I’m looking for actors for my upcoming web series shooting in Copenhagen @copenhagenexpats! If you are interested or know someone who would be a good fit, please send them the information below :)

All characters descriptions are subject to change! We really want to work with different people from all walks of life and are willing to change the script where possible.

Thanks,

Skylar

CASTING CALL - COPENHAGEN EXPATS

Vertical Web Series | Volunteer / Unpaid | IMDb Credit | Great for Reels

We’re casting actors for Copenhagen Expats, an upcoming vertical web series created by Copenhagen-based writer/director Skylar Kim and produced by a team of NYU Film School alumni.

This is a vertical web series in the format of shows like Roomies and Brooklyn Coffee Shop, with a character-driven comedic story about expats, dating, culture shock, friendship, and trying to build a life somewhere new.

Actors do NOT need to be based in Copenhagen, but must have local availability in September and winter TBD. Please note that these are volunteer/unpaid roles, but actors will receive credit, be part of our US festival run, and the project will be listed on IMDb.

Audition materials and instructions can be found through this link!

See you soon!

Skylar xx

I moved to Copenhagen. I received my visa to stay here for one year and it’s finally official.

A few things to clear up right away: I wasn’t deported from America – I’m an American citizen. I will never move back to Korea, because I don’t like living there, but I love my family. And I’m not moving to Denmark because of my boyfriend, at least not entirely. I’m very privileged to have been born with both Korean and U.S. passports, and honestly, that privilege ended up being a huge part of how I made my decision to leave America. But who knows? After a year, you might find me in LA, NYC, or Seoul. I just don’t know yet.

The truth is, I’ve actually been here for a while. I spent nearly three months last summer with my boyfriend and his family, carrying all my heavy post-grad feelings with me like extra, overweight, and overcharged luggage. In the backdrop of my favorite city, it all came crashing down when I finally admitted the simplest, most obvious thing: I wasn’t happy. And I couldn’t admit it to myself.

My boyfriend likes to say that Denmark is a place of introspection – that to live here, you really have to like yourself, because in the quiet of it all, you only have yourself to face and really confront at the end of the day.

The real truth is that the past five years of my life have been really brutal. My grandmother died – and that came after a year of watching her care for my grandfather, who’d had a stroke that left him immobilized and requiring constant around-the clock-care. My mom had cancer and survived (again). The stress set off a flare of health problems in my own body: eczema on my face that hurt and stung so badly I couldn’t go outside, chronic hip pain from years of athletics in my youth that made it impossible to go to class, let alone leave my apartment. I broke up with my ex-girlfriend. I almost died in a car accident. Friends I thought I could count on vanished when things got hard. I started smoking. I quit. I started again. Most of it was so overwhelming I never gave anyone the full picture.

And then there was post-grad life itself. May in New York City was scorching, the pavement radiating heat, and the whole city indifferent. I’d just come off high-profile internships at Apple TV+ and Darren Aronofsky’s production company (just like Emma Seligman!), fresh from promoting a TV pilot I’d directed my senior year on the biggest budget I’d ever worked with in my life. And I was completely burnt out. I also felt like a failure: unable to find footing in the industry, broke in a city that was bleeding me dry, no longer willing to endure long hours under egotistical male directors. I wanted quiet. I needed space. I quietly quit making, writing, or producing films for about a year. (If I ghosted your DM about wanting to work together, I’m very sorry).

I started writing when my grandmother was dying. Writing had been her dream too, and it terrified me to think that someday I too would no longer be able to pick up a pen – that the physical act of it would become too painful. I didn’t want to wait that long. That fear is actually how and when this newsletter started.

So last summer, my boyfriend’s mom mentioned something called a working-holiday visa between Korea and Denmark. And guess who happened to have a Korean passport? Something clicked. I could keep grinding in New York at a job that was draining me, or sell my soul to corporate like the people around me. Or I could go to Denmark, try something different – and even if I ended up in another shitty job, at least I’d be in a gorgeous European city I knew and loved, a city I’d come to know even better through the person I love most.

