“You do not need to make yourself smaller, safer or easier to understand in order to belong in this industry. The work becomes stronger when you stop trying to fit someone else’s idea of what a filmmaker should be and start making the stories only you can tell.”
What pulled you into film and TV in the first place?
I spent nearly 15 years in theatre, performing in and directing works of classical drama. That experience taught me how deeply character, conflict and human behaviour can be explored through story. Over time, I began to feel that I had developed my own voice and wanted to create worlds rather than only interpret existing ones. That is what pulled me toward screenwriting and filmmaking, the chance to tell my own stories, especially about women, intimacy, power and the contradictions we often keep hidden.
What do you think the industry gets most wrong about women like you?
I think the industry often underestimates women who are both emotionally driven and ambitious. There is still a tendency to treat sensitivity, intimacy and stories centred on women as somehow smaller or less cinematic. I believe those qualities can be a source of enormous creative strength, and that women should not have to become less complex, less feminine or less personal in order to be taken seriously.
What does success mean to you?
Success means having the freedom to keep making work that feels true to me, films I care deeply about, with people I respect, without having to compromise the core of what I want to say. It also means building a career strong enough that I can keep choosing difficult, personal stories and give them the scale and audience they deserve.
What are you most proud of that most people don’t know about?
I’m proud that I kept building a life, a family and a creative career after losing both of my parents very young. Most people only see the work I do now, but they don’t see how much of my life was built from scratch. I’m proud that I turned that experience into strength without letting it make me less open, less ambitious or less capable of love.
What keeps you going when the industry makes it hard?
I genuinely cannot imagine my life without this profession. Filmmaking is not simply what I do, it is part of who I am. The industry can be slow, difficult and full of rejection, but the need to create never disappears. I keep going because there are stories I cannot let go of, and because making them real is one of the ways I understand myself and the world around me.
What is one piece of advice you wish you had heard earlier?
Trust your own voice earlier. You do not need to make yourself smaller, safer or easier to understand in order to belong in this industry. The work becomes stronger when you stop trying to fit someone else’s idea of what a filmmaker should be and start making the stories only you can tell.
Anything else you’d like to share?
I’m currently developing my first feature films and am especially interested in connecting with producers, co-producers and creative collaborators who are drawn to emotionally complex, female-led and queer stories. I’m based in Cyprus and work internationally. More about my work can be found on IMDb and through my professional social media.🤗
What pulled you into film and TV in the first place?
I’ve always lived in a world of stories. The ones I see happening and the ones I form out of normalcy even when no one else sees the story I see. And film gave me a place to connect that love with passion.
What do you think the industry gets most wrong about women like you?
I wouldn’t know yet. I believe perception is very personal and I don’t tie any of it to my personal experience.
What does success mean to you?
Impacting lives with storytelling.
What are you most proud of that most people don’t know about?
My mind and how it works.
What keeps you going when the industry makes it hard?
My love for stories and why I’m doing what I do in the first place.
What is one piece of advice you wish you had heard earlier?
The process is the reward.
Anything else you’d like to share?
Yes, I’m always open to collaborators and funding. I mean, that’s the biggest struggle being an independent filmmaker.
What pulled you into film and TV in the first place?
I was a child actor; I’ve loved being on set since the age of 5.
What do you think the industry gets most wrong about women like you?
The patriarchy is insidious and subversive. Sometimes they can’t see talent when it’s staring them in the face because the ideas you have, and even the way you look, are foreign to them.
What does success mean to you?
No more waiting. Having what I create actually seen and not sit on a shelf. Having a community of folks who believe in my skill to tell great stories.
What are you most proud of that most people don’t know about?
I’ve been supporting fellow women behind the camera since the beginning. Even the ones who haven’t supported me.
What keeps you going when the industry makes it hard?
My personal and creative life. My imagination. My college boyfriend/husband, our kids, their kids. Stories, faces. Drawing, singing, decorating, fashion, dinner parties. Movies! Books! Music! Art! Nature in all her wonders: the wind and sky, the trees and flowers, the mountains and sea.
What is one piece of advice you wish you had heard earlier?
Nobody knows anything. Listen to your gut. I heard it but didn’t truly believe it. Believe it!
