Author and Marvel Screenwriter Katharyn Blair on Her Journey From Rejection to the Screen

Posted on: Sep 19, 2024

Photo Credit: OANA FOTO

By Tahlia Norrish

Katharyn Blair’s journey to “published author” and “Marvel screenwriter” wasn’t one of perpetual sunshine and rainbows. It is, however, an inspiring example of the Japanese proverb “Fall down seven times, stand up eight” in action. 

Blair may now be best known as the executive story editor and writer on season 2 of Disney+’s Loki, author of 2019’s The Beckoning Shadow, 2021’s Unchosen and this year’s The Hushed, but Blair’s path wound through working stints as a parks and recreation department intern and gymnastics coach, years at school attaining a MA and MFA, plus a marriage and four pregnancies. 

Here we speak to Blair about “Rejection” folders, balancing motherhood, Hollywood and much more. 

Two of your superpowers seem to be your resilience and persistence. How have you thought about navigating setbacks and rejection productively? 

When I was first starting this journey, I was surrounded by everyone else’s good news, and I think it’s so easy to only focus on the wins because that’s all people tend to broadcast. I fell into this familiar trap of thinking that if I was good enough, I wouldn’t fail. If I was good enough—if I was meant to do this—I would be picked from the crowd, escorted to the front of the line and given the six-figure deal, the overall at a major studio, the greenlit pilot. The mistake I made in the beginning was thinking that hearing “no” meant I had taken a step in the wrong direction. That a rejection meant I did something wrong or I wasn’t cut out for this world. 

The higher I climb, the more I realize that’s absolutely not true. People told me that in the beginning, but, again, I thought I was special, and that wouldn’t happen to me if I was “good enough.” Now I get it: the best people in the world get rejected. The coolest ideas get a pass. I finally realized—way later than I should have—that rejection isn’t a step off the right path, it’s part of this path. You can’t move around rejection, you have to learn to move through it. It’s like turbulence: you know it’s natural, you know you’re not going to crash, but it still makes you want to pee your pants a little. The only way to avoid turbulence is to not fly, so you have to find a way to live with it. 

If you want to be a writer professionally, know that talent will only matter as much as you’re willing to get floored. Learn to wipe blood off your mouth and rally again. Practically speaking, I have an email folder called “Rejections” where I keep my most brutal fails. There are two reasons for this—I don’t want to see the email every time I open my inbox, but I also don’t want to forget what I just survived. Moving the email to a “Rejections” folder helps me tell myself to move on. And maybe I’m a masochist, but when I’m feeling really defeated, I open it up and flip through it. It fuels me in some sick way. I thought my career was done with every one of those emails. It wasn’t. 

Aside from your “Rejections” folder, what kept you going during the lowest of lows? 

While being a writer is a massive part of who I am, it is not all I am, and I think that’s important. When your worth and identity are totally wrapped up in your career, every rejection feels like a judgment on your value, and I don’t think that’s healthy. 

My faith keeps me going, first and foremost. I don’t believe I am what I do. I deeply believe I was created to do this, and my career is not something I’m achieving, but a gift I get to navigate. When something doesn’t go my way, I know it’s ultimately for the best—but that doesn’t mean that rejections don’t still suck ass. I have my bad mental days. When those happen, my husband and kids keep me going. My husband is my rock [who] I can lean against with no judgment, and my kids keep me finding the joy in everything. It’s hard to spiral when you’re blowing up a pool inflatable or racing on bikes. 

You champion reading and watching everything for those who intend to work as both authors and screenwriters. Are there any primary sources of inspiration for you? 

So many. I have a list I keep on my desk of moments in story that feed my soul. When I feel like I have nothing left, I’ll go back to story. It feels like a safe place I can sit and curl up. Not to hide away from the world—I hate when people make it seem like drawing on story is a weakness—but to recharge and refocus. 

I first saw Gladiator when I was 11. The ending still lights me up in a way I’ve been chasing since I watched it on the floor of my childhood living room. It’s my go-to for story feels. That and The Last of the Mohicans. In recent years: The Walking Dead, WandaVision, Wednesday, Trollhunters, Barry, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse—a perfect film. 

When we were filming Loki in London, I would come home and after the kids were in bed, my husband and I would watch Stranger Things [season] 4. It was absolutely incredible and kept my story tank full when I really needed it. 

Some first-class recommendations! You’ve mentioned your creative process isn’t Stephen King-esque, but do you have any strategies that help you find your flow? 

I think that will always be a struggle for me. When I get into the flow of a great scene, the last thing I want to do is stop. My natural inclination is always to hunker down and work until something is done, writing through the night and running on energy drinks and coffee. But that isn’t the thing to do if you want to make this a lifelong career—especially if you have a family. 

Now the best thing for me to do is map out a scene list and a goal. If I can see an end date—the date all my hard work will pay off—it’s easier to stick to it. And although I don’t follow all [of] Stephen King’s rules, there’s one I resonate with: don’t be away from a project for too long. The longer the gaps between the writing, the longer it will take to get back into the flow. 

On strategies, how in the world have you managed to be a wife, mother to four kids, and carve out a successful creative career? 

