Filming in Flow: What Directing Has Taught Me About Trust
Directing The Christmas Witch has been one of the most transformative experiences of my creative life. It asked something of me that writing alone never had: a willingness to trust.
Trust myself. Trust my team. Trust the story.
Trust, I learned, is its own kind of surrender… a loosening of the grip I didn’t even realize I had. I’ve always associated trust with letting go of control, and while I wasn’t sure at first whether that was a strength or a vulnerability, this year taught me it’s both. It has led me down incredible paths, and it’s also stretched me in ways that required me to pause, reevaluate, and grow.
Brooklyn Summer (Brigid), Myself, Bernie Tarin (co-director & cinematographer), and Jayde Martinez (Morgan) after wrapping Phase 3.
Directing isn’t about holding every detail in your hands. It’s about opening your hands enough so others can hold the story with you.
The Moment I Realized I Was Directing “In Flow”
It happened during Phase Three of filming. We had a full day planned: two cameras, two directors, and two units moving at once to maximize time and energy. I couldn’t physically be in both places, which meant I had to do something that doesn’t always come naturally to me: I had to trust the process.
As each team moved through their scenes with confidence and clarity, I felt something shift inside me. The worry dissolved. The tension softened. It felt like watching a flock of birds change direction midair… effortless, aligned, beautiful.
And when I watched the playback of the footage I wasn’t present for, my heart swelled. It was stunning. It was intentional. It was crafted with care.
Our cast and crew know their crafts. And in that moment, I realized: Directing isn’t about doing everything. It’s about trusting your team and holding the vision.
A Moment on Set When Everything Just… Clicked
There was a scene where Brigid connects with the ghost of her father — a moment thick with emotion, loss, and love. As she reaches out to hug him, he disappears. Brooklyn Summer, who portrays Brigid, delivered one of the most breathtaking performances I’ve ever witnessed.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
The woods went silent. You could feel something shift in the air.
Everyone on set felt it… a collective inhale, a reverence. It didn’t feel like acting. It felt like witnessing magick. That’s the moment I realized: Filmmaking isn’t only technical. It’s spiritual. It’s embodied. It’s alive.
A sneak peek of the tear… by stellar actress Brooklyn Summer.
What Surprised Me About Directing
I didn’t expect to feel the right takes in my body. But I do.
There’s a moment when everything aligns: the emotion, the pacing, the breath, the light. And suddenly I know: That was it. That was the take. The one that will make audiences lean in. The one that will make them feel something deeper.
Thinking about post-production while filming felt almost strange at first, like trying to see the future in real time. But those intuitive hits became anchors for me… moments of clarity where I felt the story speaking through the lens.
Creating Safety on Set
I’ve learned that safety on set isn’t complicated. It’s created through presence and appreciation.
I show up as myself. I give my all. I share my gratitude often and openly. I know how deeply talented our cast and crew are, and I trust them. I hope that they feel that same trust reflected back at them. Filmmaking is not something I could do alone, nor would I ever want to.
A story this meaningful deserves a village.
Director selfie with Brooklyn Summer (Brigid) and her father Jay.
Balancing Vision and Surrender
Directing is a dance between leading and listening.
I’m always listening… to my team, to the rhythm of the scene, to the needs of our characters, to the energy in the room. Listening opens space for possibilities I couldn’t have planned for. It exposes blind spots. It births solutions.
And every time we film, I feel myself stepping into a new level of leadership. It excites me to think about where that will take us in the films to come.
The Ritual That Grounds Me Before Filming Days
The night before any filming day, I sit with the scenes we’re tackling. I mark notes, jot down ideas, flag potential pivots with stickers for quick access on set.
It’s my way of clearing the mental clutter, of calming the production gremlins who want to keep me awake at night whispering, “What if you forget…?”
This ritual lets me rest. It lets me breathe. It helps me enter the day with steadiness rather than strain.
How Directing Changed My Writing
Directing changed my writing in ways I never expected. It taught me to see the story — not just imagine it. To feel the camera angles. To sense pacing as movement. To write with breath, intention, and visual depth.
My storytelling feels more cinematic now… grounded, spacious, textured. I think readers will feel that shift as the worlds of my filmmaking and writing continue to merge.
In the Flow of Trust
If directing taught me anything this year, it’s this:
Trust is not weakness. Trust is creative freedom.
It’s the art of letting a story breathe. Of letting your team shine. Of letting yourself expand beyond what you thought you were capable of. I’m learning — slowly, imperfectly, beautifully — that the story isn’t asking me to control it. It’s asking me to walk with it. To listen. To trust. To stay open to the magick that appears when I do.
And that, truly, is filmmaking in flow.
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