Jameson P. Murray

Entry #1

We were actors. But I was the only one lame, or cool, enough to call myself such. We were acting and did not even know it.

Jameson P. Murray

My name is Jameson P. Murray, and I am a proud playwright, screenwriter, director, actor, producer, assistant director, digital imaging technician, cinematographer, sound mixer, boom op, gaffer, location scout, and so much more. But I couldn’t possibly begin my introduction without attempting to list all the roles I have had on over the years.

There are not a lot of opportunities to share my entire journey like this; hell, even less when your primary focus has been to keep advancing to the next career stage. This is where the reflection begins.

Yes, this means I will be taking myself and you back in time to where I first started considering myself an artist. Before I went to a conservatory, before I earned my BFA, before I studied theater in the UK, before I became a commissioned playwright, a published playwright, a Disruptor, a Sundance fellow…

A small note before I begin the actual story: these will not be perfect, formal writings. Not out of laziness, I know formal English. I got tutored on English by a native Spanish speaker and scored perfectly on my ACT in the subject, so I don’t want to hear it. I am keeping these writings somewhere between formal and not in order to explore storytelling as a writer.

Without further ado,

Words always looked beautiful in a specific order to me. In the second grade, I learned my first big word: discombobulation. I remembered the spelling using this breakdown in my head, disney channel, dot com, bob the builder, you, lation (or Sanaa Lathan, if I was making a joke).

I had no idea back then that other people found my jokes funny. See, I grew up an only child, so I was used to talking to myself. I never even thought of myself as a social kid, but my progress reports said the same thing after every quarter. I was talkative. But how sway?

The jokes! The ones I thought were just phrases I made up. That was the beginning of my becoming an artist.

Now, remember how I wasn’t a social kid? I had only one friend, and she stopped being my friend in 5th grade in exchange for the popular girl group. So I went the opposite direction. I found the closeted, gay, nerdy, theater kids and became friends with them. This is when I discovered that those games of make believe during recess with the boys were more than just us pretending to be Power Rangers, Hunger Games, or Percy Jackson. We were actors. But I was the only one lame, or cool, enough to call myself such. We were acting and did not even know it.

This isn’t an original thought. From the moment I stepped foot into theater training, I began to understand why Broadway and Hollywood are very different.

From 5th grade up to getting my BFA, I was dedicated to acting as an artform, a career, and avenue to get out. As a black man, that’s just as rare as an NFL or NBA dream. It’s not the only way to go, but if you make it, boy do you. I cannot deny, even getting into my BFA program, going, and graduating, was beating a 1% odd.

But I’m jumping ahead of myself. First, up until 6th or 7th grade, I thought acting was just like the make believe games on the playground. I still didn’t dive into the world completely. In between rehearsals, I still had soccer, basketball, and cross country (that one time). That was until I got an audition in 6th grade for a program at the local arts conservatory.

I didn’t know how much of a big deal this was, a recurring theme in my artistry, until my elementary school theater teacher, Dr. Henry Hoffman “Doc”, put me on game. He used to teach at the conservatory, and a few others. I’m going to reiterate: “I didn’t know how much of a big deal this was.”

Doc helped me with the audition. Everything; from the monologues I had to do, down to having the entire class read Tennessee Williams’ Glass Menagerie, for the text analysis quiz as part of the audition. This was pretty intense for an 11-year-old. Doc’s passion, fun, and intensity for the craft are qualities I will never forget. After all that Great Debaters level of hard work, I got in. This is where I started to understand how much of a big deal this was.

Upon entrance, I was experiencing things I had never before: yoga classes, acting intensives, masterclasses, and vending machines in schools. It felt like I stepped foot into a mix between 90210, Victorious, and ANT Farm. I’m not saying I was like Shenae Grimes Beech, Victoria Justice, or China Ann McClain, but I felt like a pretty big deal. I was now 12, taking classes with high schoolers, all because I wanted to make new friends in 5th grade.

