Teamwork = Savings, Profit, & Ratings - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 60

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 59 - June 8, 2026

At the end of 2015, I was directed by my main contact at the network to buy three houses for the next year. The program namers had chosen to insert Charleston into the show title, and since the house was in Summerville, thirty miles from the Holy City, this was a precarious move. Far from a widely applicable name, it felt as if the city had been incorporated for reasons mentioned in a previous post.

This possibility added even more to the excitement I’d been through. However, in order for this renewed chance to really pan out, as best as possible for everyone, a collection of key details needed to be tackled while I house hunted.

Now, before I go on, it needs to be made as clear as possible, that I don’t believe I have all the answers. I’m merely giving myself a little credit for picking some things up in 2014 and ’15. When I started all of this in 2013, I knew nothing about TV. This experience was like a big pot of soup with all types of ingredients being dumped in over twenty-four months. My bowl left me with an impression, certain opinions, and basically some rather strong feelings of the most productive way to buy, rehab for producers, and then sell three pig’s ears in Charleston in 2016. I wouldn’t then or now claim to know more than the producers. I’m only writing at this point in time, that based on what I knew then, it would be best for lead players to genuinely consider what I was laying out and then move forward collaboratively.   

Beyond a simple to-do list, we needed an understanding amongst the networks, production companies, and me, as a coalesced unit, so everyone could maximize compensation and high ratings that equated to revenue for Scripps. We all had a ripe opportunity for continued support from network decision makers but had to work together and then deliver. And we needed to act quickly in separate yet concerted ways.

First, appropriate insurance coverage was a must. If something unfortunate happened, responsibility should be spread out, rather than risk assumed and potential damages absorbed by my family and I.

Secondly, the networks and editors would need to clean up American Rehab Charleston and scrub the parts in the six episodes that were short sided or inadequate.

The third detail was bigger. As I saw it, producers needed to also do whatever was necessary to air the series on HGTV, so many more of the people of Berchador could have a look. The Holy City was wildly popular and highly regarded. And to many in and around Charleston, relegation to DIY in lieu of the more prestigious HGTV seemed disrespectful. Many felt that a show commandeering the city’s name deserved better.

In this same bucket was the fact that for two years, 2014 and ’15, producers had told folks across the three counties how episodes would air on HGTV. Technically, producers had made good. We had logged time on the four-letter channel. But it was minimal compared to lesser-known DIY and for these reasons, a lot of people, way too many, felt as if folks here had been duped. This didn’t just reflect poorly on me, but the networks and producers coming back to town to continue on.   

Berchadorians would be more ready and willing to be part of the upcoming projects if the shows were on HGTV as local folks had been told when we were making ARC. Beyond the prestige, for some reason, DIY was not as accessible or even known about in our area, and this relegation impacted necessary trust, understanding, and enthusiasm that prospective tradespeople and contractors would logically have had if they, their families, and/or neighbors had opportunities to enjoy at least one episode or more on HGTV without upgrading to a more expensive TV provider package that included the DIY network.

Unless anticipated or needed reparation measures were taken and implemented, this DIY vs. HGTV slight would cost us in 2016. I was certain that airtime on the more well-known channel would be critical, going a long way to restore eroded faith. And with this, the number of people interested in coming on board would beef back up, and this would ripple to help keep renovation costs in check. In addition, I held hopes that these amends might carry over to my efforts to take ownership of three houses down in Charleston.

A fourth point was about the production company’s need to oversee the budget. In order for this to work out better for them, and also my assumed plans for these houses, they’d have to improve at managing the renovations. They’d need producers on staff with construction management backgrounds, people who knew how to read the contract documents coupled with a solid understanding of building codes and standards. Apathy concerning important things would no longer fly. I wouldn’t have the time nor money to make post-production corrections on three different properties downtown. And each of the chosen homes would need to be completed before producers left town, nothing short of three certificates of occupancy.

Plus, the production company would need to be mindful of safety measures which are non-negotiables in the building industry. Regardless of whether it was for TV or not, producers must commit to safety as top priority for everyone on site, and that completing the work had to be understood as a close second. Finishing on time and without overspending were also paramount, yet not over and above safety and quality work.

Fifth, I would need to do my part. I had to carry out orders to secure the acceptable properties. Then I’d naturally have to continue to be available for the producers, willing and capable of accommodating their schedules over the next twelve months to film and complete any pickups or voiceover work. I’d need to be able to deliver on camera, discuss the work and histories of three houses throughout the film days, keeping them straight in my head, bringing energy and enthusiasm every day.

Sixth, to maximize profit for the investment, not only would the shows need to be fast-tracked, produced and be put on HGTV quickly, but I’d need to maintain patience. Hopefully not two years again, but I had to be prepared to wait until potential buyers had time to see some of the fresh episodes since the shows would not just promote Berchador and Charleston, they’d be showcasing the renovated homes. If the projects were completed properly, then ratings would lead to profit that could be poured back into more properties. And perhaps, if all went well, this would mean more rehabs to be featured the following year.    

And finally, the skilled trades and vendors on site, needed more credit for their efforts, over and beyond contracted compensation. Rather than me getting recognition because I was the homeowner talking on camera, the men and women putting in long hours, sacrificing time from their families, coming in early and working late, deserved more airtime so their talents would be recognized within the episodes. That’s how it had been in the Rehab Addict samples I’d been sent back in 2013, and as I saw it, it was another ingredient for the secret sauce that had been left out of Amer. Rehab Chas. We needed that put back in. And this commitment should be understood fully, documented, and signed off on. This was not just the right thing to do; it was smart business that would make the shows even better while paying dividends in the form of lower renovation costs.

All of these things needed to happen so everyone was able to make the most of the opportunity. But once again, it came down to me. Even though it was the holidays, I needed to motivate producers to take their needed steps. There were limits to what I could do. And as I saw it, if I was going to be shopping for three houses, those in New York, Minnesota, and eventually Los Angeles as well, could designate some human resources to get started on what was needed. It was too late to put first things first, but we were getting another opportunity to get on track, and I was hoping we’d grab it with three hands.