By September I’d made up my mind. I let down a group of friends who were looking to be roommates together in the city (which I still feel awful about). I put everything in storage in New York – paying an embarrassing amount each month, because NYC real estate has never once been on my side (I’ve moved apartments every year I lived in New York). But it felt like insurance. A promise to myself that I’d go back for all of it one day. Nothing was permanent – this could all be temporary if I wanted it to be.

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Then I flew to Korea, because the visa required me to apply from within the country. It had been years since I’d stayed that long in Korea, and leaving my mom after almost four, five months was hard in a way I didn’t expect. There was a full-circle feeling I couldn’t shake: I was 15 when I left Korea for boarding school in the States. Now I was 25, leaving again – nearly the same age my mom was when she went to Harvard to learn English, and then BU to study graphic design with my dad who was pursuing his own lifelong dream of making music. My heart felt split in all directions. The U.S., Korea, Denmark – I have so many homes, so much love, and none of it quite adds up to a clear answer.

I tried writing this post many times. From Copenhagen, when I was still deciding whether to stay or go. From Korea, mid-application. From here, after I arrived. Each time, I couldn’t fit the full story quite how I wanted or I skirt around it in my previous posts, because I was still making sense of it. I’m still making sense of it now.

When the residence permit arrived in the mail last week, I just sat with it for a while. I could breathe again. I’m in.

Nothing is permanent. That’s one of the things these past few years taught me – not gently. Nothing is so serious that it can’t be survived, reconstructed, or quietly set down. The Danish weather makes gratitude (and happiness) harder than it should be: gray skies, hail out of nowhere, five minutes of sun followed by rain followed by wind that changes direction before you can even realize it’s blowing against you. But maybe that just makes sense. I came here for the weather inside me to change too.

I asked every mentor, every old boss, every professor, every filmmaker I respected what I should do with my life and how I could get a J-O-B. I got every possible answer. Go to LA. Stay in New York. Don’t bother with Copenhagen, there’s no film scene there. Go – you’ll love it. Eventually, I realized I’d already made up my mind before I asked any of them. I’m stubborn like that. I always have been.

So far, Denmark has been good to me. I don’t feel like I’ve failed as an artist or a filmmaker – something I wasn’t a 100% sure I’d be able to say for a long time. I feel renewed. Clearer. More willing to sit with a script or an idea without immediately wondering what it’s worth or if it has any value or if my peers will respect me. I’m making new friends here. I visited the National Danish film school to help out on set. I’m working on my own projects again. I’m still making sense of it. But for the first time in a long time, that feels really okay.

What I didn’t expect was that the quiet would hand me back something I’d been too exhausted to look for: the work itself. I’m developing a web series now – something I’ve been mulling over in my mind since I got here, interrogating whether the concept is too much, too cringe, too personal, before I’ve even gotten a chance to fully get it out on the page. It’s about what it means to be an expat. About the particular strangeness of existing between countries, between identities, between versions of yourself – never quite belonging anywhere, and slowly learning that maybe that’s not actually the tragedy it feels like. It’s the most honest thing I’ve ever tried to make, and for the first time, that feels like the point rather than the problem. I came to Copenhagen not knowing what I meant to myself as an artist. I’m still figuring that out. But that’s what the work is for.

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Additionally, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and interact and engage, like, reshare my posts, etc. I’ve been seeing the same people coming back or friends posting nice things in the comments lately. It doesn’t go unnoticed and I just want to say thank you - it truly means so much <3

Thanks for reading!

Skylar

I’m back in the motherland for the time being if you haven’t heard… Aside from the usual family drama and never-ending cycle of home cleaning that is my life, I’ve been a hard-working girl. Specifically, working remotely from my computer, schlepping script after script and writing feedback for writers till my retinas burn. It’s a great time!

I’ve written about some of my feelings as a script reader on here before. But working for a film festival is actually one of my favorite things ever. Reading scripts at a production company or watching films for a festival’s programming team are genuinely, in my experience, some of the best ways of learning and seeing what people are writing about right now.

Today, I wanted to share my expertise as a script reader for a Top 100 Film Freeway film festival, an indie filmmaker/producer, a former development intern for an Oscar-nominated director, a former intern for a Apple TV+ showrunner/producer, a former programming reviewer for an Oscar-qualifying film festival, and ex-NYU Tisch Film bro.

