Honestly, Vanessa

Recently, I was having a conversation with my brother in law and his wife about storytelling.

My brother in law is a Muslim filmmaker, mostly working in the documentary space right now, and he mentioned that this side of his work feels like a form of service for him. But he’s also expressed that he’d want to eventually move into entertainment.

And that conversation gave me a lot to think about.

I wanted to be a filmmaker myself at one point, but I was struggling with panic attacks, perfectionism and both low self esteem and confidence during that time, and I couldn’t really see how I would be able to function in that kind of environment.

The idea of constantly networking, being around large groups of people, and navigating that space felt overwhelming to me, it started to make storytelling sound more stressful than meaningful.

The pressure, the collaboration, the expectations… it didn’t feel grounding to me, it made my anxiety worse.

And then after I became muslim, I honestly started to doubt if this is the path I wanted to venture down and then i started to obsess over the limits of it all.

What’s halal?
What’s haram?
Where is the line when it comes to storytelling with filmmaking?

I kept going back and forth in my head, trying to figure out if there was even a place for me in this space anymore.

I genuinely love learning how to become a highly skilled holistic practitioner, supporting people in a real way… it’s a very fulfilling path for me and I will continue to do so until I pass away.

But at the same time… I can’t ignore that creative and expressive side of me that has always been drawn to storytelling, imagination, and creating something emotional and real.

And for a while, I felt like I had to choose, like I had to pick one path and stay in it.

But now I’m really questioning that.

Either I fully leaned into storytelling, the kind I’ve always loved, the kind that explores people, emotions, relationships, messy realities that can get a little toxic and everything is messy, addictive, and emotionally intense.

Or I committed to being Muslim in a way that felt more “acceptable,” more safe, more filtered.

Why can’t I do both?

Who says I can’t do both?

I really didn’t know how those two could co exist together because if we’re being real, a lot of storytelling today is built on things that don’t align with Islam.

It’s almost like you’re expected to cross lines in order to make something even remotely interesting or real enough for people.

So I questioned that a whole lot.

Can I still write the kind of stories I love without compromising what I believe?

And the answer I’ve come to is yes.

And like my brother in law put it simply, it’s all about intention.

So I’m choosing novel writing.

It would be a more accessible way for me to bring these two parts of my life together.

Filmmaking requires so many layers, networking, people, approvals, interpretations, and compromises. It sounds like too high stress of an environment for me even before I became muslim or a mother.

Filmmaking is not just storytelling, it’s also coordination, direction, production, and constant external input.

Novel writing removes all of that and gives me full and total control.

It should allow me to stay rooted in my intention without having to constantly defend or explain it.

I don’t have to negotiate my values in a room full of people.

I don’t have to worry about how something will be visually executed or whether someone else will interpret a scene in a way that doesn’t align with what I meant.

I can be precise.

I can be subtle.

I can choose what to show and what not to show.

And that’s something that’s very important to me, especially when I’m trying to tell stories that are emotionally real, but still aligned with my beliefs.

It will give me the space to grow into both my faith and my creativity, without feeling like one is constantly competing with the other.

Storytelling itself isn’t the issue.

Stories are how humans understand the world. They’re how we process emotions, reflect on choices, and see different perspectives.

Even in religious texts, like the Quran and the Bible, there are stories that include sin, hardship, and human flaws.

But those stories aren’t there to glorify those actions.

They’re there to teach.

To warn.
To guide.
To show consequences, growth, and reflection.

For the longest time, I thought if I wanted to tell stories, it had to look a certain way…

That it needed drama built on things like chaotic relationships, explicit scenes, rebellion for the sake of rebellion, and shock value.

But honestly… that’s just one way of storytelling.

And even when it comes to things like intimacy, I’ve realized something important.

A lot of people don’t even enjoy explicit scenes.

Beyond the fact that it can be sinful and can invoke unnecessary desire, it often takes away from the actual depth of the story.

There are ways to show that two characters are close, connected, and intimate without being explicit.

That’s where real storytelling skill comes in.

Not in showing everything, but in knowing what to hold back.

There’s this unspoken fear that if you take your faith seriously, you have to only create safe content that doesn’t really reflect real life, but that’s not true.

Islam just asks you to be mindful of what you’re putting out into the world so it’s not normalized, not to stop creating altogether.

I’m still going to write about people and emotions. I’m just going to be more intentional with how I do that…

That means I will be more honest, but not reckless…

I will still explore realities and situations that feel uncomfortable and real without romantizing what’s harmful.

I can still create characters that feel human and not perfect while still writing in some tension and complexity.

But I’m going to do it in a way that aligns with who I am becoming, not who I used to be.

I’m not choosing between my faith and my creativity.

I’m choosing a form of creativity that actually fits who I am becoming.