Possibly the most ridiculous thing that Gordy said keeps rattling around in my brain. "You really could make it, but you know ... you really could not make it too."
I don't know why it haunts me, depresses me, frustrates me. Perhaps because it frames it as a choice. I could keep writing these dark, risky things that come from my heart, and "be sitting here, in this office - well not this office, I'll have a better office - in that suit ten years from now," or I could fucking figure out some light and fluffy high-concept product to sell...
I really feel sick.
I finished the short script "The Dead Samaritan" today, and it doesn't work. Which proves a point. A month or more wasted. No one is into it. And for some reason, I'm not even getting e-mail that people are sending to be polite, say something pleasant, and pass on.