Created on

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19

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2026

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23

:

16

Updated on

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29

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2026

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0

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23

Location

Oakland, CA

Communication Studies (v): My Case

传播学(v): 我的案例

写在前面:接上篇,本文和chatgpt合作完成。


在我的具体情境中,我逐渐意识到,关键并不完全在于谣言本身的内容,而在于它出现的时间顺序。从我的观察来看,这些讨论并不是紧跟某个明确的错误或事件而出现的,而是在我开始发生变化之后才逐步启动。在那之前,我是相对“可被识别的”:我被放在一个旧有的位置里,有清晰的标签,也不构成明显的不确定性。当我的输出方式、被认真对待的程度,或他人看待我的框架开始发生变化时,这套旧的定位不再适用。与此同时,一个新的、被广泛承认的位置尚未形成。

正是在这种旧标签失效、而新定位尚未稳定的阶段,不确定性开始扩散。从结果上看,gossip 更像是在这个空档期被激活的一种解释工具。它未必源自明确的恶意,也未必是对某个具体事实的回应,而更像是一种尝试:在新的结构尚未固化之前,先行给出一个可供流通的解释版本。

在这一过程中,我注意到,讨论往往并不是围绕我实际做了什么展开,而是逐渐转向对我动机、状态或人格的揣测。这种转移本身具有功能性意义。与行为相比,动机和状态更难被核实,也更容易被不同的人各自补全。一旦讨论的焦点从可验证的行动,转移到不可验证的“我是谁”,解释权就不再掌握在我或事实本身手中,而重新回到讨论者之间。

从形式上看,这类 gossip 往往并不以明确的指控出现,而更常以“关心”“困惑”或模糊的不安感受开场,例如“我最近有点看不懂她”“我有点说不上来的感觉”“我只是有点担心”。这种表述并不是在提出可反驳的判断,而是在邀请参与。它让“讨论我”本身变得合理,却不需要对任何具体结论负责。

我也注意到,这类信息并非随机扩散。它更倾向于先在那些与我没有直接接触、但与传播者存在关系或情感信任的人之间流动。对这些人来说,验证成本较高,而接受一个现成的解释反而更省力。一旦转述发生,最初的来源就会迅速模糊,讨论逐渐变成“大家都这么说”,个人责任也随之被稀释。

从心理层面理解,这样的过程也可能同时发挥着防御功能。面对他人的变化,人们未必总是准备好更新自己对关系或结构的理解。相比之下,把由变化带来的张力转移到某一个具体的人身上,往往更容易处理。通过将不确定性投射为“这个人是不是有问题”,原本需要被重新理解的结构变化,被简化为一个个体解释。

这个情境对我来说之所以清晰,很大程度上是因为顺序本身相对明确:变化先出现,而相关讨论随后才逐步展开。如果这些讨论主要是对某个具体行为的回应,它们通常会紧随事件发生;而在我的经验中,它们更像是紧随变化本身。这使我更倾向于将其理解为一种减速或牵制机制,而不是纠错机制。

这也引出一个并不令人愉快、但对我来说逐渐变得清楚的事实:在非正式舆论网络中,解释、澄清或自证,往往并不能从根本上终止这一过程。因为驱动它的并不是信息不足,而是不确定性本身。只有当一个新的角色、位置或外部承认逐渐固定下来,这种解释空间才会自然收缩。在此之前,任何试图直接“纠正”的行为,反而可能被重新吸纳进讨论之中。

从主观体感上说,这种经历并不像单纯的“被说坏话”。更接近的感受是,周围的气压发生了变化。不是某一句具体的话击中了我,而是我察觉到互动方式在整体上发生了偏移。回应变得迟疑、含糊,眼神和语气中多了一层评估意味,好像关于“我是谁”的解释,已经在我不在场的地方被提前生成。

最明显的体感是失真。我在做的事情并没有发生实质改变,但反馈却开始围绕一个预设的形象展开。我不再被直接回应,而是被当作某种需要被观察、被判断的对象。这种状态并不喧闹,却持续存在,会让人不自觉地收紧动作、增加自我监控。

与此同时,我也清楚地意识到,这种变化并不完全源于我做错了什么。它出现得过于同步、过于结构化,几乎不依赖单一事件。这让我更倾向于把它理解为一种系统层面的反应,而不是针对我个人行为的即时判断。

