I’m just gonna say it: I’m okay. Not great. Not horrible. Just… okay.
Maybe it’s this never-ending, soul-sucking winter. Washington, DC dodged snow for years, and now we’re getting hammered. Maybe it’s the lack of sunlight. (Seriously, WHERE is it?!) Or maybe it’s the sheer amount of change happening all at once.
For those of us in media, television, and creative industries, we’ve been on a rollercoaster with no seatbelt for a while now. The TV industry is shrinking—FAST. I have friends who haven’t had steady work in over 16 months. Freelancers are struggling. Networks and production companies are fighting tooth and nail for even one commission. It’s not just tough. It’s brutal.
And it’s not just media. I have family members , and let me tell you—when the government decides to shake things up, it does NOT do so gently. Mass layoffs. Hiring freezes. Radical reorganizations. Sound familiar? If you’ve worked in media, publishing, tech, or honestly any industry experiencing massive shifts, you know this feeling well:
👉 That uncertainty.
👉 That weight on your chest.
👉 That gnawing anxiety that makes you wonder, am I doing enough?
Then, Saturday Night Live’s 50th Anniversary Special aired, and I felt seen.
Andy Samberg and Bowen Yang performed Everyone Who Worked on SNL Has Anxiety, listing name after name of cast members who have struggled with the relentless stress of the show.
Bowen’s verse? OOF. He fears that if he does take care of his mental health and slows down, he’ll be forgotten.
Anyone else feel that deep in their soul?
And if you watched the SNL 50 docuseries on Peacock, it got even more real. One episode focused on the writers, and let me tell you—"writer" is a criminal understatement for what they do. In my industry, they’d be called a producer/writer/director/firefighter/creative-genius-who-sleeps-never. And they do in ONE WEEK what most of us do in a month.
I’ve been there. That razor-thin tightrope between adrenaline and anxiety, where you’re buzzing with excitement one minute and absolutely convinced you’re a fraud the next.
⚡ You’re THRILLED to be creating something new.
⚡ You’re ALSO terrified that it’s garbage and you’re wasting everyone’s time.
Sound familiar? This is the mental tightrope of every creative, freelancer, and media professional trying to navigate an industry that’s constantly shifting.
And when you pile on:
✅ A contracting job market
✅ Uncertainty for friends and family
✅ The pressure to “stay relevant”
…it’s no wonder so many of us feel like we’re white-knuckling it through our careers.
💡 Being okay is like driving the speed limit (or even slowing down when the rain is really coming down).
💡 Being okay is curling up with your go-to comfort food because you know it’s gonna hit just right.
💡 Being okay is NOT something you need to apologize for.
You are not failing because you’re not thriving. You’re living.
And if you’re feeling this way? Drop a comment! I’d love to hear your thoughts! Because I guarantee—you’re not alone.
I got a text* from an old friend the other day. Her daughter, a junior producer fresh in the industry, had a problem. She was supposed to coordinate a weekend shoot, but the camera rental fell through. Now, this wasn’t a high-stakes production—just an internal screening, a location and talent recce, a simple one-day site visit. But she was stuck. She asked if I had a specific prosumer camera.
I am not a cameraperson. My gear consists of a Canon Rebel SLR, a $75 digital recorder, and an iPhone. Not exactly a rental house. The best I could offer was a reminder that B&H could overnight ship—for the bargain price of $4,800. (Sarcasm very much intended.)
But I had one more piece of advice: find a solution.
Chances are, she or someone in her network had a high-quality smartphone or digital camera. The job needed to get done, so she had to get it done.
Producing television is an endless cycle of problem-solving. You lay out a plan with every intention of it working, while also drafting five backup plans just in case. (If you’re a wildlife filmmaker, triple that number.)
It’s a high-stress, high-stakes industry, and I’ve seen incredibly talented people burn out over the years. I’m not saying this to be dramatic—it’s just the reality. Even when everything goes perfectly, this business is unpredictable and relentless.
So, how do you overcome roadblocks? Here are a few tried-and-true strategies: 👇
You cannot over-research. I have never once regretted doing too much. The deeper your knowledge, the more prepared you’ll be for anything that comes your way.
