Made to Bloom

Ana Gasteyer

Here is Tony-nominated Schmigadoon! star, comedy icon, and beloved SNL legend Ana Gasteyer, whose unforgettable characters, razor-sharp wit, and musicality have only grown richer over time.

Adam: Let’s go deep, fast. What is a moment in your life when you realized something had to change?

Ana: After I left SNL, the logical step would have been to go out to California and that was what was being encouraged by my representatives at the time. Go audition, try to be somebody’s wife on a sitcom, and that was really kind of the extent of the opportunities that I was presented with as a female in the early 2000s. And it just didn’t seem very fulfilling. I knew that I loved Broadway and I had worked a little bit on Broadway during SNL. I went to see two shows in a week. I saw Wonderful Town starring Donna Murphy and I saw the original company of Wicked and I had been a finalist for Wicked early in the show’s early development. I knew that there were some really cool roles for women and as a singer, I had to double down if I was going to make up for lost time, because I had started college as a voice major and gave it all up to do comedy. So I did that. I doubled down, I started training, I started performing at musical theater wherever I possibly could—benefits and concerts and in regional theater—and made that transition very deliberately.

Adam: What was the hardest part about making that change?

Ana: The hardest part was really having to acknowledge that I was kind of starting all over again. At that time (pre-social media), I was really a TV sketch performer, coming into a world I had never really been initiated in. I didn’t know how to dance and I hadn’t studied musical theater formally and I was 35 years old. I was gatecrashing a different industry and understandably, people on stage were suspicious of a television actress coming in and stealing their thunder and so I did feel like I really had to earn my stripes

Adam: More growth stuff- was there a period where you felt stuck between who you were and who you were becoming?

Ana: Absolutely. People were interested in seeing me for comedy roles, but I really felt like I had to prove I could do the vocal part and had to really dig deep to do that. I had to study, I had to sing, I had to really stretch my own comfort zone because singers at the level of Idina Menzel and Shoshana Bean—people I was in the room with—were people who had been refining that talent and actual physical musculature for some time. So I definitely felt like I have to prove that I can do this in order to make it to the next level. That’s why I focused so incredibly hard on Elphaba, because I knew if I could sing Elphaba, and if people could hear me sing Elphaba and know, in the Broadway community, that I was capable of singing Elphaba, that I would come to the other side.

Adam: What did success mean earlier in your career and what does it mean to you now?

Ana: Success was much more in the eyes of other people earlier in my career. So much of those early moves are about being accepted from the outside and later in your career, success is much more defined around personal goals. It’s way less important to me what other people assess as success because I also know that they’re not always going to see it the way that I do, and it’s much more about the goals that I set for myself. Things I want to learn, things I want to challenge, challenges I set up for myself, things I want to write, things I want to produce, people I want to work with- obviously there’s a lot more agency in that. The nice thing about later in your career is, theoretically, you do have a track record and you do have evidence that what you’re doing is meaningful. Earlier in your career, it’s a little bit more of just a lark and a wildcard because you’re kind of throwing peas at the ceiling and the ones that stick count. I mean, obviously I knew I was going to work in comedy, but my first television shows were Seinfeld and a police drama called NYPD Blue—just little parts. So it kind of could have broken any way and the way that does is the one that ends up being the one that defines you.

Adam: What is something you had to let go of in order to move forward?

Ana: I had to let go of the fact that I was going to be a conventional idea to someone. Early on, I knew I was going to be on an independent track because I didn’t look like what I thought of as a TV actress. I was told all the time, “Oh, you’re not going to work in TV because you’re not blonde or the girl next door.” You don’t look like Courtney Thorne-Smith, you don’t look like this blonde or that blonde, which is so funny because now I think I look so conventional by comparison. I had to let go of trying to squinch into that mold. I was just this morning thinking about how I’d auditioned for Modern Family and what a joke that was in retrospect. I had to let go of waiting for other people to make things for me and I had to make them for myself, and it’s so much more satisfying to me to have done that.