如果把情绪层面暂时放下,仅从操作层面观察,这个过程呈现出一种相当常见的路径:先是通过模糊表达为讨论铺垫合法性;接着在验证成本较低的关系网络中扩散;随后将焦点从事实转移到状态与人格;并在转述过程中自然变形、去责任化。这些步骤未必是有意识策划的,更像是熟练的人际操作在不确定情境下自动浮现。

从结果来看,目标似乎并不是彻底否定我,而是在我被清晰、稳定地理解之前,先行占据解释空间。只要一个模糊而偏负的标签被提前放置,即便后来事实更清楚,这个早期印象也可能长期残留。

整体而言,我更愿意把这理解为一套低冲突、低风险、但在结构转换期非常高效的应对方式。它并不依赖证据,也不需要正面交锋,只依赖一个条件:位置正在变化,而新的结构尚未完全成形。正是在这个窗口期,这类操作最容易奏效。

Preface: Following the previous article, this piece was completed in collaboration with ChatGPT.


In my specific situation, I gradually realized that the key issue was not the content of the rumors themselves, but their sequence in time. Based on my own observations, these discussions did not emerge immediately after any clearly identifiable mistake or incident. Instead, they appeared after I began to change. Before that, I was relatively “legible”: I occupied an established position, carried recognizable labels, and did not introduce much uncertainty. When the way I worked, the degree to which I was taken seriously, or the framework through which others viewed me began to shift, that old positioning stopped functioning. At the same time, a new, broadly acknowledged position had not yet formed.

It was during this phase—when old labels had lost their explanatory power and new ones had not yet stabilized—that uncertainty began to spread. From the outside, gossip appeared to be activated as a kind of explanatory tool during this gap. It did not necessarily originate in clear malice, nor did it seem to respond to a specific factual event. Rather, it functioned as an attempt to supply a circulating explanation before the new structure had solidified.

In this process, I noticed that discussion rarely centered on what I was actually doing. Instead, it gradually shifted toward speculation about my motives, my emotional state, or my character. This shift itself served a function. Compared with concrete actions, motives and internal states are far harder to verify and much easier for different people to fill in according to their own assumptions. Once the focus moves from verifiable behavior to an uncheckable question of “who I am,” interpretive control no longer rests with facts or with me, but with those participating in the discussion.

In form, this kind of gossip rarely begins with explicit accusations. More often, it presents itself as “concern,” “confusion,” or a vague sense of unease—phrases like “I can’t quite read her lately,” “I have a strange feeling about her,” or “I’m just a bit worried.” These statements do not put forward claims that can be directly challenged; they invite participation instead. They legitimize talking about me without requiring accountability for any specific conclusion.

I also observed that such information does not spread randomly. It tends to circulate first among people who have little direct contact with me but who share relational or emotional trust with the person initiating the discussion. For these individuals, verification costs are relatively high, while accepting a ready-made explanation is comparatively easy. Once retelling begins, the original source quickly becomes obscured, the narrative turns into “people are saying,” and individual responsibility is diluted.

Viewed psychologically, this process may also serve a defensive function. Confronted with another person’s change, people are not always prepared to revise their understanding of existing relationships or structures. Shifting the resulting tension onto a single individual is often easier. By reframing uncertainty as a problem located in “this person,” what would otherwise require structural re-interpretation is simplified into an individual explanation.

What made this situation particularly clear to me was the order of events itself: change came first, and the rumors followed. If these discussions were primarily responses to specific behaviors, they would normally have appeared immediately after those events. In my experience, however, they tracked the change itself. This led me to interpret them less as mechanisms of correction and more as mechanisms of delay or constraint, operating before a new structure could fully take shape.

This, in turn, led me to a conclusion that is not pleasant but gradually became clear: within informal opinion networks, explanations, clarifications, or self-defense rarely succeed in stopping this process at its root. The driving force is not a lack of information, but uncertainty itself. Only when a new role, position, or form of external recognition becomes fixed does the space for such speculation naturally contract. Before that point, attempts to “set the record straight” often end up being absorbed back into the discussion.

At the level of lived experience, this did not feel like simply “being talked about badly.” It felt more like a sudden shift in atmospheric pressure. It was not any single remark that struck me, but a broader change in how interactions unfolded. Responses became hesitant and indirect; glances and tones carried a subtle evaluative quality, as if an interpretation of “who I am” had already been written elsewhere.

