Now I must admit, it's my fault.  I never wanted to be a starving artist.  I have a wife and kids to feed, clothe and keep sheltered.  Still there are times when I envy my fellow bretheren as they toil for low pay in crappy jobs.  They at least can find the time to write.  Oh I find time to write as well, just not as much time as I would like.  No doubt the other writers still want more time to write too.  Because writing hours are like potato chips, one is never enough.

Still as I get closer and closer of realizing the ultimate goal of selling and hopefully making (the ultimate, ultimate goal) my first Hollywood film it gets harder and harder to toil day in and day out in the day job.  You start to see real differences between you (who does this to eat) and the others in your office (who do it because they enjoy it).  Now I'm not saying I don't enjoy what I do because for the most part I do but it sure grinds you down when you have to face a non creative environment day in and day out.  Then again the side benefit is that it acts like a sling shot to propel you out of the situation.  If only the Film business wasn't so lengthy on the whole time thing.

Now it sounds like I'm horribly down right now but it's not the case.  I'm just realizing the weight of all that depends on me right now.  By that I don't mean realize for the first time but more of a full realization of the scope of the reach I am grasping for.

It comes from a meeting I had with a Director, I'll be working on a new project with.  He read me a letter from his Agent which was essentially an article he was writing for Variety.  I won't hit you with the whole thing but I'll give you the scope. 

At the end of the day.  You the writer are asking the studio to invest at the very least Eighty Million dollars in your work.  Eighty Million, and you thought Doctor Evil was off the mark.  Hell ,you're not even threatening to blow up the world (at least not in the real sense).  Now we might be eager to pass the buck on this.  I'm not asking for this.  It's the Director, the Stars, the Art department, Distribution!  They're to blame.  I only wanted two million, seven tops!  It doesn't wash.  It was your idea that got the whole ball of wax rolling.  It was your arrogance.  It's almost God like (though that feeling really is reserved for Producers).

So here I sit in my cubicle.

Rolling my rock up that hill.

Because this time...  This time.

It's going over the top and rolling down the other side.

Good Luck and Good Writing.

I'm Steve Abbott and I'm waiting to sell out.