When it comes to my creative endeavors, it seems as though I treat them the same way I do relationships: quality over quantity.

At this point in my life, I'm not looking for a superficial, fun, but ultimately meaningless relationship. I'm looking for real love.

When it comes to my writing projects, I'm not interested in writing something quick and easy just to say I did it - I'm looking to write a screenplay or novel that speaks to who I am at my core. A project I'll love deeply and commit to fully.

Unfortunately when it comes to both love and art, I haven’t found the one yet.

But while I'm becoming increasingly cynical about ever finding a romantic partner, I've never been more confident and optimistic about penning my personal masterpiece.

I think we're all artists at our core, it's just a matter of having the time, energy, and resources to nurture that part of us. When all we were doing was hunting and fucking, we had ample time to paint in our caves. Now? Not so much.

But just because fully exploring our artistic side is mostly a pastime reserved for the privileged, it doesn't mean we should neglect it completely.

If anything, the pain and struggles most of us face in our daily lives are ripe for authentic, relatable, meaningful storytelling.

Suffering breeds creativity - at least for me personally.

When I'm happy, satisfied, and genuinely enjoying life (a rarer and rarer occurrence these days), writing is the last thing on my mind.

But when I'm feeling angry, sad, lonely, or a whole host of other negative emotions, my first thought is "How can I use this as fuel?"

I just need enough fuel to see a project through.

There's been a number of times in the past where I'd get inspired to write a novel, write prolifically for weeks, get five, six, seven chapters in, only to hit a wall, get frustrated, and abandon it completely, much like I'd get involved in a situationship that was hot and heavy for a few weeks, only for the fire to mutually burn out just as quickly as it was lit.

But things feel different now.

Just as I had to experience different types of heartbreak with different kinds of women to learn more about myself, what I can and can't handle, and ultimately, what kind of person would be a good fit for me long term - I had to go through a bunch of failed projects to realize where my strengths are as a writer, which genres appeal to those strengths, and how to better manage my creative energy, so that I'm not blowing my wad early (blowing my wad early was never an issue romantically, just for the record).

I've been writing for over 20 years, and while I still don't have that one great piece of work under my belt, I feel like I'm closer than ever to finding it.

I've always believed I have one masterpiece in me. Just one. I have a healthy ego when it comes to my writing abilities, but I'm not greedy.

I don't think I'll be one of those authors or screenwriters who manages to churn out banger after banger with relative ease - but I do think I'll be known for one great thing, and that one great thing will be enough to carry me for the rest of my life.

And that's where the similarities between love and art stop, because love is largely out of my control, takes a whole other person to help me find it, and it'll either happen for me, or it won't (it won't).

But creating a work of art is very much within my control, is solely on me, my talent, and my discipline.

I like my chances.