Scouting a location? Pick three, not one. Conducting an interview? Map out different directions it could go. Camera breaks down? Know how to pivot—smartphones shoot in HD and beyond these days. The goal is to keep your eyes on the prize and be flexible in how you get there.
Even the best-laid plans can go off the rails when emotions take over. Now, I’m not saying you should be a heartless robot—to quote Honeybee Shaw, “aw, hell no.” But staying level-headed, focusing on the facts, and making decisions based on logic instead of panic, rage, or fear will always serve you better.
I know some line producers and network execs are going towill hate me for saying this, but: it’s just television. If every single plan crumbles and you can’t salvage the shoot, what’s the worst that can happen? You might lose your job. And yes, that’s awful. But it’s not the end of the world. Failure happens. I’ve failed more times than I can count in my career. I am almost ’m 99% certain I wasam responsible for one of the worst-performing shows in Nat Geo history.
I’ve had concepts unravel in minutes thanks to an uncooperative interviewee. I’ve even had an A-list celebrity try to get me fired over a very minor “misunderstanding.”
Did I cry in my car? Maybe. Did I throw things? Allegedly. But after a deep breath (or five), I reminded myself: this is just a roadblock, not a dead end.
Roadblocks only stop you if you let them. Do your research. Plan ahead. Stay cool. Keep things in perspective.
Oh, and my friend’s daughter? She worked with the line producer, adjusted the schedule, and secured the right equipment. Crisis averted.
There is always a solution. 💡
* Details have been tweaked to protect privacy, but the essence of the story remains. Don’t come at me with a Hasan Minhaj exposé. 😉
A few years ago, I listened to the audiobook of Mike Nichols: A Life. If you’ve been living under a rock (or just buried in deadlines) and don’t know his name, let me catch you up: Mike Nichols was one of the most successful, influential, and daring directors ever. And I’m not just talking about film. Theater, comedy, television—this man did it all:
📽️ The Graduate
🎭 Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
✨ Angels in America
👠 Working Girl
🎤 Whoopi Goldberg Live on Broadway
And let’s not forget his comedy genius alongside Elaine May. This man was da bomb before that phrase even existed. 💥
But here’s the kicker: Not everything Nichols touched turned to gold. For every masterpiece, there was The Day of the Dolphin or Regarding Henry (woof).
One thing that stuck with me from the book was Nichols’ obsessive need to create. He wasn’t content coasting on past successes—he had to keep working. Whether it was a film, a play, or consulting on a flailing TV comedy, he needed to be making something.
And guess what? Some of it flopped. Hard.
But here’s the thing: Every creative fails. (Yes, you too. And me. And Spielberg. And every artist you admire.)
🎨 How many canvases have you repainted? 🎬 How many film ideas are collecting dust in your notes app? 📝 How many projects have you mentally erased from your résumé?
Failure isn’t just possible—it’s inevitable. And the best creatives? They don’t avoid failure. They use it.
One of the greatest film directors of all time, Francis Ford Coppola, recently served up a masterclass in failing boldly. His self-financed epic Megalopolis was hyped to the heavens—only to crash under the weight of expectations. It didn’t take home an Oscar, but it did snag Worst Director at the Razzies. (Oof.)
Coppola’s response? Legendary.
“I am thrilled to accept the Razzie award in so many important categories for Megalopolis, and for the distinctive honor of being nominated as the worst director, worst screenplay, and worst picture at a time when so few have the courage to go against the prevailing trends of contemporary moviemaking! [...] In this wreck of a world today, where ART is given scores as if it were professional wrestling, I chose to NOT follow the gutless rules laid down by an industry so terrified of risk that despite the enormous pool of young talent at its disposal, may not create pictures that will be relevant and alive 50 years from now.”
Translation? He’s unbothered. Because while the industry plays it safe, Coppola dares to fail.
It’s easy to say “Well, Coppola’s 90+ years old, he has nothing left to prove.” But that’s not the point. The real takeaway? Great artists don’t let failure stop them.
