Alum Spotlight: TIAN JUN GU

TIAN JUN GU is a first-generation Chinese-American writer born in Shanghai and raised in small-town Michigan. A formative freshman year experience pushed him to forgo his future in biomedical engineering and thwart his Tiger Mom for a degree in screenwriting, a leap of faith that landed him a Hopwood Award and a Naomi Saferstein Literary Award at the University of Michigan. While working at an agency by day and workshopping his own scripts at night, he was offered a writer’s assistant position at HOUSE OF CARDS, where he would become a staff writer and then story editor. An alum of the WGAE Showrunner’s Training program and the Screenwriters Colony Episodic Drama residency, he recently staffed as Co-Producer on BLOOM from Higher Ground and Netflix.

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SWC: I had the pleasure of spending time with you in Costa Rica during our inaugural Episodic Drama Colony. My first question is a hardball one: Why are you such a good time? And my follow up to that is why are you such a lovely human being? 

With regard to the first question, I aim to be good at everything. Only “good.” If you had said I was a “great time,” I would’ve called you a liar. As to the second, a-ha, there it is, that’s a lie and you know it. Liar.

SWC: What are you working on right now? 

I’m co-developing a sci-fi comedy series for Cavalry Media with Colleen Werthmann, a truly lovely human being. Also, I’m getting my hands dirty with a horror feature about my time immigrating to Michigan. Fortunate to be working with lovely human being and stupendous time Asher Goldstein on it.

SWC: What are you working on when nobody is watching?

How to be a great time. Also, pretending that I’m a photographer and sourcing components for that perfect “thock” sound on my mechanical keyboard.

Tian Jun during our Episodic Drama Program in Nosara. Pictured here with Beanie Barnes, Jessica Mecklenburg, and Wei Ling Chang. photo credit @kirstenellis

SWC: Has COVID and quarantine broken you on the inside or the outside? Is there anything positive that’s come from having so much work happening online? 

Both. I’m not working out regularly and I eat like shit most of the time, but the bigger break is on the inside. I’d say most people are tired of being tired; tired of anti-Asian sentiment, a lack of consideration of people from our leaders down WRT to the pandemic, America reckoning (or not) with its racist history, etc.

The positives are… uhh… I get to look at my notes on-screen while I’m virtually pitching? No, actually it’s that with every hero taken away from us this year (and there have been so, so many), the pandemic has shown that we have to be our own heroes.

SWC: What was the first (or most memorable) writers room you were in and what is an important lesson you carry with you today?

You mean other than our room in Nosara? Well, most memorable would be Y: THE LAST MAN because that room helped me overcome my lone wolf writing mentality. When I first started out, I’d try to tackle my scripts on my own, but the truth is that no writer is an island, especially in a TV writers room. It probably sounds obvious to many, but I didn’t fully wrap my head around it at the time. I was so in my head. It took some tremendous leadership and incredibly collaborative writers on the show to help me on my way. And I didn’t fully process the lesson until well after the room was over. Shout out to Eli Clark. Everyone work with her if you can!

Tian Jun in writers room for Y THE LAST MAN. Photo credit to showrunner Eliza Clark

SWC: Can you tell us about an early turning point in your life that pointed you toward becoming a writer? 

My turning point came at a particularly low and dark period. As a freshman engineering student in college, I was diagnosed with general anxiety and depression from anxiety. There was some other personal stuff, but what it boiled down to was feeling completely lost. Up to that point in my life, all I knew was math and science. I even had a disdain for the arts and those that pursued it, believing it was a waste of time. I took time off from school and when I went back, I started writing a script in Microsoft Word of all places. I formatted everything line by line not even knowing screenwriting software existed. Even though I side-eyed the arts, I grew up loving movies. The screenplay remains one of the worst things I’ve ever written, but I finished it, which is important. It still took me a few years to pursue writing in earnest, but that was one of the first “a-ha” moments when I felt like I was working shit out on the page.

With that being said, everyone should know this is just one of many turning points. I don’t believe in the tortured artist trope to produce meaningful art. That’s a notion that should be banished forever. To be an artist, you need an intense curiosity, a willingness to empathize and explore darkness, and to just live your life, man.

SWC: I like to talk about failure because it’s something that comes naturally to me. Would you mind sharing a writing experience that went horribly sideways or a moment of face-burning shameful failure that left you breathless on the floor? Did you ever recover? How?

I think in hindsight, what we consider “failures” are learning experiences. Really intense ones that you’re grateful for way after the fact. One memorable boof was my episode for season 6 of House of Cards. I didn’t realize it at the time but there are certain episodes that are just problem episodes for a variety of reasons: production constraints, notes from talent, notes from execs, last minute epiphanies that require a drastic overhaul, the dreaded mid-season slog, etc. This one happened to be a mid-season slog one. I thought I could muscle through it and make it procedural, but it just didn’t fit the tone that the showrunners Melissa James Gibson and Frank Pugliese had established. And since it was the middle of the season when production was just about to start, they were swamped. My Chinese upbringing leapt out and I just didn’t want to be a bother, so I took on as much as I could myself. Well… remember how I said no writer is an island? The showrunners let me know real fast the thing I turned in wasn’t it and with a deadline looming, the entire writer’s room ended up helping me finish the episode. I thought I completely shit the bed. What helped me not jump off the Brooklyn Bridge was support from my friends, mentors, and fellow HOC writers Ken Lin and John Mankiewicz. And working on the script as a room ended up being a thing that weirdly brought us all together. I mean, not an experience I’d really recommend to anyone because it was a supremely shitty feeling, but I value it now. This is a tough, tough industry. Reach out to those around you, and it sounds so obvious, but check in with your showrunners. Also, therapy helps. A lot.

