The Funny Thing About Having All This

The California I Knew, Old Rancho California, Is Gone. It Just Doesn't Exist, Except Maybe In Little Pockets. I Lived On The Edge Of The Mojave Desert, An Area That Used To Be Farm Country. There Were All These Fresh-produce Stands With Avocados And Date Palms. You Could Get A Dozen Artichokes For A Buck Or Something. Totally Wiped Out Now.

You Can't Make A Living As A Playwright. You Can Barely Scrape By.

I Still Haven't Gotten Over This Thing Of Walking Down The Street And Somebody Recognizing You Because You've Been In A Movie. There's This Illusion That Movie Stars Only Exist In The Movies. And To See One Live Is Like Seeing A Leopard Let Out Of The Zoo.

The Great Thing For Me, Now, Is That Writing Has Become More And More Interesting. Not Just As A Craft But As A Way Into Things That Are Not Described. It's A Thing Of Discovering. That's When Writing Is Really Working. You're On The Trail Of Something And You Don't Quite Know What It Is.

When You Die It's The End Of Your Life.