“Many people have told me that asking for help is a crucial component of success. All successful people do it apparently. I think if someone had told me that earlier in my career, I would have forced myself to adapt and become better at it.”
What pulled you into film and TV in the first place?
I was studying cultural anthropology at New York University in the early 90s when I caught the Madonna documentary, Truth or Dare. It intrigued me that the filmmaker Alek Keshishian, with no advanced degree in anthropology or sociology, was able to capture something so relevant about the times we were living in. As I walked the long journey from Harlem back downtown to the East Village, I made up my mind to drop out of graduate school and pursue a career in documentary filmmaking. I was twenty-three years old and prone to massive over-confidence when making life-changing decisions. But it worked. My first job was as an editor’s assistant on a documentary about the gentrification of Hoboken, New Jersey. It was shot on 16 mm film and I was responsible for organising clips and splicing them together into reels using a Steenbeck, which I’d learned how to use in the one film production course I took at NYU, the legendary Sight and Sound. From there, I took whatever film crew job I could find, working mostly on music videos, commercials, and very low budget indie films. I worked in any department that would have me, art, wardrobe, A.D., production office. I didn’t care. I had found my people.
What do you think the industry gets most wrong about women like you?
I think the film industry, despite efforts to eliminate gender prejudice, still has a strong male bias. Women’s screenplays are considered “women’s stories,” whereas men’s screenplays are just “stories.” The majority of equity financiers are still men and, while I do not believe they are engaged in any conscious effort to discriminate against female filmmakers, I think they are subject to the same ordinary cultural biases that afflict society as a whole. Thus indie films maintain their male bias. Women are still very much swimming upstream. Here’s an anecdote to illustrate this phenomenon. In 2007 I was tapped to write a lady mobster film for a major studio. I spent the weekend drafting a treatment and some sample pages to show them what I could bring to the project. That same weekend both Jodie Foster and Nicole Kidman starred in films that did not perform particularly well at the box office, The Brave One and The Invasion, respectively. Because these were both female-led movies, the studio behind the lady mobster film pulled the plug because, say it with me now, “women don’t open films.” Now, in that same period a number of male-led movies also underperformed: The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford starring Brad Pitt, Shoot ’em Up starring Clive Owen, In the Valley of Elah starring Tommy Lee Jones, to name a few. But no one, not a single film executive ever, said the words: “Men don’t open films.” I think what the industry doesn’t get is that audiences sincerely do not care if the lead is female or male. They want great stories. But because executives and financiers are always looking for a way to predict and make rational something that is fundamentally unknowable and therefore unpredictable, they will reach for whatever post-facto rationalization they can find. Gender is one of those things.
What does success mean to you?
I am happiest when I’m making films. I like every part of the process, writing, prepping, shooting, editing. The only parts I don’t like are fund-raising and self-promotion, arguably the two most important components of success. So for me success means the ability to make film after film because someone is financing them and someone else is promoting them. To arrive at this state, I have had to override my horror at asking people for money, as well as finding partners who can help find available funding. I don’t believe in the philanthropic side of film funding (BFI, etc.) so I’m strictly working with equity financiers and sales and distribution companies. When I’ve got three films financed and lined up ready to shoot, I’ll feel successful.
What are you most proud of that most people don’t know about?
I have made a habit of leaving careers at their height. I left my film career in 2001 when I was Vice President of Production at Lionsgate Films and had just produced American Psycho and Buffalo ’66. I left to write novels with absolutely no idea how the publishing industry worked. I learned very quickly how hard it is to find a publisher. But I succeeded eventually. The day my literary agent called to tell me that she had three offers on my first novel, Cycler, was one of the proudest days of my life. After a short bidding war, I sold it and a sequel for a sizable advance. I had left a secure and lucrative career to pursue something completely unfamiliar because that was where my creative impulses led me. And it had worked. Eighteen years later, I left the world of publishing to return to filmmaking. Only now I lived in a new country, the UK, and the industry had changed dramatically. Not wanting to return to producing, I retrained as a script supervisor and caught the tail end of the streaming boom, to rise quickly from assistant script supervisor on low budget gaming films, to main unit script supervisor on big budget action films. I had to swallow some pride to go from indie producer of culturally significant films like American Psycho to assistant script supervisor on a video game I’d never heard of. But it too worked. It was the start of phase two of my film career, which would lead me to directing.