Adam: What’s something that people misunderstand about growth or reinvention?

Ana: I mean, I don’t know that this is something people misunderstand. I do think that during this phase, you have to live in a place of uncertainty and that’s really hard when you’re a grown-up. We can live in a place of uncertainty a lot as kids, but we don’t do it as grown-ups- we don’t sort of wade into waters we’re not familiar with without a fair amount of conviction that that’s going to go well for us. More than misunderstand, I think people just forget. It’s just a lot of admitting that you don’t know everything. In becoming a musical theater performer, that is what I had to learn. It’s a very, very carefully studied and refinement-oriented skill set, and I had to just kind of admit that I didn’t know a lot of things and that humility was super grounding.

Adam: What’s one thing you know now that you wish you had understood earlier?

Ana: That it really has nothing to do with other people. I wish I understood earlier how much of it is not in your control and you can only do what you can do and worry about the components that you’re capable of.

It took me a long time to figure out that the harder you work and how much you put into an audition or a pitch, is actually what ends up being the most satisfying. If you feel like you’ve thrown your best self into it, you always get something from it later- whether it’s knowledge or confidence or relationships, you learn and you grow from that experience. Sometimes, the hard work can be paid forward, where somebody who’s in a position of power might think, “Wow, they always do a good job and I’m going to reward that eventually.”

I certainly also wish I’d spent less time worrying about all the things I wasn’t- it doesn’t help you do the best version you can do and it took me a long time to figure that out.

Tom Pace

Tom is a nomadic, multi-hyphenate creative force who is the fertilizer for some of Hollywood’s sharpest film marketing.

Adam: Where did you first “take root” in your life, your career, and what did that environment give you?

Tom: I guess my hard-to-define career in entertainment took root with my very first gig in Los Angeles at TriStar Pictures as the assistant story editor. I had an office, handled all the script and novel coverage to help find potential films, I tooled around the Sony lot on a golf cart and lorded over the vast script library. As part of the development team, I got a firsthand look at how a big studio helps turn a story into a motion picture. I also got to see how a big studio can quickly derail a brilliant story – chopping away at the script until nothing is left. It was both exhilarating and oppressive at the same time.

Adam: At what point did you realize your environment was shaping you—for better or worse?

Tom: I think we all dream of being disruptors in our chosen field – of really shaking things up, rewiring the system on our way up the ladder. I brought a different kind of disruption to my first job as assistant story editor. No, I managed to ‘disrupt’ by being a complete disaster at my job. At one point I was put on probation for distributing the Godzilla script with 20 pages missing. Also, the creative in me found reviewing and rejecting other writer’s scripts and novels downright traitorous so after almost 3 years it was time to move on.

Adam: What did you learn early on that you had to later unlearn?

Tom: Pulling up roots from a film studio’s story department you need to step away from judgement or other work and begin inhabiting your own creative space. Replanting yourself as a copywriter in advertising and in the movie and TV promo world after story editing at a studio means unlearning storytelling that takes 90 pages and replacing it with 30 seconds of copy.

Adam: Something creatives don’t often talk about is our evolution- when we outgrow our initial containers and start to grow in other places. When was this for you?

Tom: I stayed for 3 years at the studio. The development team was probably happy to see me go and I jumped directly onto a big-budget Hollywood movie starring Robin Williams. I was the director’s assistant and I learned about production, worked with the director on the screenplay, casting, storyboards, and got a crash course making the best cappuccino in Hollywood. I think immersing myself in the politics and pitfalls of making a $100 million dollar art house film really drove home my desire to be a freelance creative, no matter the cost. Emphasis on free (or so I thought).

I think like many struggling creatives, it was undiagnosed ADHD, a truly restless mind, and my total lack of organizational skills that inspired me to attempt freelance writing.

Disruption

Adam: What forced the change was it your choice, or did something push you?

