This content is a personal account from a Hollywood writer who is not currently on the picket line but instead going through the emotionally and physically exhausting task of emptying their childhood home. They reflect on how all the things they consumed growing up became the raw material for their writing. They also discuss how the strike is not for older writers but for the next generation of writers who are currently percolating new voices. The article ends with a contemplation of future strikes and the retirement dreams of coastal Paraguay.
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