The most pronounced sensation was distortion. What I was doing had not materially changed, but the feedback I received began to revolve around a pre-formed image of me. I was no longer being addressed directly; instead, I was treated as an object to be observed and assessed. This condition was not loud or overt, but persistent, and it encouraged a kind of involuntary self-monitoring.

At the same time, I was clearly aware that this shift was not simply the result of something I had done wrong. It emerged too synchronously and too structurally, with little dependence on any single incident. This made me more inclined to understand it as a system-level reaction rather than as an immediate judgment of my personal actions.

If I temporarily set aside the emotional dimension and look only at the operational pattern, the process appears relatively familiar. It begins by legitimizing discussion through ambiguity; then spreads through relational networks where verification costs are low; then shifts attention from facts to personality or state; and finally allows narratives to morph and shed responsibility through repeated retelling. These steps are not necessarily the result of conscious planning. They resemble well-practiced interpersonal habits that surface automatically under conditions of uncertainty.

From the standpoint of outcomes, the aim does not seem to be total negation. Rather, it appears to be the occupation of interpretive space before I can be clearly and stably understood. Once a vague but negative label is placed early, it can linger for a long time, even after facts become clearer.

Overall, I am more inclined to see this as a low-conflict, low-risk, but highly effective response during periods of structural transition. It does not rely on evidence or direct confrontation. It relies on a single condition: a position is changing, and the new structure has not yet fully formed. It is precisely within this window that such dynamics are most likely to take hold.



Artist Statement

My work is not about explaining the world; it’s about dismantling the emotional structures that everyday life tries to conceal. What I focus on is not “story,” but the dynamics between people—the pull and tension of intimacy, the quiet control embedded in family, the fractures that come with migration, and how an individual maintains their boundaries within these systems.

I grew up between shifting cultures and languages, often in environments where I was expected—needed—claimed by others. I was asked to understand, to accommodate, to take care, to adjust. Even the gentlest relationships carried an undercurrent of consumption. That tension became the foundation of my creative work.

The characters in my stories are not moral types. They each carry a kind of private conflict: they want closeness but fear being swallowed; they long to be seen but can’t fully expose themselves; they are asked again and again to give—to family, to love, to work—without knowing how to keep space for themselves. These aren’t inventions; they’re reflections of lived experience. Writing, for me, is a way to unearth the emotions that have been suppressed, ignored, or normalized—and let them speak again.

I gravitate toward rhythmic narrative structures: compressed scenes, quick shifts, intentional gaps, silences between characters. These spaces reveal more truth than dialogue ever could. The themes I explore—migration, family, identity, trauma, intimacy, female autonomy—ultimately point to a single question: how does a person protect their boundaries in a world that constantly pulls at them, demands from them, watches them?

Creating is neither escape nor self-soothing. It is a way of reclaiming authorship over my own narrative. When I write a character’s silence, resistance, hesitation, or departure, I’m answering one essential question:

When the world insists on defining me, how do I choose to define myself?

艺术家陈述

我的创作不是为了解释世界,是为了拆开被日常掩盖的情绪结构。我关注的核心不是“故事”,而是人与人之间的力量关系——亲密带来的拉扯、家庭带来的隐性控制、身份在迁徙中的断裂,以及一个人在这些结构里如何保持自己的边界。

出生在不断变化的文化与语言之间,长期处在“被期待—被需要—被占用”的环境里。很多时候,我被要求理解别人、照顾别人、顺着环境。那些看似温和的关系里,也潜藏着吞噬性的需求。这种张力成了我创作的源头。

在我的故事里,人物不是善恶分明的类型。他们都带着某种困境:他们想靠近别人,但又害怕被吞没;他们渴望被看见,却无法完全暴露自己;他们在家庭、爱情、工作里不断被要求付出,却不知道怎样为自己保留空间。这并不是虚构,是现实经验的折射。我写作,把那些长期被压抑、被忽略、被习惯化的情感重新挖出来,让它们重新发声。

我倾向于使用节奏性的叙事结构:压缩的篇幅、快速切换的场景、留白的空间、人物之间的静默。这些“空隙”比对白本身更能暴露一个人的真实状态。我处理的主题是移民、家庭、身份、创伤、亲密、女性的自主性,但它们都指向同一件事:一个人如何在被拉扯、被要求、被凝视的世界里,维护自己的边界。

创作不是逃避,也不是自我疗愈,是重新夺回叙事权的方式。当我写下一个人物的沉默、反抗、犹豫或离开,我其实是在回答一个核心问题:
当世界不断定义我时,我选择如何定义自己?

