I am blind, but more than that, I’m a filmmaker. And I always will be.
- halfinitiative
- Nov 13
- 4 min read
A Guest Perspective by Half mentee Sheridan O’Donnell

"Even though I’ve directed two features since becoming legally blind, later that night I wondered if there was a place for me in this industry. If what I was aspiring to was impossible."
In 2020, after ten years of directing films, I was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa—a rare degenerative eye disease that causes legal blindness. With nine degrees of clear central vision, I see the world through a tunnel—and I use this bubble of sight to direct. In the last five years, I’ve re-learned what I’ve always known: directing is more about the vision in your mind’s eye than your actual vision. Still though, as one of the few disabled filmmakers (and even fewer blind filmmakers), Hollywood can be a challenging place. This is where the Ryan Murphy Half Initiative comes in.
I remember walking on set of 9-1-1 the first day to shadow my director—the amazing Maggie Kiley—and feeling some trepidation. I’m at a level of sight where it’s useful to have my cane out in dark or crowded areas. In other words, most film sets. But I hesitate to take it out because of the attention I feel it draws. In most spaces in Hollywood, I’m the only blind person there. And it’s not easy to be the only one. So that day I chose to blend in and never brought out my cane, and instead I slowly, stressfully avoided C stands, hanging lights, and passing crew members. Even though I’ve directed two features since becoming legally blind, later that night I wondered if there was a place for me in this industry. If what I was aspiring to was impossible.
The next morning, after being encouraged by Program Director Shari Page, I brought my cane out and everything changed. I could confidently move around set. The cane sensed what was at my feet, freeing up my eyes to look ahead of me, and I didn’t need to avoid the crew anymore. Seeing the cane, they began making space for me. Now I could set all this aside and do what I was there to do: be a director shadow. Vision is an interesting subject to be discussing, because my mentor Maggie Kiley has it in spades. It’s why I was thrilled to be paired with her. Maggie taught me that yes, being a TV director is playing within the visual sandbox of a show, but it’s also pushing for dynamic, cinematic moments. I watched her excavate the script for these opportunities, artfully pitch them, and push her concepts through from script to production to final cut. I observed how the departments were energized by her ideas. Television at its best is everyone working in harmony, and Maggie is excellent at helping her cast and crew find their tuning. She showed me how much directing is about communication skills and diplomacy. Because directing is, in its simplest form, about people. I also learned a great deal about humility. Maggie understood that many of her team knew the show better than her, and she learned from and leaned on them. TV directing isn’t just about leading, it’s about listening.

Directing actors is my favorite part of the process, so it was a real education to eavesdrop on Maggie’s conversations with the cast. As an actor herself, she can speak their language. Maggie does her homework—she always knows the emotional foundations underneath a scene, character or conflict. And she’s razor-sharp perceptive at the monitor—constantly on alert for anything surprising, alive, or interesting. Maggie reinforced for me what I believe about TV: characters, so in turn actors, are the real reason we care about any story.
Throughout the shoot, Maggie challenged me to prepare shot lists alongside her. Each morning I’d send her my shot list for the day, and each evening she’d compare mine to hers and report her thoughts. Maggie was always complimentary of my strong sense of vision—which meant a lot coming from a filmmaker as visually dynamic as her. And particularly perspective-shifting considering my disability. Maggie never once made me feel or treated me like a blind filmmaker though. She simply saw me as a filmmaker—and a capable one at that. She saw my abilities more than my disability. This unspoken gesture was a big step in my journey. Yes, I am blind, but more than that, I’m a filmmaker. And I always will be.
That day I brought my cane out, I was reflecting on the first night and why things felt so hard, and a powerful thought occurred to me, “just because something hasn’t been done before, doesn’t mean it’s impossible.” Just because there hasn’t been a blind filmmaker directing TV, doesn’t mean there can’t be one. And that to me is what the Ryan Murphy Half Initiative is all about. It’s putting filmmakers who know they’re capable, but maybe aren’t sure they belong, in professional proximity. It’s about belonging. I think of LGBTQIA+, BIPOC, and female filmmakers. In the long arc of time, they were often the only one in the room. But what we once considered impossible has changed. This program puts you in the room. It opens the door. It’s done that for so many talented filmmakers, including Maggie, who was the very first Half Initiative Directing Mentee. I’m grateful to Ryan Murphy, Maggie Kiley, Brad Buecker, Shari Page, Taylor Wong, and the cast and crew of 9-1-1 who made me feel welcome. I’m coming away with a confidence in both skill and spirit—and that’s invaluable. And while I’m the first blind filmmaker through this door, I’m hard at work to ensure I’m not the last.
I’ll end with this anecdote, which sums up my experience. On that second day with my cane out, I was hovering on the fringe of set during a rehearsal—trying to leave space for Maggie and the cast to block the scene. John Gray—Executive Producer/Director on 9-1-1, AHS, etc.—was visiting set and watching the rehearsal near me. He caught me hesitating, waved me towards set and spoke to me, “Get in there.” Then he smiled and said, “You’re always welcome here.”
I heeded his words, stepped inside, and got to work.





Comments