SWC: In our Episodic Drama Colony, we all read your pilot for SEPARATE HANDS. Can you give us a sense of the impact your SWC experience had on the project? And what the status of it is?

Everyone (you, Lydia, John, Ben, etc.) there gave the fellows room to succeed and just be creative. As a working writer, you’re typically bombarded with so many distractions in your day to day, so being in a place like Nosara with the singular goal of working on your own show makes you feel like anything could be possible, which is the headspace you need to make your story and characters have more teeth. And mentors Jessica Mecklenburg and Veena Sud are absolute saints and bulletproof with story and character. Being in the presence of their wisdom helped push me out of the comfort zone of the draft I came into the program with. When writing a script–well, writing anything–you become so myopic with it. Plus, I had to make some long-term decisions with regard to where the show and characters were headed. 

Currently, there’s a financier onboard and we’re trying to attach a director and/or talent right now to sell. The logline is: In modern-day China, a cottage industry has sprung up to combat the rise of mistresses (AKA “little thirds” in China). These expensive “mistress dispellers” are hired by the cheated-on spouse to disrupt the affair, forcing the cheating spouse to return to their marriage. SEPARATE HANDS is a look into this sordid world, focusing on one woman’s attempts to revamp the patriarchal industry as she juggles an affair of her own.

SWC: I know you’re deeply involved with the WGA. Why have you chosen to do that and what should emerging writers have in mind when it comes to the guild?

I choose to get deeply involved with things that I don’t understand, but greatly affect me. The Guild seemed so daunting to me, so I just went to events to build a social network and make it feel less monolithic. And what started out as an education became a realization that I could have an effect on this union to which I belonged. I knew some of the obvious benefits of belonging (health insurance, residuals, etc.) and knew those weren’t easily won. Someone had to do something on my behalf to make that happen, so why couldn’t I be someone to help in my own small way? If there’s anything I’d like emerging writers to keep in mind, it’s that they can pitch in to create a union experience that makes sense to them. Lisa Takeuchi Cullen created many salons (Women’s Salon, Asian American Writers Salons, etc.) to help writers from marginalized communities to connect, and Kyle Bradstreet created a Sunday Salon for writers from all walks to meet up and commiserate. Plus, sometimes there’s free booze, if that’s also your speed.

SWC: As you might have noticed, the country is juggling a global pandemic, a movement for racial justice, upcoming elections, economic despair for millions, and much much more. Are you hopeful for this country? Despairing? Both? Does it distract you at your writer’s desk?

It definitely distracts me. Sometimes in hopeful ways, other times…not so much. Now, I worry that with a Biden/Harris victory, a majority of the country will feel complacent when we have so much work ahead of us. But I remain optimistic in that the electorate is more motivated than ever, so I believe change will come. Sustained change, because we’ll be holding politicians’ feet to the fire. Then, I backslide, because on the other side there are ruthless organizations and people that have gained so much these past four years and want to take more and more. But (!) I remain hopeful. We all need to pitch in to do the work though.

SWC: Related to that, there is obviously so much dialogue about race happening right now in our country - not only about black Americans but about all people of color. From your point of view, what do you think people don’t understand when it comes to issues of race and identity for writers?

Writers don’t like being pigeon-holed. An Asian writer doesn’t just want to write about Asian things, Black writers don’t just want to write about the Black experience. Not that there’s anything wrong with that being your focus, but most writers I talk to want to write for a variety of genres because we grew up enjoying a variety of genres. Plus, when we’re hanging out in our circles, we don’t only talk about race and identity. Our dreams, our worries, our boring day to days… we discuss all sorts of things because we’re just people. My race is only one of many parts of my identity. 

SWC: Looking back, was there something about your childhood that helps you make sense of your life as it is now? With all the creativity and instability of it all?

I grew up in a tense household, playing monkey in the middle between a mother and stepfather who did not get along. Having to act as peacemaker between the two definitely helped with empathy, which was a path to developing character perspectives. Really seeing POVs that I didn’t agree with.

Also, my stepdad had a mountain of Laserdiscs that I picked through, so I got a heavy dose of ‘80s and ‘90s action movies. That means I usually blow stuff up good on the page. “Usually,” because I also blow stuff up bad on the page.

SWC: Finally, I’m currently teaching a course on serial storytelling. First, will you be a guest speaker? Second, what advice would you give to someone graduating from film school or college who says they want to write for television?

First, of course. Second, go after TV writing with everything you’ve got and finish what you start. Even if you hate it, even if you’d rather eat a brick. Finish it. Because many fall in love with the romantic notion of muses, inspiration, and writing of the moment, but to do this job, you have to be a grinder. Also, don’t be an asshole. There are too many of them in this industry.

Tian Jun and company during his time with INTERROGATION

SWC: People are saying and feeling so many things about the election and the aftermath. As writers we have to blend intellectual ideas and complicated gut emotions so can you let us know basically anything about how you’re making sense of the start of 2021? 

As much as I and many others wish it could be, 2021 is not some magical reset. It comes after 2020, and we have so much damn work to do. A new year rolling around, a new president getting elected, all these “new” things are actually dangerous in that we could end up complacent. The pandemic isn’t over, systemic racism isn’t over, deep wealth inequality isn’t over, I can go on and on. So as J-Lo would say, “Let’s get loud,” and I’ll add, “Let’s stay loud.”