Even Steven Spielberg, a box office god, has made some major flops. (Anyone remember 1941? Yeah, me neither.) Read any comedian’s autobiography, and you’ll see chapter after chapter dedicated to their worst shows and jokes that fell flat. It happens. To everyone.
But the greats—Nichols, Spielberg, Coppola—kept going. They bombed. They got up. They made something else.
And that’s what sets real creatives apart.
🚀 Keep creating. Fail forward. Own your vision. Because when you swing for the fences, sometimes you miss. And sometimes? You make history.
I am a baseball fan—though, honestly, "fan" might not even be a strong enough word. I have season tickets to my beloved Washington Nationals ⚾. I've attended not one but TWO World Series, including 2019’s legendary Game 7. And every winter, like clockwork, I rewatch Ken Burns’s BASEBALL as if it’s required reading for life.
Alright, fine. I am deeply, madly, irreversibly obsessed with baseball.
One of the many reasons I love the sport? Success in baseball is all about perspective. The best hitters in history—Ted Williams, Tony Gwynn, Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth, Willie Mays—hovered around a .400 batting average. That means even the greatest of all time failed more than they succeeded.
Need some perspective? Here’s a golden line from Bull Durham that nails it:
Crash Davis: "You know what the difference between hitting .250 and .300 is? It's 25 hits. Twenty-five hits in 500 at-bats is 50 points, OK? There's 6 months in a season, that's about 25 weeks. That means if you get just one extra flare a week—just one—a gorp… you get a groundball, you get a groundball with eyes... you get a dying quail, just one more dying quail a week... and you're in Yankee Stadium.”
Wild, right? 🤯 One tiny bloop hit can be the difference between baseball immortality and total obscurity.
That mindset is exactly how my beloved Nationals turned their abysmal 2019 season around. They started with a dismal 19-31 record. Not great! But instead of spiraling, Manager Davey Martinez told the team to focus on going 1-0 every day. They did just that—stringing together small wins until they won the damn World Series. 🏆
We get so fixated on the big moment that we forget to celebrate the small steps that get us there. But if you’re not recognizing your progress, you’re robbing yourself of motivation.
Wins aren’t just final outcomes—they’re the small, everyday moments of progress. Sent that email you’ve been dreading? Win. Showed up at that networking event when you’d rather be in sweatpants? Win.
Reward yourself—treat yourself to a cacao nib (or, let’s be real, a cookie 🍪), share your progress with a friend, or just take a deep breath and whisper, winner.
Every challenge you overcome is proof of your resilience. Re-read that Bull Durham quote. It’s all about the tiny shifts that lead to the big moments.
Share your wins with people who get it. Find your cheering squad (or your own personal Nats Park Section 316) and root, root, root for yourself and others.
You’re not going to win the World Series every day. And even the best of the best fail more often than they succeed. But those small wins? They add up.
xx
I was in my 20s, managing the regional office of a creative staffing agency when we were hit with some HR issues. So, my colleagues and I decided to host a Midwest Team Building Conference.
Our budget? Non-existent.
Google? Not invented yet.
The mission? Make it impactful and fun.
The other regional managers and I each created a session covering essential topics. But we all agreed:
“We didn’t want this to be lectures. We wanted participation and bonding.”
So naturally, I brought in a childhood classic—Hot Potato—as an exercise. The goal? See how many compliments we could throw around before the buzzer.
I don’t remember the exact compliment count, but I do remember a room full of grown adults playing that silly game... and walking away motivated and connected.
Fast forward nearly 30 years... After 15 years in corporate media, I’ve seen all kinds of team-building events. Some good. Some so boring they made me want to poke my eyes out with a dry-erase marker.
One event sticks with me: The facilitator asked for feedback. I gave mine. He spent the next five minutes explaining why I was wrong. Spoiler alert: I was right. MythBusters lasted another 10 seasons. 😎
As I started expanding my career beyond television, I kept thinking about those joyful moments in workshops. Ask my past teams—I was always the “let’s jump in the conference room and plot this out with exercises” girl. Creativity + collaboration? Sign me up.
