Page 29 of A Little Bit Extra

“Maybe. I’ll likely open my computer, stare at a blank document for an hour, and close it without typing a word.”

“That’s still considered writing, you know. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just starting to think I don’t love acting as much as I thought I did. I thought I would be an actor for life. I thought that if I did it for long enough, I would learn to love it. Or at least, resent it less.”

“Does anyone else know that you write?” Does anyone else besides her know?

I lean back on the couch, sigh into my phone, then say, “Tyler, Max, and Lane know. But they think it’s just a hobby, not something I’d actually want to pursue.”

“And do you?”

“Want to pursue it?” I clarify.

“Yes. If you were given two pills; red for acting, blue for writing… which one would you take?”

“Okay, Morpheus, I’ll play your game.” I laugh. “I’d take the blue pill, assuming I would still have the experience from acting, but be able to pursue what I love.”

“That’s what I thought.” I can hear her practically grinning through the phone.

“You know me so well already, Sass. I wish you were here.” The words are out of my mouth before I have time to second guess them.

“If I didn’t have to work, I’d be over in a heartbeat,” she admits, and it does something to my chest.

“I know.”

After a few minutes, we end our call because she has to go to the diner. I decide to try and sit at my computer, but it’s hopeless. It only took a moment for imposter syndrome to rear its ugly head and infiltrate my thoughts. Just like that, I close the Microsoft Word document I was writing in and forget about it. Writing didn’t seem like something I could actually transition into.

Not only was I feeling like a fraud in my life, I thought maybe it was too late for me. I turn 30 in a few weeks. Shouldn’t I have my life figured out by now?

I know it sounds ridiculous, but you get into a routine as you get older. You go to your job that makes you money and provides a decent living, hang out with friends when you have the mental energy to be with others, and keep your living space clean. Thinking about transitioning to do something else is mentally exhausting. It’s uncomfortable. But, that’s what they say right—you only grow when you’re uncomfortable? Well, no one ever said growing was easy.

The rest of the weekend goes by faster than it should. Each day begins with a run, then I dedicate a few hours to practicing lines, and finish by relaxing in front of the television at night. I open my computer, intending to write, but I find myself lost in old stories; the cursor blinking patiently on the empty page. I still consider it progress since I haven’t opened those documents in months.

When I get to my trailer on Monday morning, I find Marcy standing outside my trailer again. It’s like déjà vu.

“Hi, Marce. Have a good weekend?” I say to her as I walk up the road to my door.

Marcy looks up from her phone and smiles. I walk past her on the stairs and unlock my trailer door, open it and walk through. Marcy follows me like last time and closes the door behind her.

“Hi. Yep, it was fine. I didn’t do much. What about you?” she says, stopping to stand next to the island. I move into the kitchen to make myself a coffee before I go onto set. I could get coffee from the cafeteria, but it’s never as strong as I need.

I grab a mug, position it under my coffee machine, press the bold button, the 12 oz button, and brew. I direct my attention toward Marcy as the machine brews my coffee.

“Same, uneventful. I think I’m still recovering from seeing my dad on Friday.” The coffee machine signals it's done with a series of beeps. I turn toward the counter, stir in two scoops of sugar into my mug, and carefully slurp a sip.

Marcy rolls her eyes and sighs. “I forgot Mr. Davis stopped by.”

“Mhm.” I nod and take another sip. I forgot I had just brewed the coffee and ended up burning my tongue. Under my breath, I let out a curse, and then set the mug down with a sigh. “It was a great time, let me tell ya.”

She laughs at that. “As much as I’d love to chat about your daddy issues, I wanted to let you know Ed has asked me to work on a side project since I have Cassie as my assistant.”

“Side project?”

Her lips move into a thin line and she nods. "Yup," she says, drawing out the 'p' with a hint of sarcasm, and releases a long, dramatic sigh. “Not exactly the best timing, but Ed volunteered me to help with an independent film. It’s offsite, which is why Cassie will take over my daily tasks. I know you have a…” She pauses, which I can only assume she’s trying to think of how to put what she’s thinking into words. “friendship.” She winces.

“C’mon Marce, can’t share me with another female?” I tease.

She groans.

---