Just like 2013, there was much that needed done and after I laid out my determined considerations to producers, I turned my attention to my part: finding three houses down on the historic Charleston Peninsula. Not closing just yet. Only house shopping.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 58 - Coming Soon 

HGTV Mismatch-Making - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 52

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 51 - May 22, 2026

In the previous post, I tried to shed some light on the troubles the production company out of Minnesota had, how certain factors adversely impacted the budget. I wish I’d been able to do more to help them manage the money better. If I knew, I could have steered them into cost saving territory. The issue was, at least in part, that I didn’t feel comfortable offering. Besides them not asking, they appeared to have things well under control. I never imagined I’d be mistakenly held accountable past initially. This fifty-second post is further insight in why producing American Rehab Charleston was more of a battle than it might otherwise have needed to be.

From the way it was explained to me, the folks living, working, creating content for TV up in Minneapolis were cooking steadily before Rehab Addict exploded in popularity in 2011. They scouted for their own home-grown talent, coaching, teaching, and grooming prospects through sizzle reels they pitched to network executives. These were hopefuls who many times had become friends, people who the producers had come to believe in, grinders they wanted to help break into television. In her memoir Better Than New, Nicole Curtis writes about how their partnership began organically as they were working on another show and in need of a realtor.

Rehab Addict was a shiny exception, while year after year, pitch after pitch, the decision makers in Manhattan shot them down. Executives found flaws, poking holes in the potentials, dismissing the short videos as wrong or simply not good enough. This was not across the board, but apparently a lot, more than the pitchers would have liked or hoped. They’d invested thoughtful creativity, funds, heart and soul manhours into these show ideas and the people featured. And it was understandably disappointing if not hurtful to be rejected. And to make it worse, they had to break the bad news to the hopefuls anxiously awaiting next steps, requiring the Midwestern producers to then explain how even though they liked them, the people in New York said “nope.”

But then, one of these Big Apple dwellers called up the Rehab Addict producers saying, “You know how so many of your show pitches suck? Well, we found a guy in Charleston that is an example of the sort of people you should be making test reels about. And we want you to send a crew down to meet him.” Then they worked out some details, connected us on the telephone, and away we went.

Now, if you were the production company, hurt and rejected over and over again, for months, or even years, how excited would you really be for this assignment south, to film someone like me? Regardless of what they may have been told, I didn’t live in Charleston and wasn’t a historic restoration expert like Nicole Curtis. I was me, a family man trying to breathe life back into my renovation career, working to get my hands on another property and then figure out a way to squeeze out some profit. Was I more dynamic than those who’d been vetoed? I don’t know, but I’d guess probably not. It would make sense for producers in Minneapolis to be less than enthusiastic about me, even prior to arriving to meet.

Instead of jumping on a plane to come get down here in October 2013, these producers said they’d make it in November. And rather than starting a four-episode series the first week of January 2014, this company had me wait, came down to film a pilot episode in March, and then returned for the rest in 2015. The network kept handing out marching orders, and the folks in Minnesota rejected them, saying “nope” themselves by not complying.   

This back and forth was not ideal and certainly took a toll.  

Regardless of all this, these crew members we met and worked with over the span of three years, were by and large cheerful to me and my family. Still, they did have some troubles, issues that oftentimes had nothing to do with me, us, or our productions of American Rehab Charleston, some of which spilled into Restoring Charleston in 2016.

Eventually, these producers in the Twin Cities were forced to close up shop.  

Just as budget issues described last week were out of my reach, it seems unreasonable to hold me to account for the behind-the-scenes skirmishing or to say that the shows made here in Berchador were at the root of the company’s downfall. I’m sorry they went under, yet my shows and I were not the cause. I didn’t reject all their sizzles nor was I part of their attempts to send HGTV/DIY executives a message. I tried to navigate the circumstances around this opportunity, and I obviously came up short in many ways, some that I’ve been able to describe candidly in this response series. I’m not super confident about much of the short TV season of my life. But on this defense of myself, my own limited authority and influence, I stand firm.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 53 - May 27, 2026 

Home Rehab TV Production Budget Stretching - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 51

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 50 - May 20, 2026

Most people would probably prefer to avoid unfairness or mistakes that come from not knowing. My writing about the larger story around making American Rehab Charleston is to help the curious and the ambitious.

The production company, I think more than HGTV and DIY, had a really difficult time filming and producing both the pilot and the five-episode pickup. I have openly admitted and explained how I failed to put nuts and bolts specifics on paper, documentation that could have served to lead and chart a path forward when we were first awarded the series in 2013. That would have made a significant difference for everyone here, Minneapolis, LA, and NYC, perhaps maybe even folks beginning to work out of Tennessee. However, other things like local geography and timing were out of my reach and it’s unhelpful for me to shoulder culpability for things beyond and above.

And by pointing them out, others can learn from what happened, think on it, and maybe apply it to their own efforts, in TV or otherwise.

In order to better understand what went on with me, us, my family and I and the many people working on American Rehab Charleston, you really should look past any ripple effect caused by Nicole Curtis and Rehab Addict moving on to another production company. It will help to put yourself in the shoes of the production company in Minnesota though.

Minneapolis is over 1,300 miles from Charleston. That’s two really long days of driving from there to here and then another forty-eight at the end. Much of the crew flew, travel expenses baked into the budget, but folks also had to truck equipment from there to down here, compensated for this haul and armed with a gas card to use along the way.

This is a radical change from creating and producing a show like Rehab Addict, something that was in producer’s backyard.

With a show filmed in the Twin Cities region, crew members could come and go each day. Sleep in their own beds. Eat breakfast and dinner at their kitchen tables. Work out of offices where costs were spread across many projects.

But being here, so far away, they needed per diems for hotels and restaurants, along with office space to operate out of. We’re talking over a dozen people, and not just Monday through Friday. They were dug in for three long months. Those expenses added up quickly, substantially.

