Christopher Sebela

writer, wronger, rearranger

Over the summer of 2012, when everybody else was on vacation, I was locked up in a converted garage in Van Nuys working on the script. It took two and half to three months—it gets hazy—but about five hundred pages. The walls were covered with post it notes filled with tiny handwriting. My office looked like something out of A Beautiful Mind. That was part of the reason why I didn’t put together a writer’s room. I just didn’t know how to explain to anybody what I had been doing. I powered down and got through it.
— Nic Pizzolatto on why he never got around to assembling a writer’s room.

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