What keeps you going when the industry makes it hard?
I’m fortunate to have a variety of income streams. As a multi-hyphenate I can work as a script supervisor, story editor, screenwriter, director, producer, and editor. I also work across different media, feature films, series, commercials, and fashion films. This makes it easier to earn a living. Also, I’m not intimidated by the grim state of the industry right now. Rather I see it as an opportunity. Working in low budget filmmaking in New York City in the 90s exposed me to great uncertainty and constant flux between flush times and slow times. That period also gave rise to the great boom in independent filmmaking, culminating in The Blair Witch Project, American Psycho, and many others. The film industry constantly goes through periods of uncertainty and chaos. The birth of cable TV, home video, then streaming all disrupted previous business models. People panicked. In the 90s people thought Blockbuster Video was going to kill theatrical. It didn’t. What makes this period of disruption different is that it’s lasting longer than previous ones. Usually the industry settles down into a new normal eventually. But now there is no new normal so financiers are essentially greenlighting into the great unknown. What this means is that filmmakers have to be nimble and resourceful. I feel very comfortable there as I pride myself on knowing how and where to spend money to put value on the screen. The challenge for me is figuring out the distribution landscape so that I can budget projects accordingly and that’s what I’m working on.
What is one piece of advice you wish you had heard earlier?
I was fortunate to be at Lionsgate in the early days, before it was even called Lionsgate. We financed our films through foreign pre-sales. So my job was to find projects, budget them, put together potential cast lists then present them to our foreign sales team. They’d tell me how much they could reliably sell a project for in the foreign market, and if the math added up, we’d greenlight and go. I never had to ask anyone for money. Now I’m in the unhappy position of having to ask people for money, which I hate. Many people have told me that asking for help is a crucial component of success. All successful people do it apparently. I think if someone had told me that earlier in my career, I would have forced myself to adapt and become better at it. Now that I’m older it’s very hard to overcome my fear of asking for help. I see myself as a helper, not one who seeks help and I don’t know if there’s enough time to learn this skill. I believe that if I don’t succeed as a filmmaker, this will be the reason.
Anything else you’d like to share?
I returned to the film industry in 2020 when my daughter was twelve. She had just started secondary school and the reduced parenting responsibilities made returning to filmmaking seem plausible. I joined some Facebook groups for London-based filmmakers, introducing myself and writing about my background. Only women responded. I then noticed that there was a kind of loose, unofficial network of women returning to work after raising kids who were incredibly helpful and generous with their time and advice. I wound up working with a number of them in various capacities. It taught me this important lesson: if you want to find the most hard-working, resourceful, get-things-done people for your project, find women returning to work after raising kids. They’ve been through a lot. They know how to prioritise, they’re hungry for creative work, and they have no time for nonsense. I think women in this category are often overlooked and it’s a big mistake. When I get my production company up and running, I am going to ensure that at least 50% of my crew is female. To find out more about my work, you can follow me on insta @laurenmclaughlin3, Twitter @laurenmcwoof, Facebook @lauren.mclaughlin.books, or my website: laurenmclaughlin.net.
“Stop waiting for permission or to feel good enough. The encouragement you seek will not arrive, so build it within yourself. Find other women and communities that lift each other up.”
What pulled you into film and TV in the first place?
I always loved films and would watch a movie over and over again as a child, a habit that I continued throughout my life. I wrote out entire screenplays (of the movies I was watching) in school when we were supposed to write in our journal. I filmed and photographed people constantly as I grew up. Humanity, their stories and the way in which a point of view can tell those stories through film has always captured my attention. I didn’t know that I could be a director and so I became an actor. The first four directors I worked with were women with a strong vision. I worked with Mary Harron on American Psycho who was calm, brilliant, inspired by everything I did, and laser focused on what she was doing. She also had a newborn baby on her hip at the age of 49. I was performing opposite huge stars, but they didn’t intimidate me. It was Mary Harron who I most admired that day. I wanted Mary Harron’s job one day. I just had a day player role, but when I was leaving after my 14 hour day, Mary Harron ran after me to thank me. What a class act. I shadowed a female director I had worked with as an actor at the National Film Board of Canada after that, but it would still take me another twelve years before I directed anything.
