Goldwyn sold gloves. Louis B. Mayer dealt scrap metal out of a cart. Harry Warner was a cobbler, and then a butcher. Not one of the men who built the studios still standing today was an artist. They were operators who understood cost, risk, and delivery — and who then went out and hired the artists.
That is the job I am doing here, and it has a name: producer. Find the talent. Pay them properly. Hold the standard on the days when nobody is looking. Control the cost. Answer to the person who is paying for it. And make sure the finished thing actually reaches the people it was made for. I did precisely that inside a professional service firm for fifty years. The product is different. The job has not changed at all.
In 1919 four of the most gifted people who have ever worked in film — Charlie Chaplin, D. W. Griffith, Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks — founded United Artists so that the people who made the work would control it. It was a principled idea and it produced extraordinary pictures. Richard Rowland of Metro greeted the news with the line that followed the company forever: "the inmates are taking over the asylum."
They were not naive about it either. They brought in William Gibbs McAdoo — a lawyer and a former Secretary of the Treasury of the United States — as advisor with a twenty-percent stake, and hired Hiram Abrams to actually run the place. The business was still the hard part. Without public stock the company lived on weekly prepayments from theater owners, and across its first five years it released roughly five pictures a year against a founding ambition of five per star per year. United Artists spent decades moving in and out of trouble. It was finally made to work in 1951 by Arthur Krim and Robert Benjamin — two lawyers — who ran it with no studio lot at all, financing independent producers the way a bank finances a builder.
Two lessons come out of that, and I take both of them seriously. The artists were right: the work belongs to the people who make it, and it should be protected from anyone who would sand it down. But the studios that lasted a century were the ones where somebody who understood money, discipline and delivery stood behind the people making the work — and made sure it actually reached an audience.
And when you have read all of it, the work is what decides. The film and the samples sell this job. Everything written on this site is here for one reason — so a founder can satisfy himself that this is a safe firm to hand the work to. If the films do not do it, no paragraph is going to.
Most agencies spend your money on the layers between the person who decides and the person who builds. We took those layers out.
Every engagement is planned, supervised and signed off by the producer — a CPA with fifty years inside regulated professions, who knows what a compliance officer will flag before you do. You are never handed to someone learning your business on your dime.
The people who cut your film and build your digital twin work out of our own studio in Central Luzon, paid above their market. They are not a marketplace we buy hours from, and we would rather introduce them than pretend they do not exist.
Drafting, cleanup passes, captioning, versioning, twin and voice delivery, turning one sitting into a month of assets. It does not make the work cheaper by making it worse. It deletes the hours that never needed a human.
The order never changes: the producer plans it, the studio builds it, the machine carries the load in between — and nothing reaches you until the producer has personally reviewed it and put his name on it. That last step is not a formality. It is the product.
Any shop that tells you it does not use AI in 2026 is either behind or not being straight with you. Here is our line, in writing, so you can hold us to it.
It starts with one long conversation — founder to founder. Not a creative brief and not a form your marketing coordinator fills in. Plan on three hours with me personally: not an account manager, not an assistant, and not the studio. Evenings and weekends are fine. I will work around your calendar, because your calendar is the whole problem we are here to solve.
That conversation is the beginning, not the end of it. Questions, answers and follow-up run through the entire production, and nothing gets made without your hands on it. But the basis of every film we produce is your own words.
Not a booking link and not a sales team. A conversation with me, recorded with your permission. Twenty minutes usually tells us both whether there is anything here. Sometimes there isn't, and I will say so.
I rewrite our founder interview around what I heard on that first call. Then we sit down and record it — two to three hours, split across two sittings if your calendar prefers. I ask, you answer, I follow up.
What the retainer delivers, in writing: the plan for your film and how it is structured, segment by segment — plus your digital twin, built.
Your assistant gathers photographs, your facilities, existing footage, and backgrounds on your key people. That becomes the b‑roll. Others in the firm can sit for their own interview or answer a written questionnaire.
It opens with your best pitch. After that come the segments — the stories, how you actually handle clients, what you believe. Three, four, six, depending on what came out of the sitting.
Trailers are cut from the finished film. Those launch the campaign. When the numbers come back, the next films are already sitting inside your interview — we found them the day we recorded it.
A retainer, paid once, before anything is produced. It buys a deliverable, not a proposal — you finish it holding the plan and the script, and it is the only way we start.
