SXSW 2023: Kevin Yee Talks A Guide to Not Dying Completely Alone, Creating the Change That He Wants to See, and More

Kevin Yee is a prolific storyteller who has never shied away from sharing his experiences as a queer Asian creative in Hollywood. Having been a part of this industry since he was six years old, Kevin will be the first to tell you that his journey has been anything but easy. He has had to fight for his voice to be heard as he’s created visibility for a community that wants to see their stories reflected and celebrated on screen. It’s that struggle that has inspired his mission as an artist and led to the creation of projects like A Guide to Not Dying Completely Alone.

Making its world premiere at SXSW, the episodic pilot follows a gay Asian writer who passes out in a gay bar bathroom, wakes up in the hospital, and realizes he is detached from society. Terrified of dying alone, he decides to change his life for the better and chronicles his journey in a book he writes called A Guide to Not Dying Completely Alone! A bitchy Eat, Pray, Love for 2022, this show is about mortality, forgiveness, and starting over, all from a gay Asian perspective. But it isn’t about our differences—it’s about what makes us similar. And it isn’t about dying—it’s about how to live.

Pop Culturalist was lucky enough to speak with creator and star Kevin Yee ahead of the show’s world premiere at SXSW about how he’s continued to push authentic storytelling forward and more.

PC: There are so many different facets to your talent. How have your experiences behind the scenes as a writer, producer, and director lent themselves to your work as an actor and vice versa?
Kevin: I started as an actor, so I used to hide in roles. Over time, I found that I didn’t have a voice because all I could do was speak other people’s minds. But I had so much more to tell. I also never felt like I fit into roles. There was never a perfect role that I was like, “This is me. This represents my experiences as a person and as an Asian.” That really forced me, out of necessity, to write my own work. Nobody was really producing Asian or queer content to this extent. I had to be the one to write it. I knew that. It’s been a struggle my whole career that I’ve always felt that I didn’t fit into Hollywood, and I knew that the only way that I would fit in was to make it myself.

Producing, directing, and writing came out of necessity. Instead of complaining on Twitter, I created the change that I wanted to see. It’s been a very difficult process, which is why I’m here at SXSW with an episodic that’s independently produced. Because I do fit into some of the facets of Hollywood with the roles that I’ve played, but I still feel like an outsider, even as I’ve been in different writers’ rooms.

But everything facilitates each other. Acting facilitates writing. I write queer Asian roles for other shows that they cast other actors for. I feel like being able to facilitate that within Hollywood and be that change is what’s important to me. Because I love storytelling. I want to keep doing it, but I couldn’t keep doing it in the way that I was when I started.

PC: You’ve been open about the fact that throughout your career you’ve struggled to find your voice. What’s had the biggest impact on your development as a storyteller?
Kevin: It’s not seeing myself reflected. The more honest that I’ve been in my life and career, the more that I find people actually connect to me. People think that they know who I am, but they see a shell of me. They don’t see that in our communities we’re all different. I always get compared to and feel like I’m against people like Bowen Yang and Joel Kim Booster. I’ve had executives refuse to meet me because they’re like, “We’re doing a project with Joel Kim Booster.” But Joel Kim Booster is completely different from me.

I feel the more that I’ve been honest, the more that I understand myself and also other people understand me. It’s very human. When you don’t see yourself reflected when you’re younger, you don’t know what your voice is. You don’t know who you are. I feel like in many ways because I was in show business at such a young age—I was six when I got my first job—I’ve always been put in boxes. I had to change myself in order to get work. That’s the point of acting. It’s about being a chameleon. But I also think that being queer and Asian is very specific. Even now, I’m still learning and understanding who I am just as a human, as a queer person, and as an Asian person in the world because I didn’t see myself reflected. By exploring my voice, I feel more confident now than I’ve ever felt.

PC: You’ve made several transitions throughout your career, from the stage to the screen, from your twenties to your thirties, and you’ve faced a lot of diversity during those times. During those more challenging times, how were you able to persevere?
Kevin: I think because I don’t know how to do anything else. I’m not passionate about anything else. There have been times in my life when I haven’t worked for years. When I transitioned from New York to LA, I had just turned thirty. I didn’t work for five years straight. I didn’t make enough to file taxes. I even asked my tax person, “Do I need to at least tell them I still exist?” [laughs] She was like, “No, they don’t care. You didn’t make enough so you don’t need to file taxes.” But even during those times, I couldn’t do a nine-to-five job. I have this aversion to it because I had to do it when I was younger when I was working in clothing stores, mopping floors, etc.