That passion led me to get certified as a Design Sprint Workshop Facilitator through AJ Smart. Why them? Because they were having fun!
Imagine a workshop with nothing but Post-it notes... and loving every minute of it. (Okay, I get that sounds like creative torture for some—but for me, it was bliss.)
I actually enjoyed the classes. Who'd thunk? 🤓
Since then, I’ve discovered incredible companies bringing the “fun belongs at work” mindset to life:
🎈 Alexandra Suchman & BarometerXP – “The Science of Play At Work”
🎭 Romy Malin – using her theater chops to build collaboration and chaos-taming magic
Here’s the gist:
👉 Work can be fun.
👉 Fun doesn’t kill productivity.
👉 In fact, it might be the missing ingredient.
Productivity for productivity’s sake forgets the obvious:
We’re not machines. We’re humans. And humans need connection, engagement, and meaning.
And for the "data-only" crowd who say,
“You’re not here to be entertained,” I say: Have you seen Moneyball?
Billy Beane brought analytics into baseball scouting. What happened?
“The A’s still have not won a World Series.” ⚾
Because data doesn’t measure the intangibles:
✨ Collaboration
✨ Chemistry
✨ Clutch energy
For every team engineered by stats, there’s a championship squad built on heart—heroes like Kiké Hernández, Howie Kendrick, and Corey Seager.
Bottom line? Work that includes joy, creativity, and connection doesn’t just feel better—it performs better.
I look forward to bringing my unique blend of business savvy and Bob’s Burgers silliness to your company.
I’ll bring the games. 🧩
(Yes, It’s Kind of a Mess... But Don’t Change the Channel Just Yet)
I recently gave a webinar on how to turn a spark of an idea into a fully baked TV pitch. I’ve done a few of these—helping creators shape their visions into something sellable. And honestly? It’s been an absolute joy to give back after 20+ years of developing, producing, developing, producing... you get the idea.
During the Q&A, someone asked the inevitable:
"What do you think of the current television landscape? It’s pretty bad out there. Do you think it will bounce back?"
Sigh. This question pops up every time. And every time, I flinch just a little before answering.
Let’s rewind. I started at the Discovery Channels in 1999, right as the cable boom was picking up steam. It was Discovery and Animal Planet in the beginning, with the Travel Channel just acquired. Before long, The Learning Channel (TLC) joined the party. International channels were launching, and the future looked damn bright.
By the time I left in 2007, TLC had fully embraced its reality era, Planet Green was born, and Discovery Networks was thriving. The same waves were rolling through A&E, Fox, Scripps, Viacom, AMC—you name it. It was a golden age for TV producers. We weren’t just riding the wave; we were power surfing the North Shore.
Then came the real disruptors.
Netflix leapfrogged broadcast. Streamers popped up like mushrooms after a storm. And the real juggernaut—YouTube—quietly took over the world.
Think I’m exaggerating? Media analyst Evan Shapiro has been mapping this industry shift for years. His data is as sharp as it is sobering. Cable is down more than 50%, and analysts predict that by 2028, only 27.1 million households will still have subscriptions. For context? In 2018, that number peaked at a whopping 93.4 million.
📉 That’s not a dip—it’s a free fall.
That’s an essay for another day (after a few bourbons and a long exhale).
Yes, it’s rough. Seeing an industry you’ve poured your soul into slowly unravel is gutting. Add to that the tens of thousands of creatives who are under- or unemployed, and it’s not just sad—it’s tragic. And no, I don’t cheer for anyone’s downfall. Livelihoods are at stake.
Whenever someone asks why TV is flailing, I flip the question:
“What are you watching these days?”
There’s always a pause. Then: “Well… reruns of Seinfeld, mostly.”
They shrug it off, assuming they’re not the “typical” viewer.
But they are.
Some of the most streamed shows are reruns. Grey’s Anatomy still slays the charts because new viewers binge old seasons and get hooked. Everyone assumed everyone else was watching all the buzzy new stuff.
Spoiler alert: they weren’t.