Artist Statement

My work is not about explaining the world; it’s about dismantling the emotional structures that everyday life tries to conceal. What I focus on is not “story,” but the dynamics between people—the pull and tension of intimacy, the quiet control embedded in family, the fractures that come with migration, and how an individual maintains their boundaries within these systems.

I grew up between shifting cultures and languages, often in environments where I was expected—needed—claimed by others. I was asked to understand, to accommodate, to take care, to adjust. Even the gentlest relationships carried an undercurrent of consumption. That tension became the foundation of my creative work.

The characters in my stories are not moral types. They each carry a kind of private conflict: they want closeness but fear being swallowed; they long to be seen but can’t fully expose themselves; they are asked again and again to give—to family, to love, to work—without knowing how to keep space for themselves. These aren’t inventions; they’re reflections of lived experience. Writing, for me, is a way to unearth the emotions that have been suppressed, ignored, or normalized—and let them speak again.

I gravitate toward rhythmic narrative structures: compressed scenes, quick shifts, intentional gaps, silences between characters. These spaces reveal more truth than dialogue ever could. The themes I explore—migration, family, identity, trauma, intimacy, female autonomy—ultimately point to a single question: how does a person protect their boundaries in a world that constantly pulls at them, demands from them, watches them?

Creating is neither escape nor self-soothing. It is a way of reclaiming authorship over my own narrative. When I write a character’s silence, resistance, hesitation, or departure, I’m answering one essential question:

When the world insists on defining me, how do I choose to define myself?

艺术家陈述

我的创作不是为了解释世界,是为了拆开被日常掩盖的情绪结构。我关注的核心不是“故事”,而是人与人之间的力量关系——亲密带来的拉扯、家庭带来的隐性控制、身份在迁徙中的断裂,以及一个人在这些结构里如何保持自己的边界。

出生在不断变化的文化与语言之间,长期处在“被期待—被需要—被占用”的环境里。很多时候,我被要求理解别人、照顾别人、顺着环境。那些看似温和的关系里,也潜藏着吞噬性的需求。这种张力成了我创作的源头。

在我的故事里,人物不是善恶分明的类型。他们都带着某种困境:他们想靠近别人,但又害怕被吞没;他们渴望被看见,却无法完全暴露自己;他们在家庭、爱情、工作里不断被要求付出,却不知道怎样为自己保留空间。这并不是虚构,是现实经验的折射。我写作,把那些长期被压抑、被忽略、被习惯化的情感重新挖出来,让它们重新发声。

我倾向于使用节奏性的叙事结构:压缩的篇幅、快速切换的场景、留白的空间、人物之间的静默。这些“空隙”比对白本身更能暴露一个人的真实状态。我处理的主题是移民、家庭、身份、创伤、亲密、女性的自主性,但它们都指向同一件事:一个人如何在被拉扯、被要求、被凝视的世界里,维护自己的边界。

创作不是逃避,也不是自我疗愈,是重新夺回叙事权的方式。当我写下一个人物的沉默、反抗、犹豫或离开,我其实是在回答一个核心问题:
当世界不断定义我时,我选择如何定义自己?

Artist Statement

My work is not about explaining the world; it’s about dismantling the emotional structures that everyday life tries to conceal. What I focus on is not “story,” but the dynamics between people—the pull and tension of intimacy, the quiet control embedded in family, the fractures that come with migration, and how an individual maintains their boundaries within these systems.

I grew up between shifting cultures and languages, often in environments where I was expected—needed—claimed by others. I was asked to understand, to accommodate, to take care, to adjust. Even the gentlest relationships carried an undercurrent of consumption. That tension became the foundation of my creative work.

The characters in my stories are not moral types. They each carry a kind of private conflict: they want closeness but fear being swallowed; they long to be seen but can’t fully expose themselves; they are asked again and again to give—to family, to love, to work—without knowing how to keep space for themselves. These aren’t inventions; they’re reflections of lived experience. Writing, for me, is a way to unearth the emotions that have been suppressed, ignored, or normalized—and let them speak again.