Up in the land of the lakes, if there wasn’t a lot going on for days or weeks on Nicole’s project houses, they could shift their focuses to other things, until the foundation was rebuilt or rough-in scopes passed inspections. But being here, far from home, every minute of every day counted. High paid producers couldn’t just stand around like flamingos in a lagoon. Filming had to be done. Now, I must say, it was a lot of fun be-bopping around Berchador, filming beats with vendors and fabricators. I think I was quoted in one paper as saying I had “the time of my life.” But those talking points were costly, and some might say the juice wasn’t worth all the squeezing. And yet, they were here, had to keep busy, and be paid for this time.

Certainly, I now understand how we could have filmed some demo in March with the pilot, and then a few days here and there for reframing, rough-in, insulation and drywall in the months between spring 2014 and January 2015. That would have saved tons of money. In my opinion, viewers want to see before shots, the ugly, then some of the tedium in the middle, but interest lies mostly on the fresh, bright, colorful after scenes at the end. How much do viewers really want or need to see of the early boring scopes? Not much. So having all those gifted, high dollar people in town and on site too early on was a huge waste of money.

Also, producers agree to come work in Charleston for several months. They didn’t picture small city Summerville thirty miles away from the sexy trendy historic peninsula. They had expectations of staying in the popular districts. Those are also high priced, sucking construction funding out of the budget.

If I had promised Charleston, I would be apologizing for misleading people. As I’ve said before, I don’t live down there. I never have nor claimed to. I’ve worked and owned property within the Holy City limits, but that’s it. Someone else sold these folks on coming to work in the appreciated city for three months. I can see why they may have felt it was a bait and switch, especially when they were commuting and hour or more back and forth in traffic at the beginning and end of each long workday. I didn’t have to do this driving during this TV season of my life, but I’ve done it, and I can imagine how it wore on these crews.

Now, here’s where I could have served them better. Not that this would have been heartily considered, but I could have suggested that they only dig in deeply for the finishing phases, Plus, I could have tried to help them understand the value of staying on the outskirts, closer to where the projects were. This thinking would have applied to both shows, American Rehab Charleston, which was filmed in Summerville, and Restoring Charleston which was even further out in St. George. They could have all stayed a shorter drive away, saving time and a whole lot of money that needed for renovations and post-production.

I realize they wanted to enjoy their weekends, and they’d still have been able to. Friday and Saturday nights, maybe even Sunday, could have been spent sleeping over down in the touristy areas instead of burning cash unnecessarily seven days a week. Plus, meals cost more in these popular zones as well. Splurging could have been condensed to forty-eight hours each week, rather than 24/7 for fourteen weeks.

I probably should have found a way to plant this idea, and in this way, I failed the producers who were so unfamiliar with Berchador geography and how it would wreck the budget. They wanted to help me with the renovating, so I should have done a better job helping them save money, which would have made the rest of these difficult assignments easier for them. I didn’t know what I didn’t know about television. And the same applied to them and what they didn’t understand about this tri-county region.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 52 - May 25, 2026

The Nicole Curtis/Rehab Addict Ban - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 49

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 48 - May 15, 2026

I realize that the TV show Rehab Addict starring Nicole Curtis is currently shelved. I saw the video and have read a few articles on this situation. As I consider it, as I think most should, it looks as if it was a fatigued attempt to be cheeky and she awkwardly said the N word instead of something creatively funny like “Oh, fart knockers!”

Rehab Addict Nicole Curtis

What’s happening to her now might seem like news to other people, but I see as same-old since I was caught within a Nicole Curtis/Rehab Addict ban of my own over a decade ago. It’s time in this series to share this part of my story. Coincidentally, her recent news merges with what I started in January of this year.   

Back in February, I explained how people compared me, my houses, and how I approached them to what they’d seen Nicole Curtis doing on her hit TV show Rehab Addict. That was 2011. I watched the show and in 2012, I wrote about it and its blonde rehabber. She commented and I began to post more articles about RA and other shows on HGTV/DIY. In the fall of 2013, I received an unsolicited email from a programming director with the dual networks, leading to this young woman sending the production company behind Rehab Addict to come meet and film me in November 2013.

In my first phone conversation with the production company, they’d glowed about working with Ms. Curtis and producing her show. They sent me rough cut DVDs of Rehab Addict to study and understand.

So, because of the comparisons to and similarities with Ms. Curtis, the fact that we both took on the worst of the worst houses and this cool opportunity, I held some natural loyalty, even without ever meeting or speaking with her. Beyond these folks going AWOL and getting wishy-washy at me balking over imitating Ms. Curtis, I’d made an effort to remain open-minded because they produced Rehab Addict, and I thought that made them uniquely qualified for a show about me reviving the Summerville, South Carolina project house. And in March 2014, I filmed a pilot episode for what became American Rehab Charleston.

To get better acquainted with me, producers said they read my blog, trying to understand how I related to Curtis, my take on her approach and attitude toward this work we both loved. And yet even with this, as well as the other background and history, it amazed me how no one had taken a few minutes to call in 2014 to let me know that the rehabbing dynamo had stopped working with them. She was still on HGTV and DIY, but by way of different producers. I suppose, it may have been hard to explain. Perhaps the details were embarrassing. However, as difficult as it may have been, I’d have thought someone would have found a way to clue me in before we began to film the pilot. It might have been like so many other things, that the network thought the production company did it and the people up in Minnesota thought the decision makers over in New York had.

Yet I’d been overlooked.  

I don’t want to make it seem like this was all on producers. There was something going on, something about me, that made them unable or unwilling to be more transparent. And that’s a shame.

In January 2015, I had a front row seat to this oddity, left to just figure it out through body language, facial gestures, and between-the-line readings. It was as if key producers were anxious about the names Nicole Curtis and Rehab Addict, or maybe it was just loyalties opposite of mine, what I had thought were ours, shared, something we all had in common. They avoided both names, hers and the show, changed the subject sharply or wincing whenever either came up. After they’d sent me those DVDs, this baffled me. They’d been so proud of her and her breakout show, but for me, this attitude was out of the blue.

This eggshell walking wasn’t necessary for everyone on the crew, but a few were ultra-sensitive.

It was fascinating.

