who tells your storyA little past midday on September 11, 2001, I walked out of my apartment on West 34th Street and started walking east. The sky was...
the spinal cord of your storyWhen I tell people that I’m a screenwriter, many of them lean forward in their seats a bit. It’s not because they’re interested in my...
clownsClowns seem to be having a bit of a cultural moment, so this seems as good a time as any to confess that clowns sort of took over my life...
how hollywood and i broke into each otherI didn’t consciously intend for this blog to be “about” midlife - it just so happened that that phenomenal Brene Brown quote was the jolt...
i will not be angryI'm not sure I have anything to say about Gene Wilder that’s remarkably different than the tributes that are already floating around out...
the only thing I've learnedIn the summer of 2002 I was an unemployed screenwriter living in Park Slope with my wife Jennifer and our infant son Owen. Unemployed is...
showing up'I think midlife is when the universe gently places her hands upon your shoulders, pulls you close, and whispers in your ear: I’m not...