I gravitate toward rhythmic narrative structures: compressed scenes, quick shifts, intentional gaps, silences between characters. These spaces reveal more truth than dialogue ever could. The themes I explore—migration, family, identity, trauma, intimacy, female autonomy—ultimately point to a single question: how does a person protect their boundaries in a world that constantly pulls at them, demands from them, watches them?

Creating is neither escape nor self-soothing. It is a way of reclaiming authorship over my own narrative. When I write a character’s silence, resistance, hesitation, or departure, I’m answering one essential question:

When the world insists on defining me, how do I choose to define myself?

艺术家陈述

我的创作不是为了解释世界,是为了拆开被日常掩盖的情绪结构。我关注的核心不是“故事”,而是人与人之间的力量关系——亲密带来的拉扯、家庭带来的隐性控制、身份在迁徙中的断裂,以及一个人在这些结构里如何保持自己的边界。

出生在不断变化的文化与语言之间,长期处在“被期待—被需要—被占用”的环境里。很多时候,我被要求理解别人、照顾别人、顺着环境。那些看似温和的关系里,也潜藏着吞噬性的需求。这种张力成了我创作的源头。

在我的故事里,人物不是善恶分明的类型。他们都带着某种困境:他们想靠近别人,但又害怕被吞没;他们渴望被看见,却无法完全暴露自己;他们在家庭、爱情、工作里不断被要求付出,却不知道怎样为自己保留空间。这并不是虚构,是现实经验的折射。我写作,把那些长期被压抑、被忽略、被习惯化的情感重新挖出来,让它们重新发声。

我倾向于使用节奏性的叙事结构:压缩的篇幅、快速切换的场景、留白的空间、人物之间的静默。这些“空隙”比对白本身更能暴露一个人的真实状态。我处理的主题是移民、家庭、身份、创伤、亲密、女性的自主性,但它们都指向同一件事:一个人如何在被拉扯、被要求、被凝视的世界里,维护自己的边界。

创作不是逃避,也不是自我疗愈,是重新夺回叙事权的方式。当我写下一个人物的沉默、反抗、犹豫或离开,我其实是在回答一个核心问题:
当世界不断定义我时,我选择如何定义自己?

sunny.xiaoxin.sun@doubletakefilmllc.com

Sunny Xiaoxin Sun's IMDb


©2025 Double Take Film, All rights reserved

I’m an independent creator born in 1993 in Changsha, now based in California. My writing started from an urgent need to express. Back in school, I often felt overwhelmed by the chaos and complexity of the world—by the emotions and stories left unsaid. Writing became my way of organizing my thoughts, finding clarity, and gradually, connecting with the outside world.


Right now, I’m focused on writing and filmmaking. My blog is a “real writing experiment,” where I try to update daily, documenting my thoughts, emotional shifts, observations on relationships, and my creative process. It’s also a record of my journey to becoming a director. After returning to China in 2016, I entered the film industry and worked in the visual effects production department on projects like Creation of the Gods I, Creation of the Gods II, and Wakanda Forever, with experience in both China and Hollywood. Since 2024, I’ve shifted my focus to original storytelling.


I’m currently revising my first script. It’s not grand in scale, but it’s deeply personal—centered on memory, my father, and the city. I want to make films that belong to me, and to our generation: grounded yet profound, sensitive but resolute. I believe film is not only a form of artistic expression—it’s a way to intervene in reality.

我是93年出生于长沙的自由创作者。我的写作起点来自一种“必须表达”的冲动。学生时代,我常感受到世界的混乱与复杂,那些没有被说出来的情绪和故事让我感到不安。写作是我自我整理、自我清晰的方式,也逐渐成为我与外界建立连接的路径。


我目前专注于写作和电影。我的博客是一个“真实写作实验”,尽量每天更新,记录我的思考、情绪流动、人际观察和创作过程。我16年回国之后开始进入电影行业,曾在视效部门以制片的身份参与制作《封神1》《封神2》《Wankanda Forever》等,在中国和好莱坞都工作过,24年之后开始转入创作。


我正在重新回去修改我第一个剧本——它并不宏大,却非常个人,围绕记忆、父亲与城市展开。我想拍属于我、也属于我们这一代人的电影:贴地而深刻,敏感又笃定。我相信电影不只是艺术表达,它也是一种现实干预。

sunny.xiaoxin.sun@doubletakefilmllc.com

Sunny Xiaoxin Sun's IMDb


©2025 Double Take Film, All rights reserved

I’m an independent creator born in 1993 in Changsha, now based in California. My writing started from an urgent need to express. Back in school, I often felt overwhelmed by the chaos and complexity of the world—by the emotions and stories left unsaid. Writing became my way of organizing my thoughts, finding clarity, and gradually, connecting with the outside world.