As one example, there was a piece of equipment that had been shipped down from Minnesota. It was marked boldly with two letters: RA. I asked if they stood for Rehab Addict. It tracked, and for me, it would have been a fun thing to know. But the crew member became unusually quiet. And this normally smooth young woman got squirrely, taking too long to answer the simple question. Finally, she said something like “Uh... it stands for another show we were thinking about doing called… Renovation America.” Maybe that was true, but I didn’t believe her. I still don’t, especially with all the other weirdness about NC and RA.  

Eventually, I began to get a grip on this split-up between this production company split and Ms. Curtis. And even though I didn’t know her or had ever met her, it was like I was her friend, on her side in this divorce. And I didn’t really mind that. It was just a wacky connection for someone to make when none existed. Not an actual one. But it was one of those circumstances that made me feel like I was in, even though I wasn’t.

Still, my loyalty seemed to be an issue. Again, as when I’d been unwilling to say, “My name is Trent, and I’m addicted to rehab,” I think my imagined alliance with Nicole Curtis was a positive to most of the crew. But the saddest part of this may have been how some producers seemed to have been put in the position of supporting their boss, choosing that person’s side over Curtis or neutrality.

It was three months of this zaniness, and it gave me some stuff to mull over. 

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 50 - May 20, 2026

Charity Case Spruce Up - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 41

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 40 - April 22, 2026

In November 2013, I agreed to renovate the project house in Summerville, South Carolina with film crews on site. It would be for an untitled TV “series,” a vaguely defined concept where over the course of four episodes, I’d show viewers, aspiring home rehabbers and curious enthusiasts, how I resurrected a seemingly irredeemable house, or as my circle of peeps called it a “pig’s ear.”

Unlike many of my other jacked up messes, this home had not been condemned, nor was it abandoned and unwanted. However, it’d been placed back onto the market after failing inspections required by the lenders of other buyers, creating a win-win scenario that has been key to most of my projects—eager seller(s) and chomping-at-the-bit prospective buyer named Trent Fasnacht.  

Yet this is where my story detours, creating another lesson others can learn from. When verbal planning and prepping were scrapped and then altered, this should have been my off ramp back to normal, my walking away from discussions that had been presented as a golden opportunity.

However, my position was weak, my leverage flimsy. I’d been getting ready for over three months, without anything in writing, which as I’ve explained previously, was my first major misstep. Readiness, which included telling people this prep was all part of an opportunity to renovate my house with TV producers, painted me into a corner. The only way I saw out of that spot, was to be on television, ideally HGTV, somehow, some way. That meant taking whatever producers were willing to give me in mid-March 2014. And take whatever, is easy to imagine as less-than-ideal, far from admirable.

The series that had grown to a likely six episodes, three months rehabbing the entire house and positioning me to have a finished home to sell at the beginning of the busy spring buying season, real estate in one of the best school districts in Berchador, was suddenly scaled down to one—a pilot. A big maybe-for-more. I was disappointed, but still grateful. The film and construction crews would spend two weeks setting me up for the rest of the project.

My team of tradespeople had never laughed at me in person or over the phone, but they’d stopped waiting for me toward the end of January. And I was now telling myself this had been for the best. since due to the tight schedule, the producers preferred to bring on a general contractor to build the side porch and carport as I’d designed. And I wouldn’t have to work on the roof either since they’d subcontract its replacement as well. More good fortune as consolation.   

I really wanted to also demo the inside down to the studs, what was typical in the initial phase of any renovation. But because viewers would expect a payoff at the end, I agreed to us painting the exterior instead, from chocolate brown to something brighter.

It wasn’t what was laid out back in the fall, but it was still more than I could have imagined before any of this had started. I remained faithful that things would work out, and when my wife voiced her concerns, I reassured her that no matter what, we’d be alright. More than confident, I remained hopeful that I could take the project from however they left me and it.

Diann trusted me and I needed the producers to come through.  

*

It may soon read as if I’m whining and making excuses for not being great at my TV gig and capitalizing more on this opened door. And I have no issue preemptively apologizing for that. Yet, in order to explain how we started with the outside of the house, and answering some other questions, I’m aware that I have some explaining that could be interpreted as overly justifying or even something less venerable.

Here goes.

Once the film crew mobilized on my Summerville site and the Charleston peninsula, reality sank in how fun and interesting this would be with the challenge of having cameras on me steadily.

However, a new layer of haziness began to lift with it becoming clear that producers were taking on things differently than had been laid out for this one-episode long shot, or more importantly, what I’d been anticipating. The teams and crews on site seemed unaware or prepared for the agreement to include the carport, side porch, and roof as part of this pilot filming.

I’d changed, adjusted, and reworked my approach and expectations a lot. So, this latest situation was more than a hiccup for me. This was a giant crater in my newest revised plans.

In order for producers to stay tucked within their two-week window, they were driving everything, and this was far from all bad. They oversaw the schedule, budget, and lunch for me and producers. On some mornings, they even had donuts and coffee waiting when I arrived on site. And who doesn’t appreciate that sort of thoughtfulness? The production side was micro managed pretty thoroughly. Not to the minute, but strictly, impressively really, to each hour of every day excluding the one weekend, day one through ten.    

They also had an associate producer assigned to tell me what I should be wearing throughout each day. Although it was a fun distraction, this seemed unnecessary to me. In the Rehab Addict DVDs I’d been sent, Nicole Curtis worked in jeans or shorts and t-shirts, typical on sites like ours. But at show’s end, she was always dolled up, more like a realtor than a hands-on renovator, with fancier hair, makeup, and dressier clothes.

But the biggest issue that really threw me off more than I enjoy admitting, was that even though it was my house, for some show/series that had been described to me by others as mine, I was out of the loop, on the outside of any circle of collaboration. This meant that along with work on the production side, what I knew nothing about, I was also excluded from the planning, scheduling, and coordinating of the construction team and their scopes and activities, where my background was rooted and what had gotten me to that moment. And these were hearty punches to my gut, insulting and hurtful.

And with the revamped scope, this lack of inclusion was even more impactful since the people I’d spoken with on the phone the most, were not in the mix on site, but rather were off and hundreds of miles away working on other projects. What I’d been told was “a big deal,” was seeming less significant as this filming progressed.  

