We recently connected with Stephen Chen and have shared our conversation below.

Alright, Stephen thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. Can you talk to us about how you learned to do what you do?

I’m someone who learns quickest by doing, so in short, I learned to write by writing. A lot. I went through the UCLA Professional Program for TV Writing, which was a great introduction to crafting specs and pilots, but it felt like riding a bike with the training wheels on. It wasn’t until after I finished the program, after the training wheels came off, after falling and scraping my knees a bunch, that I became confident writing TV scripts.

Perhaps the more nebulous lesson was learning how to write as a process, not just a skill. In the infancy of my screenwriting journey, I attended dozens of discussion panels, fervently jotting down every piece of writing advice like it was going to uncover the key to my success. It took a lot of trial and error to realize that much of that advice was not particularly useful for me, and a great deal of patience to realize that that was okay. There is no right way to write, and every writer must experiment to find what works for them. For me, I write best at my desk, at night, when the air is cool and the city is quiet. I set weekly goals and adjust them as my schedule necessitates. Some days I write, some days I think and marinate on an idea, some days I read. Writing is an incredibly personal process, and it’s important to strike that delicate balance between maintaining productivity and fostering creativity.

I formed several writers’ groups with friends that meet on a regular basis, which help me stay motivated and consistent and allow me to practice giving and receiving notes. I also became a script reader for several screenwriting contests, which taught me how to give notes that were thoughtful, constructive, and respectful to the writer. As a screenwriter myself, I know how terrible it feels to pay for notes, only to receive feedback that feels haphazard or lazy, like the person didn’t read the script or didn’t care. The goal with notes is always to help the writer create the best script they want to create.

One thing I wish I started earlier was reading more scripts. The way I learned screenwriting in school was like taking driver’s ed – it’s technically the correct, legal way of doing things, but in the real world, everyone breaks the rules, and in Los Angeles, people regularly U-turn across two sets of double-yellows just to save two minutes in traffic. Reading a lot of scripts showed me what was possible (and acceptable) beyond “and then this happens,” and I learned how different rhythms served different stories. Though my scripts are all written in my voice, my horror scripts often look different than my comedy scripts simply because it’s what the story necessitates.

Stephen, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?

I’m a TV writer who writes silly yet heartfelt comedies that explore themes of identity and self-acceptance, and how forging meaningful human connections can be a painful but ultimately worthwhile endeavor. I’ve dabbled in all forms of comedy, from standup to improv to sketch, but I always found myself returning to television for its capacity to explore characters with depth and nuance. I foray into horror every now and then, because while comedy is my bread and butter, I enjoy making people scream as much as laugh.

I haven’t always pursued screenwriting. Growing up a first-generation Asian American with no connections to the entertainment industry, this career path long felt closed to me. My parents are from Taiwan, and as chemical engineers with English as their second language, they never felt fully comfortable helping me with my (English) reading or writing skills (Mandarin is a different story). Instead, they placed all their energy into getting me good and ready for a career in math and science, and I became very comfortable being good at those things, even if I had little passion for them. Fast-forward to my twenties, and I was working at a civil engineering consulting firm with a degree from Cornell, designing transportation infrastructure, having a quarter-life crisis. There was comfort in the structure and stability of an engineering career, and while the work was rewarding and even creative in certain ways, engineering never felt like a profession that would ever allow me to truly express myself. I considered jumping ship to another firm to reinvigorate my professional life, but then I wondered if I should rethink my entire trajectory, if I should choose courage over comfort.

I decided to dip my toes into the screenwriting waters by enrolling in the UCLA Professional Program for TV Writing. In stark contrast to engineering, people suddenly wanted to hear about what made me unique, encouraging me to explore my strangest ideas and unearth my most personal stories. I immediately fell in love with the craft and its collaborative nature, where a writers’ room can create a script that’s greater than the sum of its parts. Writers’ rooms have a unique creative energy, and I usually come up with my best material while bouncing ideas off other writers or riffing with friends. TV writing also requires methodical planning and meticulous outlining, which appeal to my analytical side, and my engineering brain often approaches problems with my scripts like equations to be solved.

Though I’ve pivoted careers, I’m still thankful for my time as a civil engineer. There’s all the usual stuff you see in resumes about multitasking and keeping up in a fast-paced office environment, but what I valued most was learning how to work with different personalities. Being a part of big project teams helped me appreciate the importance of open collaboration and diversity of thought, and it’s the main reason I chose to write for TV over film.

What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?

“Write what you know” is a popular piece of a writing advice, and for a while, I thought that meant write about my life. Now that would’ve been fine if I was David Simon and I worked as a police reporter for The Baltimore Sun for over a decade and I created The Wire. But I am not David Simon (most of us aren’t) and I don’t have stories like that (most of us don’t). Despite civil engineering being such a significant portion of my life, I had the hardest time making it funny. This difficulty resulted in some of my early scripts being boring at best and confusing at worst, and I quickly learned that something isn’t interesting just because it happened to me.

I’ve recontextualized “write what you know.” Instead of digging into my past for events, I dig for emotions. Instead of searching for stories with an unbelievable plot, I search for ones with emotional resonance. It wasn’t civil engineering that was compelling to me, but the feelings I had during that time around monotony, bureaucracy, and unfulfillment. I channeled those feelings into a new script but changed the setting from an engineering office to a Bond-esque supervillain’s regional headquarters. I honed in on the truth of the story I wanted to tell – what it feels like to do something you don’t particularly enjoy simply because it pays well – and took that to the extreme, which resulted in a funnier script with a wider premise.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

To be a creative is to be vulnerable. Every time I pitch one of my ideas, every time I share one of my scripts, even with this interview, I’m baring a piece of myself to the world with no idea how it’s going to be received. There is great courage in that – to constantly put yourself out there and let yourself be judged. It takes an incredible amount of mental and emotional resilience. But there is also a rare freedom in fearless self-expression.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://writers.coverfly.com/profile/stephenchen
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/stephenbchen
• Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/stephenbchen
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@thechuckleboyz

Image Credits
Sanjay Gupta (headshot)