This is where we jump ahead. All this exposure to new things gave me a desire for something bigger than what I had known. I always knew I would go to college. I spent a lot of time before this point on Tulane’s campus for sports camps, and because I have family who work there. Tulane was always the obvious choice for me. Or Grambling, love Grambling, still waiting on them to respond to my application from 2018, but we love them.

I dreamed of leaving home. I saw the possibility once I actually got to high school. I attended the same conservatory. I was determined to go there. I met some of my mentors, friends, colleagues, and they went on to go to Boston University. I’m gonna be honest. I never heard of that school before they went. I couldn’t tell you a color or mascot. But after their first year at the school, they came back home and taught us what BU was teaching them. In that moment, I developed discipline.

I’m hard on myself because sometimes I feel discipline comes and wavers. But it’s exactly that: me being hard on myself. If anything, the rest of the story shows my true discipline and the reason I am writing this. To never forget what has been done.

This dream of Boston University and following the people who I had grown to love and respect in high school (even before, in the middle school program) became the focus. Now… I’m focused but I never said I wasn’t an overachiever who wants to do it all. Over the course of my four years in school, I did over 30 monologues, and had a book I could take with me into auditioning for schools. So I auditioned for about 20 colleges/universities/conservatories.

At the same time, I also applied to directing, playwrighting, and film programs. Because on top of me building my resume as an actor, I was also introduced to Premiere Pro and Celtx in high school. This was dangerous. I was the guy who made every school project a short film in some way. I made music, films, cooking shows, PSAs, and all types of fruitful art, all for the purpose of academic studio. That’s what it was called, and I will not explain further. This passion was seen by some teachers. I was able to take playwrighting, directing, and screenwriting, as classes and workshops. That’s what fed my passion as a filmmaker while I was becoming a proud theater artist. I said before there is a difference between Broadway and Hollywood. Here we go.

I love New Orleans, so the desire was never to abandon ship. It always has been and remains to bring resources back into the city. I didn’t apply to any schools in New Orleans, maybe Dillard. I love an HBCU. But I did apply to some note worthy schools. Not that they are note worthy, but I had some formative audition experiences.

One being Webster University. I applied for their directing program. They required a portfolio and two monologues. I remember walking into the room; they sat me down and interviewed me, then they sent me on my way. No monologue, just a portfolio discussion. Now, one thing about these conservatories is they are going to advocate for you when you’re good. The head of the drama department at the time had gone into that audition room after I told him what happened. After a few minutes, he opened the door and told me to come back inside. The auditioners apologized for not asking to see my monologues. They only wanted one now, since we’re behind on time. So I did it. A monologue that is no longer in my book for reasons I will get to.

They loved me. They sat me back down and said “Why didn’t you tell us we didn’t ask for your monologue. That was good work.” A moment where I could be proud. In that moment, they told me I had a full scholarship waiting for me there, but only if I switched my application from BA in directing to BFA in acting. Wow.

Why couldn’t I just accept it? Don’t get me wrong, I am so happy the cards fell where they did. If I had no other option, sure, I would sacrifice what I wanted for what they wanted from me. I’m no longer interested in directing for theater. I liked doing it, but I think I’ll leave that to my Tony winning friends now. I’m a playwright. But why was it so hard for me to accept being an actor? Isn’t that what we mean when we say we want representation?

Nevertheless, I ended up at Boston University. Not only did it work out that way, but also it was exactly what I wanted for my training. My college experience, however, I always imagined football games, fraternities, beer pong, and all from watching Van Wilder while I was too young. I got all of that but the football games. In all seriousness, BU ended up being perfect for what I held most important. I wanted a BFA, I wanted to study abroad, and I wanted the flexibility to write, direct, make films, and act.

Not to toot my own horn, but I did all that.

Boston was.

That’s no typo. I have mixed feelings about it. I became an adult there, COVID happened my freshman year, I was able to get gender affirming care, I got called a nigger more than once. It’s Boston.

