Saw a movie this week at the Austin Film Festival, “The Night Is Young.” Funny guys wrote a funny film, marginally about the hell that is living in Los Angeles as an actor. Reminded me why I left. And that I shouldn’t go back without people to keep me sane.
Driving home I could feel these parts of me that don’t get much face time, deeper parts that have feelings and meaning. The parts you need to write fiction. Fiction that has any traction, that has any weight, any legs. I made a mental note about needing them. But I should have made a note where I found them. I can only remember that they are in there somewhere. No idea how to get back.
Somewhere in side Susannah Raulino there is something real. As symbolized by this letter that told the waitress where to find me to give me my sandwich. Hope there’s a similar marker inside me, for where I go looking for the real me.
Do you find sources of inspiration that feel important or real? Or notice them in others’ work? Love to hear about it. Please leave a comment.