Hi Stacey

Hi Stacey–

Happy Halloween. My favorite holiday. I love spookiness and autumn and the occult and candy. I love mistaken identities and romance and comedy and subversion.

I’m taking the day off work, which is very rare for me. Most days, typically seven says a week, I work early until around 3 pm. Sometimes I do another burst in the 5 – 9 range. I guess I did a little writing on a new project today, but it was so joyful (and unproductive) I don’t think I can count it.

This week I’ve felt like a degenerate. I know I’m allowed. But still. I think I needed it to avoid total burn-out from the past two months, maybe three, possibly four.

July was a sprint to Fringe while desperately setting up all my other projects. I felt overwhelmed every single day, ending with a catastrophic fireworks show of production drama. August was Fringe, which forced me to drop a ton of professional balls in exchange for snatching the artistic ones.

First week of September, Iceland. One week in LA writing my brains out for my manager. One week in DC launching the play. Back in LA all systems go on pitching our movie and closing my deals, producing the play and running to and from rehearsal. Squeezing in a doctor’s appointment, research about the IRS, a trip to the bank.

A week in Phoenix to sell Dern’s mom’s house, to visit my best friend in grief, for me to grieve on her too. A week in New York full of friends and promising meetings and shows and mounting and hyping and selling and comforting. A week in Chicago to see family.

We got back Monday night. Tuesday I hyper-focused through the afternoon, managing my inbox and pushing opportunities and then on what I figured may be the last HOT day of 2026 (eco gods willing) I smoked then went to the pool. Baked in the sun, napped while Sabrina Carpenter blasted in my head.

I ate a bunch of Biscoff cookies as a late lunch then Dern and I went to the movies to see the Nathan Fielder doc. What a fantastic feeling, going to the movies and knowing you will love what you get. I loved what I got. I keep thinking about it, like everyone else. I relate–to both Nathan and Liz.

I used drugs a lot this week. My relationship to substances has been experimental since I introduced them to my life, at all, just six years ago. Sometimes I’m not interested, sometimes I’m probably overdoing it. But I don’t know, what’s overdoing it? My producer Alison recently winced as she told me, “You’re a very controlled person, so you ‘out of control’…maybe isn’t…that big a deal.”

Tuesday I did more business housekeeping then went to the patio for a dramaturgy meeting with a young actor. I had baked oats as we talked, which is nice, because now I’ll probably always associate the feeling of this project with warm cinnamon oats and raspberries on a sunny fall day. Went home to write more, fleshing out the idea I’m about to run around town with. Next week and the next and next. (More reason I’ve been trying to lay low, go slow. I’m about to be so extroverted I can hardly stand it.) I was going to take a walk but ended up listening to music in the bedroom.

Wednesday more work more work more work. It’s not more than I used to do, but the futility makes me fussy. AM texts me about dreams he’s been having, how they relate to the climate collapse. We understand each other in this way.

I vote in the afternoon, filling out my ballot in line with the democratic-socialists. I walk to the box and slip the envelope in, drive to therapy. I’ve been late three times since my person moved offices. It’s a pain. We talk about how I feel like I’m going through a system update lately. I’ve become painfully aware of some of my patterns, how they’ve affected me in previous relationships, how they affect my current relationships. I feel sad if I’ve hurt people. I feel mad they didn’t tell me. I feel ashamed to not have known things about my own self.

Selyna and I meet at Foreman’s. I get there early and have two fish tacos and a margarita–all on the happy hour menu. Two people cut in front of me, and I get unreasonably annoyed by it. I think this is something I struggle with, all the times one is supposed to allow sketchy behavior because it’s just easier that way. The two people who cut me looked at me with displeasure, because I was irritated. But I’m learning, a lot of people agree with this way of doing things. I should just pretend it’s no big deal when someone steps in front of me. Because it’s not a big deal. It’s not the big deal part I mind, it’s the lack of acknowledgement. And when I write it all out this way…I feel very petty. I am very petty?

I think about how my former boss AP was perpetually annoyed with Taylor Swift. She said once, something like, “I don’t like this little act where she plays the victim when she’s the most powerful person in the world.” And I just found this to be such a reductive take, and an embarrassing take for a so-called feminist. (Then again, she doesn’t really call herself a feminist, does she?)