The reroof, side porch, and carport were all critical to my redesign, as well as interwoven with the logical sequencing and my perceived, altered progression of my rehab. I was expected to talk on camera about the project, but I was now uncomfortably nervous realizing I didn’t really understand what we were doing since it was so different than what I’d agreed to the week prior. I was confused, leading to obvious uncertainty I once again felt embarrassed over.  

Instead of a genuine effort to make a pilot that might be a chance at my own show or series pickup, it felt as if producers were trying to complete some sort of charity assignment to appease me and satisfy folks in Manhattan. Their focus was beyond brighter siding, and in lieu of the big three things I’d been regrouping over, causing me to wonder if network decision makers had redirected them to do other, alternative exterior improvements.

I needed to make up for the time I’d lost waiting—meat and potatoes, nuts and bolts, the early phase necessities. Yet producers were showering me with sizzle—a decadent arbor, French doors I wouldn’t need until the finish phase, landscaping and masonry that should come at the end, a new, super fancy garage door that would need to be protected from there on, etc.

Rather than an authentic home improvement show to teach and inspire viewers, producers were treating me like I was the winner of a once-in-a-lifetime experience to be a TV home renovator—they called me “the talent” and my clothes were “wardrobe.”

I’m not sure how else to describe it. It just seemed off, with me in this sea of smiling faces working hard at something so different than what I’d been prepped for.

Although I appreciated the kindness, generosity, and hospitality, starting the project on the exterior sent my mind racing over how this beginning at the end would impact my actual real-life plans and approach to continue on with the project afterwards.

I was up for facing this latest unexpected challenge. But to me this starting-on-the-outside-first approach was unnecessarily frustrating. Resurrecting an old, rotten, multiple addition house is hard enough without making unforced errors that just add to the difficulty. It was clear that a lot of time and money and effort was about to be wasted. Compounding this was the lost chance to recoup even more down the road by having the roof done now, as well as the carport and side porch as covered areas to work under and out of. Instead of me teaching people how to take on a challenging house, I was the main face on this featurette on how not to do it.

This approach was all made even more surprising with these being Rehab Addict people. They’d worked for years with Nicole Curtis. I’d just expected them to know all this even better than I did.

Starting with the initial redesigning of the house back in November, and then all the other misdirecting that had happened since, I’d reorganized so many times in the last three-plus months that I had lost track of revisions. My attitude of thankfulness was becoming cluttered with the reality of all the scopes that were being made harder and the beautiful new work that would have to be torn out and redone. To be honest, my fun and exciting experience was something of a heartbreak and I couldn’t understand why, other than my lack of experience and my over eagerness to start as usual—as soon as I left the closing table.

*

I hope this is coming out fair to all involved. To be crystal clear, the team of producers and contractors filming and working on the house could not have been nicer to my family and I. Given the three-month history creating these jumbled up circumstances, they did the best they could. However, I was out of sync on too much and it did feel as if they were patronizing me, just on the edge of being tolerable. Again, not their fault. There are reasons for this that all go back to me, things I did wrong that I knew of, but also mistakes lost in the fog.

It was absolutely thrilling to be the focus of all the attention, and I sincerely appreciated the effort being put forth on my behalf. But being honest with myself as I write, I was angry for botching this opportunity, for being so wide open to network and the production company just because they produced Rehab Addict. I shouldn’t have told Diann or anyone else what might be happening until I had written, signed off on agreements as a basis for my planning before starting.

But the thing is, I was afraid to push for anything binding, fearful that if I tried to lock down specifics, that my chance to see what it was like on the other side of the camera would disappear like a fleck of sawdust in the wind. I suppose that I’m now conceding that my faith had borders I was unwilling to recognize.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 42 - April 27, 2026

Mines over Minefields - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 40

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 39 - April 20, 2026

Rather than writing about mining for precious metals or minerals versus walking through some landscape laced with explosives, I’m sharing a take on blunders, something most can understand. But more than just making mistakes, I’m writing on the value of mine.

Early on, when someone asked me how I ended up rehabbing my houses on television, I said something that may be the easiest and most accurate answer in a nutshell: I’ve screwed up a lot. And those missteps are like breadcrumbs leading me from Darke County, Ohio to Berchador, South Carolina and yapping away on American Rehab Charleston and Restoring Charleston. In committing to this series responding to TV show viewers, their questions and requests for advice, I’ve been overwhelmed by the additions to my list of foul-ups.

Although I think it may be entertaining to share my mistakes in frank detail, what people may benefit from more is knowing what to do. But this is not a one-way street, where I’m just thinking this all out, and writing and posting for others. There’s something in it for me too and I think that’s one of the revelations, one of many waking me in the middle of the night. I don’t actually need people to tell me that I made a lot of errors. In the posts up to this point, I’ve tried to make it clear that I understand that. But these observers have only skimmed the surface. The depths of my minefield traipsing are vast, more than anyone but me can ever know, far beyond what I’m able to write about. And there is value in the deep worth tapping into.

Rather than what not to do, it’ll be more helpful to think in the positive. And the big first lesson is, no matter how busy you may be, and regardless of how enamored you are with the people you are working with, write out the specifics in detail. Get concurrence in the form of signatures from authorized decision makers.

I’m including a music video. This song, it’s lyrics and message, are fitting at this stage of my story. After a quick recap, please take a few minutes to listen.

After being paired up with the Minnesota production company behind the hit show Rehab Addict starring blonde dynamo Nicole Curtis, I learned that my next project house and I would be the subjects of a four-episode home renovation series to be on either HGTV, DIY, or both channels. The expected wait over the holidays turned into three humbling months when preparations and communication with producers was minimal. My wife and I had been doing our part to get ready, and within this had told those who needed to know about my future working with the film crew. Then, like a phoenix rising up out of Arizona, things began to happen at the beginning of March after I received a second unsolicited email from a completely different production company. Suddenly, instead of four episodes, we were looking down the barrel of a six-episode opportunity.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 41 - Coming Soon

Lofty Regards for HGTV - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 39

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 38 - April 17, 2026

The road ahead had seemed so promising. After casting my blogging line in and out of the online stream, like some sort of cyber fisherman, I’d finally snagged the attention of the home improvement networks in October 2013. Next, we’d managed to record and submit introductory videos I sent up to New York, leading to a film crew visit to create a test reel. Despite my unwillingness to say, “My name is Trent, and I’m addicted to rehab,” the network people had been excited, resulting in a green light from Kathleen Finch, President of HGTV. Even better, this award of a series synced with a three-month schedule that coincided with one of our tri-county region’s biggest weekends of the year.

