More Tiny Steps Towards Making my First Feature
And some dinosaur sized steps too!
Happy stutter step spring to all those being tormented by this year’s slow march to warmer months! Spring Equinox has officially come and gone. This beginning of spring marks the beginning of the new astrological year with Aries season, a fire sign that has the power to remind us that we are here on purpose. It’s also a marking of the transition from the first quarter of the Gregorian calendar year into the second. Which means it’s an excellent time to take stock of where we are in our aspirations for the year. Breaking down our massive dreams and goals into a million tiny actionable steps is the only way forward, and I’m definitely feeling like a dirt-dusted daffodil freshly breaking through the cold earth surrounded by bags of dog poop and cigarette butts (like the flower boxes outside my Brooklyn apartment), but nevertheless bursting forth. I missed the chance to write a February accountability post for my feature I’m so Happy for You, so I’m combining it with March’s update and calling it human!
But first—
Last week the always thoughtful Alex Rollin’s Berg posted an essay questioning and merit, efficacy, and cool factor of sharing your process for audience-building purposes. It touches on the tangible and intangible feelings we experience as art consumers that may compel us to become audience members and was, for many on here, quite provocative. I’ve been thinking about it all week as it pushed some necessary buttons around the question of WHY in a “be so fucking for real,” kind of way. And the takeaways of this thought exercise have been really useful for me.
I wholeheartedly agree that the public diarification of our lives and processes *in the hopes* of gaining followers, or audience members, often creates vaguely disingenuous results at best and consumable toxicity at worst. But I still think there’s space for sharing process in a meaningful way.
I see my process-sharing and participation in the Filmstack space like a workshop. Particularly when it comes to the NonDē space. I find (and hope) that sharing how I’m getting it done will be useful *to another filmmaker* or art maker. I’ve certainly learned a lot from what others have shared. There’s plenty I’m leaving out, to be clear. Specifically, the stuff that happens in the murky creative waters that generally can’t be put into words. But, to me, writing about the producorial aspects and big picture decision-making feels more like an offering than an exhibit.
The marketing conversation is different though. Audience building strategies always blur the line between the tangible and the intangible — a guess at what will make someone feel the exact right thing that leads them to buy a ticket or continue following the project’s narrative. Throwing spaghetti at the wall.
Even for the pros. Look at A24’s recent clown shows (I say this with a mix of reverence and amusement, to be clear. It seems to me that they take the assignment very seriously, as they should, and when reading the room, know that going unserious-as-fuck has the highest chance of resonating.) So, yes, marketing experts know which tactics may lead to better results, but in our current culture where what hits and what doesn’t changes with the wind, it’s all spaghetti — hopeful swings with no guarantee. So take your swing.
If putting yourself and your process out there feels like a swing that’s aligned with you as a filmmaker as well as the specific themes and elements of your project — go for it. But do it with crystal clear intention. Because I agree that VISIBILITY is not a panacea for all our creative career stalls, setbacks, and redesigns. Everywhere you look online, especially in this space, another person is swearing you’re not where you’d like to be creatively and/or professionally because you’re not bleeding out enough for Meta (or Polymarket…)
For me, sharing these very irregular Substack posts involves confronting my visibility discomfort and growth edge, which I push through to be in community. Because I believe in the resource and experience sharing angle of it all.
I do have an idea for a Substack that would be aimed at building out my audience, for this film and beyond, that I’m not quite ready to commit to, but it would be made of personal essays around themes that are central to the film — pregnancy, parenthood, modern womanhood, female friendship — as opposed to making the film the subject. It may be another example of “the authenticity trap”, but more and more I feel drawn to taking this leap. We’ll see.
Like I said, Alex’s piece brought up a lot. And I’m grateful for it!
Now for an update on my NonDē film, I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU.