What you have in hand when it is finished:
If you decide to stop there, you stop there. You keep all of it.
“The reason it sounds like you is that it is you. Nothing in it was invented.”
Everyone has now watched enough machine-written content to smell it at ten paces. The reason ours does not read that way is that the source material is not invented — it is a transcript of you talking for three hours about a business you have run for twenty years. That transcript becomes the reference document for everything afterward: every script, every caption, every trailer, and every word your avatar says.
AI drafts, versions, captions, and delivers. It is not permitted to make anything up about you, and a human signs off before anything leaves the building. That is the whole difference, and it is why the avatar is believable when people meet it.
The asset everything else is cut from. One recorded session, built in segments, opening with your best pitch and running through the stories and the beliefs behind the practice.
Cut from the finished film, never written separately. One idea each, thirty to fifty seconds, and everything after the hook is lifted from the film word for word.
A lifelike version of you that presents, greets, and teaches — built from the same session, so you can be everywhere without setting up a camera again.
Someone has to actually run the accounts. We plan the calendar, produce the posts, publish on schedule, and watch what works.
Our deliberate specialty. The technology is only as good as the words it delivers, and most content fails at the script, not the camera.
Every engagement is planned and supervised by the producer — not handed to a junior account manager to figure out on your dime.
The expertise sitting in the heads of people who will eventually retire, captured once and delivered the same way every time.
Content that produces enquiries and nowhere for them to land is a waste of a film. We close that gap.
Before you commit anything, watch what we do — including our producer making his own five-minute pitch on a stage in Phoenix, unscripted and unedited. You will know exactly who you are dealing with before you spend a dollar.
There is no good‑better‑best here and nothing is held back for the tier above. Every client gets every platform, every trailer, and the same attention. What changes is how long the film runs — and whether you need what comes after it.
You are good at this and too few people can tell. You have watched firms with half your bench win matters you should have had, because they were visible and you were busy. This firm needs the film and the machinery around it.
Your good work arrives by referral from people who know exactly what you do. The phone already rings — with people who are not a fit, each costing a partner twenty minutes. You need the right ones to arrive convinced and the wrong ones to put the phone down.
The founder’s sitting. Two to three hours, founder to founder, with me — not an account manager. You leave with the interview transcribed, a written plan, the film laid out segment by segment, a first-draft script in your own words, your digital twin built, and a list of every other film hiding in that interview.
Stop there and you keep all of it.
Priced on finished length and nothing else. Scripting, production, direction, editing, music, your digital twin on camera, the segments and every trailer are inside that number — so is the launch, posted across every platform you use.
One rate, and we do not bend it.
Publishing, watching, and changing what is not working — every week, all year. Set out in full in the next section, because a retainer described in one sentence tends to be worth one sentence.
Stop whenever you like.
The Standing Brief. Every month we watch the competitors you name — what they published, what changed on their site, who they hired, what the press said, and whether an AI assistant recommends them or you. Then we sit down with your marketing partner and decide what to do about it.
Quoted, because the honest cost moves with the firm.
You do not have to commit to a twenty-minute film to find out whether this works. One six-minute best-pitch film, built the same way and to the same standard as a twenty-minute one. Then two trailers cut from it, each published with a different thumbnail aimed at a different audience — so by the end you are not guessing which message lands. You are reading it.
$3,750 is exactly six minutes at the published rate. Not a discount, not a premium — a smaller piece of the same thing, priced the same way.
After the pilot, every finished minute is $625 and the full trailer run comes with it. Twelve minutes is $7,500. Twenty is $12,500.
We wrote a competitive analysis of the AI video industry — what five named companies publish, what the premium end charges once you get them on the phone, and what a professional firm actually pays today. Ask for it and we will send it to you, whether or not you ever become a client. If someone else is the right answer for you, we would rather you find that out from us.
Most monthly retainers are described in a sentence, which is how they end up being worth a sentence. Here is the whole of it, so you can decide what it is worth before you decide whether the number is fair.
You paid once for the sitting. Every month afterwards runs on a foundation already built — the plan, the script, your twin, the long cut. We are not starting from nothing each month, so we do not price as though we were. That is the single biggest reason the number is what it is.
No account-management layer between the person who decides and the people who build. No downtown office and no sales team. Every one of those is a real cost on an agency invoice, and not one of them ever improved a film.
The people doing this are our people, working every day on our own films as well as yours. We are not buying hours on a freelance market and stacking a margin on top, or paying a middleman to manage somebody we have never met.