That’s why my type changed. All 30 monologues gone. Not only am I a black man stepping into a new landscape of theater. I started acting in a time where we are expanding beyond August Wilson and Lorraine Hansberry being the only two on the mount rushmore of black playwrights. I am a black trans man. Meaning I could play the roles I always wanted to, but had no idea where to start. I was always made a Rose, Berniece, or even Grace, when I was really a Corey, Lymon, or dammit eventually, I’ll be Troy. But that was an unknown world. Part of me wonders if I’ll ever be accepted as an actor in this body, or if I am right to focus on getting characters out there who reflect me. I believe the latter. Just think of all the black playwrights who are speaking to more intersectional black masculinity. Tarell Alvin McCraney, James Ijames, Antoinette Nwandu, and so many more (you all should do your own research in terms of whose styles you like more, I listed my favorites). All to say, I write because as much fun as I had as an actor stepping into those roles, there are still parts of the human experience and black experience that still has yet to be seen on stage or screen.

But we’re not fully there yet. We’ve only identified the problem. It did not help that senior year I was being pigeon-holed into roles for the color pop. One thing I had never done before my senior year was a musical. At least it was Once though.

By the time I graduated, I had written two plays, produced five projects, directed two videos, written four pilots, worked on my first movie, worked in my first writers room, starred in two short films, been accepted into festivals, lived in a different country, and performed in roles that reflected who I am. I had built momentum from age 11 to 22 that felt like success was inevitable as long as I keep going.

Then I moved to Los Angeles, amidst two different strikes within my industry. Oh yeah because I graduated from Boston University, my commencement was protested because of David Zaslav. In the year 2023, I had no film work, but I did begin development on The More The Man. I had a development residency with Fresh Ink Theatre, now that play has gone on to be published.

The next year became a fruitful one again. I made new friends and found myself at Kids in the Spotlight, Inc. A non-profit aimed to teach foster youth and at-risk youth the skills to write and star in their own films. Cool, right?

I made a couple movies with them over these last couple of years. I’d do anything they or my friends needed me to do for a production. That’s how I ended up 1st assistant directing two commercials with FIFA slots this year on Telemundo (check out the World Cup).

Non-profits have been great to me as an artist who falls into intersections that are discriminated against or forgotten about. Are they not meant to be the angel to counteract the corporations’ devil?

The Theater Offensive is a non-profit I was introduced to when I was understudying As You Like It at Actors Shakespeare Project in Boston. A couple years later they were reaching out to me to write a play for them. Inspired by the poetry of Marvin K. White, Where The Black Boys Are is one of my proudest projects. That’s what I’m up to today. The play got a staged reading for it’s first performance, and soon it will receive it’s world premiere. This was 2025.

In the same year, I finished writing my first feature screenplay. I started developing it in 2021, when I got into a debate about trans athletes. Once I got a draft I was comfortable with. I shared the heck out it. I got representation, won a Disruptors award from the Center of Cultural Power, and was selected to be part of the Sundance Trans Possibilities Intensive. That showed me the path forward.

I knew I needed to continue to get my work in front of others. In a time where people like me are becoming hyper invisible, I need to be seen. Those are my next steps, whether it be continuing to stage readings, host table reads, screen proof of concepts, or find and take pitch meetings.

That’s been my life. It feels odd to chronical my journey in this way. Maybe that’s why I started with videos. I still do them, for personal home videos and for my director diary series on YouTube that is evolving to a mix of both writings and recordings.

Sometimes it takes reflecting on the journey to know where you are headed next.

Currently, I am continuing to write and develop Where The Black Boys Are and pitching The Starter for funding. I am also writing a family holiday comedy feature, somewhat of a mix between Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins and Meet the Parents, as well as an feature that I’m keeping a little more secret, except letting people know that Keke Palmer gave me the idea.

I will continue to share my journey and let people know where I am along it. There’s something sacred about being an artist and being able to talk about your work with others. Sometimes in writing or film or even the news, it feels like talking into a bottomless pit, waiting for something to jump out and talk back. But today, it feels like talking to a younger me. My 16-year-old self would have loved to read this, and I hope you did too.

With all the love,

Jameson P. Murray