What do you think the industry gets most wrong about women like you?
I think a big misconception is that if a woman is calm and confident, but not loud and overbearingly confident, then she can’t do the job of a director. But if she’s too confident then she’s “bizarre” or “who does she think she is?!” It’s a fine balance to evoke the right flavor of confidence when a man doesn’t even have to have a body of work, like a woman does, and is still taken seriously. I’m not entirely sure what they think, but I can see that people respect my work and women like me, but I can also see that that doesn’t matter if no one is going to support it. The industry can determine that a woman is a talented filmmaker, yet that still doesn’t translate to actual public support, distribution or getting hired again. I think the industry thinks it’s supporting women because we talk about it now, but talk isn’t enough. A female director still faces the same systemic barriers as twenty years ago, but now the industry acts like they don’t while it pats itself on the back for noticing.
What does success mean to you?
Success to me is being able to keep making art with other great artists and working in the arts for a living.
What are you most proud of that most people don’t know about?
I’m most proud of myself for continuing to pursue my dreams despite adversity. I left home when I was 15 and didn’t have any emotional or financial support or guidance. I was truly alone and had injuries, surgeries and health challenges throughout my twenties, but still moved to the USA by myself to pursue my dreams. It was really difficult and I often felt like forces were working against me. Despite everything, I have managed to make the films that I wanted to make and I have continued to work in the arts with great artists, which makes me feel lucky and incredibly proud of myself for all that I’ve accomplished.
What keeps you going when the industry makes it hard?
There are a few answers to this. First, I wouldn’t know what else to do. I’m in too deep and I can’t turn back now. I also believe in my bones that when I’m directing I know what I’m doing. I feel in my power when I’m on set and I’ve accumulated a lot of knowledge from all of my experience, and that allows me to say with confidence that I know what I’m doing. I don’t feel that way in other areas of my life.
What is one piece of advice you wish you had heard earlier?
Stop waiting for permission or to feel good enough. The encouragement you seek will not arrive, so build it within yourself. Find other women and communities that lift each other up.
I am a director-actor-intimacy coordinator and acting teacher in Los Angeles. I began working as an intimacy coordinator in 2024 after years of training, which I love and which combines all of my accumulated knowledge and interests. I love collaborating – it’s what I love most about working in film. I love working with all the HOD’s and how we all come together to create dynamic storytelling, bringing something special to life. I’m currently writing a feature film to direct and act in and always looking for intimacy coordinating opportunities and acting work (my first love).
What pulled you into film and TV in the first place?
Why, a fuzzy pink puppet, of course, just like everybody! In another chapter of my life, I worked as a puppeteer. My first foray into film was making a web series (intended for adults) about a puppet. It had a budget of approximately zero dollars and was one of the most positive filmmaking experiences I ever had. Thank goodness I had a bunch of talented and capable crew friends who were willing to work for practically pennies to help me bring it to fruition. Without them, I’d have learned nothing.
What do you think the industry gets most wrong about women like you?
About women in general, that their voices, ideas and work are somehow lesser-than — a culture of toxicity that breeds not only poor treatment from men but poor treatment from women towards each other. All of our work is different and there is space for all of us.
About women “like me” — well, that would be (for one thing) women who favor stories about teenagers and children growing up. 9 times out of 10 it’s assumed that we must love “kiddie content.” In fact — and I don’t know who else I’m speaking for here, but they’re out there — when we make films about kids and teens in this way, we’re telling stories about people at a time of raw, confusing, deeply uncomfortable transition that’s both joyful and often intensely sad. There’s nothing kiddie about it.
What does success mean to you?
Sticking the landing. I watch videos of gymnasts vaulting and figure skaters landing their jumps before I direct stuff. That’s the kind of mental fortitude I want to bring to what I do. If I can manage that, I’ve succeeded.
What are you most proud of that most people don’t know about?
Film-wise, my answer would be the little short films I never show anybody these days. Without those technically unsound beginnings, I would have never made anything better. They laid the foundation for everything afterwards.
What keeps you going when the industry makes it hard?
Coffee and rage.
What is one piece of advice you wish you had heard earlier?
Do not ignore even the slightest red flag.
What do you hope to accomplish in your creative work this year?
Turn a corner in my storytelling and help other filmmakers to tell theirs.
