We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Gillian Rabin. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Gillian below.

Gillian, appreciate you joining us today. Can you talk to us about a project that’s meant a lot to you?

The most meaningful project that I’ve worked on so far has been the project that I’m currently working on. It’s a short film called “L-8” and it’s the first time that I’m producing and directing a film. I have always known that I wanted to not only act, but write, produce, and direct. This is the first time that I put aside my fears of failure, what others would think, how it would be perceived, etc. and I just went for it. The topic is not for the faint of heart, but that’s exactly why I know it MUST be made. It’s a not-so-dystopian look at the trajectory of our feminine freedoms. “L-8” captures the internal struggles of one girl’s journey as the rest of the world blabbers on about our girl’s choices– or lack thereof.

The concept of this film came to me when I was driving from Orlando to Atlanta last summer, a few weeks after Roe v Wade was overturned. I was on the Florida Turnpike and I was getting closer and closer to the state line. The turnpike was flooded with billboards all staunchly displaying the same stance on reproductive rights. The messaging was forthright, it was demonizing the “other,” and it was incessant. I must have seen 20 billboards in 10 miles, one every 30 seconds. And as I approached the line where I wave goodbye to the cartoon Sun, the alligators, and the offers for cheap Disney tickets and say hello to the peaches, this intrusive thought came to me. What if I couldn’t leave the state without a pregnancy test? What if there was some kind of state-regulated check point for interstate travel where a woman would take a pregnancy test and if she were pregnant, she better be pregnant when she returned to the state. That insidious idea stuck and for the remaining four hours of my drive home, it’s all I thought about. I created a storyline, characters, and yes, absolutely talked aloud to myself in the car. I called a friend and told him all about the storyline. He said exactly what I needed to hear: “You need to do this.” And the moment I got back home, I started writing this story. I knew it was a feature-length film, but I wanted to not only write a powerful script, I wanted to be able to make it, to show people the story, to produce this message and disperse it, to start a conversation. So, I wrote it as a short… For now. I finished the script in October of 2022 and started putting a team together. We have a production team that is 90% female and I could not be more proud of the work that we’ve accomplished with limited resources and a whole ton of passion. We went through about four months of pre-production and we’re finally ready to tell this story.

I know that it’s a very taboo topic and incredibly politically-charged, but our own social censorship of meaningful conversations (and sure, sometimes debates-turned-arguments) shows me and all of the other young women in this world that we are not worth a legitimate discussion. And a constructive conversation is truly all I want. This film does not demonize one side; in fact, it presents both sides of the argument. I believe demonization of the other in a debate is not conducive to ever invoking empathy, understanding, and, ultimately, change. What this film does do, however, is highlight the trajectory of limitations, infringements on rights, and a severe overstepping of state intervention when it comes to female freedoms and reproductive rights.

As I’m typing this, we have completed our first two days of filming and are gearing up for our “phase two”. This is my first time directing and producing, but I was not nervous going into the first day. It was really strange because I’ll get nervous going to set to act, which is something I’ve done since I was four years old. But, coming to a set where my team and I put this all together to tell a story that came to me during a road trip… I had zero fear. I was truly only excited. And the outcome of the first two days were better than I could have ever imagined, so I tried not to imagine it. I took from directors I’ve worked with whom I deeply admire and I acted like the director I’ve always dreamt of having. The professionalism and positivity on set was remarkable. We set up first shot and the moment I called “action,” I just felt deep in my soul that this was it. This was where I am supposed to be. This story, this set, this cast & crew. It all just felt right. I truly can’t wait for everyone to see this.

