Hello &

Hello &

Wentworth Earl Miller III

Wentworth Earl Miller III

V.I.P.

V.I.P.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Mailbag (4.3) Cont'd .....


Terrific questions. As always. Thanks, guys. Koalas. - W.M.

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Q: What are your hopes for our new generation of kids? With social media and technology at their finger tips some say it is ruining that sense of one on one relationships.

A: I understand the concern. More and more I find myself in situations where everyone around me has their head bent over a smartphone, like sunflowers tipped in the wrong direction. It's freaky. And (it's a "both/and" not an "either/or") for LGBTQ kids growing up in areas where they don't know anyone who's LGBTQ (or think they don't), for those struggling with mental health issues, for people longing for community of some kind, the ability to go online and instantly connect with others going through what they're going through can mean the difference between life and death. On that note, you can donate old/unwanted tech to LGBTQ youth here: www.human-i-t.org/ally/

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Q: Who designed the tattoos that you had all over your body in Prison Break?

A: Tom Berg and Tinsley Transfers according to www.prisonbreak.wikia.com/wiki/Tattoo.

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Q: Why did you stop following Dominic purcell on instagram?

A: I'll tell you what I told him. "I love you, buddy, but I don't need to see a pic of you giving me the finger every time I open my feed."

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Q: If you were on death row, what would you choose as your last meal as a condemned man? Starters, main, dessert and a drink of your choice...?

A: Caesar salad (no anchovies). Lobster roll (hot not cold). Arnold Palmer (easy ice). Apple pie with vanilla bean ice cream. Please.

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Q: This late night I watched two movies, one was a heartbreaking documentary called the Bridegroom which told us a touching gay love story, the other was named Lilting. I felt so emotional that I suddenly realized love is just what love is all about and it has nothing to do with anything else. Whatever your sexual orientation is, of whichever race you are, of whichever kind of skin colour you are, and the like, all those don't matter to the love. Love is deeply rooted into everyone's heart. That's what I thought. Do you share the same opinion with me?

A: Yes. Yes, I do. :)

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Q: About your creative process, when you are writing (whatever it may be) are you a pantster or plotter?

A: I had no idea what that meant until I googled it. Thanks for introducing me to the concept. In life, I'm a plotter. Usually. In writing, a pantser. Usually. When I'm working on a screenplay, I might have a general idea of where I'm headed or would like to head, but the specifics of a scene won't come to me until I start writing it. Which, for a natural plotter, can be a worrisome process. There's always the fear I'll run out of road. Then I do. Then I have to wait a few days (or weeks) until the next download. Which is how it feels. Like a download. Like I'm merely the straw through which ideas flow from... elsewhere.

It's not unusual for me to write all day, go to bed, and wake up with a laundry list of edits. And I'm like, "Where did these come from?" I didn't fall asleep thinking about the script. I don't remember dreaming about it. But when I woke up I knew that this needed changing and that needed tweaking... Clearly part of me was still engaged with the creative process even though the conscious me was otherwise occupied.

It's also not uncommon for me to find a joke in a scene... after I've written it. Then I'm like, "Oh. I made a joke there. Ha. Funny." It might sound strange, but I can't/don't/won't take full credit for my writing. Whenever I finish an "original" script the feeling is, "This story has always been... These characters have always existed... I just put it/them on the page."

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Q: Do you think there are aliens out there? hahaha

A: I once spent a pleasant Sunday afternoon with a man who "summoned" aliens. We stood on the roof of his apartment building eating junk food while he silently called up to the sky from time to time. We weren't far from LAX airport, and as the hours passed we watched dozens of planes flying in and out, all at about the same altitude. But every so often, many, many miles above them, a tiny black dot would appear. And hang there for a minute or two. Motionless. Then blip out. I have no idea what it/that was. But it did make me wonder.

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Q: Did you notice that you always post on Facebook at exact five minute increments? <3

A: Did I notice? *cackles, goes back to sorting M&Ms by size/color/density*









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