Anything else you’d like to share?
My two features Magnetosphere and Goodbye, Petrushka are streaming on several platforms including Tubi and Amazon Prime. Magnetosphere is about a 13-year-old girl who has synesthesia, a neurological condition where the senses are mixed (such that people might hear colors, see sound, etc).
Goodbye, Petrushka is about an American college student’s misadventures in France, and although it wasn’t my intention to portray neurodivergence in that one, a number of neurodivergent and autistic viewers have written to say they see themselves in the character. So maybe both films are about neurodiversity. To me, they’re just about growing up.
What pulled you into film and TV in the first place?
Ever since I was a kid, I have always been passionate about storytelling. I grew up loving films, acting, and creating stories, but as I got older, I realized how rarely authentic stories and accurate representation are shown onscreen and stage especially as a Deaf person. Often times our stories are told inaccurate in a harmful ways or even hearing Actors playing a Deaf character which robs our opportunities, our story, and our voice. Instead of waiting for ableist system to finally come around to give me opportunities or for someone to decide whether I was “worthy” of playing a role simply because I am Deaf, I decided to create my own opportunities. My stories matters. My life experience matters. My voice matters. That is why I created and founded Annabelle Louise Productions.
I have been in the industry for over 35 years and have written three tv series, and four feature films and am still working hard to get them all greenlit. My goal is not only to tell compelling, authentic stories, but also to create opportunities for people who have historically been underrepresented both in front of and behind the camera. There is so much talent, creativity, passion, and capability within underrepresented communities. The problem is not a lack of talent. The problem is a system that too often refuses to see it, invest in it, or provide equal opportunities.
As a Deaf artist, I know firsthand what it means to navigate audism — the oppression, discrimination and rejection that Deaf people experience because they are Deaf. I have spend years navigating those barriers, but refuse to let them define what I can create. I’m not waiting for someone else to open the door. I’m building my own door and hoping it open for others. Authentic representation matters. Inclusion matters. Accessibility matters. And our stories deserve to be told by the people who have lived them. I create because I believe we are capable. We are talented, We all have stories to tell.
What do you think the industry gets most wrong about women like you?
You don’t know me until you meet me. I strongly believe that both the entertainment industry and society have often perceived me as “dumb,” “incapable,” or “less worthy” simply because I am Deaf — and because I am a woman. Where do these perception come from? They can begin with what the society is taught to believe about people who are different. They can come from medical professionals, parents, teachers, families, friends, employers, and institutions that unknowingly or knowingly reinforce assumptions about what a Deaf person can or cannot do.
But let me be clear I’m Deaf not Dumb. I’m Deaf not Lazy. I’m Deaf not incapable. My accomplishments speak for themselves. I hold an AA Degree in Theatre, a BS in Corporate Communication, a MS in Education, as well we certification and professional training in Films/TV, the Business of Entertainment, Intimacy Coordination/Direction and Mental Health Coordination. I am an actor, filmmaker, screenwriter, director, producer, creative professional. And have produced 4 shorts, and three of them are award-winning films, and still continue to working hard to greenlit my features and shorts.
And yet, despite my education, experience, skills, and decades of dedication to the entertainment industry, I still struggle to even get an interview for employment. Sometimes the barrier isn’t my qualification. The barrier is whether someone ever takes the time to see me beyond a label. Human resources system, Studios, Producers can filter people before they have the opportunity to speak for themselves. Automated hiring systems, email screening and AI-driven screening can reinforce barriers when resumes doesn’t fit a predetermined formula. And when assumptions about Deafness are already present, the door can close before I even have a chance to walk through it. That is incredibly frustrating.
Because time and time again, I have discovered something: People are often wrong about me until they meet me. Once we actually sit down, communicate, exchange ideas and have a conversation, suddenly they discover that I am capable, educated, creative, passionated, talented, experienced, determined and full of ideas. So instead of judging me from a resume, checkbox, assumption, or an algorithm, I invite you to meet me. Let’s grab a coffee and chat. Let’s talk about storytelling, representation, accessibility, business, creating and opportunities. You might discover that the person you thought you knew from a label is nothing like the person sitting across from you.
