Eight years ago, I made a short film. I had been saying for years that I wanted to make movies, but I hadn’t done anything about it. I was scared and I found every excuse under the sun not to do anything other than talk about it.
Then I met a woman. She was interested in film. She was interested in me. I was intensely interested in her and I wanted her to fall in love with me. I wanted to impress her and I wanted her to be proud of me.
So I put aside my fear and my insecurity and my ignorance. I made a film. It wasn’t a perfect film, but it was good enough to get into 20 smaller film festivals and win five awards.
The woman and I did fall in love. In a very real sense, my film was a love letter to her. It never would have been made without her in my life.
I think about this a lot lately when I think about why I haven’t made any more films and why I’m not turning out the kind of art I’d like to be making. I have several scripts in various stages of pre-production. I have a documentary that I’m working with a producer to try to bring to life. I even wrote half of a book last year that I ended up deleting in despair because I didn’t love it enough.
But I’m not finishing things. I don’t have enough enthusiasm for anything. I’m not using the talent that I know I have. Why not?

Kids obeyed me on radio project, only because I knew what to do
Let’s try a candid conversation just for the few who want to hear
Looking for a good read? Check out my book recommendations
I’ve lost all interest in begging anyone to fix the political system
Widow: ‘Things that mattered yesterday do not matter today’
Hurt people hurt people, and it’s hard to forgive that in ourselves
Jalen Hurts’ team-first attitude is antidote to ESPNization of sports
Calm and perspective needed for Boston, not accusations and games