Tom: I’ve switched paths so often that it’s hard to remember what forced the change – but each time I think I believed there was a better opportunity ahead. The question isn’t how much did it cost to pull up roots and try something new. The question should be how much do you think it would have cost you to stay in one place? How much would you be sacrificing by not leaving? To me the cost of staying always outweighed the risks of cutting loose.

Transplant Shock - How was it at first

Adam: What was harder than you expected after making the change?

Tom: Leaving behind a cush studio job and stepping away from that track feel exhilarating. But I quickly figured out I needed to be drought resistant, which sometimes meant swallowing my pride. Jumping from marketing a hit TV show to working with big ad agencies on national campaigns and churning out content for the Disney Channel. If you’re looking for a plant metaphor, I was a sunflower, bending towards the sun. Wherever the work was, that’s where you’d find me.

What was harder? Learning to be resilient when jumping from uncertain freelance gig to the next. I tried my hand at advertising, marketing, creative directing, I directed some spots for PBS Kids, even launched a non-profit during the pandemic with some friends to help restaurants. I discovered I excelled at naming things – a random gift, from naming ice cream flavors for a Bangkok ice cream shop to the coming up with the title of a WW11 novel to the name of a Tom Hanks movie for Apple.

Finding the Right Soil - aka conditions

Adam: When did things start to click in the new environment?

Tom: I think my undefinable career started making sense when I realized all the connections I’d made over the years started feeling purposeful. When all my experiences, from travel to music to making art to interacting with my wonderfully eclectic social circle, began informing my creativity in a natural way, I knew I was onto something. Instead of the world passing you by, you’re growing with it, evolving.

The soil is richest when you let it breathe. When you turn it over. Being a freelance writer/creative consultant affords me the breathing room that is crucial if you want to continue delivering inspired work. Being part of a wildly diverse roster of projects, it’s like rotating crops to keep the soil healthy. It’s good for the brain.

What specifically made this place different from where you were before? What conditions do you now realize you need to thrive?

Growth + Bloom

Adam: What does “thriving” actually look like for you now?

Tom: For me thriving is being able to work on projects that I am proud to be a part of. Success for me is being able to put all my life experiences into play when brainstorming a creative solution to market a film or launch a beauty brand for a friend. As a movie buff first and foremost, despite my background in film development, television and movie marketing, I see the world first and foremost through the eyes of a fan. Being able to apply that fan-fueled creative helps me avoid some of the mistakes we used to make at the studio level. It’s a different world now but some of those lessons still apply.

Adam: What are you able to do here that you couldn’t do before?

Tom: Being a “Thought Partner” for major studio film releases affords me the chance to put my ideas into action, working alongside editors to bring trailers and digital content to life. The bigger the movie, the larger the team working to market the film. I think what I can do now that I couldn’t do maybe 5 years ago is get my ideas to the front of the line – test them out in the editing bay, see if anything sticks instead of having them die on the vine. It’s amazing to watch an idea take root and grow.

Adam: How has your definition of success changed?

Tom: I used to think success meant selling your screenplay and seeing it land in 3,700 theaters on a Friday. I quickly learned that being part of the team that finds a way to get the audience to connect with a movie or a TV series can be rewarding in its own way. Thriving right now for me is being able to contribute ideas to the marketing of movies like “One Battle After Another”, “The Long Walk”, “Dune”, and “Sinners” and being able to watch those films go on to great acclaim and success.

Reflection + Advice

Adam: Looking back, what would have happened if you stayed?

Tom: If I had stayed at the studio instead of breaking free to take on all these diverse roles and projects and experience the successes (and the failures) – I like to think I would have found a way to help nurture incredible projects into being. But my path would have been more direct – without all the side missions, side-hustles and sidetracking. The best part about a career as a freelancer is the ‘free’ part. The lancing is painful, but the freedom tastes so good.

Adam: What do people misunderstand about “starting over” or changing paths?

Tom: When something isn’t working it might seem scary to pull up roots and try something new but It’s not as scary as continuing to do something you aren’t loving. I’ve had to change paths 100 times and each time I follow the sun. You don’t want to be that person ‘tolerhating’ their job. Don’t be a ‘tolerhater’.

