My name is Alex Martinson and I am a student at the University of Tampa studying film. I was adopted at two months old from South Korea into the family I have today. All throughout elementary school and middle school, this conflicting identity problem had me searching for a group to call myself a part of. This, however, proved to be quite difficult and I found it extremely challenging to make friends. It was around third or fourth grade when I made a friend who shared many of the same interests as me, and soon I found myself running around the house and backyard with a basic digital camera strapped around my wrist on a frequent basis. This was around the time when I started watching movies in a new way – appreciating their subtle beauties, the cinematography, editing, and writing.

After a few years of creating crude independent films with the help of a few friends, my interests began to change. Being an Asian American tends to present many challenges, but one of the most prominent ones I found myself running into was the expectation for accelerated academic achievement. “You’re Asian, you’re smart, right?” was a question I heard daily, and tried my best to tune out. Eventually, these words found their way into my subconscious and I found myself desperately trying to be the smartest individual in the room. In a culture such as ours that elevates the STEM academics above the arts, this trait was seen as desirable and I was soon burning myself out with long nights studying for my AP and advanced high school classes. Soon, the time rolled around in which we all began applying to colleges, and I quickly found myself grinning ear to ear as I proudly held the fat packet of papers proudly proclaiming “You’re In!” from the University of Tampa.

Of course, my creative film-making side had long since been pushed down into the deepest depths of my memories, and the most obvious decision for me would be to study biology in college. Marine biology, even. The first semester came and went, and I found myself quite literally sitting on a pile of scattered papers, assignments, and textbooks on the verge of tears, hoping the next semester would be easier. It wasn’t, and I began to feel extremely lonely, cut off, and as if I was failing the one thing I had convinced myself I was good at. One night, I fell asleep over a hefty chemistry assignment, and had a dream I was directing a feature film. I woke up, suddenly feeling waves of excitement and energy. I knew right then and there I had to change my major. Before the sun had even risen, my application was in and I was on my way to the Film and Media Arts department.

As the semesters passed, I found it easier and easier to find my voice, to express myself, and to pour out passion into every project I could get. I soon found myself creating films that represented my own life – racial discrimination, adoption, mental health issues, being told to be someone you aren’t – it all seemed so natural. It was at this point that I wanted to do even more, to create worlds and characters the way I wanted them to be. I signed up for a screenwriting class and fell in love, suddenly realizing writing was what I wanted to do. I could travel beyond my furthest imagination, create whoever I wanted and have them go on amazing journeys – all while sitting behind a screen and keyboard. Dr. Gregg Bachman was the professor that helped me find my true passion and noticed all the potential I had inside at writing. He helped me utilize all the tools I had to maximize my writing ability and learn how to go even further.

My life hasn’t been hard at all, mostly in part of the family that adopted me and gave me the best life they could. It also hasn’t been easy at all. Reliving the hardest times in my life to create a story doesn’t seem like something someone would want to do, but these difficult experiences have shaped me into who I am today, and for that I am forever grateful. Each time I find myself wanting to scream and raise a middle finger at the world, I take a deep breath, then let the words flow onto the page.