Gillian, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I guess the first thing I should say about me is that I really don’t enjoy talking about myself. I am much more interested in other people and their stories. So, I’ll keep this brief. I’ve been performing since I could walk and I’d sing myself to sleep in my crib (or so my mom claims). I’ve always been drawn to the stage and I used to sing in restaurants whether they had a stage or not. My first paycheck was technically a slice of chocolate cake expertly negotiated by my older brother. My parents signed my brother and I up for community theater, so I started performing in musicals when I was 4. That children’s theater became my second home and that’s where I made so many lifelong friends. I enrolled in a theatrical summer camp, so I was just doing shows around the clock. It was my absolute favorite thing. I also played travel soccer, so I’d be very sweaty from games and head straight into rehearsals. It felt like I was living my High School Musical dream when I was a preteen. In high school, I stopped playing soccer so I could focus on theater and that’s where I really felt like I found my artistic voice in many ways. My senior year, I was the drama club president and decided to do a student-directed production of “The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee,” one of my favorite musicals of all time and one that is perfect for high school performers. I went full force ahead, much to the dismay of the drama teacher. It was the first time that I really experienced the “political” side of theater and I was baffled that I received zero help or support from the teaching staff. But, it honestly made the student cast even stronger and we managed to pull off a phenomenal production. It was also one of the first times that I had a hand in nearly every facet of production: casting, fundraising, set construction, props, advertising, leading rehearsals, choreography, musical direction, pleading my brother to create a usable soundtrack for our show with some fancy computer software, costumes– quite literally everything involved. I had the help and determination of an eager cast and it was one of my all-time favorite productions ever. It was truly a showcase of what creative people can do, regardless of whether they have the support of their peers or not, and it showed me that I had the power to make things happen. I could create stories and rally people to make something absolutely beautiful. I took that drive to Atlanta where I attended Oglethorpe University on the Shakespeare scholarship. I had never really done Shakespeare, but I went in with somewhat of a blind confidence and wound up receiving the scholarship. Someone I admire in the film/tv/creativity world recently told me that he admired my “hubristic hustle,” and I’ve never heard a phrase that more accurately describes me. At the risk of sounding super cliche, we truly only have one life. We only have a certain number of days, a certain number of hours, minutes, seconds, thoughts, actions, etc. Why should I waste any of my finite time being scared of rejection? I do have some confidence issues (things I’m still working on) and sometimes they do get the better of me, but at the end of each day, I know what I have to do to overcome them. My motto? “The worst thing they can say is no.” That’s what led me to get my first agent, too. I was a sophomore at Oglethorpe and I had ZERO film or tv experience. It was all theatre, all the time. I knew that I wanted to get into that world, especially being in Atlanta where the tax credit was just starting to show what it could do. I knew that the Catch-22 of getting an agent was this: you need credible experience to get an agent, but it’s hard to get credible experience without an agent. So, I googled “atlanta talent agency internships,” thinking I could maybe meet the agents first and somehow tactfully drop a hint about my being an actor looking for representation– how could it fail? The only internship I found was with PeopleStore’s accounting office as an accounting intern. I figured, hey I like math, and I applied. I got a call from the office manager at the time and she was very confused. “Did you mean to apply for this internship? It’s an accounting internship and you’re not an accounting major.” Great point. I simply replied, “Yeah, but I like math.” Stellar counter argument. The office manager suggested I might be a better fit for their front desk internship and I could come in and interview for that. I agreed, putting my days of accounting behind me, and went in for an interview. I got the job and started working there for the summer. But, not a soul knew that I was an actor. I wanted to get to know everyone first and I truly became great friends with everyone in the office. It was a dream job! I learned so much about the film/tv industry. My internship was nearing its end and I still hadn’t told anyone about my acting dream. Fate played its role and the head of commercial at the time went to see a play one weekend and wound up sitting next to my roommate at the time. The two of them struck up conversation and somehow realized they both knew me. My roommate told the head of commercial that I was going to be in an Alliance Theatre production in the fall. So, come Monday morning, the head of commercial walks up to me and asks me “are you an actor?” Shoot. I’ve been caught. “Um, yes. Yes I am.” The head of commercial asked why I never said anything before and that I should audition for the agency. I agreed and a few weeks later, I was represented by one of the largest southeast agencies. From then on, it’s been very much the same story as others in this industry: I take classes, I hone my craft, I audition, I get rejected a lot, but I also book sometimes. There are crazy opportunities, wild disappointments, crossing paths with extraordinary people, and getting to do what I love most: telling stories. So, I guess that’s what I do best. I tell stories, I listen to others’ stories, and I know that my life’s purpose is to help connect communities, encourage discussions and empathetic action, and try to solve some conflicts through stories that engage, unite, and overcome.

I also am a NASM-certified Personal Trainer and I do love writing workout guides and helping others find an exercise routine that not only fits their schedule, but makes them find the joy in movement. As someone who struggled with body dysmorphia, exercise bulimia, and orthorexia, I know how difficult it can be to trust and love your body. I hope that my guide helps you find the joy in exercise and the love for all of the incredible things your body can do. I sell my 12 Weeks to Joyful Movement guide, which has 92 workouts, for just $25 on my website: gillianrabin.com

For all of the projects I’ve been blessed to be a part of, the three things that I am the most proud of and the things that fill up my cup the most are:

1. “Spelling Bee”: see above for why.

