The impulse to make something is generally related to something that you need to say. When it feels like a rock in your shoe or something, and you have to get it out. It’s very clear. Sometimes you get it out, and it’s not very useful. Often, I’ll finish working on something and it’s not in a state that I need to give it so somebody. The getting it out was necessary for me.

Oh, my god. Every day. I listen to a lot of podcasts about artists, screenwriting and stuff. Some people say they don’t get writer’s block. I’m like, “What the fuck? How?” I get writer’s block every day. I get stuck all the time because you always hit a road block. You think what you planned before was going to work out so smoothly and then you start writing and it doesn’t quite flow the way you want it to, or the structure may not be working. Happens all the time. But for me, I have a lot of people I trust and can bounce ideas off of… I’ll send the script to other filmmakers and ask their opinions. I have a lot of people that I trust and that I can really talk things out with. I think the thing that’s helped me the most is being able to talk it out.

I do believe that some of the funniest people you’ve ever met might not ever be on a stage. Similarly, some of the most talented musicians you will ever hear are playing in a little house somewhere across the world. Some of the most profound exchanges of words happen between two people who are channeling an intimacy and depth of humanity which not all of us will hear.

I had really bad writer’s block when I wrote Strangers. I didn’t really write about the stuff that I wanted to write about because I hadn’t admitted it to myself. And I think sometimes writer’s block is about stuff like that. You’re not being honest with yourself. I finally broke through it, but I did so by writing an incredibly apocalyptic record that was very symbolic. I told Randall I wrote a record about the end of the world, and he said, “I don’t think this record is about the end of the world. I think this record is about the end of your world.” And I was just like, “Fuck you.” But at the same time he was really right. It definitely was an anxiety record.

Michael Chabon talks about staying with projects that you should abandon. He talks ignoring what he called “the hand of dread,” which would grip his throat every time he sat down to write. He worked on this project for five years and I took that to heart. I’m like, “Don’t ignore the hand of dread. If you know, the project is wrong, walk away or you’re not ready to write the project walk away.” And it doesn’t, at that point, matter whether the publisher thinks it needs to come out or not.