We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Eshaana Sheth a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Eshaana, appreciate you joining us today. Can you talk to us about how you learned to do what you do?

It’s been a domino effect. I don’t have as much of a technical background education-wise as people may think. I’m one of those people who can extract a lot from a little like that sponge from three years ago that’s still sitting in your sink, because it just won’t quit. I think it’s something that was birthed from growing up a little bit of a fish-out-of-water and having a unique multicultural background in the context of most South Asian Americans in my generation; my observation skills and need to understand different kinds of people may have been a coping mechanism, which evolved into a passion, so no matter what I do, I’m just really dedicated to learning and challenging myself. It drives me…maybe a little mad sometimes.

I had an English teacher in elementary school who used to make us write an obscene amount of creative writing per quarter. I think that’s what generated my interest in language. In high school, I was always torn between sports, arts, and academia. Storytelling was sort of that circle in the center of the Venn diagram where they could all co-exist. In college, I tapped more into culture and studied anthropology, which allowed me to take varied film, theater, and music courses along with doing extracurricular performance. I took some acting classes in New York and pivoted from fiction writing to script-writing when I realized I was decent with dialogue. Then, I moved to LA and started pitching a play that I had written, which was produced at Columbia. I met a producer at a coffee shop on my lunch break from my day job who wanted to adapt it to a short, and that was my first venture with being on set. I began making more films and doing sketch comedy and getting more in front of camera. After being absent from the platform, I joined social media to promote a film of mine that I had written, directed, and co-produced that was traveling the festival circuit, called The Butter Knife. It put a face to my work, which is how I got introduced to midsize modeling—a new market for people in between straight and plus sizing.

Modeling is never something I ever thought I’d do, but it has really helped me become more comfortable in front of camera and has also taught me to honor other parts of myself aside from my brain and ego, as counter-intuitive as the latter seems. In short, you’re there as a vessel for the client or product; you’re forced to simplify and be unaware of yourself or how your body looks. The best way to learn is to just do it. It’s still quite hard for me to watch myself as an actress in post and select takes I like, but I try to look at it all objectively the way I do my stills as a model and that helps tremendously. It’s like you’re looking at a character and not yourself. I used to be so uncomfortable with self-promotion, for example, but understanding my work as a collection of everyone who has brought it to life (photographers, cinematographers, ADs, PAs etc.), made me more comfortable with exhibitionism and annoying people with my stuff.

One thing I wish I had done less of in my youth is worry about being good. It was stultifying and prevented me from properly trying things. Had I just been like, “whatever, you’re a kid, dare to suck,” I would have performed better. Now that I’ve experienced quite a lot in life compared to most my age, I realize how young I actually am. I now approach craft with more pragmatism and less judgement: like, let’s get this done. You’ve chosen this industry, you’re on the job, you’re in the situation…this is not the time to worry about whether you’re the best, because how is that helpful? I focus on just being passable. I am coping with overwhelming health issues that often feel like they’re too big for one person, so I don’t have the privilege of indulging in my own insecurities anymore. In this industry, if you’re able to make any money doing a craft, that’s so much of the battle. You can worry about being good when you’ve earned the clout and experience to do so.

It’s hard to learn as a creative in adulthood. It’s a time-suck and costly. Sometimes you have to be grassroots about it. Write at a coffee shop with some friends, create short content on the weekends…I’ve been in improv classes where we’ve splayed off and created our own little rehearsals at someone’s place. It doesn’t have to be the perfect circumstances. Just try to find people who get you and get your work to some degree.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your background and context?

My professional title is multi-hyphenate: I’m a represented model and independent writer, actor, and director. I’ve done all sorts of modeling—editorial, active wear, lingerie, beauty, commercial, lifestyle etc. Most of my film work is in the comedy-drama space. I specialize in celebrity impressions, which earned quite a bit of buzz at a certain point. I’ve had two award-winning short films on the festival circuit. I’ve also acted in several short and feature films, and have one currently in post, which marks my first time directing something I’m also acting in. Recently, I starred in a play at Edinburgh Fringe. As a writer, I mostly write scripts but also write a lot of satire for various outlets. I publish a series called “My Boyfriend Left Me,” which follows a uniform format of satirizing every type of imaginable bro in very culturally specific detail i.e. music/film bro, NFT bro, finance bro.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