I’m not asking for sympathy. I’m asking for opportunity. I’m asking you to look beyond the assumptions. Because when you give people the opportunity to be seen, heard and valued for what they can actually contribute, everyone wins. So If you believe in authentic representation, inclusion, accessibility, and creating meaningful change — and yes, let’s grab the coffee and chat!
What does success mean to you?
What success mean to me, as success can mean so many different things in life. For me, a true success is much bigger than money, awards, credits or recognition. True success is when all human beings, including the Deaf and Disabled people are seen and treated equally. It is a world where accessibility exists everywhere without us constantly having to advocate, educate, explain, fight, or battle system that were never designed with us in mind. It is a world where Deaf and Disabled people have genuine opportunities in life and in their careers not because someone feels sorry for us but because our talent, skills, creativity, and humanity are recognized. It is a world where inclusion is real. Where accessibility is expected. Where safety matters. Where we don’t have to fight just to belong. That would be a huge success.
Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I will ever see that world in my lifetime. Deaf and Disabled people have been fighting against discrimination and oppression for generation which the fight feels endless. But I still have hope. I hope through my authentic story telling, I can reach people. I hope my stories can make someone think differently. I hope they can be reminded people that behind label is a human being with dreams, feelings, talent, experience, and a story worth hearing. Maybe I cannot change the entire world. But if I can change one person’s perspective, open one door, create one opportunity, then my work matters.
And right now, my personal definition of success is very specific. I want to see Bell’s Darkness greenlit. I’m actively seeking funding, partnership, and in-kind support to bring this powerful, authentic feature film to life. But this film means far more to me than simply making a movie. It is connected to a promise I made to my beloved Annabelle Louise Schaefer, the CEO of Annabelle Louise Productions, who has passed away. I am keeping that promise. I have carried this dream through years of oppression, rejection, discrimination, audism, and countless moments when society and the industry made me question whether there was a place or someone like me. I’m still here, still moving forward and the day will come when Bell’s Darkness has its red-carpet premiere. And when I stand there looking at the screen, surrounded by the people who helped make it possible, I know exactly what I will say. I will cry, and say “Annabelle, we did it” and it will be a proof that rejection does not have to be the end of the story. Sometimes, you have to become the person who creates the opportunity you were never given.
What keeps you going when the industry makes it hard?
A promise, a love, a legacy. It is my promise to my beloved late Annabelle Louise Schaefer, carried forward with the love we shared. Annabelle believed in me, in my dreams, and in the stories I wanted to tell. Her love became part of the foundation upon which I continue to create. She may no longer be here on this earthly presence but her love remains with me — in my heart, in my work, and in every step I take.
What is one piece of advice you wish you had heard earlier?
I don’t have any advice that I wish I had heard, but am navigating this alone with the love that Annabelle has given me.
Anything else you’d like to share?
I’m always looking for dedicated passionate collaborators to come together to bring stories to life as well as roles to portray, as I’m a human just like you all as I do not want to be limited due to the assumptions of me. Anything is possible once we all open our mind, eyes and heart. Contact me, and let’s get creative as well as to make a difference together!
“You don’t need permission to begin, and you don’t have to have it all figured out to take the first step.”
Producer, Director, Writer — @monique.efta
What pulled you into film and TV in the first place?
Some of my earliest memories are of being completely fascinated by awards shows. The Oscars, the Emmys, the Grammys, I loved all of it. I honestly couldn’t tell you why. I just remember being excited by that world from a really young age.
Being from such a small town in Minnesota, I never thought film or television was something I could actually be a part of. At the time, I thought acting was basically the only way into that world, and acting didn’t feel like a possibility for me. I didn’t even understand how many other people it took to tell those stories, so filmmaking wasn’t something I considered.
That changed much later in my life.
I grew up extremely religious and at some point realized I was questioning my sexuality. I found I was looking for myself in the world around me. I was looking at music, film and television, at other people’s stories, trying to find something that reflected back to me that the life I was beginning to imagine for myself was possible. That’s when I really began to understand why visibility matters.
Later, after leaving an abusive relationship, I found myself at another crossroads, asking what I actually wanted my life to be. And one of the things that became very clear was that I wanted to be part of creating that visibility for someone else.
I wanted to tell the kinds of stories that might help someone recognize themselves, feel less alone, or see a possibility for their life that they couldn’t see before.
