I see you. This loneliness is like quicksand, right? I doomscroll and it’s like… how do so many people have so many friends and how do they see them all the time? We’re supposed to be the most connected generation and yet 16-29-year-olds are the highest age group to report feeling lonely. Brilliant.

When I became chronically ill 11 years ago, I lost a good amount of friends who didn’t believe I was sick or who just didn’t want to change the way they socialised to include me. Why is making friends outside of school or uni so hard?

I needed something to distract me from my loneliness, anything to fill the time and get me off my phone, which was just a vortex of comparison and isolation. So, I started sewing. Cross-stitching my favourite film scenes to be specific.

Then my friend and past collaborator, Antonia, who I made my first short film with, hit me with a life-changing question: do you want to make another film? She had an idea about a sewist who becomes obsessed with one of her clients and I was immediately hooked. I knew this was a way to process the depths of my loneliness in a way I’d never expressed before.

I let the story brew and then squirm out of me. I didn’t hold back. And I didn’t let it be pretty. Because what’s pretty about real, deep loneliness?

Cinema is so much about empathy and connection. Writing a film about loneliness, for me, is about helping us feel less alone and about showing others what it’s like for us. It’s about inviting them in even though the Loneliness Gremlin tries to starve us of the company.

That’s why we’re making it. And we need your help.

SEAMS is a psychological drama about loneliness, obsession and sewing. Think Past Lives and All of Us Strangers meets Tàr — thrilling, intimate and relatable. Made by a team of established female filmmakers who have produced BAFTA and BIFA-qualifying films, worked with Disney, acted in huge shows like Moon Knight and Hijack, and even published novels.

Sure, we’re focused on making an entertaining and excellent short film but we’re equally as passionate about creating community one scene and stitch at a time.

We’re taking you on the journey right from the beginning all the way to release. Currently, we’re at the fundraising stage and would be so grateful for anything you can give. We also have some amazing perks for donators:

• Signed copies of Overspill by Charlotte Paradise (me!)

• Signed items by Antonia Salib (or Taweret from Moon Knight)

• Producing/script advice from producer Nina Georgieff

• Signed copies of This Thread of Gold by Catherine Joy White

• Writing advice with me

• Business advice with Emad Salib

Or, if you’re not in a position to give, it would mean the world to us if you would share our page and engage with our content.

donate/share here

Thank you for everything and let’s be less lonely together?

I started sewing to give me something to do while resting that isn’t scrolling. Following the chart keeps my mind occupied (fighting the overthinking) but also doesn’t require extreme focus, so it feels relaxing. It’s repetitive, soothing and grounding and I now notice the difference when I haven’t sewn in a day.

There are so many different things you can sew but, of course, I had to integrate my love of cinema to create… The Film Scene Cross Stitch Club.

So here’s a step by step guide on how to make them.

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STEP ONE — Choose Image:

Choose your film scene and download the image. I use Pinterest, SHOTDECK (free trial), and FILMGRAB.

STEP TWO — Generate Chart:

Head to FlossCross!

Click “CREATE PATTERN”.

On an empty slot, click “FROM IMAGE” and select your film scene file.

You’ll see your image with a size grid, click “CONTINUE” for now.

Next, you’ll find your image with Chart Width, Chart Height and a sliding scale. This is where you’ll set your size. My projects are 159 x 95 stitches but you can choose whichever size you’d like. To get it to my size…

Type “95” into the Chart Height. The chart width won’t be 159, so the next step is to resize the image so that the image size corresponds with 159 x 95. So…

Click “BACK” to get to the image with the grid and crop each side (width) of the picture a little. Select “CONTINUE” and re-type “95” into the Chart Height. Check what number the Chart Width is. If it’s not 159, go back again and keep cropping until you get the right number.

Once your Chart Width is 159 and your Chart Height is 95 (or close to it), click “CONTINUE” again.

This is where you choose how many colours you want to use and where to buy them from. The “Palette” button gives you the option to use colours from DMC or Anchor. I select DMC, between 25-30 colours.

