I’ve been lying on the floor with the dog, Riley, index cards spread out all around us. I’m organizing the scenes of my screenplay. I have to be alone to do this. I talk out loud to myself. I try out different lines of dialogue. The windows are open and the sky is a brilliant blue. I can hear my neighbors. A woman rides by on a motorbike. But I’m thinking: would Bill really forget that Cindy works with his wife? Can I create a scene designed only to develop character? Is Jon Lewis right when he says my film will be upended if I include even the rumor of incest? Are readers more willing to experience trauma than movie-goers? Am I obsessive/compulsive? Is my writing a way to rationalize my neuroses? Am I agoraphobic?