We shot our proof of concept in February. The decision to shoot it was a given from the beginning, but as we got closer I began to wonder if we really needed it. Plenty of films get made based on a script and a deck. But as I sat with this question longer, I realized we needed to make it, more than anything, for ourselves. I wanted to work with my DP before principal photography. And I knew that going through a brief rehearsal period and shooting day with my actors would only make us stronger when it came time to shoot the thing.
I spent most of 2005-2015 crafting small screen stories, experiments, and short films. In film school you’re constantly shooting exercises and along with those exercises I made four short films as a writer/director, ranging from 7 to 24 minutes in length, one shot on Super 16 (will I ever get this chance again??) But the last short I directed, Tea Party, was shot in 2017. Which was, shockingly, almost a decade ago. Jane Gilmore featured this film in a generous post about my work a few weeks ago and we spoke about the making of it in more detail during a truly joyful conversation for her podcast. I’m proud of the work, but that was made, again, not recently.
I’ve been focused almost exclusively on my writing career since then. Which is all to say, I needed to shoot this proof of concept to get my feet wet before cannonballing into a project that’s incredibly important to me. Not in a precious or self-aggrandizing way, but from the perspective of the voice inside me that knows there’s entire mostly-neglected audience of women and birthing people who want this film. If I’m going to do this narrative justice, I need to come correct. So I got back on the horse for a day and a half*1.
ON LEADERSHIP
My actors were also getting back on the horse for the first time in a while. SINCE BECOMING MOTHERS, to be specific, like myself. They’ve each auditioned a bit, but have otherwise been intentionally bosom-deep in child-rearing. These are two women with an abundance of acting experience from formal training to workshops to many hours on set. And an immense amount of talent to boot. But, as we unpacked in rehearsal, motherhood changes you on a cellular level and because they hadn’t had the chance to really dig into a character since that metamorphosis, they didn’t know how their relationship to their craft had changed. Extremely fair. And resonant!
After becoming a mother it took me about seven months to land on a single new idea that I cared enough about to dive into writing. I had changed and I needed a change. But orienting within my creative process during that time felt like I was feeling around a dark, crowded room, banging my knees on furniture and getting my fingers caught in mysterious sticky goop. All with leaky tits and no childcare. And once I did land on a new feature idea I wanted to explore, after three months of outlining, I put it down and still haven’t returned to it. (Though I do still love the idea, now that I’m thinking about it…) To be clear, this is all part of the process — of writing and new motherhood. But when you’re in it, WOOF. Orienting within yourself can be scary and confusing, let alone out in the world.
SO, I was honored we had the chance to talk about all of this ahead of time, in rehearsal!
And with it in mind, as I walked to set on the day we shot our proof of concept, a vision popped into my mind — Lili, Sietzka, and myself on horseback, Three Amigos style. I immediately texted them to share this absurd and strangely accurate vision and laugh crying emojis that consequently batted off nerves were exchanged in rapid fire.
This exchange became a portal we stepped through together that morning into our roles on set.
Myself, the director, acknowledging the particular vulnerability this endeavor held while finding a way to release the pressure valve on the fact that to each of us this day meant a lot more than shooting 1 scene in 1 day in hopes of financing our feature (also a big deal!!!)
There was and is a lot riding on the execution of this proof of concept, but as creative women turned creative mothers, the scariest part was our individual aching to navigate this transitional step with grace, precision, and exquisite craft. We wanted and want so bad to feel good while doing exceptional work as new people. And so, with that flash of a vision in the form of a Mel Brooks reference that is as unserious as it gets — truly some of the goofiest shit you can find on screen — my step sprang a bit higher. Knowing we were in this very specific experience together, I felt certain that we would hold each other accountable and giggle all the while. And I think they got a step closer to this feeling as well. It was organic and unplanned and felt like the type of leadership I want to embody, always.
