Should We Be A Jack Of All Trades (When We Just Want To Be Masters)?

[Above: myself in another life, set dressing on 'Jar of Angels' in 2011. I was also the costume designer, co-writer, co-producer and 1st AD on that film! Photo credit: Martin Dance.]

For this month's blog post, I thought I'd quickly muse on something that's on a lot of filmmakers' minds right now...

Back at the start of 2020, before the Pandemic reached the UK and I was planning my next career steps (unaware of the huge global shakeup that was fast approaching), I was sat in the café of BFI Southbank with my then-mentor, kindly supplied to me by ScreenSkills. He asked me to describe what my career was at the time, and so I told him: I want to just direct (and sometimes write) narrative fiction, but my day job is in post-production at a corporate agency, I also make branded content for creative businesses as a side-earner, sometimes I still do paid costume and production design gigs (because of my early career in those departments), and I've produced short films in the past (I was even BAFTA-longlisted because of one of those films).

When I said all that, he seemed a little shocked. So was I, to be honest - it did sound like I was wearing a lot of hats, when I said it out loud. My mentor rightly pointed out that I had fingers in too many pies, and I'd probably need to lose a pie or too in order to focus properly on my goals. I thought about that long and hard on the walk back to the train station (although I was slightly distracted at the time, because it was incredibly windy that day and I was worried about being blown off Millennium Bridge!).

The first and most obvious thing to drop was my costume and production design work. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoyed my work in those areas; it'd helped me to first get my foot in the door of the film industry, I met pretty much all my regular collaborators by doing those jobs, I was super proud of the films I designed, and I was actually pretty good at that work. But it wasn't the ultimate goal, and for a long time I had struggled to get people to 'see me' as a director, when they purely thought of me as someone who worked in the art department.

I couldn't drop that career path straight away, as I was booked on a costume design job for a Channel 4 pilot at the time. That was actually the biggest design job I'd ever had; it was an incredible addition to my CV and it gave me new skills that would've been really useful to me if I'd pursued that career path further. When that job was completed, I could've used it to open more doors and have a fantastic costume design career. Maybe in another life, I chose that path. But when I was speaking to my wonderful costume assistant in the car on the way back from that shoot, she asked me if I wanted to take away costume jobs from people who really wanted that career path, just because I could? Of course I didn't.

  (And interestingly, in saying that I should be more picky about what I do, this blog post feels like I'm giving completely opposite advice to my first ever blog post, when I said you should never say no to a project - although maybe that advice is still relevant for young or very early-stage filmmakers.)

So I decided to stop accepting art department work (a decision that was slightly delayed when the Pandemic did hit later that year, and I had to take any paid work that I could!), losing an income stream in the process, although I still teach BFI Film Academy students about the subject once a year.

And although the Pandemic made it harder for me to drop those projects straight away, Lockdown did give me time to reflect and think about what I wanted to do in life, so it ultimately helped give me that little extra push.

But I was still juggling my other four jobs, and eventually someone pointed out to me that losing just the one pie was not enough...

A couple of years after I stopped doing design work, I was lucky enough to have a meeting with one of my actual heroes (on my birthday!), and he gave me some of the best advice I've ever heard in my life. He said, "I'm not saying you're not proactive, you clearly are - but you're proactive in all the wrong directions." That blew my mind. He suggested that, if my main goal was narrative directing, and particularly getting my dream feature film - Night Owls & Early Birds - off the ground, I needed to be using any time I can to focus solely on that goal.

[Above: early concept art for my dream feature, 'Night Owls & Early Birds', by Laura Vann-Leeds.]

And here's the tricky part - because yes, he's absolutely right. And from that meeting onwards, I was inspired to only write or agree to direct narrative projects that felt like clear stepping stones towards my ultimate goal (no more 'because it sounded fun' projects, sadly!). However, many people can't afford to be picky about what they do-or-don't sign up to, when that work is paid. Money has always been tight for me, even when I was a kid (although don't get me wrong, I had the best childhood ever and would've chosen my loving family over financial riches any day).

So I wasn't able to stop doing all the jobs I had on my plate, because they payed the bills - but I was now feeling guilty about doing them, as that was time I was taking away from working on my 'baby'. Rather than taking on less work, I had taken on an additional sense of regret.

I did eventually leave my day job at the corporate agency, so making branded content for creative businesses became my main source of income, and I loved it - but running your own business adds an extra layer of time-consuming responsibility. Although I worked for myself and had a degree of flexibility, I certainly didn't have any more free time. And if I ever did dedicate myself to passion projects - for example, when I went and directed the episode of Ren: The Girl With The Mark in 2023, or last year when I made my new film through Amazon Prime Video and NFTS - that actually meant a financial loss for me, as self-employed people don't always get holiday pay. So I had to work twice as hard in the branded content world after these projects were completed, to try and claw back the income I'd lost in the process. Which meant even less free time to dedicate to the main goal of making my feature.

And now we come to the current financial climate:

• Austerity.

