Ugh, I am stressing out about the stupidest things. Like, after an update of my (night)life pictures on facebook, I just realized that I do not have a neck. Seriously, head and shoulders, and that's it. Do I need to start wearing ridiculously plunging v-necks? Cease all weight-lifting involving the shoulders? Constantly gaze upward? Employ a three-pronged attack involving all of these? Honestly, I don't know what to do.
I am also reading Billion Dollar Kiss: The Kiss That Saved DAWSON'S CREEK and Other Adventures in TV Writing by Jeffrey Stepakoff. So far, it is more or less a memoir about his journey to becoming a TV writer. I enjoy it, and relate to many of his anecdotes...except for the part where he meets John Wells at a college alumni event, sends him scripts, gets meetings with agents who want to represent him, and makes a ton of money writing for TV while still in his mid twenties. Arrrrgh sometimes I feel so far away from this. I know the only cure is to just keep writing so I will have scripts to show my John Wells-equivalent after I finish my year on the agency desk... but I am never in the mood to write, I am constantly thinking all of my stuff is crap and that no draft will be final. And that I am stupid to think I can possibly make it in a business that is getting more elite with the production of fewer pilots and the replacing of scripted fare with shows about Better Dads and Smarter 5th Graders. And that I am a horrible person for moving 3,000 miles away from my family and then constantly asking them for money so I can watch cable and eat Kashi bars. And then suddenly my crisis becomes less about what the hell to do with Celia on page 29 and more about the doubts I have about my life and "career" and myself in general.
But maybe this is what I'm supposed to be doing? Tortured artist and whatnot? It would just be great if I could crank out some quality scripts in the meantime.