I’d apparently delivered on camera and off, and I had been hovering. But a hundred or so days in, late into February 2014, and this opportunity for a TV series being described by others as my show, began to fizzle out. Promised phone calls didn’t happen. Planned meetings failed to materialize without adequate explanations. Start dates, original and revised, were blown past without expected concern.    

My big shot was crumbling mysteriously.  

Within this bizarre wait, I developed my personal, privately held theory that the man in Minneapolis, the point person leading any efforts, would soon be replaced. In my imaginations, either he’d be moving to greener pastures or torpedoed out of the picture in lieu of another producer who wanted the assignment, had the time, and/or both. That’s when I started to throttle down and coast as I hung on for what I anticipated would be someone new, a top-down move with a new designee assigned by the network that I admired so much.

As I focused on my prep, my wife had done all she could while still making sure the kids had a special Christmas. And as we moved through January then deeper into February, Diann and I stopped telling our people, “They’re coming.” Instead, we’d just shrug our shoulders sheepishly while saying, “We just don’t know what’s going on,” which was the truest thing we could say to people likely beginning to take us for falsehood spinners or morons on some sort of ride to the cleaners.     

During this three month wait, we’d told people I was going to be working with HGTV and DIY, and when that didn’t happen, I felt stuck. I’m not sure of the big difference between embarrassment and humiliation, but I think we were getting rained on by steady drops of each. It wasn’t bragging, I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. But we had to. We had to do our part to get set.

By most accounts of people on the inside, my family and I were being treated poorly. I realize that many would have pulled themselves out of consideration, but I felt waiting had become my best option. Some might see this as foolish and ignorant. Others will feel it was wise and mature. I’m not sure who’s right. I’m inclined to think both camps have valid takes.

But then, a spark was followed by the flicker of flames. On March 6^th, 2014, I received an email from another production company vaguely referencing their own knowledge of what I was in a holding pattern about. It was a chance to talk, to bail on HGTV/DIY. Although I was rightly curious about what this second producer had to say, I really had a good feeling about the home improvement networks’ programming director. I didn’t know her background or upbringing, but getting acquainted over the phone, she reminded me of Midwestern friends, maybe even neighborhood parents or moms here at the kid’s schools. I felt I could trust her, something rare for me in general. Plus, as a home renovator, these coupled channels felt worth waiting for more than any others.

My reputation, along with my wife’s, was knotted up within this fading prospect. And significantly, although they’d lost some of their sparkle during this period, being on HGTV was important. Holding on to hopes, I wanted and needed to see this play out, feeling that for a week or two at least, I should hold steady with the Scripps channels as my first best option until they officially quit on me.

I checked in with producers hoping to gauge the likelihood of them actually showing up. And to my surprise, they had Heavens to Betsy answers. They were unexpectedly certain, more than they’d been over the last three months. There was a starting date they seemed confident about. Actual names were shared of the team members and their respective roles.

Almost immediately, these named folks began emailing me individually, requesting pictures and scope descriptions while describing episode breakdowns for me.    

Then along with this improved attitude, and the feeling of excitement buzzing through my cell phone and inbox, I was given more good news. Four episodes didn’t seem like it would be enough and the producers were putting forth a fresh proposal to extend the series to six. I was taken aback, sharing my amazement with the lead executive disclosing this great news. “But you haven’t even seen the property, or inside the house,” I said.

“We don’t need to,” he answered with his usual tone of admirable confidence, “We’ve seen the footage.” Meaning, they’d seen what was recorded for the test reel and he was certain that knowledge was all he needed to make his pitch.

I had so much to learn about television. To me, an in-person review of the site, and walkthrough of the property, seeing and feeling and taking it all in, was inequivalent to looking at pictures on a screen or watching video. But this was the production company who produced Rehab Addict. He knew a lot more than I did. He seemed rock solid about his, our chances, of persuading network decision makers to invest more in my house and show so who was I to cast doubt? I knew the answer. I was a nobody who’d been waiting for over three months. I felt I’d no choice but to take what they were willing to give me. And six episodes as opposed to four was better, so it looked like my patience was about to payoff.

I responded to the production executive with genuine gratitude, a simple, “Thanks. That sounds awesome.”

And after we ended our call, I sent off a simple email to the development producer representing production company number two, something amounting to how I appreciated him reaching out, but that I was already working with HGTV/DIY.

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 40 - Coming Soon

Misreading TV Production Tea Leaves - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 38

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 37 - April 15, 2026

Clearly, I managed to do some things right, leading to me chatting it up, sledge in hand, on American Rehab Charleston and Restoring Charleston. But people expected more from me than just the two shows, or they needed me to be a lot better than I was. Plus, they might feel as if their support and enthusiasm earned them some explaining. And I get that.

In answering questions, I want to steer clear of excuses or pointing my finger. People worked really hard on my behalf and carelessness can inaccurately seem as if I’m ungrateful. And I also want to avoid that however I can.

I suppose that circling in a holding pattern in early 2014, taking in things as they were presented, would have been a noteworthy strategy if results had unfolded much more favorably, as so many had hoped. But in my case, it’s also understandable why some, or many, might ask, why didn’t you call the network and ask, “What’s the holdup?” Or maybe “How about checking back in with the programming director to talk out the idea of a different production company?” And some people might feel an attorney representing me would have been the best tactic to get results to match directives issued.

Thinking back on it, being honest with myself and candid with readers here, I was intimidated. This was a group of experienced people who were all much better connected than me. I simply felt as if I was on the edge of familiarity and comfort and something new and different, professional growth and experience I was after, and if I pushed wrongly, I’d be over and out with my opportunity gone. And the longer things dragged on, the weaker I felt my position became.

