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August 29, 2001
Priority one
A few weeks after we started work on our Will & Grace spec, the woman I was dating at the time came over to my apartment, nestled her posterior into my couch, and announced, "I am not happy." There had been no indication of this previously. In fact, we had only been seeing each other for six or seven weeks. Not to brag, but it usually takes a full ten weeks before women become pointedly dissatisfied with me. "You spend all your time with [your writing partner]," she said, "and I only see you once or twice a week." Now I could have pointed out that I've known my writing partner for more than a decade. That we were working towards a goal that has consumed us on and off for our entire lives. And that although she and I had rounded the bases a few times, our relationship was still so new that the chalk outlines of those base paths were still pristine. I was mute. "I need you to make me your number one priority," she said.
Putting aside issues of trust, control, co-dependence, and the plain old-fashioned notion of needing time to get to know a person, she brought to the surface a much more serious question: what was I willing to sacrifice to achieve my dream of working as an artist in the entertainment industry? Now I like to think of myself as a lifer: someone who is committed to making his living in the arts regardless of the personal cost. And the fact that I have lived in an 8' x 17' studio apartment for thirteen plus years bears this out to some extent. Low overhead and a lifestyle devoid of most luxuries has allowed me to work as an actor in a national touring company; perform as a puppeteer; write a little-known how-to book for Macmillan; and self-publish a multi-media CD-ROM, among other projects. I have sacrificed relationships with friends, family, and lovers. And I have been mostly happy with these sacrifices for they have bought me freedom, autonomy, and an interesting life. But writing for television was to end that. It would provide monetary security. Romantic stability.
I had one final phone conversation with the priority one girl three days after she made her initial declaration of displeasure. She restated her need to be the center of my life. And I told her that wouldn't be possible. It is now 11 months later. Looking back, it was the easiest sacrifice I ever made. And as I am writing this I am alone with my freedom, my autonomy, and my ideals.
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