By sliding the “Max colours” scale, your image will change to show you what your project will look like. The more colours you use, the more you’ll spend. Pick your number of colours and “CONTINUE” again.

This is another version of colour selection. By sliding the scale down, it will remove similar colours and change the image to appear how it will look when finished. Once you’re happy with how many colours you have and how it looks, click “FINISH”.

You should now be in the Designer. There are lots of ways you can customise your project at this point. The non-negotiables for me are:

• I click on each of the colours in the “Palette” and look at how many crosses will be in that colour (which is written under the rectangle of colour). This will tell you how many skeins of thread you need to buy. Each skein of DMC thread on the type of fabric I use (info ahead), will give approximately 1,900-2,000 cross stitches. So, if the website says more than 2,000 crosses for one colour, you’ll need more than one skein. If there are some colours that have only a few (under 100) stitches, I consider going back a few steps and removing that colour because it may not be worth me buying that colour.

• I like clicking the picture icon at the top and checking “Visible” so the image is under the chart. But I turn down the opacity to around 20%.

It’s time to export! Click the menu icon in the top left hand corner > Export > to PDF… Then, click “Preview PDF” to check you’re happy with how it all looks.

This will show you exactly what your chart is like: the whole image, usually about 8 pages of chart, and the key. If you’re happy, you just click “SAVE TO PDF”.

STEP THREE — Order Materials:

Here are the things you’ll need:

• A pair of scissors

• An embroidery hoop

• Aida fabric — I use DMC 16 count in size S and colour Blanc (16 count is very important!)

• A cross stitch needle (also known as a tapestry needle, which are less sharp than normal ones)

• Bobbins (I use cardboard ones so I can write the number on them easily)

• And, most importantly… thread

If you selected “DMC” back in the Palette section of Step Two, you want to head to this website for your thread. This should take you to DMC’s Mouliné Spécial thread. Have the key page of your chart to hand.

Then, click on this:

On your key next to the symbols is a column called “Number”. It will have “DMC” followed by a number. Each of those numbers is a colour. Search for those numbers in the “CHOOSE FROM 499 OPTIONS” section. Remember, there’s about 1,900 stitches per colour item (known as a skein). So, if on your key in the “Stitches” column the number is less than 1,900, you just order one skein. If it’s over 2,000, order more than one. (If it’s in between 1,900 and 2,000, it’s up to you to take the risk on one and potentially need to order more later). Of course, if there are more than 3,800 stitches of one colour, you’ll need two or more skeins.

Once you’ve added the thread (and other materials) into the basket, you’re ready to check out.

(You can get DMC branded bobbins on the DMC website or non-branded easily elsewhere.)

STEP FOUR — Bobbins & Colours:

Once your materials have arrived, it’s time to wind your thread round the bobbins (yes, that’s where the nursery rhyme comes from!). Write the number of your thread on the top of the bobbin.

Gather your bobbins together in something easy to access like a small basket or box so they’re on hand for when you’re sewing.

STEP FIVE — Print:

It’s time to print off your chart. Of course, this is optional. But for Full Analogue 2026 status, printing it out means not having to look at a screen at all, which I highly recommend.

STEP SIX — Prep Fabric:

Unroll your new aida fabric and fold it in half and then half again. Press down on the edge, especially the middle corner.

Unfold it and make sure you have clear lines in the material: a cross. Where the lines meet in the middle is the very centre of your fabric.

Now, you’re going to find where you want to start. You can start right there in the middle if you like (your chart will have arrows that point to where the centre is). But I prefer to find the top left hand corner and work out from there. To do that…

It’s counting time! Aida fabric is made up of small holes. Once you can see it, it looks like lots of small squares. Each square (four holes) is a cross stitch. Because my projects are 95 stitches high, I count up 48 stitches from the centre stitch (half of the overall height). Once I’ve got there, I then count out 80 stitches to the left (half of the overall width). I use my needle to do this so I don’t lose my place.