TV audiences crave comfort and familiarity. And when reruns of The Golden Girls bring the same viewership as a pricey new series starring a B-list celeb in a recycled plotline, guess which one gets greenlit?
💸 Business 101: maximize return on investment.
The decline wasn’t sudden—it was slow and sneaky. Cord-cutting, comfort-viewing, the YouTube vortex (more on that in Part 2), and a few other plot twists brought us here.
And yeah… it’s depressing. But here’s the twist.
If there’s one universal truth about creative professionals, it’s this:
We are resourceful, scrappy, and damn good at solving hard problems.
So no, this story isn’t over. Not by a long shot. Let’s roll up our sleeves and figure this thing out.
Let’s solve this damn problem. 💥
Stay tuned for Part 2. 🎬
Previously, on Shannon’s LinkedIn account… She laid it all out: the industry wave has crashed, a course correction is underway, and what lies ahead will look nothing like the last two decades of television. It’s a brave new media world—and not everyone’s ready for it.
She ended with this little nugget:
Depressing, eh? But ….. ALL IS NOT LOST.
If there is one absolute about creative professionals, we’re resourceful, scrappy, and damn good problem solvers.
So let’s solve this damn problem.
🧘🏾 Deep breath. Exhale. Again. Alrighty, time to flip the switch into producer mode. The one where we roll up our sleeves, side-eye the chaos, and say, “Alright, what’s the play?”
I mentioned YouTube in the last essay. Let’s revisit that, because in this tale of disruption, YouTube isn’t the sidekick—it’s the main character. Not Netflix. Not Amazon. Not even Apple. YouTube is the game changer.
Between 2020 and 2025, YouTube users grew from 661 million to 996 million — that’s a 35% jump 📈. For comparison:
Netflix: 300 million
Amazon: 200 million
Disney+: 124 million
➡️ YouTube has more than all of them combined.
So, what did YouTube do so well?
🌍 It gave creators a stage for their content to be seen all over the world.
🎨 It introduced audiences to a wild range of editorial + technical styles.
The first point is pretty self-explanatory. The second? It’s a bit more nuanced.
YouTube kicked the doors wide open to a whole new kind of storyteller. And I’ll admit it—I definitely used to side-eye the title ‘creator.’ I mean, I went to school for this! I’m a professional!
But these creators? They got it. They uncovered content that was appealing to viewers.
🎧 ASMR? A revelation.
🐶 Dog videos? Yes, please.
🤷🏽♀️ Weird kid crews who hang out together in some Mickey Mouse Club/Saved By The Bell hybrid? Um. Not my bag but if the kids are not exploited, then sure!
And for media execs? YouTube became a 24/7 free focus group, complete with comments and real-time analytics.
Another twist? These creators trained audiences to accept what we used to call “prosumer” quality. I was 54 years old when I learned that “pattern interrupts” is very appealing to social media users. Back in my day, that was a jump cut—and a no-no 🚫. But the audience has evolved. Just like Gen X was a lot more accepting of Homicide: Life on the Street’s shooting style while Boomers were clutching pearls.
We adapt. Then we excel. ✨
We adapt by creating our own content.
We use the tools we do have, and we create. We change our perspective and break the rules we’ve been following.
💡 Got a brilliant idea that’s too short for a full series? Make a mini-series.
⏱️ Who said every episode has to be 24 or 48 minutes?
🎙️ Want to make an archive-heavy doc but don’t have the footage? Create an audio episode.
Tell. Your. Story.
You don’t need the latest RED camera or a 10-person crew. I’m building an online class about documentary pitching and selling yourself like a TV show. I got stuck in gearhead mode—looking at lights, lenses, and studios—until a Zoomer reminded me that my iPhone was as good as most cameras, and the target audience likely wouldn’t care.
I rolled my eyes... then did the research. 🎯 He was right. I was overthinking it, clinging to the old rules.
Then? Lean into where you are already good at:
Structuring a compelling story 📚
Making things look good 🎨
Luring in an audience because you know what sticks 🎯
TV isn’t going anywhere. The Pitt and The Residence prove premium content still lands. True crime and investigation docs? Still pull great numbers DIY and cooking shows? Will always have an audience.