This post is part reflection, part craft guide: what I learned from the reader’s side of the table, and a few honest simple tips for screenwriters trying to make their stories stand out in a stack of fifty, whether it be a short film, the pilot episode of TV show, or a screenplay.

If I catch any more of these mistakes in your script, I will fight you (aka write you a really nice page of feedback telling you how to fix it or restructure your story)!

I also talk more about my experiences as a filmmaker over here.

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WORDS

• Don’t forget to write your name. It is genuinely surprising how many title pages are missing or don’t have the writer’s name ON THE ACTUAL SCRIPT. Your hard work should be celebrated! Always double check before submitting or exporting off Final Draft.

• It’s not about what you say, it’s about HOW you say it. It’s hard to describe a personality on the page, but when a writer has a VOICE, the script really comes alive. Of course, a script should be easy to read but does it feel exciting to read off the page???

• Say less. Keep it brief. Concise. Don’t be so superfluous if you can help it. There will be moments where you will need to say more. Make those moments count.

• When characters stop making active decisions, you’ve got problems. This happens all the time in writing too. All of a sudden your protagonist, the engine of your story, STOPS doing things. They stop making clear, ACTIVE choices. When you focus on story and structure and plot, your main character simply starts reacting to things around them or just moving through events. Pause. Breathe. Ask yourself how would this person react in this situation? What steps would they take? Those are the moments we want to see.

• Formatting matters. Consistency matters more. Formatting is the first thing I see. Formatting is really important and immediately helps me identify the level of training a writer might have which might indicate that they have less training or understanding of story structure as well. But there isn’t really such a thing as “perfect formatting.”

  The truth is every script is going to be written differently and each script is going to need to come up with its own way of writing the script, depending on the concept or idea (i.e. an AI spaceship sci-fi film that has lots of screens, monitors, texts with moving space chases versus a rom-com in rural Seattle where a lot of moments are intimate emotional encounters between two people is going to be written on the page a lot differently and formatted differently).

  But as long as your formatting choices are CONSISTENT and READABLE, it’s never too much of a bother.

• Put the camera down. Pick a pencil up. I, personally, am anti-camera direction UNLESS necessary. To reiterate what I said earlier: when you need the most, make it count. Use sparingly.

• Learn the tricks by reading professional scripts. A lot of filmmakers starting out don’t know how to write a script in their own voice. Which is totally fair! I would recommend reading PDF files of scripts on Google. A LOT of them. Especially BlackList scripts if you can find them off Reddit or a couple website I can’t name. See what the seasoned, professional writers doing differently. Are they CAPITALIZING important words or verbs? Are they writing MONTAGES in a certain way? Are they emphasizing certain things by bolding or italicizing them? Are the scenes short or long? How do different screenwriters write TEXT MESSAGES on screen? What about PHONE CALLS? SEX SCENES? DESCRIBE LOCATIONS? Learning HOW to write for this medium is its own special skill.

• When in doubt, stick to the formula. It’s clear when a writer is getting lost, which in turn makes the reader or audience member feel lost. A movie is actually quite a formulaic thing. Learn that damn 3-act structure or TV pilot formula till you can recite it backwards, forwards, and while running in a circle. It doesn’t HAVE to be your solution to every scene or structure that doesn’t quite feel right yet. BUT usually the answer is in the structure. It’s not the scene, it’s your outline.

• It’s okay to steal, but tell me about yourself first. There are many adaptations and projects that clearly people are to make inspired by other shows. But why you? Bring your new, unique perspective (your theme) into it. Don’t just make it a step by step retelling. What are you doing differently? Why? Why does this have to be told by you?

• When you’re close but not close enough to finishing your script, you’ve forgotten what your film is really about. This point is really about theme. In the dreaded third act, which is usually where most screenplays fall apart, usually the characters kind of flail around until they reach an almost too-perfect undeserved rushed ending. Or the ending just feels really random.

  Theme ties hand in hand with structure. My only advice here right now is to look at where your character starts and try to see how you can reflect their beginning to how they end. This is only one approach, but I think the point is bookending is one way to really help understand: what needs to happen in the middle to finally get to your ending. How is your protagonist different now that the story is over? How do we SEE that? How are they the same?