Adam: What advice would you give to someone who feels stuck but is afraid to leave?

Tom: I’m in no position to give advice since my career choices have been more reactionary than purposeful. It’s a ride that was tailored to my skills and my desire for freedom – I think the best advice I can give someone wanting to forge a path as an independent freelance creative is to experience as much of the world as you can but stay grounded through great friends – hydrate as much as possible – and follow the sun. The work will follow.

James Cox

James is a Laurel Canyon polymath writer, director, and novelist, whose work is rooted in Hollywood myth-making, excess, ambition and technological future state.

Briony: James, can I please start our interview by shamelessly fangirling for a brief moment. ____________ I feel better. As in every garden, creativity begins as a seed. Where did you first take root in your career?

James: I was that kid with a camcorder making movies in my backyard when I was 10 years old and with a little deviation, it was a straight shot for me from high school movies to Berkeley to NYU. I was a cinematographer first who leaped over into directing and I wrote this short film called Atomic Tabasco that blew me up—I came out of film school with a studio deal.

But it was my second picture, Wonderland with Val Kilmer, where it all came together for me. This incredible experience of directing Val as he transformed into John Holmes.

I remember being on set, and my head was on fire with creativity, ideas that could blossom in so many different directions—be it with the camera, an actor’s performance, writing a new piece of improvised dialogue.

I was home.

Briony: I bet a lot of film directors would be envious of your flying start, James but is there a project that maybe didn’t grow in the way you had planned?

James: Cut to 15 years after Wonderland and I’m directing another notorious Los Angeles true crime picture called The Billionaire Boys Club, starring Taron Egerton, Emma Roberts and Kevin Spacey. A tremendously talented actor, and ironically, a high school theater friend of Val’s. I’d put eight years into that script; the crew killed themselves; we shot over the holidays. In post forever, we literally had a bidding war brewing right after screening for buyers when the whole scandal hit and both Kevin and my movie went radioactive.

Stunned was an understatement.

I was reeling.

I think in one week, I was in three different therapists’ offices, just asking myself…

Is this it?

Briony: Okay, are you sure this interview isn’t your next screenplay? How did this out-of-your-control circumstance help you shift perspective and find a new playground?

James: I knew that I was done with true crime, with historical, fact-based drama. Maybe I was just done, period. So I retreated into the cave...’cuz something had been brewing.

In the back of my mind, I had this idea, nothing more, really, than a scene, and I didn’t really know where it was gonna go. But I just started writing.

That first scene turned into a series of character bios that grew into short stories. Then, this whole world started to blossom around a heist that went down in the fall of 2051, a dystopian future with bots and brain computer interfaces straight outta Blade Runner or The Matrix.

And what I thought was going to be a script for my next movie called GTAI just kept growing and growing, thanks to a number of key nudges along the way. The script turned into a manuscript that I sent to a manager who sold it to Blackstone Publishing, who bought the book and its sequel. Now I was an author with a 2-book publishing deal.

Briony: Wait, I did not see that coming. So now we are in an entirely new medium. We are obsessed with the written word here at SuperBloom. What did you come to learn about publishing?

James: Going through editorial with a professional editor, copy editor, and proof editor from a major publisher was a trial by fire, for sure. I’d never even heard of the Chicago Manual of Style until I found out how many of its rules I’d broken.

There’s this thing they say with a book, if you don’t agree with a note, they’re like, “Look, it’s your book; you have to be happy with it.” Whereas in screenwriting, you get a note from a producer you disagree with, you fight for your idea, and maybe you prove your point, but if you don’t, you either do the note… or they fire you and get someone who will. But that’s not the way it is in books. With books, it’s just your name on the cover and so there’s a natural respect paid to the author. My editor would say, “Well, you know, it’s your book…” And so after a couple times of hearing that, I was like, “Yeah, about this thing you keep saying how it’s my book, etc, etc—what is that?…” And she pauses. And finally she says, “Well, It is your book. But. That being said. If your reader gets confused by a passage in your book for, say, the third time, causes him or her not to flip back but just throw it in the trash, never finish it, and never tell anyone to read your book. If that matters to you? Then you might want to listen to this note.”

