Crafting Realities: My Journey in Filmmaking

Words have always transported me.

My mother, a full-time stay-at-home parent, was my first teacher. She had a gift for making stories feel alive. Every week during summer, she’d take my siblings, cousins, and me on what felt like pilgrimages to the Elmhurst Library in East Oakland. It was the highlight of my week, without question. But she didn’t stop there. She made handmade books bound with construction paper, yarn, glue, and whatever else we had around. She illustrated them herself, added photos of us, and wrote from our perspectives.

One of my earliest memories isn’t even my own. It belongs to my brother. My mother wrote a book about a cowboy-themed party she and my father threw for him before I was born. I used to ask her to read it aloud over and over. I could feel the scratch of a bandana around my neck, the weight of the cowboy hat on my head, the stiffness of the little boots. My mouth watered at the thought of the frosted cake covered in clowns and balloons. That borrowed memory became more vivid to me than many real ones.

Alt text: Open book with a string of lights.

It was my first experience of magic. The ability to step into someone else’s world so completely that your senses start to believe the illusion. Reading, for me, has always felt like dimensional travel, a sensory immersion. And it wasn’t long before I filled notebooks with stories that allowed me to reshape reality through description. I built textures and landscapes that felt as real as the chair I sat in.

Then school came along, and what had once been an escape and a passion became a series of requirements and rules. Decades passed. In that time, I had two children, built a corporate career, and often found myself daydreaming about all the other ways I’d rather spend my time than sitting behind a desk. So when my company offered a six-week sabbatical to pursue something personally fulfilling, I didn’t hesitate. I already knew what I wanted.

Those six weeks felt like stolen time. I wrote every day. And with the ability to truly slow down and quiet my mind for the first time in years, I realized the story was playing in my head like a film. I could see it scene by scene, feel it like I had as a child. It was visual, tactile, and cinematic. That’s when it hit me. I was meant to bring it to life on screen. I hadn’t considered filmmaking as a real path before. But from that moment, I dove in. I began reading screenplays while rewatching my favorite films. I joined local writing groups, studied story structure, and closely examined how scripts became moving images.

Science fiction, specifically alien abduction and invasion stories, has always been my obsession. I’ve watched everything from blockbusters to grainy found-footage indies. But few satisfied my craving for grounded, unsettling sci-fi that felt too real.

M. Night Shyamalan's Signs is among my favorites, alongside classics like Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Fire in the Sky, and Dark Skies, being a more recent appreciation. I was fascinated to learn that Poltergeist began as an alien abduction concept before shifting direction, a missed opportunity, in my humble opinion.

With that, I set out to write the perfect alien film, the one I had always searched for. I started, but the script stalled and to this day sits unfinished. Since then, I have completed many other screenplays in different genres. Still, that first story is the one I intend to finish this year. Meanwhile, I am producing my first short film through my company, Zabi Creative Studio. This one is a drama. No aliens, yet.

Alt. text: Street signs with black letters on an orange backdrop.

Most of my stories are dramedies centered on Black women in unexpected situations. I often incorporate surreal or speculative elements into grounded narratives. That mix has become my signature. It keeps the stories fresh, unpredictable, and fun.

While we have seen powerful examples of Black creativity in recent years, many filmmakers started by creating their own opportunities. They often work with limited resources and rely on creative communities rather than industry access, which is still the reality for most of us. I aim to empower Black storytellers to bring their stories to screens big and small. Because that's what we need right now. We need new voices. Breaking down barriers is in our blood because the rulebooks will continually change for us. But by putting in the work, we can carve out new (and improved) paths for those that follow.

Are you still looking for a sign to start your journey? This is it.

---

Krystle Smith is a writer and aspiring filmmaker who creates genre-blending stories centered on the Black experience. Her work fuses sci-fi, horror, and surrealism to explore the depth and diversity within the diaspora. She is passionate about reimagining familiar narratives in ways that entertain, challenge, and expand what feels possible.