From November 24th to roughly December 10th, this is where I'll be: the Hanjin Miami, a container ship making the regular run between Seattle and Shanghai.  She's a big girl: carries about 7000 containers, can make about 25 knots, was built in 2005, and apparently takes passengers.

I'll be one of them.

Why?

Because this is what it's come to: as long as I have email, and an iPhone, and wi-fi, and a million little things to do and a million distractions, I simply cannot do the thing I'm supposed to do, the thing I tell everyone that I do, the thing that as of this moment has put money in my pocket, bought a house, paid the taxes, and kept me in high thread-count sheets.  That thing is: writing.

What about a cabin in the mountains, some have asked.  Do you really need to cross the Pacific in a container ship just to finish a couple of scripts?

Sadly, yes.

I've been on a wonderful fifteen-year gravy train -- studio deals and network contracts and a fantastic country-club life.  But the old way is done: Hollywood is contracting, money is tightening up, and people are starting to ask for an amazing, astounding, incredibly unbelievable thing.

They want us to write first, get paid later.

Which is new.  And surprisingly hard.

So: the Hanjin Miami, crossing the Pacific, 2+ weeks of isolation and work.

Although, to be honest, I also like the idea of it: clambering up the ladders and standing on the deck, sea spray stinging my face.  Me, with a mug of coffee spiked with bourbon, watch cap on my head, a stubbly beard, squinting into a Pacific squall.  Speaking in an accent (I'll develop one of those sea salt accents) and keeping a weather eye out for pirates.

Although I don't think I have to worry about them where I'm going.  But just in case, I'm already practicing my basic survival skills: craven begging and what I call the "Patty Hearst Flip." You haven't seen cowardice until you've seen me face a couple of Somali pirates.

Something like:  "Fellas!  Hey!  I'm with you guys, okay?  What's with the -- ouch! That hurt!  Friends, come on!  I can be of service here.  I've got media savvy and I can help you with your overall message and -- ouch! Quit it with the pointy knife and the -- is that thing loaded?  What is that, some kind of -- Guys!  Seriously!  This is not what you want to do, okay?  I'm with you here.  I get it.  I'm, like, basically a pirate myself and -- hey, stop pointing that thing in my direction -- we're a lot alike, I'm serious.  Where are we going?  What is this, some kind of plank?  No, no, no.  This is wrong.  This is not right.  This is a mistake.  Fellas!  You've got no beef with me!  I can help.  I can interface with the media and be a public -- stop it with the pointy knife! I can serve as a go-between, a conduit if you will -- ouch, seriously, that hurt -- and be a kind of honest broker -- why are you pushing me? -- I'm, like, close to the edge here and it's pretty deep down there and I can be of some service to your organization -- quit pushing -- this is a waste of my talents -- it's awfully slippery -- let me help you, let me --"

You can track the progress of the ship here.

You can't really track the progress of the writing I'm supposed to be doing.  You'll just have to trust me.