Looking back, it’s interesting that I was drawn to this world long before I knew there was a place for me in it. I just had to find my way there.
What do you think the industry gets most wrong about women like you?
I think the industry still has a very narrow idea of when a woman’s story is interesting and what an interesting woman is supposed to look like.
I didn’t even start thinking about being a filmmaker until I was 36. I came out as a lesbian later in life. I’ve changed careers, questioned everything I once believed, started over more than once, left an abusive relationship, fallen in love again, and continued figuring out who I am along the way. My life didn’t become less interesting as I got older, it became more interesting.
I think we still see so much emphasis on youth, especially when it comes to women, when there are incredibly rich stories happening in the middle of people’s lives. Women are starting over. They’re coming out. They’re leaving marriages or religions or careers. They’re discovering parts of themselves they didn’t have access to when they were younger.
And I don’t think those stories are only valuable to the women living them. They’re human stories.
I also think we underestimate how powerful it is to see someone on screen who doesn’t have everything figured out by 25. Sometimes the most meaningful representation isn’t seeing someone who already knows exactly who they are. It’s seeing someone realize they still have permission to become someone new.
What does success mean to you?
Success to me isn’t based on income, how many films I’ve made, or whether people know my name. It’s when someone tells me they identified with something in one of my films or something they’ve heard me talk about. If something I’ve created makes someone feel seen, less alone, or even a little more hopeful about their own life, that feels like success to me.
We live in a capitalist society that tends to assign value to art, and to people, based on how much money they make or how much recognition they receive. I don’t believe those things are the same as worth. A film not making a lot of money doesn’t mean it wasn’t good. Maybe the filmmaker didn’t have the money or connections to get it in front of a larger audience. So much of what we traditionally call success can also be influenced by access and privilege, who you know, where you grew up, and what opportunities you were exposed to.
I struggled for a long time to even call myself a filmmaker because I wasn’t making a lot of money doing it. I’ve done a tremendous amount of work for free, to learn, build my skills, meet people, and create opportunities for myself. Starting later in life makes that even more challenging, especially as a woman. I entered this industry at 36 knowing absolutely nothing about how it worked and without an established network. In an industry where so much can depend on relationships, and where those relationships can sometimes feel transactional, building from the ground up is incredibly difficult. I didn’t grow up around this world or have a built-in path into it. I’ve had to learn it, build those relationships, and find my place as I went.
Eventually I realized: I’m a filmmaker because I make films. And anyone who has managed to make even one knows how damn hard that is.
So for me, success is continuing to create, continuing to grow, and hopefully making something that reaches another human being. That’s worth more to me than whether or not everyone knows my name.
What are you most proud of that most people don’t know about?
I’m probably most proud of how many times I’ve been willing to start over.
There are parts of my life people see now, the films, festivals, projects, the person I’ve become, but they don’t necessarily see how much rebuilding it took to get here.
I’ve had to question things I believed for most of my life, figure out who I was outside of what I had been taught I was supposed to be, come out later in life, leave an abusive relationship, and rebuild again. At the same time, I was trying to find my place in an industry I knew absolutely nothing about when I entered it.
There were a lot of moments when it would have been easier to choose what was familiar, even when familiar wasn’t making me happy.
I’m proud that I kept choosing myself anyway.
I’m proud that at an age when we’re sometimes made to feel like we’re supposed to have everything figured out, I was willing to admit that I didn’t, and start creating a life that actually felt like mine.
People may see the things I’m creating now, but I think what I’m most proud of is the person I had to become in order to create them.
What keeps you going when the industry makes it hard?
Honestly, sometimes I don’t know. There have been plenty of moments when I’ve wanted to quit (every other week at first, now maybe like once a quarter lol). This industry can be exhausting. There’s rejection, comparison, financial pressure, and so much uncertainty. You can pour everything you have into something and have no idea if anyone will ever see it.
But then something happens that reminds me why I started. Someone connects with something I’ve made, or tells me they saw themselves in a story I told, and suddenly all of it feels worth it again. I know what it feels like to spend years trying to become who you think you’re supposed to be instead of who you actually are. Storytelling gave me a way to find my own voice, and now I want to use that voice to help other people find theirs.