It’s like, the fact that people disrespect Taylor Swift so blatantly is exactly why I find her addressing when people disrespect her so important. One, women rarely stand up for themselves because they don’t have the privilege or power to, so if a woman does have power and privilege, it’s actually to all our advantage for her to use that power. Furthermore, TS is still the most famous girl in the world, and people are still going to disrespect her? Like, come on. Show credit where it’s due. She is a genius and we (collective we) treat her like a teen girl.

Fine excuse the aside about Taylor Swift. Many things are asides about Taylor Swift, I know. But whatever, if I write about millennial girl writing, she will enter the chat. She is the chat.

Selyna and I talked for some time about how I’m much better in person than by text. How it’s possible half of my life’s problems are just because I can sound blunt in text. She tells me about her pitches and encourages me not to be so hard on myself. I never think anyone likes me, and she doesn’t understand how I can possibly believe that. But I do. It sounds sad when I say it so clearly, but it’s not sad. It’s just, I don’t know, it’s just what I’m used to. I recognize I’m supposed to overcome this narrative. I’m, like, trying, Stacey.

The night ended with us hugging, unsure what is next but sure we’ve made the most of the present. She tells me of the ghosts that haunt me, “everyone has them, and at least yours are cool.” I drink a High Noon on the balcony, thinking about this upcoming project with one of my literal favorite comedians alive. Then Dern joins me. We talk for a while before we stop talking.

In the morning I sleep in. Every twenty minutes I feel terrible, a voice in my head commanding I get up. Then I snarl and kick into the covers. I’m in some internal war. Going through a brat phase with me. I feel lucky I don’t have it worse. I have empathy for those who have it worse. I’m sure I’ve been judgmental about productivity before, or, I’m sure I’ve seemed judgmental. Like I often just don’t “get” not meeting goals.

The capstone joke with me and my sister, it comes up often. I spent all of college hearing seniors bellyache about their capstones. For my capstone, I got special approval to write a play, with an accompanying academic paper. So then I wrote the play. In about five weeks. There were ten in the term and we had an entire full class credit to work. We only met Monday nights 7 – 10 for workshop. It just wasn’t that hard, for me. I was bewildered. What had everyone been whining about? It’s easy to write a capstone. You just write one. My sister had to inform me, just writing one is the hard work.

Anyway, I’m different now. It can take me two days to respond to an email instead of one. I hesitate to schedule coffees. I don’t snap up every executive meeting. I’m thinking of watching The Mask this afternoon?! Instead of, I guess, digging in on the new outline. Or emptying out the caboodle from under the bathroom sink.

Cafe Thursday at 2 pm a meeting at Studio. I liked the exec and asked about IP I’ve been chasing a couple years. Phonebanked for congressional hopefuls in Michigan. I was disheartened that those banks used to be a party in 2020. I know everyone is so much more tired and so much less online, but still. I roamed in the afternoon, got high and wrote a lot in my diary. Wrapped myself in a jean jacket and took the bus to Hollywood for a Knox concert. I had the best time, hopping and screaming. Watching the videos as I waited for my return trip. Got home to a haunted house Dern designed. I was very very afraid. He’s outdone himself for the millionth time. And I didn’t even expect it. I couldn’t sleep after all that, stayed up smoking more and watching videos about Carl Jung’s rift with Freud.

Friday got the news the other studio is still considering our movie. This is actually good to hear.

My manager has a very supportive and patient call with me, making our game plan for this next month. And beyond. I’m grateful for him. Dern books a late afternoon movie which I don’t really want to see, but I decide to anyway. I’m researching the adult animation space. Though I was correct in my assessment I wouldn’t like the film, I did learn, consider, etc. God then I did drugs again didn’t I, before we went to the comedy haunted house. Met my blondie Chicago fashion friend there. She has a new boyfriend who was a great vibe. I think I laughed too much, especially when I realized my friend Noah was an actor in the thing. I was incredibly impressed. A smart and fun and useful piece. We snuck into the standup set too, when the headliner got tired a girl I circle went on. She was incredible and unique. I feel lucky to be a comedian. I post a couple photos to the internet and that improviser DMs back, we should do a double date something. Yes! I say, let’s do it!

Dern and I watch some Survivor, but I can’t keep my eyes open. I’m sorry you probably didn’t need to read any of this, Stacey. I don’t know why I told you.

xoxo

Alice