Look, you do the bloody well best you can. You fumble. You make mistakes.
I fill my life with a lot of ‘busyness’ in between jobs. Then I work very hard. Some of it is quite unhealthy. It’s compulsive. I don’t know what to do about it. I’m a little old to change.
I’ve had a bad time, which we won’t dwell on. We were married and we worked together for 52 years, and suddenly with her gone I was a quadriplegic. Slowly I’m crawling back.
I do a lot of planning and plotting. That’s my greatest weakness. If I’m not terribly careful, I’ll plan to a point where it could come out cut and dried.
To try and stand outside the marriage, I’d say we have complementary capabilities. I do the hustling and the business. I do more script reading. I handle contracts.
I try to read everything that’s sent me – play scripts, movie scripts – but I’ve had to make a rule. If the author hasn’t grabbed me by Page 25, the piece goes back with a note of apology.
I’m a taskmaster. I was brought up that way, and I’m sure I imposed that on my kids.
I don’t mind playing absolute bastards… I just don’t want to play the grouch.
I find it very difficult just to sit. I would love to learn how to do that with contentment.
The whole business of marshaling one’s energies becomes more and more important as one grows older.