And I just started laughing, and I was like, “Okay, now we’re talking.” Right? And I think that was when our real collaboration began.

But the real baptism was Book Two. They say they’re harder, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, my Mt. Everest learning curve for sure. The first book had a thousand handlers, feeding me encouragement from one draft to another—but Book Two, I was all alone. Grand Theft AI: PRISM Break is a big, aggressive, ambitious idea. No template or a model. It’s a futuristic prison break, but it’s told from the outside crew breaking in, like a heist but the loot is the hero of Book 1 who’s now trapped inside this meatgrinder of a prison. I ended up writing it two and half times, kept getting it wrong, roaming around in the dark, like I was writing my first screenplay all over again.

I ended up turning in the manuscript a couple weeks before my daughter was born.

Briony: So at this point, you are a fully fledged author. What quick sand condition did you need to find your creative voice and style?

James: The “quickening” for me, the final culmination when I finally felt myself bloom, was just last fall, going through the editorial for Book 2. I had published Grand Theft AI, done readings, book fairs, panels, lectures, and written several short stories since starting PRISM Break back in 2021. My voice had grown from coming out of the gates hot, flexing its muscles wherever it could, to maybe maturing with a little discipline and restraint—you know, fewest words possible. So by the time I was doing the final revisions, there were passages written in the last three weeks of the book that I’d had in my mind for years, but never knew how or even if they’d find their way into the book. Especially in the last chapter—the book’s built like Empire Strikes Back, a mid-act, fucked-at-the beginning-fucked-at-the-end, which is risky, ‘cuz you’re gambling the reader’s gonna be hooked enough to come back for a third, you know? And it really came down to hitting that last note of hope right—not too deliberate, too obvious, too artificial, but when it landed, and I was banging that thing right down to the wire—it just fucking opened up the world in a way that I’d realized I’d been driving towards for years, never knowing exactly how I was gonna get there until I’d stuck the landing.

Briony: What advice would you give to someone who feels a bit stuck in the mud? Look at me Kimmie.

James: Looking back, if I have any advice as to the who, what, where, when, etc of making a major change, it’s this: Follow your voice.

If you get to a place where your voice just isn’t yours anymore...

I don’t mean indulgently yours.

But a place where the compromises have diluted your voice to a point where it can’t differentiate itself—you can’t enunciate with any ownership—then follow it where it needs to go. Because that means it’s loud enough for you to know it’s being suppressed and you’ll know what it sounds and feels like when it’s let loose.

I’m not the guy who looked around at my environment, recognized that I needed to leave and made a conscious effort to exit stage right. I was just well-aware that our medium was and is under siege—generational change, an understatement—during this massive technological and cultural upheaval, we can’t predict or control how our voice will reach an audience. But I was sure of one thing: You can be damn sure the story is universal.

And we’ll be telling and listening to stories for as long as there is fire.

So trust your voice. Have the courage to follow your voice.

And it will lead you to fertile soil.

Dan Pelosi

@Grossy Pelosi- Digital creator, Cookbook author, A student of life and all time internet favorite digs deep.

Briony: As the literal comfort food king of Instagram, @GrossyPelosi, your world is all about enjoying good food with family and good friends. Tell us about your early influences and where you first took root.

Dan: I grew up in Connecticut. I’m from an Italian American, Portuguese American, very close family. We really enjoyed spending time at home. Whether at my grandparents house, my cousin’s place or at my home, we gathered together and we cooked, and that feeling of home is where my roots were planted. My roots even today are still at home, wherever home may be. Home really taught me everything I need for my current career. The food, the energy, the environment, the traditions, and the people, have shaped all that I do today.

I think the hardest thing I’ve had to do is to know that I can grow beyond the physical boundaries of my home environment and to realize that I have both the power and the energy to do that.

