After The Bikeriders, something in Mike had changed drastically. Something about having to hold a camera all day — in front of a bunch of cameras…

Months prior to shooting, he’d begun his own screenplay. Nothing serious, he’d told himself. Just a hobby. A preoccupation. Just something to test the waters.

But he kept testing. And he finished the screenplay during filming, and began another one. He’d been filling up a notebook with ideas and… eventually, something inside of him shifted.

Mike wanted to be a filmmaker. At least, that’s what he began to fear was the truth. He was already pretty famous, already acted both onscreen and onstage, but… actually making a movie was something completely different. It was uncharted territory. He was nervous. He was scared. What if he was giving up everything safe and comfortable and familiar just to try one new thing out? What if the film got produced, but tanked, and ruined his reputation? He didn’t want any of that to happen.

You received the brunt of most of Mike’s worries. He would sit at your kitchen island, a cup of coffee and his notebook, and just worry. Worry, worry, worry — that’s all he ever did. He’d talk it out, get a little brave and hopeful, then retreat back into his mind again. You could tell that this was something of great importance to him. This wasn’t merely a whim, but an ambition with an inhibition.

“I just don’t know,” he mumbles as he fidgets with the corner of his notebook. “I’m not a filmmaker. I’m an actor. I’m a dancer. I don’t write, and I don’t direct. I don’t make anything, I just… facilitate.”