Wiggle your needle around immediately once you’ve got to the top left corner stitch. This way you won’t easily lose it.

Put this top left hand section into your embroidery hoop.

STEP SEVEN — Pick Media:

I like to pair my sewing time with some company in the form of podcasts, audiobooks, music, sports or a TV show. Sometimes even the film I’m sewing! (Bonus points for snacks.)

STEP EIGHT — Cross Stitch:

You’ve made it, it’s actually time to start sewing! On the first page of your chart, you’ll find the top left hand corner, which looks like this (from my current wip):

The first stitch is the square symbol. On the key, it tells me that the square is the colour 934.

So, I find my bobbin of 934, unravel it to about the length of my arm and cut the bunch of threads. For this piece on 16 count aida, you want to use two strands of thread so it covers the material.

(Personally, I like to use what’s called the “loop method” instead of tying knots in my thread when I start a new colour. This means I use one piece of thread folded in half instead of two.)

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And then you just begin to follow the chart and you’re off, which is probably a whole separate tutorial itself?

I’d love to know which film scene you’d stitch and why?

But let’s be radical for a second. What if, what if, you can’t get art wrong? What if embracing the messiness of this project’s journey over the past six years, as it transforms as I have done, is the project? This feels counterintuitive as an author and screenwriter coming up against an incredibly risk-averse industry, one that makes me feel like there is a right and wrong thing to commission but let’s just go with it. At least for the initial writing stage.

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So, what does a writer do when they can’t figure out what the hell they’re trying to create? At worst, they go down unhealthy dopamine-searching-side-quests… At best, the journal.

Here’s a (zhuzhed up) extract from said journal as I tried (try) to find enough clarity to at least articulate or begin writing whatever this project is crying out to be.

Sitting down to write [REDACTED] around the same time as getting on Substack has been fascinating. And by fascinating, I mean eye-opening. I feel uncomfortable, grappling, trying to figure out what these wide eyes are seeing. It’s all blurred, neon colour. Too bright and perfect just as it is. The truth is, I think I’m scared by the enormity of what the project wants to explore and how, on this platform, I can see how needed it is, as well as my own personal shit. It’s the lava*. I’ve come to a place where my desire, my walls and my existentialism collide in a mess I can’t yet decipher. Is the process of writing about it clarifying? Assigning feelings to characters, lending passion to plot. Or is trying to find order for it not quite the point? How to find that middle ground where I’m expressing it through story and creativity but also not refining it too much that it loses its needed sting…

This is why this project is maybe no longer a romcom as I’ve understood it. I mean, it could be. But I don’t want it to be contained in neat lines and beats. Having said that, any TV show will require these beats, these quite easily answered questions: what does your character want vs what they need? what are they searching and acting for? why? will they get it or not? what’s in their way?

Currently, I see no answers. In fact, the questions don’t even make real sense. As a writer who uses the lists and beats and questions as an immediate way to make sense of a project, to set out my journey as much as the characters’, it feels new to be rejecting it. I don’t want to know in a tidy way and yet I feel I need to.

Looking at those bright, limb-linked colours is dizzying, annoying, brilliant. Is there a way to understand them without untangling them, without ruining the spectacle that feels just right — a well-composed and confronting canvas?

I guess a “controlling idea” isn’t limiting while also being refining - two things that would be great right now. Because I do need direction, that much is clear. Perhaps that’s the thing: direction in the absence of answers. When I think of “controlling ideas”, I remember something I read recently: when did love become “something you win, not something you feel?”.

The ideas I’m circling (or that are circling me) are:

• Capitalism and how it has commodified love in a way that makes romance unattainable and seduction dry (decline in flirting etc)

• Masking vs authenticity and how neurodivergence/the Panic Pixie Dream girl of it all is both desired and rejected

• The deep, biological, and necessary yearning for love and intimacy vs hyper-independence/shame/fear and its conflict with all of the above

At the moment, there’s this sense of being trapped, of a stalemate when it comes to heterosexual dating and partnership. Women have much more liberation than we did before. Maybe now women dating men “want men, but… don’t need them. And that changes everything. It means we’re not tolerating weaponized incompetence, or a man who doesn’t meet our emotional needs.” When healthy, we want what’s good for us; we want what and who provides intimacy, emotional connection and authenticity. But we’re coming up against two walls: men and ourselves.

