Well, I didn’t die even though some days I woke up (woke up, that’s funny – that would imply actual sleep was involved) feeling like a creaky 65 year old man who was taped, on his knees with a ball gag in his mouth and on the verge of tears at the mercy of my little man Nico and his wanton baby hunger and development.

So here I sit preparing for a day of writing. I have the whole day to myself. The boy is in daycare for a couple of days a week. This is a short term plan until the end of the year when we will need to come up with a new plan because my beautiful baby momma’s job will only provide 40 days of on-site daycare. He seems to like it and we feel confident with the organization involved.

So here I sit writing about how I’m going to write today. Yeah, that’s how it’s been. I haven’t written anything substantial in a while except for yesterday when I wrote a spec :30 second spot that will probably go into the filing cabinet. I’m trying to break the two days a week I have to write into shorts and assorted projects one day and feature screenplays the next or any combination of that. Shorts because I’m well overdue to shoot another one and I feel I need to stay sharp – keep the cinematic eye stimulated. The features because I have a lot of rewriting and developing to do. Today is the screenplay day.

It definitely hasn’t been easy. My mind feels like murky black water. My body aches but it is getting better. Honing in a project is the issue. Do I rewrite Dyre Avenue, the screenplay I put so much time and effort into already or do I pick up where I left off with the first draft of the new screenplay I finished before the boy arrived? Both. Just have to make the time I have productive because it is limited and it goes fast. Time management is everything.

Let me just end with this; fatherhood is one of the most humbling experiences that you can participate in. It’s a combination of great power and vulnerability. You need to sustain someone’s life who can’t do it on their own and at the same time you need to shed your former self and become a different version of you. That’s not an easy task in the world we live in. Things start to happen though. You let go of the trivial and start to squeegee off the refuse that life has to offer. It’s a sense of cleaning out the garage. Fatherhood forces this upon you, to make room for what is important. Making room for the boy and my new family.

This is my new life. I guess I’m not the only one. I better go write now.