“We aren’t waiting for a seat at the table, we’re building our own,” said freelance producer Dominique Boyd. (Courtesy of Dominique Boyd)
The city known as the “Hollywood of the South” has long attracted blockbuster productions with its generous tax credits and expanding studio infrastructure. But a growing group of local filmmakers and writers believe the city’s creative future lies beyond billion-dollar franchises. Their focus? Building independent writers’ rooms that center authentic stories by and for Black and LGBTQIA+ voices.
“Independence isn’t just a choice — for many of us, it’s the only way in,” said Atlanta-based filmmaker David Fortune. “By building from the ground up, we’re creating space to tell stories on our own terms and laying the foundation for Atlanta to become a true storytelling hub.”
Fortune’s debut feature, Color Book, premiered at the 2024 Tribeca Film Festival and opened the Atlanta Film Festival, making history as the first locally produced film to do so. The black-and-white drama follows a father and his son with Down syndrome as they navigate grief and connection during a day-long quest to attend a baseball game.
“Too often, productions come here, shoot the city and then leave without capturing the essence of our community,” Fortune said. “If I’m telling Atlanta stories, I’m not going to film them somewhere else like New York or LA. I want the city to be the backdrop because that’s where the stories live.”
While Atlanta has become a go-to destination for productions from Marvel Studios and Netflix, many local creators argue the infrastructure boom has not translated into opportunity for homegrown talent. Writers, directors and showrunners remain underrepresented and under-resourced — a disconnect that Fortune and others hope to address through independent storytelling.
“I want to build something sustainable — whether it’s fellowships, writers’ rooms or even a film festival dedicated to celebrating Atlanta’s indie work,” he said. “It’s about building something meaningful and resourceful, built with intention.”
The power of Atlanta’s creative energy isn’t lost on national productions either. “What Atlanta brought for us, it cannot be understated on how it helped create this show for us,” said Damione Macedon, co-showrunner of “Genius: MLK/X,” in an interview with Atlanta Magazine. Macedon credited the city’s culture and history for grounding the series in emotional truth.
That, according to local advocates, is proof of concept: The city’s artists and communities are not just backdrops — they are creative engines. “The truth is, infrastructure alone doesn’t build a sustainable industry,” said Dominique Boyd, an award-winning freelance producer. “It’s the people behind the scenes — the writers, directors, editors and showrunners — who shape culture.”
Boyd is one of many creatives involved in building writers’ collectives across Atlanta — informal but intentional spaces where Black and queer voices craft new narratives, often without the funding or validation of traditional studios. “We aren’t waiting for a seat at the table; we’re building our own,” Boyd said.
Fortune echoed that ethos: “Everything starts with the writer. It’s about sitting down, opening your laptop and committing to telling stories that reflect your community honestly and intimately. That’s the root of change.”
The recent Writers Guild of America strike focused national attention on fair pay, streaming residuals and protections against AI. But for many in Atlanta, the underlying issue is authorship and access. With fewer gatekeepers, independent rooms offer creators a chance to retain ownership of their work and shape narratives without compromise.
As WIRED noted in a recent feature, the industry is now entering what some describe as the MAGA era — a time when “the line between entertainment and ideology has all but disappeared.” The concern among Atlanta’s creatives is that without control of their own stories, they risk being sidelined or stereotyped on screen.
That urgency has galvanized a new wave of filmmakers who see independence not just as a strategy but as a necessity. “When you’re starting out, especially as a Black filmmaker, the traditional studio route often isn’t an option,” Fortune said. “Independence is usually the starting point.”
The results speak for themselves. Fortune was recently honored by the Atlanta Braves for Color Book and its depiction of family, disability and the city’s spirit — a moment he described as deeply meaningful. “My biggest motivation is to pay it forward,” he said. “To keep creating and elevating stories that reflect the community’s spirit so that the seed planted in me grows and blooms into opportunities for many more.”
That kind of recognition has advocates drawing parallels to another one of Atlanta’s cultural strongholds: music. “If Atlanta can cultivate a music scene that defines global pop culture, why can’t it do the same for its local artists?” asked journalist Jewel Wicker in Atlanta Magazine’s “How I’d Fix Atlanta” series.
Fortune sees a similar creative renaissance underway in film. “I told my producer recently that an independent movement is brewing here,” he said. “In the next 10 years, I believe Atlanta’s indie scene will grow and bloom into something bigger.”
The future of Atlanta’s film industry may depend not just on major productions but on the support and development of local storytellers. As independent creators continue to work outside the traditional system, their efforts are shaping a growing space for homegrown narratives — told, written and produced in the city where they begin.
::
Ronesha Strickland is an Atlanta-based screenwriter and producer with more than eight years of experience in film and media. Currently pursuing an MFA in film and television at SCAD, they’ve written for Rough Draft ATL and continue to develop original content rooted in Southern culture and underrepresented voices.
