I want to work on projects I love. I want to get excited at the lines I see on a page. I want to feel good about what I’m doing, who I’m working with, the story I am helping tell.
I’ve started writing a script. I feel that completing this will sustain my interest, will patch up my desperation long enough to hold me over til my next day on set. My insides are too big for my outsides.
Recently, I’ve been e-mailing a real-life writer, someone who is doing the thing my fingers tell me I should be doing. He is a sort of patch for another void in my life. I’ve been writing the story of me all over again, and I look forward to meeting him. I look forward to working with him.
I’m in search of people in search of something else.