I've been honored to know Pam for more than 30 years. First, because I was friends with her amazingly talented daughter Raya during high school, where we performed in various shows and musicals. And then later, when I was trying to decide which graduate film program to go to, it was a conversation with Pam that eventually led me to choose USC.

But it was as my professor and mentor during film school that Pam truly changed my life. I'll admit: I had very little interest in TV when I first entered film school. I was a total feature snob. My goal was to become an auteur, a cross between Spike Lee and Fellini. Stepping into Pam's TV writing class changed all that. In fact—and I know people say this phrase a lot, but in this case it's true—I can say quite literally that it changed the trajectory of my life. I already knew Pam was an awesome mom, but now I got to know her as a brilliant and brilliantly passionate teacher, who completely changed my views about TV as a creative medium. Of course, the timing was pretty good. This was the era of shows like The West Wing, The Sopranos, and 24; shows that were redefining what television and long-form storytelling could be. And if this was the Golden Age of Television, Pam was the ideal teacher to have. She taught us the nuts and bolts of the craft, helping us to understand TV structure, character development, the differences between serialized and episodic storytelling, when it was OK to break the rules, and how NOT to piss off your showrunner. She also taught us the fine art of how to mimic a showrunner's voice while also staying true to your own. Most importantly for me, she gave me the encouragement to keep writing and keep growing, and to believe that there was a place for MY voice in the TV landscape.

She did this when I was her student, and even after I graduated 'SC, when I decided to do a 180 and go all-in on this TV writing thing. In fact, it was the West Wing spec I wrote in her class that landed me my first agent and officially helped launch my TV writing journey, which has definitely had its shares of plot-twists and season cliffhangers.

After I finished USC, Pam and I continued to keep in touch, and I'd give her updates on how things were going career-wise. I'll confess there were definitely a few years when things were not going so well, when it seemed as if I would never get staffed, when I contemplated giving up and doing the unthinkable: going to law school. Pam's faith in me never wavered. She believed in me, even when I didn't. I'm so thankful and grateful she did. Because I'm pretty sure law school would've sucked (I suspect it's WAY more fun to write about lawyers than to actually be one.)

As I think we all know, the TV business is changing radically, and part of why writers are striking right now is to fight to keep TV writing as a viable profession. No matter how the business changes, the lessons I learned from Pam—that all of her students learned—will remain timeless and valuable. Humans need stories, and they need human storytellers. Thanks to Pam, there are legions of human storytellers out there who can manage any plot-twist, survive any cliffhanger, who will persevere and keep telling stories... and who, by the series finale, will ultimately prevail.

Pam, thank you for being the incredible, no-BS., generous and loving teacher and mentor you are. Not just to me, but literally to an entire generation of storytellers. Countless aspiring writers have benefited and will continue to benefit from your wonderful books about the craft and business of TV writing, but I feel beyond fortunate to have learned from you firsthand, and also to have been blessed with your friendship. I wouldn't have the career in TV I've had, or be the writer I am, if it weren't for you.

Sure, ChatGPT may be smart. But we've got Pam Douglas. You may try to mimic HER voice, but don't even try. She's truly one of a kind.

David McMillan is an award-winning screenwriter, producer, playwright and filmmaker.