Right now, I’m focused on writing and filmmaking. My blog is a “real writing experiment,” where I try to update daily, documenting my thoughts, emotional shifts, observations on relationships, and my creative process. It’s also a record of my journey to becoming a director. After returning to China in 2016, I entered the film industry and worked in the visual effects production department on projects like Creation of the Gods I, Creation of the Gods II, and Wakanda Forever, with experience in both China and Hollywood. Since 2024, I’ve shifted my focus to original storytelling.


I’m currently revising my first script. It’s not grand in scale, but it’s deeply personal—centered on memory, my father, and the city. I want to make films that belong to me, and to our generation: grounded yet profound, sensitive but resolute. I believe film is not only a form of artistic expression—it’s a way to intervene in reality.

我是93年出生于长沙的自由创作者。我的写作起点来自一种“必须表达”的冲动。学生时代,我常感受到世界的混乱与复杂,那些没有被说出来的情绪和故事让我感到不安。写作是我自我整理、自我清晰的方式,也逐渐成为我与外界建立连接的路径。


我目前专注于写作和电影。我的博客是一个“真实写作实验”,尽量每天更新,记录我的思考、情绪流动、人际观察和创作过程。我16年回国之后开始进入电影行业,曾在视效部门以制片的身份参与制作《封神1》《封神2》《Wankanda Forever》等,在中国和好莱坞都工作过,24年之后开始转入创作。


我正在重新回去修改我第一个剧本——它并不宏大,却非常个人,围绕记忆、父亲与城市展开。我想拍属于我、也属于我们这一代人的电影:贴地而深刻,敏感又笃定。我相信电影不只是艺术表达,它也是一种现实干预。

sunny.xiaoxin.sun@doubletakefilmllc.com

Sunny Xiaoxin Sun's IMDb


©2025 Double Take Film, All rights reserved

I’m an independent creator born in 1993 in Changsha, now based in California. My writing started from an urgent need to express. Back in school, I often felt overwhelmed by the chaos and complexity of the world—by the emotions and stories left unsaid. Writing became my way of organizing my thoughts, finding clarity, and gradually, connecting with the outside world.


Right now, I’m focused on writing and filmmaking. My blog is a “real writing experiment,” where I try to update daily, documenting my thoughts, emotional shifts, observations on relationships, and my creative process. It’s also a record of my journey to becoming a director. After returning to China in 2016, I entered the film industry and worked in the visual effects production department on projects like Creation of the Gods I, Creation of the Gods II, and Wakanda Forever, with experience in both China and Hollywood. Since 2024, I’ve shifted my focus to original storytelling.


I’m currently revising my first script. It’s not grand in scale, but it’s deeply personal—centered on memory, my father, and the city. I want to make films that belong to me, and to our generation: grounded yet profound, sensitive but resolute. I believe film is not only a form of artistic expression—it’s a way to intervene in reality.

我是93年出生于长沙的自由创作者。我的写作起点来自一种“必须表达”的冲动。学生时代,我常感受到世界的混乱与复杂,那些没有被说出来的情绪和故事让我感到不安。写作是我自我整理、自我清晰的方式,也逐渐成为我与外界建立连接的路径。


我目前专注于写作和电影。我的博客是一个“真实写作实验”,尽量每天更新,记录我的思考、情绪流动、人际观察和创作过程。我16年回国之后开始进入电影行业,曾在视效部门以制片的身份参与制作《封神1》《封神2》《Wankanda Forever》等,在中国和好莱坞都工作过,24年之后开始转入创作。


我正在重新回去修改我第一个剧本——它并不宏大,却非常个人,围绕记忆、父亲与城市展开。我想拍属于我、也属于我们这一代人的电影:贴地而深刻,敏感又笃定。我相信电影不只是艺术表达,它也是一种现实干预。

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