We’d been working in a mad dash towards this shoot, as Sietzka, as you can see from the still above, was very pregnant. Now that it’s shot, there’s a little more breathing room and I’ve been taking my time editing it. I say that as if it’s a choice but really, so much life had built up while we were prepping without a producer that I couldn’t even watch my footage until two weeks later (I imagine this is blasphemous to some of you, but I assure you it had nothing to do with my desire to watch the footage). Then, once I stepped into post, I had to re-learn Adobe Premiere and fumble my way through a sound mix (I’ll spare you my griping). It’s been humbling and empowering. (s/o Victoria and Josh who watched an early cut and were extremely thoughtful, as always.)
Over the last 6 months, since the inception of this project, I’ve embraced becoming the entrepreneur filmmaker, sharping my producing skills, learning the marketing and budgeting language I’ve actively avoided for many years. Now I’m in the season of sharpening my post-production skills and it feels full circle. I got into filmmaking through post, learning how to edit in Final Cut Pro in my high school Multimedia class. So, although it’s a latter step in the process, it’s deeply linked to my beginnings and the beginner mindset, which is always a healthy place to be.
Overall I’m really proud of the work we did. We self-financed it for a modest amount relative to what we achieved. We were a small crew: DP, AC, gaffer, sound (s/o Jesse who I found on the Filmstack Discord!), PA (s/o Nick who I met at a Filmstack meetup!), and myself. We shot 4 1/3 pages in an 11-hour day.
It looks gorgeous and my actors delivered incredible performances. I was also able to start a notes document of lessons learned:
Tweaks we’ll make to camera and lighting decisions.
Critical information about how my actors work that will lead to greater efficiency and results during the shoot.
New questions about portraying tone with laser sharp precision.
(SIDEBAR: Tone is one of my obsessions. I spark to tone like some people do to genre. The tone of my work is born out of my worldview, which is to say, it is my voice in the purest sense. So nailing it is of the utmost importance to me.)
In February we also secured our EP in a friend I came up PA’ing with in our early 20s. Back then we were little scrappy-doos running around Manhattan and Brooklyn with all the early-aughts Millennial zest of the cast of GIRLS. She went the producing route and is now running a shop with two partners. I trust her work ethic, taste, and process implicitly. I have never had a relationship like this with a producer and it feels completely aligned.
ONWARD
Our pitch deck is shaping up and full of all the financing language I only recently learned from lots of wonderful folks in this space.
We’ve decided to set up our fiscal sponsorship with The Gotham and need to get that in place.
We’re building out a list of potential sponsors who we’ll be doing outreach to this spring. Thank you to Brooke Berman who very generously walked me through her sponsorship outreach during Ramona at Midlife.
I have a collection of feedback from trusted friends that I’m currently incorporating into my next draft. I’ve been very eager to get back to my script after lots of forced time away and it feels oh so good.
Thanks for giving me your time. x
*On the horse meaning on set. The prep for this shoot was quite intensive. I did a lot of producing on top of my directorial prep. Much more than a day and a half.






I really agree with your take on why some filmmakers choose to share their process.
As someone who was psychologically drawn to a career built around being the invisible thread holding a project together - aka the producer- I had to push myself to join Substack and document my journey toward making a feature. It definitely pushed against a growth edge, but doing it within a community has been incredibly valuable.
I’ve always admired Virgil Abloh’s approach to sharing his process - there was a generosity to it, an understanding that transparency could actually inspire others. I’m not interested in sharing everything, but I do think there’s something meaningful about opening up parts of the process, especially the emotional side.
As much as I’m drawn to mystique, a lack of transparency can sometimes feel a bit old guard-and at times, it’s been a way of keeping people out. To me, thoughtful transparency isn’t about visibility for its own sake-it’s about access. It shows other filmmakers and producers what’s possible, and opens the door a bit wider.
I love this post, your dialogue with Alex Rollins Berg’s post, and his comment here, too! I think the process sharing posts that really resonate with me are the ones that are vulnerable and help us feel less alone about our own challenges and experiences. It feels encouraging and educational. And generous, as Victoria Michelle Miller said. Anyway, I love this piece of writing and also the way folks are engaging with it in the comments.