Yes, this one is easy. I got diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer at 27, which is super rare to begin with. I got my chest amputated, reduced, and rebuilt, which felt like getting your molars removed before you even learned how to chew. It was unthinkable. Then I went through 6 rounds of chemo, 33 rounds of radiation, another surgery, ongoing blood draws, and physical therapy sessions for my arm and pelvic floor right after the country fell into lock-down before vaccines. I lost everything…my job, a grandparent (to breast cancer), my housing, a guy, some hair, lymph nodes, and most alarmingly my immunity, which put me at risk for dying from the pandemic while I was already trying to fight for my life. It was intense. I didn’t touch a human for four months and went to every appointment and procedure alone…then I emerged from the pandemic vaccinated and suddenly in my 30s.

I signed with new modeling agencies and met another guy, then lost him, lost my other grandparent to cancer, lost some friends, and experienced the normal shifting of relationships that people tend to experience at this age, watching my peers getting engaged and having babies and breastfeeding, knowing that some of that is either impossible or more difficult for me. Society rewards caretaking so much especially when it comes to mothering; it’s hard not to feel inadequate or stunted knowing that I’m more limited in “spoons” for others. I wish there was more public acknowledgment and praise surrounding mothering ourselves with regards to cancer patients.

I’ve been on this horrible journey with this new treatment and fell through the statistical cracks again, picking up an additional, different diagnosis as a potential result of the treatment, to which my doctor said, “you’re just supremely unlucky.” It’s all layered and messy. The way I describe it is imagine dealing with all the normal issues of adulthood that most experience around this age and then compound that with 1000 issues others don’t have to deal with. It’s all been rather Chekhovian.

I think being a poster-child for resilience doesn’t read the same way internally as it does externally. It’s a bit strange how non-reactive I’ve become from pure exhaustion of having my life thrown into upheaval repeatedly. It’s unclear how much of that is a product of the treatment or the numbing meds that help with the side effects of the treatment or the events that have occurred in my life in recent years or just my general personality and mental discipline. My doctors are unclear too.

But, I’ve gotten to watch two World Cups AD (“After Diagnosis”…not to be confused with “BC” aka ”Before Cancer”). That’s enough, for now.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative?

I don’t think this is something that’s limited to non-creatives (also who really is a non-creative anymore? ha) but I do wish people understood how much my cancer treatment and recovery affects my ability to create and live up to my intellectual and artistic potential, just practically speaking, and the energy I have to exert to combat that. I’m such a practiced social performer that I have trouble even showing the struggle in my oncology appointments.

When you face death, you get ideas about what you might want to do, and you want to be able to make an impact in the world before you may have to leave it. At the end of the day, I was never going to be a professional athlete like my mom or work for a think tank like I once considered. In my creative work, I felt like I finally found something that gave me purpose and could coalesce all my interests. It made me feel seen and respected. It’s nice to feel like you’re okay at something especially when so much of your health is out of your control. So, the fact that this industry should be this difficult and competitive when everything else in my life is already so challenging feels unnecessarily painful. On the other hand, cognitively speaking, pursuing other lines of work would be very difficult in my state, be it law or higher academia, for example. So, in a way, it almost feels like I found something that kind of works for me even with my health restraints, so to question whether I’ll ever truly “make it” feels a bit cruel. I wish it was my reward, but fighting cancer doesn’t bring you tangible gifts like a baby, a film role, or a graduation ceremony. And this is one of the few industries where putting in the work does not guarantee you a position. I hope the strikes help change that.

Cancer just takes and takes…it can make accomplishing what people consider essential human milestones like procreation or romantic partnership very challenging, if not impossible. It’s weird, I have hope and wants, but I don’t really dream anymore, and I try not to pine for things. I know that sounds lame, but neutrality helps cancer patients get out of bed in the morning. I get excited about small things: coffee, movies, a good workout, and the way I’ve put together my apartment—think pink marble lamps and thrifted antique-mirror style coffee tables. I wish everyone my age could share my excitement about such things and complain less. I’d feel less alone in my altered perspective.

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Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.eshaana.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/the_eshaana
• Other: https://www.tiktok.com/@the_eshaana https://medium.com/@eshaana.sheth

Image Credits
Greg Swartz, Amina Touray