For the last two years I’ve been working on a screenplay, and it’s finally finished! All 91 pages of it. I’m incredibly fortunate to have found a producer who really believes in me (a rare thing in this town) and have handed it off to him. While this is thrilling, it’s incredibly odd. The last two years of my mental power have been dedicated to perfecting this script, to making sure the proper turns and twists have been added. It’s been something I need to cross off my “to-do” list, and now it’s gone. While I’ve never had children, I liken it to kids going away to college.

You spend your time, energy and money molding this thing, doing the best that you absolutely can so that it comes out just like you wanted. Sure, it’s not perfect, but you did the best you could, and you’re proud. Now it leaves you, and you are at the mercy of what other people will do to it. They may make little tweaks, or change the core entirely, but nonetheless, you have lost your sense of control. It will come back to you, yes, but it will be different, and you can only hope that it is different for the better.

Any artist or writer can relate with this, or any mother. I now understand why people get empty nest syndrome. I’ve already started a new script…


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