As I’ve described, I was excited to work with the same people who produced Rehab Addict. Besides some semi-hallucinated idea that Nicole Curtis’ comment on my blog had led to the network’s interest, I felt this team of creators in Minneapolis had proven themselves qualified to be on site to document the saving of the types of houses I took on.

In December and January, my focus had been on my part: lining up my subcontractors and making sure close friends and family were ready to help get kids to schools, maybe appointments and activities, and then home safely without too much inconvenience or chaos. Then when start dates were ignored, those arrangements were postponed, then embarrassingly shelved.    

Although I was without any background in television, what I saw as commonsense had me speculating that the appointed lead producer was behaving like a temp, or rather someone with their foot out the door. Month after month, my assumption grew stronger. January, then February, and even crossing into March, I anticipated someone on the other end of the phone soon telling me, so-and-so is out and here’s who’ll be taking over from here. That would have made sense to me, and I put too much imagination into that happening.

One hundred plus days in, I felt stuck. My options seemed hazy and hopes were growing dim.  

Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 39 - April 20, 2026

Big Day Serendipity - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 34

(Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026)

(Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 33 - April 6, 2026)

At the end of 2013, glorious things were popping off in my head. And I should take time to share them. Otherwise, this story will read as if I’m just being overly hard on myself, wallowing too much in hindsight self-pity.

Quickly, and by most accounts suddenly in those days, there was a lot to think through and knock out. Beyond feelings of overwhelm or hesitation, I was grateful, excited about the unknown possibilities ahead. I was full of hope and positivity. And who wouldn’t be? In the matter of a few short months, I’d been contacted by HGTV/DIY, filmed a test reel, and done enough to have a programmer call me up and tell me they were going to put me on TV.    

The idea of renovating the Summerville, South Carolina house in three months was outrageous. And yet, the production company was behind Rehab Addict, and I felt obliged to lower my guard and hand over the benefit of any doubt I held. I wanted to do whatever I could to help clear a path toward this ambitious objective.   

The Old Berchador Coliseum

Berchador is an underused term for the triad of counties where I’ve lived and worked since 1999. I like using the archaic name because it says what I need it to in nine letters, rather than typing out all three counties—Berkeley, Charleston, and Dorchester. Plus, it just seems to flow better and make more sense than me saying “the greater Charleston area.” 

If a designated capital existed for this tri-county region, it should be Summerville, the community where my next project was, since this small city’s residents are spread out and into all of these counties. And if this undesignated region had one day, that was singled out above and beyond the other 364, it would be the last-of-March/first-of-April Saturday each year. On this weekend, the area’s azaleas are in full bloom, the town of Summerville is in the midst of its annual Flowertown Festival, and Mt. Pleasant and Charleston team up to host the Cooper River Bridge Run. Berchador Day is not a real thing, but if it was, it would be this day each spring.

Flowertown Festival

I couldn’t imagine better timing, on this major weekend, with HGTV producers imbedded for my project house with nowhere to go but up. At the Flower Town in the Pines, vendors, crafty people, and tourists from all over the southeast have made this event the state’s top festival each year. And on that Saturday morning is the annual 10K race, one of the largest in the country.

Cooper River Bridge Run

Would producers want me to run amongst the thousands crossing under and through the diamond arches of the Ravenel Bridge? I’d done it before and would enjoy jogging along again, this time for the cameras. I also wondered if they might film me walking the historic streets of Summerville with bright colorful flowers dotting each scene. And the blocked off main streets of the town, amongst the sea of white vendor tents clogged with locals and visitors, would be a tasty nugget to drop into the story of the project.

The Ravenel Bridge during the race

There wouldn’t be much time for these extras, but I imagined a few moments within the electric environments would be worthy of consideration, experiences the film crews would appreciate and enjoy, and worth the added effort needed by the production team. 

Summerville's Azalea Park

Along with all the other good news, his providential timing was another thing to be thankful for. And the glare created by this gratefulness blinded me to things I should have been seeing and doing. 

(Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 35 - Coming Soon)

Ride on the Faith Train - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 31

(Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026)

(Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 30 - March 30, 2026)

Okay. So, I don’t know if network president Kathleen Finch, literally, actually saw my test reel with her own eyes. I wasn’t there and didn’t speak to her myself. I only know what was passed onto me in that moment on the green light phone call in November 2013. Maybe, what really happened was less. It might have only been someone pretty high up on the ladder. However, at the time, the excited director said the network’s president really “loved” my test reel, leading to us being awarded four-episodes, the minimum for something to be a series.

I explained to the network rep how I’d closed on my next project, settled on my plans, and had started cleaning the house and garages out.

“You should stop. Just wait,” then the TV woman said something like. “We want them to film you from the beginning.”

“Even demo?” I asked.

“Yes. Everything. Just hold off.” Then she explained how we’d start rehabbing and filming in the first full week of the new year.

I needed to know how much of the renovation her producers would be around for, and she answered, “The whole thing.”

“How much money do I need to have ready?” I asked next.

Her answer took me by surprise. She answered with, “I don’t expect you to pay for anything,” which sort of meant they’d cover costs for everything, and that was a hearty overstatement since the house was in our name and I’d be making each monthly mortgage payments, including homeowner’s insurance. I was also covering monthly utilities, assuming those throughout.

But in drilling down, I began to understand what the programming director did mean. They’d pay my contractors, vendors, and all their necessary production costs, plus any staging expenses.

Producers involved, onsite or remote, would expect for me to coordinate with them, being ready and able to film each phase and all the steps. They needed me to be available fulltime for the three-month shoot and they didn’t want me working late into the evenings or weekends without cameras.

This seemed cumbersome, but I was willing to do it if they were picking up the tab for the capital improvements.  

The earmarked money for the show would flow through the production company. I was new to this mix so this initially sat well and made sense to me. The Minneapolis producers and New York networks knew one another. I would be busy focusing on the renovation details. Having these others overseeing the budget sounded reasonable.

Then the programming director said something like, “Again, congratulations, Trent. This is a really big deal,” before adding this advice: “Enjoy the ride.”