I don’t feel it’s fair as an artist that we have to do that, but it’s a back-and-forth and reality. But during those times when I thought about transitioning to other jobs or sectors, I knew I wasn’t passionate about anything except what I do. As I’ve been doing more TV writing, it still feels within this world. I feel like it used to be that I only wanted to be an actor. I wanted to be in front of the camera, but now, I just want to contribute to storytelling and change.

PC: You’ve been a part of many different writers’ rooms. In an industry that’s often adverse to change and hasn’t always celebrated diversity, when did you start noticing that shift? What has it been like for you to be that voice of change in moments when it was less “commercial”?
Kevin: I will say that I have opportunities now in a way that I wouldn’t have had as a writer five to ten years ago. There’s more inclusion in the rooms. But every room has been different. Some of them, you think they’re going to be more open to change, and they’re really not. The system of Hollywood is flawed, especially in the way that the writers’ rooms are created. It’s very competitive. It’s very status-heavy. Ultimately, your job as a writer in a room sometimes is not to be an artist. Sometimes it’s just to exist in the room, and you have to create what the showrunner wants, whether you agree with it or not. I’ve definitely come across shows where I disagree with the representation as I’m the only Asian and queer person, and when I speak up I get pushback. Then I have to shut my mouth or I’ll get fired, which is also fine. I’m not scared of getting fired. Because at this point, I’ve had a very long career. It’s like, “I’ll always find a way to move forward.” But change is very slow. It goes back and forth.

Then some rooms, the showrunners will surprise you. They’ll be straight White men, and they want to facilitate change. Then other ones, they’ll be like, “Stop speaking.” But in both situations, I’ve never been a pushover. I do feel like when people watch whatever show I wrote on, they can tell that I’m there, especially if they know my work. But it’s been a challenge. I wouldn’t say that we’re there yet. I wouldn’t give Hollywood its props yet because the language is changing but not the system. They’re finding different ways to say the same thing. They’re including people like me now, finally, but not necessarily always listening.

PC: Your episodic pilot is premiering at SXSW. A Guide to Not Dying Completely Alone was inspired by a darker moment in your life, but ultimately, it’s a story about hope. It perfectly blends drama and comedy so beautifully, and it plays to your strength as well as director Yen Tan’s strength. Why do you think this fusion of genres lends itself to this type of storytelling? How has this collaboration allowed you both to push each other as artists?
Kevin: I have a very comedic sense. Yen is very dramatic. It was important to me to find realism in this project in a way that even I as an actor am not comfortable performing. I’m very much a comedy person. I want punchlines. I want physical comedy. I knew that it would be my go-to because I’ve directed my own material in the past and that’s where I feel comfortable. I didn’t want that for this because the project felt more important.

Yen is really comfortable in the quiet spaces. That’s why I always say that he and I have a great collaboration because he’s comfortable in silence in ways that I’m not. We’ve actually written a feature together. That’s how we first started working together. We’re really good at pinging back and forth as opposed to having to be together and make every decision together. This is my project, but when he directed, I gave him the wherewithal to go for it because I wanted to see his vision of my work. With this project, there’s realism, darkness, and hope. I felt like I needed the drama.

PC: The media landscape is changing where there’s not one traditional way to get a project greenlit or created. We’ve seen storytellers in recent years, yourself included, create opportunities for themselves. But with a project like this that’s been several years in development, what was that pivotal moment when you said, “I’m not going to wait for somebody else. I’ll do it on my own?”
Kevin: I wrote it about six years ago. I was in my early thirties. I’ve been trying to sell this the entire time. What I felt was the biggest issue was that it was queer and Asian-centered. There was no show that I could refer to. So many people want to know what the comp of the show is and who is going to star in it. Because it’s queer and Asian-centered, there aren’t many of us. So it became difficult to sell, even though I knew that the script was resonating because I booked two of the writers’ rooms that I’ve been a part of with it. I had so many general meetings because of it. I signed with my agent because of it. It’s such a special story to me, so I didn’t want to give up on it.