Well, first—I have an incredibly supportive family. My husband is a clinical psychologist and willingly gave that up so we could all go to London so I could cover set. My parents live on the same street as me and have the kids over to play all the time. But at the end of the day, a mom is a mom, no matter how much support she has. There’s nothing like being on a writing roll and hearing a kid yell, “CAN SOMEONE COME HELP ME WIPE MY BUTT?” from the bathroom. 

I remember being in the first year of my screenwriting MFA and finding out I was pregnant with my daughter. I decided I didn’t want to choose between being a writer and a mom. I wanted to do both. My husband has been down for making that happen since day one. He viciously guards my writing time and helps me through the rejection lows. I wish every writer had a partner like him. 

Somewhere over the years, my mindset has shifted. Writing isn’t something I do in addition to being a mom and wife—writing makes me a better mom and wife. It’s a job that can frustrate and exhaust me, but at the end of the day, I’ve loved story since I was old enough to have my breath catch when the theater lights darkened. It makes me brave; and frankly, it’s one of the only things I am good at. Ignoring that part of my heart would be terrible. I also think it’s good for kids to see their parents chasing their dreams, especially if they can see the highs and lows of that. I’ve picked my kids up from school with puffy post-crying-after-a-rejection eyes, and I’m honest with them: “I didn’t get a job I wanted, and I’m sad.” And when they don’t make the school play or a team, they know for sure that I understand the sting of that. We get ice cream and then talk about how to dust off. I hope that shows them that it’s okay to try and fail. 

Your works reflect an incredible imagination and deep well of creativity. What separates a good idea from an idea you want to commit to these days? 

Honestly, right now, the weirdest idea wins. The last two pilots I wrote have had me sitting at the computer saying, “This is batshit. No one is going to like this.” Pushing that envelope has been a good move, thus far. So now, if a story is too simple, I set it on my shelf until it can ripen into something truly bizarre. Then, I take a crack at it.

What a brilliant compass! From your perspective as both an author and screenwriter, what do you see as the biggest challenges and opportunities within each field today? 

The book industry is picky. Publishers are very risk-averse, and editors and agents are constantly barraged by people wanting a shot. But publishing is also extremely freeing because it’s a place where your story is completely yours. There’s no production budget, no restraint on the scope other than your imagination. I love that part of writing. Yes, it’s just you, but that means if I want my character to do something unhinged, she’s going to do something unhinged. That’s fun. And besides the advantage of the story belonging solely to you, it’s also really cool that your sample doesn’t expire, and you can write anywhere. You can slowly build a life-changing career one hour a day from the middle of Oklahoma. You can write your story on lunch breaks and after your kids go to bed. You can dream up an epic, sprawling sci-fi behind a cash register between customers—I did. 

And that perk is the same for screenwriting, too—with some caveats. You can write your script on your own time from anywhere. There’s a point where moving to Hollywood makes sense for aspiring screenwriters, of course, but the start can be from anywhere. Another perk is that it’s collaborative. When we hit a script problem on Loki, we had four minds on it at once, vying for the best option. That was so helpful, especially when it came to the twisty-turny time stuff. Different perspectives often make stories better. But, of course, screenwriting is hard in its own way. It’s collaborative, which is a double-edged sword. It’s also heavily budgeted, and the story can be crushed in an instant by some guy in a suit you’ve seen on the elevator once. 

Are there any bits of gold you’ve received along the way that you still hold tight? 

So many wonderful people have given me bits of gold over the years, but I have a couple that I live by. Once, when I was feeling really low, I texted one of my best friends—a brilliant writer named Hilary Miller—that I felt like a failure. “I just want to be like J.J. Abrams. Is that so insane?” And she said, “J.J. wasn’t J.J. for a long, long time. You can still be J.J.” And it stuck with me. Even J.J. Abrams had his own journey. You can’t rush it. 

The other piece of advice was from another best friend/writer, Brittany Sawrey-Coulson. I was telling her that I was scared to make a move professionally. And she said, “Scared makes sense. But scared doesn’t make decisions.” And damn, that hit. I still say that to myself a lot. I can feel nervous about a move I need to make, [but] that doesn’t mean it’s the wrong move. 

My advice? Get some solid ride-or-die besties for this journey. Ones that you can ask for notes, and who you can text when you get a painful rejection. They’re a huge blessing. 

Tahlia Norrish is an Aussie-Brit actor, writer, and current MPhil Candidate at the University of Queensland’s School of Sport Sciences. After graduating from both The Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts (Distinction, Acting & Musical Theatre) and Rose Bruford College (First Class Hons, Acting), Tahlia founded The Actor’s Dojo — a coaching program pioneering peak performance and holistic well-being for actors.

Special thanks to Katharyn Blair for her time. You can follow Blair on Instagram to keep up to date with her news and latest projects.

Blair’s upcoming book, The Hushed, will be on sale October 1. 

Eerie Ashwood is one of the Hushed: a secret being spawned by the death of a human who had something to hide. Easily blending in among humans, the Hushed are haunted by an overwhelming urge to reveal their secret to whom it would hurt the most. But unlike most Hushed, Eerie can’t remember her secret. All she knows is she’s connected to the infamous Ironbark Prison fire—and that means she needs to stay far away from Logan Winspeare. Still, she can’t escape her curiosity—or her growing attraction to Logan. But the harder Eerie falls for Logan, the closer she comes to her secret—and her death.

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