. . . I had never given goats much thought, but I found myself wondering if maybe raising a few competitive goats would be a nice pastime. They looked cute enough, and it seemed like there wouldn't be much to it. But as with all new endeavors, you don't know what you don't know. What seemed simple on the surface would become an obsession. I like to win. I'm not embarrassed to say it. And all-consuming passion is very often what it takes to win.
I've been working on a new script that has somehow delved into that gray area of family issues. It's weird to find what has been swept under the subconscious rug, and how it comes out through the writing process. When characters start speaking for themselves and revealing disturbing truths — and all writing is a search for truth, otherwise the reader won't fully believe the story — it's a little discomfiting.
I am bracing myself for the ebbs and flows of a [cross country] season that will inevitably be filled with laughter and tears. And through it all I must find a way to motivate and inspire. So for some strange reason having to do with the grieving process deciding it was time to deal with some old pain, I am dedicating this season to the memory of my late sister, Monique . . .