2. “To Be Determined”: a play I wrote about eating disorders for my undergraduate thesis. I set out to prove that “artivism” was a viable and powerful way to start a movement, to encourage empathy, and to lead to tangible change. I wove an intricate story by utilizing my own personal experiences and the experiences of my consenting interviewees. I wanted eating disorders to be looked at in a new light, a destigmatized light, and ensured that my play addressed the common beliefs held that I learned from conducting focus groups. We performed the play and I had the audience complete pre-and-post-show surveys. The survey asked audience members to rate the validity of statements made regarding eating disorders. It was incredibly powerful to see the quantitative data that showed an increase in audience empathy, a change of mindset towards a very taboo topic, and the post-show discussion that happened where many people voluntarily opened up about their experiences. That’s what I love about theatre, film, and tv. That right there. It’s a collective discussion, a collective experience. So, to experience that in person about something that I wrote? Priceless.

3. “L-8”: I’m currently filming a project called “L-8,” my first short film. It’s a film that I wrote about reproductive rights and female freedoms. There’s a dystopian element to it, but the unfortunate truth is that all of the events in the film are not outside of the realm of possibility– so much so that everyone who reads it is unable to discern what’s actually happened vs. what is fictional… for now. I wanted to try and achieve a similar empathetic understanding with this film. I do not demonize in any of my projects. I think that demonizing one point of view means that you lose the ability to grow from conflict and, more importantly, lose the ability to have a meaningful conflict. We can throw pejoratives and disgusted dialogue at dissenting viewpoints all day long, but that never helps progress and it never will. We’ll all die on this hill if we can’t figure out a way to walk down the hill together. So, I try very hard to represent both arguments in a way that demonizes no one and opens up the road for empathetic discussion. I know this is a very, very sensitive topic for nearly everyone and so our initial instinct is to whisper about it, to be afraid to bring it up in a crowded space, or to be told that it’s not appropriate for the dinner table. But, shaming the topic just makes it all the harder to have a meaningful discussion and encourage empathy. Shaming people for the opinions they have makes them defensive and you can’t debate someone who’s defensive– they’re too worried about their pride to consider your argument. Everyone must come from a place of openness and understanding if we’re ever going to find commonalities and progress forward. We’ve finished phase one of filming and this is the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. I truly cannot wait for the message to get out and to pave a way for open dialogue and (fingers crossed) progression.

We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.

For the short film that I’m currently working on, it’s been a journey so far. But, like a Super Smash Bros journey. I mean, we’re hopping over trash cans, we’re dodging banana peels, sometimes we have ink thrown in our face. Obstacles that we’ve prepared for somehow show up in new and challenging ways. I finished writing the short in October 2022 and I knew I wanted to make this story, I knew that I had to. So, I started talking to friends about it and soon enough I had myself a little production team. Now, not everyone who started in the production team is still on the production team. There wasn’t any Trump-esque firing, but I have given my team the option to leave should they ever feel overwhelmed. That door is always open, but the sooner someone takes it, if they’re planning on taking it, the better. That might seem weird, but at the end of the day, I only want people working on this project who truly want to and can dedicate time and effort. If someone is overwhelmed in their personal or professional life, I don’t want to add another source of stress. Since everyone on my production team is my friend first, I want to put their wellbeing over the project. All I expect is honest communication and a genuine effort to getting things done. So, after some reconfiguration, we had our production team. What we didn’t have was funding. So, we started some fundraising efforts. I made a website, venmo & cashapp accounts, and we started to post about it. We thought about going the kickstarter route, but ultimately decided that we didn’t have nearly enough material that would entice people to donate. All we had was the idea, but we hadn’t started filming or anything yet. So, we decided on going a different route. One of the wonderful women on my production team, Jessenia, and I had the brilliant idea to just approach people in public and talk to them about the film. We’d maybe do some fun tiktoks to increase social engagement and raise money at the same time. We chose a very busy afternoon on the Atlanta beltline and went for it. We, of course, had some liquid courage first, and then we started approaching folks. I don’t know if you’ve ever interrupted folks during peak brunch hours to tell them about a short film that hasn’t started production yet and ask them to donate for a good cause that they may or may not be politically motivated to participate in, but as you can imagine… it did not go over well! It’s one thing to be rejected for casting, but it’s another type of pain to be rejected in person by strangers who won’t hear you out. We’d try to determine, based on nothing but sheer intuition, who would be for our film and who would spit in our faces. We were not always right! In fact, we were often very, very wrong. So, we reached our max “get away from me” capacity for the day and decided that this guerrilla tactic was not the best. We had made $15 for the day and with the cost of the two “courage” bevies, we were only down $5. But, for all that, we did learn that most people want to see some material before donating to a random short film they don’t know about. Valid. So, we decided that we should push forward with making the film and tackle fundraising after we can put together a trailer, some BTS photos, and have a more hearty compilation of materials beyond our “perfectly executed” in-person pitch. So, now we’re all in on making the film and I’m fronting the cost. I know there’s a rule about never using your own money to make your art, but if there’s a time crunch, then sometimes you just gotta go for it. I created an LLC for my film, and knowing diddly squat about business, I did a lot of research. I almost spent $900 on a service that I didn’t need, I had to refile my LLC because I had to use another address that wasn’t my home address, and I had the worst time getting a business bank account in order. Tip: never use those online banks. They suck. They are bad. They are poop. I spent over 15 hours researching the best online banks with zero fees, tax help, etc. I signed up for one and then found out that I couldn’t fund the account in time to pay my cast, crew, and locations. So, in one afternoon, I went to a regular bank and was able to get it all done. Lesson learned there.

