Meet L.C. Henderson

We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful L.C. Henderson. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with L.C. below.

Hi L.C., thank you so much for opening up with us about some important, but sometimes personal topics. One that really matters to us is overcoming Imposter Syndrome because we’ve seen how so many people are held back in life because of this and so we’d really appreciate hearing about how you overcame Imposter Syndrome.

You know what’s funny? I haven’t overcome it. I’m still learning how to live with it.

Imposter syndrome is sneaky. It doesn’t announce itself like, “Hey! You’re a fraud!” It just kind of whispers in the background, “Are you sure you belong here? Shouldn’t someone else be doing this?” And if I waited for those voices to disappear, I’d probably never make anything.

So I’ve had to learn to work with it. Like okay, fine, you’re here. Pull up a chair. I’m still gonna write this scene, I’m still gonna direct this film.

I used to think that confidence was a green light to creation. But honestly? The work comes first. Then, if you’re lucky, a little confidence trickles in afterward. Sometimes it doesn’t, and you still gotta hit “export.”

I’m a queer woman from a Bible Belt town in North Carolina, working on a film about cleaning up messes, metaphorical ghosts, and smoking too many cigarettes in the New Mexico desert. No one gave me permission to do that. I can’t spend my life waiting on permission. And when the voice starts screaming “Who do you think you are to make this?” the other voice I’ve been nurturing answers, “This film matters, and you’re the only one who can tell it.”

So I keep going. I keep showing up, in whatever form the story demands. Even when I’m scared. Especially when I’m scared.

Thanks for sharing that. So, before we get any further into our conversation, can you tell our readers a bit about yourself and what you’re working on?

I grew up around porch talkers, gospel singers, people who could turn a grocery list into a parable, all different variations of storytellers. Because of that, I think my body knew I wanted to be a filmmaker long before my brain did. I’m lucky because the artist’s life didn’t just choose me, it kissed a brick and tossed it at my face. Once I knew filmmaking was what I’m meant to do, there was no turning back.

Sometimes that means writing, sometimes directing, sometimes editing, sometimes pacing around my office trying to make sense of it all. But I always crave stories built with intention. Even a bad day can be a scene in a script.

Right now, I’m deep in my first feature film that I’m directing and writing – the aforementioned one set in New Mexico. I actually just got back from spending part of my summer out there to walk the world of the film in real time, which involved location scouting, building community with locals, making friends, and probably catching a little sunstroke in the name of the craft. It was wild to see this thing that’s lived in my head for so long start to breathe on its own.

There are echoes of my own heartbreak in the pages, but now, it’s taking shape as this convoluted, beautiful, Frankensteinian monster that weaves so many different perspectives into a menagerie. It’s embedded in my mainframe, but the DNA isn’t just coming from me anymore, it’s coming from the collaborators who believe in the ethos of the film.

This is the first time I’ve ever gotten to build something this big with this much intention. Every detail matters. Every choice feels personal. It’s terrifying and thrilling all at once. You’re building the plane while flying it. But there’s something kind of beautiful about that. You get really close to the work, and to the people making it with you. Like a new crush, it’s always on your mind in some way, but it’s a beautiful thing to fall for.

We’re currently in the funding stage, so if you’re reading this and want a tax write-off, bang my line.

There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?

I think the three most impactful things weren’t things I studied, but they were things I learned by making a mess and learning how to sit with it.

1. Delusional Perseverance
You have to believe in your story so hard that it withstands rejection, budget constraints, lost sleep, self-doubt, Mercury in retrograde, and someone telling you it’s “too niche.”

If you believe you’re gonna succeed, it’ll eventually happen. Maybe not the way you originally envisioned, but you’ll get there. So lean your head into the clouds, let go of control, and buy yourself that $7 iced coffee. In a world where nothing matters, nothing matters! Have fun with it.

2. Strategic Chaos
I never have all the answers. Hell, I rarely have half of them. But I’ve learned to lovingly improvise. Being able to figure things out as I go – learning new tools, pivoting when things fall apart, saying “yeah I can do that” and then Googling how – is the only reason I’ve been able to keep going.

Making a film is like summoning a tornado, then trying to convince everyone else to stand in it with you. In the wise words of Glen Powell in the 2024 summer masterpiece TWISTERS: “If you feel it, chase it.” The desire to create always makes the chaos worth it. Don’t wait for perfect conditions, because they don’t exist. Start where you are, with what you have. Some of my favorite work came from constraints because they forced me to get weird.

3. Deep Emotional Sponging
Call it sensitivity, or call it being a Libra, but I feel everything deeply. That’s a feature, not a bug. My job as a filmmaker is to absorb those feelings and shape them into something that makes someone else say, “Wait… I thought I was the only one who felt like that.” That’s the magic.

If you’re early in your journey: don’t numb yourself to the world to survive it. Feel it, use it, turn it into something tangible.

If you knew you only had a decade of life left, how would you spend that decade?

I’d spend my days on set, chasing stories into the sunset with people who feel like home, and my nights hosting dinner parties where everyone dances and leaves with a Tupperware full of soup.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://laurensfilm.world
• Instagram: @filmsbylc
• Other: You can check out my short film, The Four Daniels, here:

  https://vimeo.com/1102650734?share=copy