Film Sh!t

A single yes can change your life, but so can a no. I’m joined by Emily Pendergast, Groundlings Main Company performer, writer, and actor on Veep and Amazon Prime’s Company Retreat, to talk about the long stretch between wanting a creative career and actually building one.We start in Ohio with cornfields, big family energy, and early comedy education from SNL and the people who could turn a heavy moment into laughter. From there, Emily lays out the unglamorous middle: a psychology degree, a leap to Los Angeles powered by instinct, and years of restaurant work while hunting for the right training. Her Groundlings story gets specific about what improv really demands, why repeating classes can be part of the process, and how Sunday Company votes create real pressure and real growth.Then we get into the big rooms. Emily shares what it was like to showcase and test for SNL, the pride and heartbreak of leaving everything on the stage, and how that experience reshaped her confidence. We also go deep on Company Retreat’s production, including earwigs, hand signals, hidden cameras, and the “reality banking” that keeps a Truman Show style setup intact for the one real participant. We close with a candid talk on AI in film and TV and why human listening, ensemble trust, and lived experience still matter.Subscribe, share this with a friend chasing a creative path, and leave a review with the moment that hit you hardest.

A creative life rarely moves in a straight line, and Brett Maline’s story makes that clear real fast. We start in Minden, Nebraska, where he grows up with a rare spinal condition and something even rarer: a community that practices true inclusion and expects him to compete, contribute, and lead. That foundation becomes a quiet superpower later, when the film industry and TV industry test confidence daily through rejection, uncertainty, and constant reinvention. From small town theater, marching band, speech competitions, and yes, clogging, Brett jumps into a California-based performing group and tours internationally, learning what audiences respond to and how collaboration really works. That touring life eventually turns into a band, Rally for One, sparked by pure hustle, serving tables, singing, handing over a demo, and following through. We talk about the hard choice to leave the band, the humbling reset back in Nebraska, and why “setbacks” are often the moments that clarify what you actually want to build. Then the conversation shifts into comedy training at The Groundlings, pathways like CBS Diversity Showcase and UCB, and the politics of prestigious programs like Sunday Company. Brett also breaks down why disability representation on screen matters, how seeing an inauthentic festival film pushed him to write Hypocrite, and how making that short helped unlock bigger opportunities, including writing on Marvel’s Loki Season 2. We close with lessons from building a YouTube comedy channel, why the future of movies and live experiences may be brighter than it looks, and how creators can keep momentum by making work now. If you enjoy honest career stories about screenwriting, indie filmmaking, comedy, and the real work behind “overnight” success, subscribe, share this with a friend, and leave a review. What part of Brett’s path felt most familiar to you?

The entertainment industry loves a clean label it can sell. Real artists are messier than that, and that mess is often where the best work comes from.I’m Nate Caywood, a Los Angeles cinematographer, and I sit down with actor, writer, dancer, choreographer, and musician McKenna Melvin for a raw conversation about what it actually costs to build a life in Hollywood. McKenna takes us from Saratoga to New York conservatory training, then into the early Los Angeles grind: self-submits, student films that teach her how sets really work, casting workshops, SAG vouchers, and the moment a one-word audition turns into Chuck and a fandom she never saw coming.From there we get into the stuff people usually skip: dyslexia, ADHD, CPTSD, intrusive thoughts, and how creativity can be both a career path and a nervous-system tool. We talk streaming residuals, the post-COVID industry shift, the quiet shame of survival jobs, and the bigger ethical question behind every budget meeting: when producers “minimize labor costs,” who is actually being minimized?McKenna also shares what it looks like to renegotiate a dream, fall back in love with process, and build safer, more human work environments. If you’ve felt behind, stuck, or forced to choose one identity, this one will land.Subscribe for more honest film industry conversations, share this with a creative friend who needs it, and leave a review telling us what you’re making next.