• The distance between your great idea and what’s on the page feels huge, but it’s not actually. The concept and premise of the scripts I’ve seen are usually amazing. But discovering what is the best way to TELL this story is the journey. It’s not going to be perfect right now. It’s not going to click with other people right now. And that’s okay. For right now.

• We all have fun, when the writer has fun! It’s very clear when the writing is fun and doesn’t take itself too seriously. Anyone who has the courage to write 20, 60, 120 pages, deserves a HUGE pat on the back. Don’t be too discouraged if things aren’t working YET. At the end of the day, it should be FUN.

Thanks for reading and good luck!

Skylar <3

Ever since I started telling people about my new job, I’ve noticed the way their tone towards me has changed.

I’ve talked about my relationship to literature before. And I have been reading screenplays for a long time, as any young filmmaker starting out always will – it’s a habit I very actively tried to keep up through film school, sought after in my internships in the industry, and tried to be as diligent about commenting on and reading my peer’s work in class. It didn’t matter whether I was in my English or screenwriting classes, I tried to be thoughtful and engaged because writing is a very scary, vulnerable thing. (And, I also wanted nice thoughtful feedback.)

Now, with this new job as a script reader for a film festival, I’ve suddenly become the person who is paid to do this thing. People started asking again with a grave, serious tone if I would be willing to take the time to read their screenplay – I felt a great sense of authority and trust being put on me. It wasn’t a dynamic I am particularly used to.

One friend in particular comes to mind. They were a writer I admired, someone whose talent was obvious. But at some point, their tone toward me grew distant. I realized much later (through a very convoluted way) that they’d been submitting to the exact same creative writing competitions that I had in the past, and hadn’t gotten into a single one. Nothing between us had actually changed, but somehow it had altered the course of our friendship. It wasn’t the first or last time something like this happened.

Who has the authority to decide what’s actually good anymore? I knew their writing was good. They knew their writing was good. But had some stranger’s decision about the worthiness of their writing really changed our relationship for good?

The truth is, regrettably, in my own job, I don’t even actually know what makes something “good.” Not in any definitive, measurable, end-all be-all kind of way. But when I can feel it’s on the page, I know. The best stories I’ve read are the ones where a voice cuts through – where their emotions are intact, and nothing feels forced or stuck on spectacle. (And especially when they’re not trying to force being “cool”.)

But most importantly of all, the only reason I get to validate, judge, or give feedback (the only reason I ended up here at all) is because one day I decided I cared. I liked reading. I liked being around stories. And for a while, I was willing to do it for free, AND write a whole page of feedback. I made time for it. That was it.

And so yes, I feel lucky to hold this position now. I’m grateful for the chance to be trusted with other people’s work, to sit at the table, and weigh in. But it’s not as simple as authority or validation or an industry stamp of approval. The truth is, the only real judge of your writing is yourself. Competitions, jobs, feedback – they come and go, and their final decisions are often inconsistent or incomplete. For me, they’re more of a litmus test to see if your writing is able to connect and resonate with someone immediately off the page. But some pieces need to take up more of one’s time and attention – they need to simmer over time. It’s just not realistic for an entire 10 or 100-person team (mostly made up of unpaid college interns) to be objective all the time or tailored to your needs on a deadline.

At the end of the day, when it comes to any artistic practice, the only person worth impressing is you. That’s when the work feels alive. And that, more than any job title or anyone’s approval, is what matters.

Something a little different today.

Hope you are having a lovely day!

Skylar xx

I just got back from a festival called SeriesFest in Denver, where DEARBORN screened as part of the Independent Pilot: Drama competition - and I have to say, this festival has a very special place in my heart now. NFFTY may be my new favorite, but SeriesFest? It’s like the cool older cousin who works in TV and still remembers how to be sincere. Here’s a little about what it was like:

If you haven’t heard already… I was just in Seattle where DEARBORN took home an Audience Award alongside a Jury Nomination at NFFTY! 🏆⭐️

After Denver, we’ll actually be screening at the Big Apple Film Festival next! You can also follow our Instagram here! Stay tuned for more 😊

WHAT IS SERIESFEST LIKE?