Versioning, captioning, cutdowns, first drafts, reading long analytics exports. It deletes the hours that never needed a human, so the human hours go where they change the outcome. A named person still approves everything before it ships.
Priced the way your own firm prices time, that list is not a $750 engagement. We know it, and you can do the arithmetic faster than we can.
It is $750 because we built the operation so that it can be — and because we do not price on perceived value. If we did, the number would be higher and you would have no way to check it. We price on what the work costs to do properly and what it is worth to you. When efficiency lowers our cost, the client gets it. That is not generosity; it is the only version of this still standing in twenty years.
Professional service practices, and nothing else. If that is you, you already know it — so rather than read you a list of professions, here is the shape of the firm we are built for. Four things, and most of our clients have all four.
There is nothing to photograph. The product lives in your head and in your people, and it is the reason nobody has ever made you a film that worked. It is also the reason one done properly is worth so much.
Either regulated outright, or reputation-sensitive enough that you behave as though you are. We have spent fifty years inside that, which is why we know what to leave out before anybody has to ask us to.
Somebody who trusts you told somebody else. That is a wonderful way to grow and a terrible way to control — and giving your clients something to hand over is most of what a film is actually for.
Not a marketing committee and not a brand team. The person who built it, or the son or daughter carrying on the way it was built. Founder to founder is not a preference here. It is the whole method.
Corporate and internal work — training libraries, onboarding and procedure modules, internal communication — is scoped and quoted separately, and follows the same method.
There is a second reason a professional firm makes a film, and no agency will sell it to you, because it ends with them not being paid every month. Call it the institutional film. It is not built to generate calls. It is built to say, permanently and well, what the firm is, where it came from, and what somebody is dealing with when they deal with you. Closer to the portrait in the lobby than to a campaign — and like the portrait, not supposed to change every quarter.
Watches it once, early, and revises his estimate of how this is going to go — not because the film makes a claim, but because it shows the bench, the years, and how the firm talks about a case.
He hired you on a referral and could not have said why. Now he can — and can forward something to the friend he was going to recommend you to anyway.
Watches it before the interview and arrives understanding the heritage of the firm. Recruiting is the use clients discover second and value most.
A film honest about who the firm serves does quiet work — the wrong caller watches four minutes and decides not to phone. Twenty minutes of partner time, kept.
A firm like that needs the film to exist, be findable, and stay accurate. It does not need a posting schedule, and we are not going to sell you one.
What it does need, occasionally: a refresh when a name partner joins or retires, a recut for a recruiting page, someone to check it has not gone out of date. A call once a year and an invoice when there is work — not $750 a month for a machine nobody is using.
Because it is the only part of this that cannot be delegated, automated, or faked, and because it is paid for once. Most firms have tried video before and it died in the same place — a shoot day, a rewrite, a second shoot day, and your own partners’ hours bleeding out of the side of the project for months. We move all of that to the front, into one recorded conversation about your practice, and then we do not need you again except to approve. If three consecutive hours is impossible, we split it into two sittings a week apart. The second one is usually better anyway.
A deliverable, not a proposal. The recorded and transcribed interview, a written report setting out what we intend to make and why, the film mapped segment by segment, a first-draft script for that film written out of your own answers, your digital twin built, and the list of every additional film we found hiding in the interview. The script is the part most people do not expect: it is written in segments on purpose, so the same material cuts down into three to five shorter films and a long run of posts. If you decide to stop there, you stop there and you keep all of it — script included.
No, and most firms do not. Most start with the pilot: one six-minute best-pitch film, then two trailers cut from it and published with different thumbnails aimed at different audiences. By the end you are not guessing which message lands — you are reading it. That is $2,500 for the sitting and $3,750 for the film, which is exactly six minutes at the published rate. It is not a discount and it is not a premium; it is a smaller piece of the same thing, priced the same way. What you decide to make after that is decided on numbers instead of opinions.
Publishing on a schedule across every platform you use, every cut formatted for where it lands, fresh thumbnails, and your comments and messages watched. Then every month: a read on what pulled and what did not, changes actually made to whatever is underperforming, a written summary, a call with me, your Google Business Profile kept current, and a compliance pass over everything published. Quarterly, a longer look back and a re-ordered list of the films still waiting inside your original interview. The whole of it is set out on this page under “What actually happens every month” — and if the monthly is not right for your firm, we will tell you that before you buy it.