I was headed into the unfamiliar frontier of network television, nestled comfortably in my seat on the faith train. I was beyond the mustard seed verse and past my steady Eddies in Philippians or Romans. I was cruising into the land of Ephesians 3:20, the closing benediction from our church: “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we could ask or imagine...”

This is the verse that greeted me as we ended the call.

I’d taken my longshot at being a reference, some sort of faraway consultant on the other end of the phone for TV producers. Then after receiving the Rehab Addict DVDs, I’d pictured myself as a helpful extra in the background on that show. But a series with me renovating my own home was immeasurably more for sure. 

(Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 32 - April 3, 2026)

Test Reel Day Two - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 28

(Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 27 - March 23, 2026)

This Response to TV Show Viewers series is unwinding into a written accounting more in depth than I had originally set off to share. It’s rooted in my intent to answer questions about my experiences working with and for the home improvement networks making American Rehab Charleston and Restoring Charleston. Plus, it feels healthy to sort through these memories to get better clarity.   

For those of you curious if or when I’ll get to what you’re most interested in, please don’t hesitate to email me at bloodsweatandpigsears@hotmail.com and if it’s alright with you, I’ll address your questions twofold; there/now and also here/eventually. Within the gap I’ll just keep on truckin’ as memories are coming back to me.

The first day of filming for my test reel had been silky sailing, enjoyable and leaving me feeling as if I’d come through enough for the producers to have footage of me for what they would be creating for the HGTV/DIY programing director who’d sent them. But then we hit a bumpy patch when the showrunner directed me to look down the barrel of the camera and say, “My name is Trent, and I’m addicted to rehab.”

I didn’t freeze. I just wouldn’t do it. Then the showrunner’s follow-up behavior made it all the more bizarre for me, with her acting as if she was unaware of what she’d asked or why I gave her the Heisman.

The next morning, I learned that day two would be abbreviated. Rather than eight hours of filming, we’d wrap before lunch, leading me to wonder if my chance to work in television, in any capacity, was coming to an end after a day and a half.

I had no feelings of regret. I’d had an interesting experience. I’d seen and learned some things with parting gifts of stories to tell down the road. I was glad I’d not moved over the line and mimicked Nicole Curtis with cameras running and my words being recorded. And by night’s end, I’d fallen back into the excitement of starting my upcoming project house at the end of next week, my head and heart both in the same good place.

(Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 29 - March 27, 2026)       

Showrunner Shake Off - Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 27

(Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 26 - March 20, 2026)

When the interviewer teased, “C’mon, Trent. Act like you’re a little excited about getting your own TV show,” it sent my mind racing.

My brain began to replay phone calls, both with HGTV/DIY and the company this crew worked for. No one on either end had mentioned this being a chance to have a show of my own. I was sure of it. Maybe this showrunner thought the network had spoken to me on this or the other way around.

Up until this point, the first day of filming this thing the network called the “test reel” had felt seamless, mundane almost, just a different type of work in many ways. I mean, it was out of the ordinary to have people following me with a camera as I walked and talked about home renovating. But I settled in by mid-morning. I fell into a rhythm doing my part, delivering for them either good or better than they’d expected. I may have been imagining this, but it was effective speculation because it calmed my nerves and gave me something to build upon.

Even though it jolted me, I got over any implications now floating in my melon and all the questions that poured in over the prospect of me having my own show.

The woman resumed her progression down the list of questions, and at first, I was cruising, on track once more. Even though this more formal interview process was unfamiliar territory, I was solid within my POV, since I’d been speaking on it for over a decade and then driving those points home online for the last several years.

However, the sit-down was derailed when the showrunner crossed what I felt was a demarcation in her directing, saying she needed me to look into the camera and say, “My name is Trent, and I’m addicted to rehab.” 

But right away, it felt wrong. I must have stared at her for a full second or two, and then shook her off, like a pitcher who got a sign from the catcher and signaled, nope.

She seemed dumbfounded, her mouth falling open slightly.

“I’m not gonna say that,” was what spilled from my lips.

Had my day of delivering filled my ego to the point that I now wanted to spread my wings and strut?

No. It really hadn’t.

I knew how I was feeling. It wasn’t self-assurance or cockiness. I was disappointed along with feeling ruffled about being put on the spot so cavalierly, without any sort of tiptoeing. The camera was rolling. All my words were being recorded, and it was just—Boom! Say this thing. Cross this bold bright line. 

With me temporarily dug in, the showrunner frowned and her confused look led to her asking, “What? Why not? What’s wrong?”

This reaction amazed me. I thought some things were just understood. The production company had sent me the Rehab Addict DVDs. I’d watched them and so I answered back, “That’s Nicole Curtis’ thing.”   

Then this weird moment devolved even more as the young woman asked, “What do you mean? Who’s Nicole Curtis?”

And that had me thinking, Is she kidding around with me? She represents the production company making Rehab Addict, but doesn’t know who Nicole Curtis is?

This wasn’t adding up.

To me, her question would be like an alleged basketball coach asking, “What’s a technical foul?” or “Where’s the baseline?” since Curtis and her show were featured regularly on multi-hour marathons, on both HGTV and DIY. To an average Joe like me, the female rehabber seemed like one of the dual network’s brightest stars.

My next thought was that this crew leader was lying to me and that wasn’t great either.

I felt confused and disoriented.

Not knowing what to say next, I stumbled into an explanation about how the phrase more-or- less belonged to Ms. Curtis, that it was a big part of who she was, or something like that. 

Fortunately, the audio technician nearby was tracking with me and he chimed in saying, “Yeah. That’s what Nicole says at the beginning of each episode.”

We resumed our Q&A segment, but the vibe had shifted in one moment.

I felt as if I’d been tested. I wasn’t sure if I’d passed or failed,

The smooth fun day would be marked mainly by the blowout we all experienced while speeding down the home stretch of day one. I’m not overly self-assured. But in the moment when put on the spot, I’d been unequivocal.

It had been a long day. We all needed rest and I was feeling added focused to give this crew even more to help me impress the network executives on day two.

(Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 27 - Coming Soon)