If something I create can make someone feel seen, help them understand themselves a little better, or give them the strength and courage to live more authentically, that’s enough to keep me going. I want the stories I tell, and even my own story, to speak into people’s lives and remind them that it’s never too late to become yourself.
Anything else you’d like to share?
I’m always looking to connect and collaborate with other creatives. I really believe that some of the best ideas are born when different creative worlds collide, which is actually why my creative partner, Lea Roman, and I recently started Creative Exchange (C/X) through our production company, Hippie and a Nun Productions.
C/X brings together filmmakers, musicians, writers, comedians, photographers, painters, and artists of every kind to meet, inspire one another, and hopefully spark collaborations that might never have happened otherwise. One of the things I’ve learned throughout my own journey is how important community is, especially in an industry that can sometimes feel incredibly transactional. We want to help create spaces where artists can genuinely connect, support each other, and make things together.
Through Hippie and a Nun Productions, Lea and I are also continuing to develop and create projects that reflect the kinds of stories and voices we want to see more of in the world. We’re always open to meeting filmmakers, writers, actors, musicians, artists, and other creatives who are passionate about what they do and interested in building something together.
You can find more about our work at hippieandanunproductions.com and follow Hippie and a Nun Productions on Instagram @hippieandanunproductions.
You can also follow me personally on Instagram @monique.efta and TikTok @moniqueefta, where I share more of my own journey, the filmmaking process, what it’s like building a creative career later in life, and pieces of my story around identity, deconstruction, starting over, and becoming more fully yourself.
A lot of my story has been about realizing that there isn’t an expiration date on becoming who you are or pursuing the life you want. If sharing that journey makes someone else feel a little more seen or a little less afraid to start, then that’s something I want to keep doing.
What pulled you into film and TV in the first place?
I loved watching movies and TV as a kid; so much so that whenever I got in trouble, I’d usually get my TV privileges revoked. I always enjoyed escaping into another world and watching characters that you get to grow up with or aspire to grow up to be was always inspirational to me growing up. I knew that I had to be a part of it.
What do you think the industry gets most wrong about women like you?
I’m an introvert, so I think that whenever people look at me, it means that I’m a pushover, or I’ll agree to anything. What they don’t know is that I’m stubborn, so if I set my mind to something, or gather an opinion, it’s getting done.
What does success mean to you?
To me, success means achieving what you set out to do; even if it takes a long time to do it.
What are you most proud of that most people don’t know about?
It’s such a cliché, but my resilience. It’s so easy to give up, and I’ve had moments where I’ve questioned if I’m meant for this, but I know that I am, and that’s enough to keep me going.
What keeps you going when the industry makes it hard?
Knowing that there are so many Black stories waiting to be told; and knowing that I’ll be one of many Black filmmakers to tell them.
“Go make your own projects. Never wait for someone to approve of your project. Just because someone rejects your project doesn’t mean you should give up. You just haven’t found the right team yet.”
What pulled you into film and TV in the first place?
The day I went to a movie theater as a kid and felt totally immersed into the story of the film that was playing on the screen. The power of stories to immerse you, inspire you and make you forget about the world for a moment and care about someone else’s story.
What do you think the industry gets most wrong about women like you?
That we are not as tough as men in terms of being able to work in the film industry. Which is totally false, women creatives are always the most organized and efficient on set. We are often given lower budget projects because men refused to take them and we are expected to “make it work” which we do always. We always pull it off, come with incredible ideas to bring a project to life, we never complain. We are as tough and skilled as men.
What does success mean to you?
Being able to financially be stable in my career, having the power to bring stories that I want to be seen on screen and support other filmmakers by helping them get their projects be made and seen.
What are you most proud of that most people don’t know about?
My streaming app Pocket Cinema that I have cofounded. It launches mid August 2026. It was created by me and my cofounder, two young creatives who are coming from the indie film world. Two Gen-Z who got tired of waiting to be greenlit and who wanted to make series too. So we created this platform where we aim to release elevated genre series in vertical formats as well as horizontal. Stories that push the filmmaking techniques, series made by a diverse cast and crew, series made by other indie filmmakers who are as passionate as we are about bringing stories to the screen.
What keeps you going when the industry makes it hard?
My love for movies and stories. A great movie will always inspire me again and make me want to get back into writing and creating.
