I set the alarm at 6:00 a.m. As soon as the alarm went off, I'd turn on the light, pull over my pen and legal pad and start writing in my underwear, propped up by pillows against the headboard. No time for breakfast. I'd stay in bed writing until the production meeting in the morning. After the meeting, back to bed to continue writing. Down to the hotel restaurant for lunch, then back to the room for writing. Perhaps another production meeting in the afternoon, then back to the room for writing until 6:00. Dinner again at the hotel restaurant. Then back to bed to continue writing until 11:00 p.m., then typing the handwirtten pages 'til midnight, then turn off the light and go to sleep.

Repeat for 3 weeks.

I remember after finishing the 1st draft, I was elated that I finally had time to get out of my hotel room and walk around the city again.

I lasted about one block before collapsing on the sidewalk.

I had literally spent so much time in bed, that my heart had weakened from lack of exercise. I went half a block down before dropping to my knees and planting my ass on the big-city curbstone.

After nearly blacking out, I lurched to my feet, heart racing and pounding in my chest, and struggled back to the hotel. It was as if I were bed-ridden hospital patient taking his first steps after recovery from heart surgery.

By pacing myself, I recovered. With the 1st draft completed after thee weeks, the pressure lessened and I flew off  with the rest of the pre-production crew to Richmond. Like most everybody, my fondest memories of the shoot were the times I spent in Richmond.

If you wonder who was taking my picture, the answer, of course, is me...with the camera set on a timer. Who else would bother taking a picture of a writer writing? But I wanted to document what my life was like during the time I worked on RRHotel.

Here is the view outside my window at the HydePark—- that's Central Park, off to the West. You can see clear across the park to the West Side.

And here's my view from my Richmond hotel room of the Jefferson, which you can see was terribly run down at the time.

These handful of lifeless pix are actually a good summation of my experience with RRHotel. I was essentially locked in my hotel room, with the view out the window my only contact with the outside world, which is why I took these particular pix. They represented exactly what my life was like. I have no Hollywood stories to regale you with, no gossipy tales of Judd Nelson or Dick Shawn, no nights-on-the-town getting drunk and being chased down Bank Street by the local constabulary. It was a month-long grind of work.

And I loved every moment of it.

Why?

Because most people think of "success" as finally being able to take it easy and not worry about things.

But that isn't really success at all. In fact, success is the exact opposite.

Success is the ability to do more work.

And in that autumn of 1982, I was a successful young man.

More tomorrow!