Holbrook, Arizona.

I'm giving notice at my job tomorrow, so this seems an appropriate time to start the "moving-to-LA-to-be-a-screenwriter" blog I've been vaguely planning on starting. Also, John said I should.

February 12th will be my last day.

I hope to find an apartment with availability on the first of March. And maybe a job.

Actually deciding on a date has made the whole thing seem very, very real. It's all I could think about the last two days: all the things I have to do by then, the potential for failure, the inevitability of seeing my friends less.

And how utterly cliche the whole thing is. The guy from the midwest moving to Hollywood to take his shot. There will be ten thousand of me out there, literally. Everytime I tell someone from California about my plans, their eyes glaze over. There's the old joke that you can't throw a stone in LA without hitting eight screenwriters.

Which makes wonder if I have the requisite arrogance to pull this off - to see many thousands of people failing at a task (failing forever, most likely), and believe that I can succeed. I know the odds, the ratio of scripts written to scripts purchased. Believing I can sell a script means believing that I can write a script better than, roughly, 44,700 others.

Ugh.