Today on the blog, we are lucky to have Morgan Elizabeth Bowman writing about her experience in the film industry. Morgan is a producer, actor, and film educator on Indie Empire.
“I found it helpful when, during the networking live, Morgan talked about how not every networking event has people you want to stay connected with and how to politely retreat from a negative person.”
This was some of the feedback from a networking class I taught online. When I first started teaching networking classes on Indie Empire, I was nervous because networking in the film industry looks completely different than in other fields. Some people work in the indie world, others on big movies with A-listers, and many do both. This creates a vast mix of personalities and dynamics. But one truth remains: if you don’t have healthy boundaries, you risk falling into the same unhealthy cycle I’ve watched so many people get stuck in—including myself.
When I started as a production assistant, I was always told to be likable, easy to work with, teachable, and grateful for every opportunity. This is especially drilled into your head as a woman in an extremely male-dominated field.
While these qualities are important, they can also be exploited.
In my first few years, I worked on anything I could. I accepted unpaid or barely paid jobs just to gain experience. I endured verbal abuse, exploitation, harassment, and the fear of speaking up because I thought doing so meant I had failed at being likable. I avoided conflict at all costs. The industry thrives on hustle culture, demanding that we sacrifice everything for the sake of the art.
I saw people drink, take pills, snort lines of illegal substances—sometimes all three—just to stay awake and meet deadlines. I witnessed heart attacks on major sets from grueling 14 to 16-hour workdays, with those same individuals returning to set as soon as they were released from the hospital. I watched colleagues go without sleep for days, relationships crumble, marriages fall apart, health deteriorates, and depression consumes lives.
We’re filmmakers. It’s what we do. It’s what’s expected.
Anything for the art, right?
Friends warned me that this lifestyle was unsustainable. I ignored them because I didn’t know any other way. I had become numb to the exhaustion, constantly running on autopilot, waiting for the next call sheet, waking up just to do it all over again.
I missed funerals, birthdays, holidays, and sacrificed my mental health for the sake of storytelling. And why wouldn’t I? I had the “coolest job in the world.” Millions of people saw the projects I worked on. Wasn’t that enough?
I was telling other people’s stories at the expense of my own well-being, simply because I felt lucky to be there.
Spoiler alert: My friends were right. It wasn’t sustainable.
In 2022, I realized I had lost all passion for my craft. I took a six-month sabbatical, left the industry, enrolled in acting classes, and worked at a coffee shop just to give myself a break.
During that time, I did a lot of soul-searching. My grandmother, who I was very close to, had passed away the year before, and because of my job, I had lost precious time with her. My mother-in-law was diagnosed with brain cancer four months later. These wake-up calls forced me to slow down and recognize that I had lost sight of why I had joined the industry in the first place.
I wanted to tell stories that mattered and create positive change, not work for people who crushed my soul on projects I didn’t care about. I wanted to make movies that generated an empathy domino effect throughout the world. This was my WHY for going into this terrifying, unpredictable industry in the first place. And this wasn’t it.
Not every experience was bad. I worked on incredible projects with people I still consider family. But my problem wasn’t the industry itself—it was my lack of boundaries.
I had spent years prioritizing being liked over my own well-being. I obsessed over people who didn’t like me, replaying interactions and losing sleep over them. I lacked the ability to advocate for myself while still progressing in my career.
The change didn’t happen overnight. It was painful and slow, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything because now I work for my WHY. Through it, I learned some crucial lessons:
- Just because someone is in the industry doesn’t mean you need to work with them. I spent too much energy keeping toxic people in my life simply because they were in the film industry. Many of them treated others horribly, and by tolerating it, I enabled the behavior. The universe had tried to protect me many times, but I refused to listen. I learned that my job isn’t to be universally liked; it’s to do my best, act ethically, and stay aligned with my values. The right people will find me.
- When you remove toxicity, you make room for healthy relationships. I wasted so much energy crying over toxic people. When I finally let them go, my creative and personal life flourished. I was introduced to incredible people, opportunities, and projects that truly resonated with me. Learning to say no is a game-changer. It attracts the right people and filters out the wrong ones.
- Negativity is contagious, but I don’t have to participate. Gossip flows easily at networking events, premieres, and on set, especially when alcohol is involved. I used to feel trapped in these conversations, but I’ve learned that I can politely excuse myself, change the subject, or walk away. I get to set the tone for what I allow into my creative world, and I’ve become more intentional about the projects and people I choose to engage with. Holding myself accountable is a painful process at times, but necessary for me to continue growing as a human being.
Now that I have implemented these changes, every area of my life has reaped the rewards in some manner. I have embraced what quiet means and have seen glimpses of peace more and more by taking part in practices that maintain it. I have learned that people won’t always change, but I have the power to decide who I allow in my inner circle. That power is sacred, and no one can take it away from me.
In January 2024, I took a hard look at my professional life and asked myself, “If I died tomorrow, what would I be upset that I didn’t do?” The answer was clear: Create.
After years of working on other people’s projects, I finally had the confidence, ability, and boundaries to prioritize the stories and people I cared about. I had the expertise to make bold choices and the audacity to believe in myself. I started a production company with my colleague, created my own schedule, and prioritized working with people who inspired me. That led me to New 32, Indie Empire, and a local theater collective in my city. These people were different. They were vibrant, talented, and most of all, kind. I had finally begun to create the life I always dreamed of.
And the entire reason I was able to do that was because I took the time to be still, analyze my life, and create healthy boundaries. The quiet was deafening at times, but the music that came from it was absolutely beautiful.
Conclusion
Setting healthy boundaries in the film industry isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. The culture often glorifies burnout and self-sacrifice, but true success comes from sustainability, self-respect, and alignment with your values. By embracing boundaries, you create space for meaningful work, fulfilling relationships, and a career that doesn’t come at the cost of your well-being.
The industry will always be demanding, but you don’t have to lose yourself in 15 hour days. Choose projects that excite you, surround yourself with people who uplift you, and remember that your voice matters. Find your WHY—and hold onto it as firmly as you can. A healthier, more balanced career is possible—and it starts with the boundaries, habits, and self-awareness you choose to implement today.
Do you want more of Morgan’s words of wisdom, as well as a chance to create the supportive indie film community of your dreams? Come join us on Indie Empire, our new film community and education platform, where we offer live and pre-recorded classes and the chance to connect with like minded creatives who want to build a kinder, more sustainable film industry.
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