SeriesFest is a festival that celebrates television - not shorts, not features, but the specific art of episodic storytelling. It can be a traditional drama or comedy pilot, or even a digital short series. That distinction alone makes it super unique. It’s built for showrunners, directors, and writers who are thinking in episodes, arcs, character development across seasons. If you’re working in or dreaming about working in TV, this is the place to be.

It takes place in Denver, Colorado, mostly centered around the Sie FilmCenter in the Capitol Hill area. The environment is gorgeous (hello mountain views) and so expansive, and you can actually breathe between events. There’s something about Denver that gives you space to think, reflect, and connect. It’s not chaotic, it’s curated. It’s thoughtful. There’s also something about the altitude that makes you slow down, in a good way.

SCREENING BLOCKS

Our pilot screened in the Independent Drama block (which, yes, included a pilot co-written and produced by THE 2 Chainz). Only at SeriesFest do you go from watching something self-funded and made by a college team to an iconic rapper-produced project... and somehow they all belong in the same space. Obviously.

That’s the magic of this festival. The curation doesn’t feel elitist. The selection here feels wide-ranging, international, inclusive, and genuinely invested in what makes episodic storytelling shine.

EVENTS HAPPENING

SeriesFest is serious about industry access. We’re talking panels with execs from Universal, Sony, Revry, and other indie streamers you should know about. Representatives came from places like IMDBPro, SAG-AFTRA, film commissions from across the country, Dolly Card, and much much more. There were also pitch sessions, roundtables, and conversations with creators whose work I’ve actually studied (or stalked on IMDb). As a filmmaker in-competition, we got to attend after-parties and go to a women creators brunch at a festival board member’s home, where we got to meet the wonderful finalists of the Shondaland Directing Mentorship. We even got to grab a quick selfie with Randi Kleiner, SeriesFest’s co-founder, after our screening because yes, she shows up.

Other highlights included workshops on creating pitch decks with Canva (I was totally geeking out the whole time), panels about the future of episodic, and talks with real working TV showrunners navigating the business.

LESSONS LEARNED

• SeriesFest is not a place for passive watching. People talk here and want to talk. In the Q&As. In the lobby. At the food truck line. You’ll get asked what you’re working on, and you should have an answer ready.

• Business cards are awesome. Especially when you’re not in a crowd of 20-something year-olds sharing just Instagram handles anymore. I feel like people really appreciated the gesture.

• From panels: Try to find stories that go against what we already see, try counter-programming. Find something unexpected yet familiar for audiences.

• From panels: Building a grassroots audience and creating good word-of-mouth is still a model that still works really well.

• From panels: Money will find you. Create with love and just try to be better than the next guy or the guy who’s the best in the game right now. That’s it.

• From panels: Be a “yes man”. Don’t be anxious and don’t hold yourself back.

• Elevation makes a difference. Check out SeriesFest’s oxygen bar (I wish I did!). Drink more water than you think you need.

• A good pitch isn’t about selling… it’s about connecting. Being genuine really matters and counts in the end.

• And yes (as always): follow up with that person you talked to during the panel break.

IS SERIESFEST WORTH IT?

One hundred percent yes.

There’s something deeply grounding about SeriesFest. It takes the work seriously without taking itself too seriously. You meet great people who actually want to make good TV, not just sell it. And the community present is super talented but the pool is small enough to feel real but big enough to matter.

If you’re in the episodic space or even thinking about dipping into it, SeriesFest is a must. I left with a full heart, a deeper belief in what I’m doing, and a new list of pilots I’m looking forward to bingeing in the future!

Denver, I’ll be back ⛰️⭐️

That’s all for today! 🌷

See you soon,

Skylar xx

PRELUDE

Hi everybody! 🌷

Today, I’m really excited to share some general insights I had on art, artistry, and meeting artists (art, art, art!) while I was at the National Film Festival for Talented Youth 2025 in Seattle, Washington and whether or not I felt like it was really worth it. And some general thoughts as my first major in-person, traveled-to film festival since the pandemic. (I might do a separate post next week on more sightseeing, restaurants, museums, and places we visited like Bainbridge Island!)