But the how of media consumption? That’s what’s shifting.
Broadcast panicked when cable came along. Now, cable’s sweating over internet content.
And us? We’re creators now—whether we like the word or not.
That’s the name of the game.
I recently gave a presentation about self-promotion at the Alexandria Community Co-Working Space. This is based on an online class I created called How to Sell Yourself Like A TV Show. Most of the attendees had recently been furloughed by recent government cuts.
The audience was, understandably, tense. They have been through so much sh*t the past few months. My goal was to offer some help in ways they can recognize how talented they are. ✨
One attendee challenged me about changing industries. He wanted to know why I never mentioned years of experience and whether it shouldn’t count for something. I told him that it absolutely counts for something, but should be recognized for accomplishments, not just duration.
If you’ve been in a job for 10 years, you should have a good track record to show for it. Highlight the hits! 🎯
He then asked me if I thought I could jump to healthcare as a project manager. I chuckled a little bit. I then told him how I had been certified as a project manager in the past year. The vernacular, I confessed, was different, but the overarching job and tasks were not. I had successfully managed budgets, teams, and deadlines. I had done the exact same thing in television. 🎬 ➡️ 🏥
Some laughs ensued, and I finished my presentation. Afterwards, he and I spoke, and I got his backstory. He was justifiably angry and frustrated after a career in public service—the idea of shifting to a new industry after such a commitment was crushing.
I get this. I’ve written about how the television industry is changing and how many of us need to adapt. I’m also Gen X and am not too fond of the idea that I must reinvent myself. I’m happy with the groove I’ve created. 😎
But just like the evolution of linear to non-linear editing, film to video, and producers to content creators, the workforce changes. And while it may be wholly unjustified and extremely unfair, it happens. 🔁
He and I talked later, and I found out his interests. It turns out he has a remarkable side business. We talked about what motivated him and then recommended some classes he could take—all free or very low cost. He initially balked, but I reminded him:
Knowing that you already are a badass is affirming and a huge ego boost. 💪 And adding to an already stellar slate of talents makes you even more of a badass. 🚀
Grow your badassery. Learning keeps your brain limber and makes you feel good about yourself. Go to Udemy, LinkedIn, and other platforms. The more you know—plus years of experience and problem-solving—make you awesome. 🧠✨
And be fully unapologetic about your badassery. You got this. 🔥
I wonder if it’s odd that one of my favorite musicals when I was growing up was Gypsy, the story of performer and stripper Gypsy Rose Lee. I’m sure this seems insane to parents today that a ten-year-old would sing You Got to Have a Gimmick around the house.
For those not familiar with this musical, watch it. Please. 🎬
I thought about this musical recently because I’ve been giving lectures and presentations for the past few weeks. I’ve talked about being a television producer, my time as a talent agent, and what it’s been like as a heavy person.
✨ One audience was joyous and celebratory.
⚡ Another audience was on edge and needed guidance.
💛 All were welcoming.
I am surprised at how much I enjoy doing this. For those who know me, I can be very introverted, although I confess, some of that may be more claustrophobia. I had to push myself out of my comfort zone and engage in small talk.
Me! Small talk! It is not a strong suit of mine. I survived and met some wonderful people along the way.
The joy I derive from this is helping people.
By sharing some of my experiences, I can boost those who may need it. For example, I recently presented to some parents and high schoolers about weight bias. I brought up the statistic that fat high school girls were 33% less likely to get accepted into college than their thin counterparts.
The parents were shocked, but more importantly, the students were, too. My goal wasn’t to scare them. It was to make them aware.
I ended it with encouragement, self-care, and confidence, and embracing the fierce bunny inside you. 🐰🔥
We all felt great afterwards.
This is new to me, although I have quietly mentored for my entire professional career. I was nervous about putting myself front and center. But with the help of friends, family, and others, I’m getting my footing. 👣
I’m not blowing a trumpet or dancing with fans but doing my own thing. 🎺🪭
Come. Join my musical revue. 🎤🌟
