I love film and TV. I always have, and I always will. There’s something deeply intriguing about the way stories can be told in so many different forms – stories that resonate with people and leave an impact long after the screen fades to black.
My love for film and television goes as far back as I can remember. I’m a lover of stories in all their forms, and watching films or TV shows allows me to step into another reality – one where I can explore multiple perspectives, understand complex characters, and experience the vision of writers and directors behind what I’m watching.
Where some people watch films and TV simply to pass the time – scrolling on their phones or letting it play in the background – I can’t do that. I need to give my full attention to what I’m watching. There’s no in-between for me. If I’m distracted, I can’t fully enjoy it; I need to be locked in.
That love extends beyond what I ‘m seeing on screen and into what I am hearing. Film and television music – the scores, the themes, the soundtracks – play a huge part in why stories hit the way they do. When a score truly connects with what’s unfolding on screen, it elevates everything. It deepens the emotion, heightens the tension, and makes moments linger long after they’re over.
Music from films and TV has even found its way into my everyday life. When I am writing and trying to get into a flow state, I often listen to scores or theme songs from shows and films. I love – pulled straight from my writing playlist. Even when I’m driving, the feeling those scores give me I something I struggle to put into words. Composers like Christopher Young – whose ‘Up Against the World’ really gets to me – Danny Elfman with works such as Edward Scissorhands, the original Batman theme, and Spider-Man, and of course, the legendary John Williams. His masterpieces – Home Alone, Jurassic Park, and Star Wars, among many others – are all staples in my playlist.
Hearing “I Don’t Wanna Be” By Gavin DeGraw could instantly spark two emotions – excitement or nervousness – depending on what was about to unfold in the next episode of One Tree Hill. For 10 years, Remy Zero’s “Save Me” became inseparable from Clark Kent’s journey into Superman; the song wasn’t just a theme, it was the show.
As a 90s baby, I grew up with theme songs that are etched into my memory. The classic 90s Spider-Man, X-Men, the Hulk theme – all instantly recognisable – you hear a few second and you’re right back there. The same goes for shows like The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, That’s So Raven, One on One, The Proud Family, Kenan & Kel, and Drake & Josh. Their theme songs weren’t just openings; they set the tone, the energy, and the feeling before the episode even began. The list honestly could go on forever. Those themes didn’t just introduce a show – they introduced a feeling.
The excitement of watching a TV series unfold in real time – week by week – looking forward to the next episode and even hoping there’s a leak somewhere online – is a feeling hard to explain. It’s almost like a high for me. Then there’s the opposite end of the spectrum: a rare, lazy weekend (if I’m lucky) spent binge-watching an entire series on Netflix or IPTV – a feeling that is second to none. These are the moments that genuinely bring me joy.
Looking back, I realise I was always a film and TV child growing up. Although I didn’t get to go to the cinema as often as I wanted, the times I did have stayed with me to this day – not just the films themselves, but the feelings I had walking out afterwards. That feeling of leaving the cinema – quiet, reflective, changed – is something I’ve chased ever since. Films like The Incredibles, Fantastic Four, and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince – the first Harry Potter film I ever watched (shout out to my big sister for taking me) – all left a lasting impression on me.
Of course, I remember many more films I saw, but those were the ones that truly shaped my love for cinema. As I got older, my taste in film and television widened, exposing me to a variety of genres and stories – and that only deepened my love for it.
There was a time in my life when I wanted to write and direct films and TV – and in some ways, I still do. More so on the writing side. I went to university to study Media with Pathways, choosing Film and TV as my preferred pathway.
Truthfully, I went to university for the wrong reasons – something I’ve spoken about before (Team University Dropout). I can count on one hand how many times I actually attended. But the moments I did show up were the ones that mattered (to me): Screenwriting sessions, creating our own adverts, breaking down ideas and turning them into something watchable. Those experiences made me truly appreciate what goes into the production of a project – the writers, the directors, and the entire crew behind the magic we see on screen.
In many ways, my love for writing is deeply tied to my passion for film and television. Writing became the space where that passion settled. Film and television taught me how powerful a story can be when it’s told with intention – how characters can feel real, how moments can linger, and how emotion doesn’t always need to be loud to be felt. Through writing, I found my own way of exploring those same ideas, without a screen.
When I write, I think visually. I picture scenes pacing, silence, and dialogue the same way I would if I were watching something unfold. Even when writing my think pieces, the majority – if not all – are based on how I’ve felt in certain situations. I visualise what caused those emotions, what led me to react the way I did, care about mood, timing, and the emotional weight behind words, because film and television trained me to notice those details.
In many ways, my writing is shaped by everything I’ve watched – the people in my life, random interactions with strangers, and the stories I’ve seen on screen – especially those that stayed with me long after the credits rolled.
That’s why my love for writing and my passion for film and television feel inseparable. One feeds the other. Film and TV inspire the stories I want to tell, and writing gives me the freedom to tell them in my own voice – in my own time.
At its core, this blog is simply an extension of that love. a place where I can slow down, reflect, and give film and television the attention they deserve – not just as something to watch, but as something to feel. Whether I’m writing about a show that moved me, a film that lingered in my mind, or the emotions a story stirred within me, this space exists to honour the art of storytelling. Because for me, film and television have never just been a way to pass the time – they’ve been a constant, a comfort, and a reminder of how powerful a well-told story can be.