If you haven’t heard already… I was just in Seattle for a pilot I directed called Dearborn, which I’m excited to share took home an Audience Award alongside a Jury Nomination! 🏆⭐️

Up next we’ll be at SeriesFest in Denver, Colorado! You can also follow our Instagram here! Stay tuned for more 😊⛰️

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TABLE CHAT

The contents of today’s post:

• What is NFFTY?

• Lineup & Events

• Lessons Learned

• Is NFFTY Worth It?

WHAT IS NFFTY?

The National Film Festival for Talented Youth (aka NFFTY) is one of those festivals that really stays with you long after it’s ended. It’s all about emerging filmmakers under 25, but honestly? It’s so worth it going at any age. Even if you’re on the older side of that bracket (hi), it still feels like the right place to be. Whether you're just starting out or already deep in the work, the energy is really contagious. It’s rare to be in a space where everyone is either just as wide-eyed or just as deeply in it as you are.

The whole festival is centralized in one area, which makes things super walkable and easy to navigate. Most of it takes place at the SIFF Cinema Uptown and a few surrounding venues. That kind of localization makes it feel more like a little artist campus than a sprawling, stressful event. You could literally hop from a screening to a panel to a coffee chat to lunch without losing momentum.

LINEUP & EVENTS

The lineup was stacked. But overall, I met so many talented, creative people who were not just directors, but editors, actors, composers, etc. Between panels and mixers, I ended up talking to reps and sitting in on talks and hosted by Seed&Spark, even the programmer of PROOF Film Festival out in LA, ShotDeck, MUBI, and Adobe Premiere Pro.

One highlight was a panel called “Rewriting in the Edit: Celia Beasley.” Celia is a professional editor living in Seattle recently worked on a Netflix TV show called Penelope directed by Mark Duplass and also other local independent feature films. She showed us how she broke down scripts, and showed us her actual Premiere timeline and project files on the screen. Celia shared so much practical wisdom about directing kids, shooting coverage smartly, and finding rhythm in the edit. It’s the kind of stuff that usually gets glossed over all the time, but she broke it down with so much care.

What stuck with me most, though, were the Opening Night speeches given by the festival team. They weren’t just introducing films or doing the usual “going through the motions” they were sharing why they love them. What started out as 3 friends hanging out a local Seattle diner… it was so clear how much time, intention, and heart went into this festival through its 18 years of existence. You don’t get that everywhere.

Artists need artists. That really landed.

The only problem with NFFTY is that there’s too much good stuff. With so many screening blocks scheduled back-to-back, it’s hard to see everything, and the FOMO is so real. My advice? Be intentional. Choose a few you really want to make time for, and then let the rest flow.

LESSONS LEARNED

• People are generous and kind. If you say hi, they’ll say hi back. Everyone has a project they want to share and they want to hear about yours (especially in this context). I wish I’d known that when I was 18.

• Community matters. Your environment matters. Find the people who are doing this out of love.

• Bring a business card (or a brochure!). It helps. Honestly, it sounds tacky and dorky but I LOVED getting a business card. And it really reminded me to follow-up…

• You won’t see everything. Prioritize what matters to you (including sleep).

• Bring a water bottle.

• Follow up. Even if it’s awkward. It’s almost always worth it. And it’s never too late.

• Rest. You’re still an artist when you’re not “on.”

IS NFFTY WORTH IT?

Absolutely.

It’s easy to forget (especially in school, or in the trenches of a post-production hell) what all of this is for. NFFTY reminded me that people really care. About stories. About each other. About making things that mean something.

And being in a room full of that? That’s the stuff I’m after.

That’s all for today! I’ve got some new things coming soon (more on that later). For now, just feeling really grateful.

Skylar xx

Check out my portfolio & website here.

All photos taken by me!

Hi everybody!

To celebrate my graduation from NYU Tisch Film school, I wanted to share this short doc project I had to make during my Freshman year of college.

It’s actually quite an important project for me because my first year of college was disrupted by the pandemic. I was living out of my friend’s parent’s house in Connecticut where I stayed to finish out my first year of college online. It really makes me reflect on how far I’ve come to now but I think it still resonates with me as one of my most personal projects, that really speaks to who I am and what I believe in as a storyteller. Without any further ado, please enjoy!

And let me know in the comments, how did your parents decide your name?

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Love,

Skylar xx