Alum Spotlight: IAN OLYMPIO
We feel so lucky to have welcomed Ian Olympio to our community this year with our Episodic Drama program. From the first day, we saw how deeply he observed and questioned his work as well as the work of the other writers in the group. Ian is a Ghanian-American, New York-based writer who explores identity: “how we define ourselves vs. how the world defines us— through an intersectional lens.” For the past two years, he’s worked as the Showrunner's Assistant on P-VALLEY, the Starz drama from award-winning playwright Katori Hall which just dropped to huge acclaim. We figured this was the right time to talk to him in depth. And after you read this interview, if you want even more Ian (and who doesn’t?) check out this wonderful and recent article on The Muse.
SWC: First of all, why and how do you have such amazing photos of yourself? Do you have a personal photographer on your payroll?
Haha. Usually, people fall into two camps: people who take photos of others and people who get their photos taken. I, of course, try to straddle the line between the two. I love taking photos of my beautiful and talented friends and sometimes they reciprocate by taking a good snap of me.
SWC: What has your work life been in these quarantine days and weeks and...months? Any new oddities to report? Existential, logistic, or otherwise?
In a weird way, I’m more busy during the pandemic than I was before. It’s hard to have a healthy work-life balance when your home and your office are one-in-the-same. The past few months have been about the marketing/PR rollout of P-VALLEY, the amazing 5-week Episodic Drama colony, activism and organizing within the entertainment industry, general/development meetings over Zoom, reading more, writing more, and just trying to stay sane.
SWC: Can you give us a sense of the journey you took with P-Valley? And any lesson(s) that you think you’ll carry with you from project to project moving forward?
Whew, how much time do we have?! It’s been 2.5 years now and the journey has been anything but boring. The truth is that Katori Hall is the most benevolent genius who has continuously given me a chance to pull up a seat at the table and get my hands dirty, so to speak. I’ve been involved in every step of the process since our first mini-room: staffing, casting, hiring an all-women directing team, crewing up, production in Atlanta, post-production and finally the marketing/PR rollout. With all of that work I couldn’t be in the room every day—shout out to our amazing staff—but I still popped in, pitched a little, and even got thrown a scene or two. I’ve learned so much about the creation of a television show, but most importantly, I’ve learned how to tell a story authentically. Katori is nothing if not principled. In the millions of decisions made on the road to P-VALLEY, she never once wavered from her vision or sacrificed truth. I can only hope to be involved in the just announced season 2.
SWC: Can you tell us about an early turning point in your life that pointed you toward becoming a writer?
That’s tricky because I’ve been telling stories my whole life. I learned to read at age four because I knew, even then, that stories have the ability to transport us to new worlds. When I wasn’t reading back in those pre-K days, I was writing plays and forcing my friends to perform in them. I spent most of middle school writing the great American novel (still unfinished).
But it was THE OC that inspired me to write my first pilot at 17, a teen drama inspired by my experience growing up in the suburbs of Maryland. Around that time Shonda Rhimes and Grey’s blew up, which marked a change in my understanding of the sorts of stories Black creators could tell. Until that point I was worried that stories I had in my head—about black and brown suburban kids caught between worlds—lacked grit or “Blackness.” Shonda helped me to see that Blackness is not a monolith and we’re free as creators to write our truths. I saw that I didn’t need to be Spike Lee or John Singleton to be deserving of a platform. Especially since those two geniuses existed and had blessed us with so much art. I felt free to just be Ian and to write my truth—which at 17 looked like house parties and homecoming games and friends growing apart as they got older.
SWC: How about sharing an experience that knocked you down as a writer and what you learned in order to get back up?
How much time do we have?! When I was 24-years-old, working for the Chief Diversity Officer of CAA, I got an offer to be an assistant on the second season of a new, sure-to-be-massive HBO series. That second season never came to be, I left the agency world, and all of my dreams were dashed. I wouldn’t get another offer for two years—that’s how rare TV support staff jobs are in New York. I hit some incredibly low lows during that time—being dirt broke, depression, an awful stint at a toxic marketing agency— and almost considered throwing in the towel. Instead, I buckled down and churned out the GREATER HEIGHTS pilot in only a few weeks while working retail and freelance writing 7-days a week. The rush was to make a deadline for the just announced Made In New York Writers Room fellowship, which I ended up winning with that script. The rest is history. That experience taught me the power I have as a writer to create new opportunities for myself solely with what’s in my head and my heart. You can write yourself out of a rough spot and into your wildest dreams—you don’t have to wait for someone to give you an opportunity. That’s a lesson I’ve been trying to remind myself of recently.