Because most of what you were quoted was overhead, not output. Four things carry ours down: the expensive part of the work already happened at the sitting, so every month afterwards runs on a foundation that is already built; there is no account-management layer, no downtown office and no sales team; our own permanent studio does the work rather than freelancers billed by the hour with a margin stacked on top; and AI is applied to its full extent on every task where it genuinely beats a person. Not one of those four things touches the finished film. All four of them show up on an agency invoice.
Strategy, direction, compliance judgment, and final approval are done in the United States by the producer. Production — editing, motion graphics, avatar building, asset assembly — is done by our own studio team in Central Luzon in the Philippines. They are our people, not a marketplace we buy hours from, and nothing they build reaches you until the producer has reviewed and approved it. We tell you this openly because you would find out eventually, and because it is genuinely one of the better things about us.
The interview, and who runs it. The tools are broadly available now and they improve every quarter; anyone can buy them. What cannot be bought is fifty years of sitting across a desk from business owners, asking how the thing really works, and then watching the results arrive year after year to prove you right or wrong. That is what shapes your film — what goes into it, what stays out of it, and what your buyers are actually listening for. Ask whoever else you are talking to who will personally run your interview, and what that person did for a living before this industry existed. It is a fair question. Ask us the same one.
We use AI as far as it will honestly take us, and we have written down exactly where the line is — see the section above. In short: AI drafts, cleans up, versions, captions, and delivers. People decide, rewrite, direct, and approve. Nothing goes out without a human reading it and the producer signing it. Where an avatar or AI presenter appears, we disclose it plainly. We will not pretend a synthetic presenter is a live person, and we will not let an AI make a claim on your behalf that a human hasn't sourced.
We ask for 90 days on the monthly, because content takes about that long to show anything meaningful and a 30-day test tells you nothing. After that it is month to month. No multi-year agreements and no early-termination penalty — and if the monthly is not the right thing for your firm, we will say so before you buy it.
Two to three hours at the very start — the sitting — and then roughly an hour a month. That front-loaded block is the whole trick: it is the only time we ask you to think hard, and everything produced afterward is written out of it. Every film after the first one costs you about thirty minutes, because the foundation was built once. If you want to be more involved, we'll happily use you. If you want to disappear, the avatar covers you.
It is the reason we exist in this lane. We build compliance guardrails into the plan before anything is produced, and we route anything sensitive through legal review. We have spent fifty years working inside regulated professions and we have no interest in getting a client cited for a clever caption.
No, and we have stopped naming professions on purpose. A firm that sells judgment, is careful what it says, grows by referral and is still run by the person who built it works the same way whether it practises law, sets bones, designs bridges, keeps books, or runs a network. If that describes you, we already know how your business works. If it does not, we will tell you on the first call and point you somewhere better.
Tell us what you're trying to accomplish. Two easy ways in, and a person — me — reads whichever one you use.
Tap it and tell us what you need. It reaches the same place this form does, and you get a person rather than a sequence.
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Night Sun Productions makes video, social media content, written material, digital twins, and training libraries for other businesses. We are not a CPA firm, a law firm, a medical practice, or a financial advisory firm, and we do not provide accounting, tax, legal, medical, or investment advice. Our founder and producer is a Certified Public Accountant, but in connection with this website and these services he is not acting as your CPA or advisor, and nothing here creates a professional relationship. We understand what a state board or a bar association will allow — your own counsel clears what you publish.
We use artificial intelligence in production, and we disclose synthetic media rather than waiting to be asked. Where a digital twin or an AI presenter appears in finished work, it is identified as such. A named human approves everything before it ships. Our full position is set out under Artificial Intelligence, Digital Avatars and Synthetic Media in the Terms.
Marketing, content, and audience growth involve risk and effort. We make no representation or guarantee of any specific reach, engagement, follower growth, lead volume, conversion rate, revenue, or business outcome. Any examples, figures, or results described on this website are illustrative only. Prices shown are indicative and are confirmed in a written services agreement before any work begins. Statements comparing our approach to others in the video production industry are our own opinion and characterization, not published industry findings.
We may record calls and meetings for note-taking and production purposes, and we ask permission before we do. If you would rather we did not record, say so and we will not.
Questions about any of this? Email info@nightsunproductions.com or call (656) 565-7881. Full documents: Terms of Service · Privacy Policy.