”I think it’s an illness,” director Isabel Coixet says of moviemaking. “It’s a virus you get somehow when you’re a kid and it’s always with you… There is a very specific word for that, a very scientific word called algolagnia. It’s the mixture between pleasure and pain. That’s why I say it’s a virus, because there’s no way you can get rid of it—no matter what.”

Isabel almost has it right. Algolagnia is defined as the pleasure one derives from inflicting or experiencing pain. But I get where she’s going with that quote, which comes from a new interview with her that will appear in the summer issue of MovieMaker. She’s saying that moviemaking is something that many of us can’t help doing because we’re hardwired to demand the kind of rush we only feel when riding that knife’s edge between security and risk, pleasure and pain, triumph and disaster. It’s not unique to moviemakers, of course—the same can be said of skydivers, high-stakes poker players and downhill skiers. Everyone who’s attracted to extreme activities craves a heightened sensation of being alive. Not to get all existential, but isn’t that what life is—a journey along the knife’s edge between heaven and hell? Moviemakers simply embrace the journey fearlessly, and enjoy the ride immensely.

But we don’t do it recklessly. I was trying to explain this to my wife the other night when we went out to dinner on a much-needed “date night.” She understands the risk I’m taking by making another movie, but she wanted some kind of assurance that our family wouldn’t end up living in my brother’s barn should my latest dream go belly up.

It’s a calculated risk, I said. I’m going to use our savings, max the credit cards and hit Main Street with my drum beating wildly. And by the time I get to the end of the street, there’s going to be a parade. Look at it this way—if I don’t make the movie I’m going to be bitching about it for the next year. If I do make it, no more bitching, just hard work and if it does okay the possibility to make another one, and another—a virtual lifetime of no bitching, honey.

She knows me well enough to know that I’m not going to be happy unless I’m in hot pursuit of my latest dream and I’m not going to rest until I make it come true. (A few years ago it was her, so she gets it.) This time, though, she wants some assurances, and I can’t blame her. I just can’t provide them. The best I can do is tell her that although we can fall off the dark side of the knife’s edge, I’ll be strong enough to climb up again with our family on my back.

If she didn’t believe that I’d be making the journey malnourished. (There’s nothing that bums out a Piscean more than a partner who doesn’t believe in his dreams.) But she did, as she always does, and for that I’m grateful. Make no mistake, having a supportive partner, or at least one who will not sabotage what you’re trying to accomplish, however subtly, is vital—because there are going to be times when the rest of the world, including most of your friends and family, undoubtedly will.

My magazine work and a trip to L.A. sucked up most of my time this past week, but one thing I did accomplish was landing our DP for the project. He’ll remain nameless in this blog until there’s a deal memo signed, but suffice it to say that I’m thrilled. He loves the script and I know his talent is prodigious enough to make the most of our Maine coast locations and bring the right look to Rufus Rex. This week I also got turned down by two potential investors, but that’s alright—they were long shots anyway. The important thing is that I’m proceeding regardless. I’m dusting off the drum for my march down Main Street, which will begin early next month when we open our production office and start the process of casting, securing crew and equipment, nailing down locations and all the rest. My algolagnia virus is causing me to itch and soon I’ll break out in hives, which is how I’ll know that I’m cruising down that knife’s edge in high gear, just the way I like it.