“Short films aren’t just practice runs, they’re where real storytelling begins. They’re bold experiments that prove a filmmaker’s voice before the industry has even learned their name. But when gatekeepers keep clinging to what’s safe – remakes, sequels, and recycled IP – we risk losing the raw, surprising ideas that make cinema feel alive in the first place.”

17 Nov 2025 | Lois Tallulah

Lois Tallulah runs SHORTIES, an online and in-person community space for women and nonbinary creatives and filmmakers of all types.

I’ve been running SHORTIES for several years now, and if there’s one thing that constantly strikes me, it’s this: the industry still expects us to build empires out of scraps and crumbs.

The people saying yes - the commissioners, channel execs, gate-keepers, are often on steady salaries with benefits and desk space, and sometimes have never made a short film themselves. In contrast, the women and non-binary filmmakers I meet through SHORTIES are writing scripts between shifts, editing in cafés, hustling jobs like bar work or front-of-house to keep the lights on while co-writing, producing, directing the films they themselves want to see. It’s inspiring as hell but it’s also exhausting, and burn out is REAL.

Recently I listened to Russell T Davies talk about how when “times get tough, TV gets timid” and the culture becomes risk-averse. He’s absolutely right. Commissions are asking: “Will the audience like it? Will it sell?” Instead of: “Does the idea burn in your gut? Does it say something new? Am I challenged or entertained?”

The shift in focus towards predicting what audiences will like is creating censorship within our industry, with writers developing ideas they think will sell rather than what burns inside them. In the words of Noel Gallagher “Audiences did not know they wanted Jimmy Hendrix until he arrived and changed the world.” I wonder, how will we find our next filmmaking rockstar if we are so laser-focused on the end product and not putting enough time and attention into supporting people to get there? 

Despite industry-wide rejections and limited opportunities, inside the SHORTIES network I feel a different energy. I hear the laughter of creatives discovering each other in chats, in late-night threads; I see first-time filmmakers feeling empowered when they screen their short films at events with our London and West Yorkshire hubs; I encounter writers who say, “I’ve never met anyone like me who wants to tell my story” - and then they do. Their work lands at festivals, gets nominated; they support each other fiercely.

The truth is, short films aren’t just practice runs, they’re where real storytelling begins. They’re bold experiments that prove a filmmaker’s voice before the industry has even learned their name. But when gatekeepers keep clinging to what’s safe – remakes, sequels, and recycled IP – we risk losing the raw, surprising ideas that make cinema feel alive in the first place.

So, what’s next? Lately, I’ve been fascinated by how creators are reclaiming control and cutting out the middleman, backing their own stories, and letting the audience decide what matters. One brilliant example is producer Lucy Smith, founder of Fawkes Digital, a digital production studio that is turning the traditional commissioning process on its head. “When we develop a new format, instead of shooting a taster tape that more often than not withers on a hard drive, we shoot a pilot to cut into a series of six-plus shorts and publish them on digital platforms,” Smith shared at the Creative Cities Convention in Bradford.

She went on to post the trailer for her latest project CEOs Go Wild, a self-funded survivalist series filmed on two iPhones in the Scottish Highlands, on LinkedIn and it exploded. Now, Fawkes Digital is evolving the format into a LinkedIn-first brand, attracting sponsorship interest and expanding internationally. “Anyone can be a commissioner,” Smith says, and she’s right. By owning her IP and sharing it openly, she’s showing us what happens when creators stop waiting for permission and start experimenting in public.

And maybe that’s the lesson for all of us: To stop waiting for a “yes” from people who can’t see our vision yet, to take up space, make the work, and trust that if the story is strong enough, the audience will come if we are bold enough to back ourselves and our ideas.

And that’s what gives me hope. You can feel the shift happening - right now, right here in our community. Creatives like Abigail Sakari and Aphra Kennedy-Fletcher are redefining what it means to build an audience, using social media as their stage to develop sharp, hilarious female-led comedy Lacy that connects instantly and organically.

Fran St Clair, Kelsey Cooke, and Govind Chandran are building their brilliantly dark web series Do We Eat Him? from the ground up, carving out a loyal YouTube following and proving that you don’t need a commission to create a cult hit. There’s Saskia Leigh Martic, who’s pushing the boundaries of what it really feels like to be young and broke and dreaming in London, making short films with her friends that are raw, chaotic, and completely alive. There’s also Stephanie Okereafor and Adessy Akerele, co-directors of the documentary Leap, which has developed into a whole community of its own that supports and uplifts other creatives who, like them, are carving their own paths in the industry.

These filmmakers are the proof. They’re not waiting for permission, funding, or gatekeepers to tell them their stories matter, they’re showing us they do. What I see coming through the SHORTIES doors isn’t just talent, it’s resilience. It’s people creating with urgency, humour, and heart in a financially fearful world. And maybe that’s the rebellion the industry needs right now - not another safe bet, but a generation brave enough to bet on themselves.