I cry when I don't get food on time. I am not cranky but have the heart of a child. I cry and laugh at most times. I have the sensitivity of a child.
I'm not the fastest writer. I can't just crank out ideas that are good enough.
I'm not really wise. But I can be cranky.
Of course I knew that writing was terrifically hard work and that there was no secret code, as in a video game, that would unlock Tolstoy-mode, enabling me to crank out canon-worthy novellas before lunch.
When I'm skiing, I listen to electronic music. It's repetitive and let's me get into a groove and crank out the miles.
I run everywhere I go. You wake up, and you do it, and you make the time. I bring my son, Duke, with me on a lot of the runs. I have this great jogging stroller, and he loves it. It's a great time for the two of us. We'll crank out a run, and he has the time of his life.
I'm a lot less cranky when it's just me and my dog.
When you're even on a regular movie set, you still have to suspend your disbelief. You're working there with only 3 walls of a room, and you're in costume, and you have a camera 6 inches from you and have a crew of 75 watching you. So even there, you have to crank up your imagination.
If I get hungry, I get cranky on air.
I feel like every time I start up, it's like a truck you have to get into 15th gear, so you very solely crank into that mental space where you feel really immersed in the world of the book and then you can just kind of go. But there's just that few days of frustration to get to that point.