Then about two years ago, we almost sold it to a production company in Canada. During negotiations, it fell through but in a very odd way where I felt like it wasn’t me or my project. It felt like this weird energy surrounding how it fell through. That was the moment when I was like, “I need to give this one last chance.” Even my reps were like, “You’ve been at this for a long time, maybe it’s time to find another passion project.” I have other scripts that I’d written during that time, but this was the one that was me. This was a part of me that I felt was so important that I wanted to tell it. So I decided around that time and when the pandemic was happening and exacerbating that loneliness with me and so many other people that it felt more relevant than ever. It was time to make it myself no matter what.

I also didn’t make a film over the pandemic. So it was like I wanted to make work anyways, but it really came out of being pushed to give it one last shot. So here at SXSW, one question that has come up is, “Are you trying to sell it? Are you trying to make it into a show?” For me, I would love that to happen, but it’s also okay if this is the end of the road because it feels like being able to present it was the point. Now to present it at SXSW in such a big way, of course, I would love for it to have a life past this, but I think that I need to loosen my grip of it so that it can do what it needs to do.

PC: You self-financed and crowdfunded this project. With the response that you saw on Indiegogo and its inclusion at festivals like SXSW, is it indicative that audiences are craving a lead queer Asian man at the forefront? What has that meant to you?
Kevin: It means a lot because I believe that, but I don’t feel like Hollywood believes it. But I also believe that people want it. But Hollywood is a business, and I have to deal within the business of Hollywood. If they don’t buy it, there’s nothing I can do. I could self-fund this and make the whole series online, but I don’t have the money for that. Let’s be honest. But the thing is, I have many more stories to tell that are queer and Asian centered with different queer and Asian-centered stars, and not just queer and Asian. There are so many different voices that aren’t heard in Hollywood, and I want to be part of telling those stories. Being able to present my story here and having the amazing feedback that I’ve had tells me that I have to keep going for myself and keep fighting—hopefully with Hollywood one day and not against them.

PC: Without giving any spoilers, there’s a scene in the pilot where your character has a breakdown and shares this inner monologue. You handled that moment with so much nuance. I know that you wrote that, but what is that process like as an actor to create the space for yourself to dive into that arc?
Kevin: I think because this was so personal, one thing that I was thinking about during those shots is how representation can feel to other people and how it’s made me feel when I see somebody bringing that type of representation. So it came from a very emotional place because it’s been such a long journey. But also because I can imagine people watching this and how it could resonate with them. That is my goal as an artist. As we were discussing earlier, I’m very comedy driven, so I’m not used to that kind of thing. That might be the only thing ever filmed of me being dark emotionally. But again, it comes from a place of knowing that audiences can see themselves in this performance, and that is what I’m trying to create.

PC: What I love about this pilot is that the protagonist is queer and he’s Asian, but it’s never the focal point in the narrative. Instead, it’s a story about connection, living life, and all these universal themes. Why was that decision so important to you, especially in an industry that’s so quick to call out the ways that it’s celebrating representation?
Kevin: Art is about connection. When we’re talking about minority voices, we sometimes get stuck in our bubbles. That’s not a criticism because I think that everybody needs to tell their stories and have their voice. But one theory that I have fought for throughout Hollywood is that what’s important is to find the connective tissue that still tells authentic stories within it. So for this, it is about the fear that we all have about aging, morality, and the idea of dying alone. But it is very queer and Asian centered because it’s from that viewpoint. So as I create more work, I’m always thinking in terms of what is the bigger future? Because we still have to work within the confines of Hollywood if we want our work to be seen outside of festivals. So it’s a challenge. My earlier work was very aggressively specific. That’s still there, but I try to find a bigger concept that everyone can watch.

PC: You’ve also said that as a storyteller, your mission is to be the representation that you didn’t see on screen. Having had all the success that you’ve had and also the ups and downs, if you could tell your younger self one thing, what would it be?
Kevin: It’s hard because I think that I know that I will always be lonely and that I’ll always feel alone in this industry. I don’t know if I will ever feel like I belong. That’s not to say that I’m a victim, but it’s to say that my battle within Hollywood feels lonely and I have to do it alone. That was a fear when I was younger. I wish that my younger self knew that so he could prepare. This journey will be long, but you know why you’re doing it.

To keep up with Kevin, follow him on Twitter and Instagram. To see when A Guide to Not Dying Completely Alone is playing at SXSW, check out the festival’s official website.

Photo Credit: Nina Menconi