Briony: There you go, anticipating my next question, you guru you. I was going to ask you about your desire to grow outside your current container. I was told ‘container’ is a noun commonplace in the gardening community.

Dan: I first felt like I’d outgrown where I was, when I moved to Italy during college for a year. That was an incredible lesson- learning to take the traditions and the rituals I had grown up with; the food, the people, the nurturing and seeing how I could bring these to other people, beyond my family home. I started cooking for all my classmates, with produce from the Campo de’ Fiori farmers market in Rome and because I was really where I was strongly rooted alongside my aunts, my grandmothers, my uncles, and my parents, I became that for everyone and wildly sort of fit right into it. When my parents came to visit, they were blown away and proud by how I was able to take care of all these other people, because of the way that they had taken care of me.

Briony: Are you open to taking on any new unrelated family members? I know a lot of creative people who would flourish in this feeling. Any other seeds if creativity?

Dan: I had always envisioned a world that was larger than the one that I was living in. I had an uncle that was a “couch chair cosmopolitan”. He would read the New York Times art section to me. He would share culture with me. He would introduce me to movies that no one else was watching. He was kind of like a muse but still also firmly planted, never really leaving the first place he had grown. Through him, I was exposed to the world, but also exposed to what could happen if I had never rooted myself elsewhere. So going to college, moving to Italy, forcing myself into situations that were uncomfortable, was at first, really hard for me, but also so very worth it.

Briony: It’s incredible, Dan, the way you have seen beauty, from every aspect of your family upbringing- a rare bloom in every sense. Was change harder than you expected?

Dan: Everywhere I’ve ever moved, and any time I felt a sense of homesickness, I’ve always turned to cooking and recipes as a way to bring myself back home. After college, when I moved across the country to San Francisco, what I found myself doing, right off the bat, was trying to remake the marinara sauce of my childhood. I grabbed tomatoes, garlic, basil and I just cooked and cooked until it smelled like home. No matter where I am, the aroma of a pot of marinara takes me back to all of my safe spaces- whether it’s a vacation home or a friend’s house or my first apartment in San Francisco, it’s like a core memory. I also like the creative challenge of using different, regional ingredients and making something that still smells and tastes similar to the original flavor.

Briony: Under what conditions would you say you need to thrive in your craft? Got any weird talisman or behaviors brewing there, Dan?

Dan: Everywhere I’ve lived in my life- a small apartment or a vacation home, I have made my space my home. I always make it feel like a place that I can stay in, whether that’s rearranging the furniture in a rental home for the week or taking a piece of atrocious art I can’t bear to look at off the wall in a hotel room.

I am now in my 40s, and am in a place in my career where I’m very lucky to say that I’ve been able to create my dream home and my dream creative space. It’s been a true creative exercise that comes from the heart of who I am as a person. Everyone who sees my home, my garden, everything about my life, sees that it’s really the full expression of me and I’m really proud of this. It grounds me. If I can invite people into my home and they feel safe, they feel loved and nurtured and they want to sit down, enjoy a meal, have a conversation and want to stay- those are the kind of homes I grew up going to and to me, and to me, that’s success.

Briony: Please stop this. I miss my mum. I am literally booking a ticket back to my hometown in Australia as we speak to make a watery bolognaise with her. Any final gardening tips from someone who has created a beautiful world of flavor and fun?

Dan: A lot of people who start over or change paths are looking to do something they’ve never done before to be the thing that lights them up. Early on someone gave me some great advice that went something like this; Instead of trying to strengthen your weaknesses, just keep strengthening your strengths, because that is true power. So I’ve always just focused on my strengths and it’s brought me great success.

If I had really stayed close to my first home, to where I was first planted and didn’t grow outside of the container, I would have a much smaller view of the world and I would have different friends who I am sure would have all be lovely, because as you now know, I was grown in really really great soil. But I would have likely been a lot like my uncle, who was enjoying the world from the comfort of the couch, in the house he grew up in, instead of taking risks and experiencing the world firsthand. So, I guess my advice is to go outside.

