Autumn.

Today I sipped coffee and orange juice while watching orange and yellow leaves fall from the sky. I'm in the woods, sitting in the kitchen of a beautiful home whose interior was decorated when the 70's style was at its peak. I'm on the border of New York and Connecticut, and the area doesn't feel very different from the Ohio woods I am familiar with.

This street smells of money, and the lake nearby is beautifully kept in place by a man-made dam with a medieval architectural style.

I like it here, away from the city. It's quiet. Peaceful. This is a place where a writer should write if they have an inkling.

There are projects coming my way. And I'm both excited and extremely nervous. These projects, with deadlines, will force me to do what I love. At least, I hope it does.

I hope to come back to this neighborhood to shoot a part of my pilot. I think it would be lovely, to say the least.