Other banana peels include cast & crew dropping out last minute; faulty investors promising to fund my film and then ghosting me; smashing my thumb in my car door right after we wrap; convincing extras to come and stand around for copy & credit in the cold, rain, and heat of Georgia; working around a myriad of very conflicting schedules; getting props delivered in time and securing specific props like a white Jeep and a customized license plate; securing locations with bathrooms and indoor access; securing locations at all and having to go through a super cute “will they, won’t they,” being told yes, then no, then utter silence, then yes okay fine. Then, there are permits and rewrites that had to happen in the script to circumvent the need for permits. There were discussions with city council members, letters of intent, purchasing the right production insurance that met the qualifications for the specific locations, calling fire departments for bathroom access, and so much more. Then, there’s the comedy of errors that happens when your production is about a particularly taboo topic. So, imagine the fun of public reaction when you’re printing out or hand-making signs that propagate sentiments that are the antithesis of what you believe. Two quick blips in our journey: Jessenia and I needed to make protest signs for one of the scenes in the film. All these signs are staunchly in one camp and are not shy at making their points known. So, here we are, camped out in a crowded coffee shop near the theater where Jessenia has a performance that afternoon and we quickly realized that we really zoinked ourselves again. People can very clearly see what we’re writing on these giant poster boards in big block letters. We are laughing to ourselves to try and minimize the embarrassment creeping in from the confused stares of our fellow coffee shop comrades. I’m in the middle of one particularly poignant poster and I’m writing the word “FETUS” in HUGE block letters. I’ve got “FETU” on my poster when a little girl and her dad walk into the room. Jessenia and I immediately snatch up the posters and hide our work from the innocent eyes of that little girl who should never have to fight for her rights. She’s enthralled that we’re “drawing” and we offer her a big, neon pink poster board and a marker to distract her from the work we’re doing. The second quick story is when I had to print out a governor’s sign at an office max. Again, it is a sign that very clearly states one side of the argument and is not shy about its language. So, this poster is face up because the worker insists that the ink has to dry before he can roll it up. While I’m waiting for this sign to dry and trying to distance myself from the message on it, I hear my name called. I turn around and find my boss walking right towards me. Phenomenal.

All in all, there have been a myriad of obstacles that we’ve faced so far but none that have even come close to making us quit. This project is the best thing I’ve ever done and the most challenging thing I’ve ever done. It’s been the most interactive learning process I’ve ever been a part of and I mess up all of the time. I’m now getting to explore new career additions to acting like writing, producing, and directing. It’s a monumental undertaking and the happiest, most fulfilled I’ve ever been.

For you, what’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative?

It’s all about empathy. The most rewarding thing is knowing that with your art (fictional or not), you were able to express some kind of universal truth that makes people question their current beliefs, encourages dialogue, and hopefully unites more people than it separates. It’s the empathetic activism that I love most about art and that, to me, is success. We’re all storytellers at heart and we seek some kind of meaning out of everything we consume. That type of thinking is instilled in us from grade school where we read a paragraph and have to intuit the “author’s purpose”. But, I don’t really care what the author’s purpose is. Context is great, but at the end of the day, an audience connects to the material not because of the author’s purpose but because of the audience’s capacity for empathy. We’re drawn to stories that relate to our own story. We find parallels, we consider the “what ifs,” we question differences, we automatically try to relate ourselves to any story we hear or watch. I don’t really care if someone “likes” my art, I care if they felt something and are willing to talk about it. What makes storytelling so incredibly magical is not just the author’s purpose, but the audience’s reception. So, when audiences receive my art in a way that encourages tangible, progressive change in society, or at the very least, opens up a respectful dialogue sans animosity, that’s what’s most rewarding.

Contact Info:

• Website: gillianrabin.com
• Instagram: @gillianrabin
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/gillian-rabin/
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@gillianrabin
• Other: https://l8theofficialshort.com/

Image Credits
Emily Lambert Ashlyn Stallings Josh Hudson JC Olivera Greg Mooney