Sara Joe Wolansky

Sara is a documentary director and Emmy-nominated producer whose films depict stranger-than-fiction stories, grounded in genuine empathy.

Briony: Don’t you just love a career retrospective? Where did you first “take root” in your life, your career, and what did that environment give you?

Sara Joe: I went to Harvard and then USC Film School, so I had a very formal film education. I got very comfortable with doing things at a certain level of polish. I find that a lot of what audiences are resonating with now is anything that feels personal - which often also comes with being able to film things a bit more loosely. Having imperfect camerawork, etc, can lend a quality of authenticity and spontaneity that something perfect doesn’t have. So I’m unlearning a bit of my perfectionism and sense of what “production value” means that I spent the first part of my career building up.

Briony: Unlearning as an adult has to be the biggest superpower, beyond compartmentalization and dissociation, that is. What other creative mulch have you added to your hot bed of creativity?

Sara Joe: I left The New Yorker in 2022 in pursuit of working on more long-form projects - including what would eventually result in The Big Cheese - my first feature documentary as director. The New Yorker is such a great, reputable brand, and so I was going from that to just my “brand” being my own name. It was a big jump but I was confident that my work could stand on its own without a big brand attached and I was excited to see what I could do with my newfound freedom to creatively explore outside the requirements and responsibilities that come with working for any large organization.

Briony: Transplanting yourself someplace new and standing on your own is so badass. What was harder than you expected after making the change?

Sara Joe: I had to create a new relationship with time. Being freelance, any project you take on inevitably comes at the opportunity cost of something else. I had to come up with a new framework for what my overall goals were as an artist for any given project – and learning what to say “no” to became just as much of an important skill as finding ideas and opportunities I was excited about.

I am a new mom – to an amazing daughter named Esther – who I gave birth to six weeks before my feature “The Big Cheese” premiered at DOC NYC. It’s been challenging to juggle a new baby with a new film but I’ve also never felt so creatively inspired. I think having a baby has unlocked a whole world of emotion and experiences for me, and since having her, I’m suddenly filled with new ideas for projects after several months of whatever the documentary equivalent to “writers block” is. A few weeks ago we had her pop into a theater where my doc was screening, and even though she was only able to make it through a few minutes before we took her out (so as not to disturb the actual paying filmgoers), it was really cool to think that her first movie in theaters was one that her mom made. I hope to make her proud.

Briony: OMG what a moment. I have to wonder if you didn’t just plant for your daughter, the seeds to life as an artist and creator! In the documentary world, what other conditions or support do you need to thrive?

Sara Joe: With a feature documentary, you end up spending so much time being in and thinking about the world that you’re documenting. It really has to be a topic that can sustain your interest for years and I find it really challenging to fake if I’m not genuinely passionate about the subject matter. I don’t even know how many pounds of cheese I’ve consumed in the four+ years I’ve spent making “The Big Cheese.” And I talk to Adam Moskowitz, the “big cheese” at the heart of the film, nearly every day. Luckily I love cheese so much that all of this is a major perk.

I also love sitting in the audience seeing peoples’ reaction to the film – there’s a lot of both laughter and tears and it’s really exciting to think I was able to move people in that way through my art. To me, thriving is being able to make projects like this that are funny and unexpected, to capture stranger-than-fiction stories grounded in genuine empathy.

Briony: Sara Joe- can you bring it all home for us by finishing this sentence.

“I didn’t start growing until_________.”

Sara Joe: I didn’t start growing until I really made pre-interviewing an important part of my development process for documentaries. It can be really intimidating rolling up with a giant camera crew and then asking people to share some of the most vulnerable parts of their lives to a relative stranger. So as part of my process, I like to spend a lot of time with the people I’m filming off-camera as well, really getting to know them without the pressure of being recorded or speaking in front of an entire crew. It’s something that really helps build trust with my film participants, and I think that personal touch and relationship-building comes through in my work.