For starters, men haven’t been conditioned to be emotionally available and authentic, quite the opposite. They’ve been raised to value and nurture a role in which emotional labour is outsourced, in which they provide materially most of the time. Generally, women don’t value that as highly as before. Is that true? In this economy? Don’t we want and need a partner to provide financially? Well, yes, more than ever. But the difference now is that we need them to provide as well as ourselves, not solely. It almost needs to be a given at least that they can split rent etc and the base level of that just isn’t enough anymore. Authenticity and connection is the desire. So many men aren’t equipped to show up in that way. There’s the stalemate. But even if a specific man is…

We get in the way ourselves. Because to be authentic, open and soft isn’t just scary irrationally for us but also for very good reason (violence against women is an epidemic etc). Despite all of that even, “how to exist [and love] without an audience”? We’re not very good at it. Another writers says, “I find myself curating a version of me that can be loved safely, loved at an arm’s length, loved in measured doses. Because I cannot bear to be fully seen. I cannot bear for my scars to be recognizable.”

“To be seen without performing, to exist authentically is a kind of bloodshed.” This thinking — no, being — happens for many reasons around the personal and the cultural. Culturally, women are taught to perform for men in order to attract, satisfy, fit in, even to survive. More personally for us, there’s trauma and the resulting shame. There are things like neurodivergence, disability, sexuality… anything “different” from the “norm”. Difference is just another thing that threatens capitalism. It makes sense then, the commercialisation of love.

So, in order to love and touch and flirt again in a way that feels real and meaningful, men need to unlearn emotional withholding and learn to express their emotions and true selves. And women need to, well, stop performing and do exactly the same thing? And both need to create an environment in which the other feels safe enough to do so. We may have come to these states for different reasons, with different origin stories, but we find ourselves in the same dilemma: needing to drop the mask but being terrified of being shamed and rejected.

So many questions with meandering and centuries-long answers. So many what ifs and why nots that, I guess, make up any story. Perhaps it’s about having the questions and not the answers that I’m striving for here.

And then there’s the fact that I so desperately — if I allow myself that desperation — want my own personal answers. I want to know whose heat I can feel under my fingers instead of the heat of my phone screen. I want… [REDACTED].

Holding your phone, you cradle a notification in your hands… the screen is looking out for more than just contact: it wants you only when you’re warm and gentle and soft. Your phone seeks out a lover’s touch.

At the heart of it all, my fear is: what if I can’t find a person to be my true, authentic self with? Someone who I can be romantic, communicative and emotional as well as sexual with? Where both of us “can grow and evolve without losing [ourselves].” Oof, there’s that lava.

So, back to the question: when did love become something you win, not something you feel? And what’s stopping us from loving authentically, without focus on performance and audience?

Characters then slot into that question, messily, with their whens and whys and what ifs; with their pasts, masks, audiences, theatres and dreams. And those collide to create drama, conflict, laughter and love. And, there, somewhere in there, is my script. One that confronts our agonising predicament when it comes to the commercialisation of love. One that is entertaining in its relatability and charm. One that says: it’s really hard, we’re really scared and we’re also responsible to change.

I guess if I stay true to my own, raw, tangled-up feelings about being single and wanting to date in this broken system as well as being plugged into the current discourse about it, I might just find a way to do what Rachel Sennott’s trying to do with I Love LA: to create my “own unique tone — something that [feels] unique to [me] and [is] very specific to now.”

* By lava, I’m referring to an incredible episode of the podcast The Screenwriting Life (that I’ve listened to multiple times) where they use “lava” as a term for what, in other words, the true heart of your script is, how to find it and how it makes your writing unique. It might just be time for a re-listen…

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