A career can start with a plan or it can start with a hard left turn. Jerry Ying’s story is the second kind: pre med in New York, zero interest in drama, then one decision to step into a more creative life and everything changes. We talk about the unexpected on ramps that actually build an acting career, from waiting tables in Soho to modeling gigs to booking major commercials when there were few Asian faces on TV, and how success can arrive before you even feel ready to claim the identity of “actor.”From there, we get into the craft and the cost. Jerry shares what drama school forced him to confront about empathy, taste, and what it means to be an artist, then how the work evolves into producing when you stop waiting for permission and start making projects. We unpack the rise of We Are Fathers, the moment the industry hype machine hits your passion project, and why “take it to the max yourself” can protect your voice in film and television.Then we go full nuts and bolts on producing: building Hero LA, partnering with experienced producers, and pulling off a union feature on an insane timeline with a tactical set mindset and brutally prepared actors. We also revisit the pandemic era with Quarantine, a Zoom based improvised soap that raised donations for SAG Foundation COVID relief, and the reality check every producer hits sooner or later: loving projects isn’t a business model unless you can get paid.We close with the big question: what is the future of the film industry and media? We talk independent filmmaking, creators building their own audiences, and why understanding business makes creatives more powerful than ever. If you enjoy honest career stories from working pros, subscribe, share this with a filmmaker friend, and leave a review. What part of Jerry’s path sounds most like your own?

Heather LeRoy’s career path doesn’t follow a neat map, and that’s exactly why it’s useful. We sit down as friends and working artists and trace how a kid on a dead-end road in Alabama turns Saturday Night Live obsession into a real creative life: New York acting classes, Emerson film school, Los Angeles stand-up, and eventually a feature film that refuses to play it safe.We get into the messy, practical reality of independent filmmaking and microbudget features. Heather breaks down what happens when a “$25K movie” meets real life: producers quitting mid-shoot, becoming your own producer by necessity, and the constant pressure of writing, directing, acting, and editing with delayed gratification. We also talk about finding your voice, casting smart, and why the best collaborators are the ones who instantly understand the same weird movie you’re trying to make.Then we go past the finish line, because the finish line isn’t real. Heather shares what surprised her most about film distribution, deliverables, and the unglamorous costs like errors and omissions insurance. We also hit the bigger question hanging over every set right now: AI and the future of the film industry. Her take is clear and grounded in craft: technology shifts business models, but it can’t replace human flaws, risk, and connection, which is the whole reason movies matter.If you care about screenwriting, directing actors, DIY filmmaking, mental health storytelling, and getting a film into the world without waiting for permission, this one’s for you. Subscribe for more conversations with working film and TV professionals, share this with a filmmaker friend, and leave a review with the leap you’re taking next.

What does it really take to turn heartbreak into a career breakthrough? We sit down with actor-writer Michael Strassner for a raw, generous conversation about the long road from Baltimore movie kid to leading an indie feature that filled 500 theaters and won the South by Southwest Audience Award. It starts with early laughs—Robin Williams, Jim Carrey, wrong-shoe bits—and the thrill of seeing his own city through John Waters. Then the path narrows: understudy years in college, the Groundlings gauntlet, and a dream shot at SNL that ends in silence.From there the story gets real. Michael opens up about the crash after rejection, a terrifying night, and the choice to ask for help. Sobriety reshapes the work and the person, turning shame into service and vulnerability into a superpower. Instead of waiting for permission, he starts making: tiny Instagram sketches, a self-driven short, and a DM exchange with Jay Duplass that turns into a collaboration on Baltimorons—an intimate, funny, human film about one night, friendship, recovery, and home. We dig into the writing process, dozens of drafts, on-set lessons, and the surprising data point everyone should remember: theatrical isn’t dead when the story is alive.Along the way, we highlight practical takeaways for filmmakers, actors, and writers: create relentlessly, write for yourself, seek mentors who ship work, and let imperfection be the toll for honesty. You don’t need a star to start. You need community, consistency, and the courage to be seen, warts and all. If you’ve been waiting to make your first short, sketch, or feature, consider this your nudge.Subscribe, share with a friend who needs a push, and leave a review to help others find the show. And if you want to sit in the guest chair one day, there’s only one rule: film shit.

We trace Echo Kellum’s path from Chicago theater kid to network TV mainstay and Groundlings main company member, unpacking the reps, routines, and recalibrations that made the career possible. We talk tests, pilots, improv breakthroughs, and why making your own work is the new default.Echo opens up about bullying, a life‑shifting hip‑hop summer, and stepping into (and out of) organized religion when a beard became a line in the sand. That tension—between identity and approval—shaped the grit he’d need later.