SWC: We got to know you through your wonderful drama project GREATER HEIGHTS. Can you let us know where you’ve landed with that project after having some time to digest your experience with us?
GREATER HEIGHTS is about 18-year-old Oscar Cruz, a brilliant and handsome shapeshifter, struggling to maintain a grueling balancing act. Caught between his working-class Dominican roots in vibrant Washington Heights, and the glamorous, downtown world of his prep school peers, Oscar chases beauty and independence at all costs.
The Colony was so incredibly helpful, in terms of building out the series. The amazing Jason Kim, who I’m more than a little bit obsessed with, really hammered home the fact that TV requires a machine with seasons and seasons worth of story. Post colony, I’ve been put together a great bible and pitch deck for GH, very much informed by the wisdom Jason and our pitch menor, Matt King, shared. I’ve also been able to put all of those lessons into my latest pilot which has been in the works for a year and half now.
SWC: When you’re alone with your thoughts, what are you thinking about the conversation about race that’s happening in this country? Are you hopeful? Despairing? Both?
Whew, what a loaded question! It is so easy to despair. It's almost impossible not to. As a Black person none of this is new to me, per se. But when coupled with the stress of the pandemic, it’s too much to bear many days. It’s baffling to me that so many Americans can blind themselves to the injustice that runs rampant in this nation. But that’s what comes from living in a country literally built on white supremacy. Much of my twenties has been about learning and unlearning—realizing my own privilege as someone who has had lifelong access to primarily white spaces and realizing that said privilege doesn’t make the fight for equality any less mine. Writing GREATER HEIGHTS, which is so much about race, class, and the myth of the American dream, was a big part of that process.
What gives me hope is seeing so many Americans of all ages doing some of that learning and unlearning for themselves. Seeing them become more radical, enlightened, and righteously angry. This kind of painful reckoning was inevitable, honestly. One Black President can’t make up for centuries of oppression. The work has only just begun, but the first step is people becoming aware of the fact that there’s a wholllleeeeee lot of work to be done. It's a messy process. I’ve been the recipient of many well-meaning but completely ill-timed and tone deaf, “I understand I’ll never understand” messages. I’ve called out former friends, cut folks out of my life, and happily smashed that unfollow button. But that messy work is absolutely worth it. It’s been amazing to see my own group chat go from a space to discuss Saturday night plans to a place to commiserate over injustice and to plan for Black liberation.
SWC: What do people in the business need to understand about the experience of being a Black writer in Hollywood? And what needs to be done next to ensure momentum is preserved.
From my limited experiences in this industry I’ve found Hollywood to have as big of a “race issue” as any other element of American society. Even the most well-meaning of gatekeepers perpetuate the marginalization of Black and POC creators. That has everything to do with their assumptions of what has value, whose stories deserve to be told, what’s marketable, and what right creators have to ask for what they deserve. I’ve learned in some very personal ways that stories about marginalized characters often get marginalized. Yes, there’s been much more diversity in TV and film in recent years. But we’re not seeing the needlessly painful journeys that lead to the final product--needlessly painful along every single step of the way. We’re not seeing how many amazing projects never made it across that finish line because of the industry’s “race issue”. Hollywood is far too quick to pat itself on the back for one breakout project or to crown one Black or POC voice as a new Messiah. One person’s overall deal doesn’t pull up the hundreds of talented, experienced, and worthy writers being kept on the other side of that gate. Too many networks and streamers partner with one Black creator and says they’re covered when it comes to stories about the Black experience. It’s unfair to task one voice to represent millions. Meanwhile, no one ever says, “we already have a show about straight white guys.” Certain networks have ten cop shows and will still green light five more. But let them have two shows about Latinx folks or queer people—never!
SWC: Finally, looking back, was there something about your childhood that helps you make sense of your life as it is now?
Not to be too woo-woo, but I’m really doing a lot of work to connect with my inner child. When I was younger, my dreams were boundless. I was a ball of creative energy--always singing, dancing, drawing, writing, and unabashedly being my weird little self. I was unafraid to learn new things and to put myself out there artistically.
As an adult, my greatest fear in life is probably not maxing out my potential in the time I have here on this planet. I write a lot about characters trying to break out of boxes the world wants to put them in, but I’ve also come to see how I put myself in certain boxes creatively and professionally. Coming up in this industry I’ve subconsciously bought into conventional wisdom about “how things go.” I definitely believe in paying your dues and learning under great leaders--that’s always been a major goal of mine--but I also believe in taking big risks on projects that maybe only you see the value in. To riff on a cliche, moving forward I’m trying to keep my feet on the ground and my eyes on the stars. As a child, my gaze was always fixed on the heavens. I want to get back to that. I want to dream and create without judgement.