• The ever-rising cost of living.

• Multiple household bills going up quicker than people can earn.

• Companies going bust or at least cutting back their marketing costs, so there's less branded content opportunities (this has been the case for many of my clients).

• Narrative production companies still feeling the effects of the SAG-AFTRA strikes, cautious to commission new work, and offering less jobs as a result.

• Entry-level director position like those at BBC's Doctors disappearing altogether.

• Not to mention the fact that the looming shadow of AI is growing ever bigger, and its video-making technology is improving faster than any of us expected - what impact will that have on our careers?

So, rather than being focused and picky about what I do, I'm now having to say yes to work more than ever, taking everything onto my plate in order to just afford the food I need to fill that plate. I've even looked into taking a second job, which included applying to 'normal' jobs, just to make ends meet - and speaking to many other filmmakers, I know I'm not the only one. I've never been afraid of working hard, and I'm grateful to have work on, but the current climate means grafting constantly for just enough money to get by, I'm definitely getting burnt out, and once again, I have barely any time at all to work on the 'ultimate goal'. So the guilt level grows ever larger.

And suddenly, the industry's hiring expectations have changed. In the place of entry stage director training are schemes for 'self-shooting producer-directors'. Corporate agencies are looking for 'Camera operators/editors who can also do animation and/or motion graphics' (often for the same pay rate that they'd previously offered to people who were solely 'editors', even though they're now looking for three specialist skills!) - because everyone's having to cut their budgets and hire multi-taskers, particularly as AI is speeding up the process and lessening the need for people to do things like audio clean-up and subtitling (to a basic degree, anyway). Sometimes a social media manager is asked to do all of the above themselves, without the need to hire video specialists at all, particularly with the rising use of things like CapCut, Canva, and all of TikTok and Instagram's in-app editing tools.

I spent much of last year trying to get an agent, and when I finally met with one in the summer, they informed me that they weren't taking new directors onto their books at that time, but when they did open their books again, they'd only consider directors who had a secondary skill, like editing or cinematography, because the industry is so quiet and they needed to ensure their clients could get any work at all.

Compare this to the conversation I had with my mentor in 2020, from the start of this blog post. In five short years, the industry climate and expectations on the workforce within it have completely changed. Before, I struggled to be taken seriously as a director because I also had an art department career, and because my day job involved editing corporate videos; now, they want us to not 'just' be directors. And let's be honest... can any of us afford to 'just' be directors anymore?

All of this feels like a financial necessity rather than something that actually makes any sense from a career-progression perspective. I still agree fully with the earlier advice I received. If I'm spreading my time and learning across multiple career paths, rather than focussing all my energy into being the best director I can be, and getting my dream feature off the ground, surely my goals are going to take longer to reach, and my skills are going to be muddied as a result?

And when I hire crew myself (usually when I'm producing - just to put another 'hat' on for a moment!), I'm always a little sceptical when people have multiple roles listed on their CV, particular when they apply for HOD positions. As an employer, it's a red flag for me. I can't help but think: are they going to be a specialist in this role when they've split their learning across this, this, and this? I'm particularly cautious about hiring a HOD to work with me as a director when they also want to be a director. But then again, I will say that I've worked with producers who are also actors, and DOPs with directing experience, to give just two examples, and they have been wonderful and fully focused on whichever specific task they're working on at the time, so there are exceptions to the rule. It's also very useful, for example, when DOPs have a good understanding of editing.

So all of the above brings us to the question - should we be Jacks of All Trades, even when we really want (and the industry previously wanted) us to be Masters of One?

And in all honesty... I don't know the answer. While I'm in the trenches and trying to negotiate the current industry landscape myself, I don't know what to tell you all. The purpose of this blog post is not to share a solution, but to acknowledge the way things are, and to hopefully show other filmmakers who are in the same boat that IT'S. NOT. JUST. YOU.

Looking at my finances at the start of the year, I always knew that 2025 would be a time for keeping my head down, grafting, and trying to get myself into as secure a place as possible (even if I have one eye on my ultimate goals at all times and, yes, I still feel guilty for the times when I'm not working on Night Owls & Early Birds!). That might be the case for many filmmakers this year, as least while the industry settles, adapts, and rebuilds after the years of economic and political turmoil.

But what really helps me is the thought that this is my 'for now' plan, not my 'forever' plan. Even if I'm saying yes to more projects, and working in jobs I didn't originally think I wanted to do, and even if I have to do that for the rest of the year, that's one year out of a lifetime. The older we get, the faster the years go, and so one day I might look back on this tricky time like it was a single drop in the ocean. As long as one day I have my feature, I have my financial stability, I've reached the ultimate goals (both personal professional) and never given up, then I can live through this chapter and remember that it does not define my overall story.

I hope that this post has been useful to at least one other person who's grafting hard, but still feeling broke, longing to work on their passion projects, and feeling like times are never going to get easier. Keep your head up. This is your now, not your forever.

Right, time for me to get back to work (and hopefully not feel too guilty about it)!