NYWIFT Blog

By Shayna Cartledge 

Welcome to NYWIFT, Molly Rydzel!

Molly Rydzel (WGAE) is a screenwriter specializing in female-driven horror and dark satire. 

She was a staff writer and story editor on Alejandro Iñárritu’s The One Percent for Starz and head writer of the web series Assisted Living. Her horror play, Serial Lover, was developed with Ars Nova and Sanguine Theater Company. 

Molly teaches screenwriting at New York University and Pace University, specializing in horror, fantasy, and science fiction. 

She is developing a slate of mythic horror features and is committed to creating more opportunities for women in genre film through bold, commercially viable storytelling.

Could you give our readers a brief introduction to yourself?

Hi! I’m Molly Rydzel. I’m a playwright, screenwriter, college professor, and script doctor – but mostly I’m a storyteller. I’ve written for television, developed new plays, and now spend my time writing genre films while helping other writers strengthen their own work. 

When I’m not outlining a screenplay or teaching story structure, I’m hanging out with my chaotic neutral rescue dog, Ava.

What brought you to NYWIFT?

I’m currently producing a horror proof of concept, and I knew NYWIFT had the community and resources that would help make it possible. Producing has reminded me that filmmaking is a team sport, and I wanted to surround myself with women who are building ambitious careers in every corner of the industry.

Long-term, my goal is to build a production company dedicated to championing women’s voices in genre film. Joining NYWIFT felt like the first step toward building that community.

What (or who) shaped your love for storytelling?

I’ve been screaming inside for my whole life.

When I was in middle school, I didn’t have any friends. I spent Saturday nights alone in my room playing electric guitar and pretending I was Courtney Love. I wanted to make noise like her, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out but a squeak.

So I learned to scream on the page instead.

Writing became the place where I could be loud, messy, and fearless. Now, whether I’m writing horror or helping another writer untangle a screenplay, I’m always looking to see how the pen can make us (metaphorically) bleed onto the page. 

How do you address social politics and constructs in your storytelling?

Women are born from pain. Our mothers bleed to give us life, and then life bleeds us according to the cycles of the moon. We are compelled to be warriors so that our blood does not mark us as prey.

Our pain is our strength.

Women like me crave the catharsis of the horror film because it allows us to distill and anthropomorphize the horror our own bodies present us with each month. To personify the vague fear and watchfulness of every moment spent in the public sphere as a potential object of prey. The idle wondering on the morning commute: Does the man eye-fucking me right now want to set my loins on fire or my whole body on fire? (Hint: it’s probably both.)

Unfortunately, only 20% of screenplays produced in 2024 were written by women. That’s one in five major motion pictures. Around 10% of horror films were written by women. Despite carrying the genre—from Janet Leigh’s iconic shower scene, to every Final Girl, to the recent wave of post-menopausal body horror—we still aren’t allowed to tell the stories of our own horror on a broad scale.

In a world where #MeToo has somehow become #HeToo, and where our legal control over our own bodies continues to erode, many women have become numb. I will forever remember the soul-sucking feeling I had after the Dobbs decision. Collecting news stories of women miscarrying and bleeding out in hospital parking lots. Screaming, ‘See? See? This is what they’re doing to us!’ But knowing, deep down, that the cruelty is the point. That these dead women are meant to teach us a lesson about moral purity. About where and when to spread our legs. About how easily and how often we bleed. 

It is essential that we do not become numb.

My work is one big existential Post-it note reminding women that our pain does not mark us as prey.

Our pain is our strength.

What genre are you interested in exploring that you haven’t yet?

I’d love to spend more time in science fiction and speculative fiction.

I’ve written several dystopian short stories – a world where cannibalism has become fine dining, another where a female Elon Musk builds a billion-dollar empire by commercializing reproduction – but I haven’t yet translated those ideas to the screen. At the moment, I’m happily making my way through a slate of horror projects, but sci-fi is definitely calling my name.

What has being a professor taught you about yourself?

Teaching has made me a much better listener.

Every semester, my students remind me that there isn’t one “correct” way to tell a story. My job isn’t to make everyone write like me – it’s to help each writer become more fully themselves.

Teaching has also made me a stronger script doctor. Spending years diagnosing why stories aren’t landing has sharpened my ability to identify the invisible problems beneath the obvious ones. The notes I love giving aren’t about changing a writer’s voice – they’re about helping them hear it more clearly. (And of course, making their work industry-savvy.) 

What do you love most about writing?

The scratch of an ultra-fine point pen across a piece of paper is my favorite sound in the whole world. There’s something magical about the connection between my heart, my hand, and the page.

I love to Tetris stories until the components fit. I love when the characters completely ignore my outline and insist on becoming more interesting than I planned. I love hearing actors transform words I’ve only ever imagined. And I love handing a script to a trusted collaborator and watching it grow into something I never could have created alone. 

Storytelling begins as a solitary act, but the best stories become conversations. 

Connect with Molly Rydzel on LinkedIn or on Instagram @mollyisalwayswrite.  

(All Photos Courtesy of Molly Rydzel)