Deathbed of a Hyphenate

Andrei Tarkovsky (Andrei Rublev, Solaris) referred to filmmaking as sculpting in time.
To be perfectly frank, I feel as if time is sculpting me these days. This getting pushed around, molded, shaped, reworked and reformed by my long, busy days has taken its toll. I've chosen a path that is often easily and necessarily muddled. The film director is a cinematographer, a film editor, a screenwriter, a producer, a production designer and a composer. We are scupltors in time -- light, actors, sets, wardrobe and sounds our medium. Is there a director that simply directs the work of the aforementioned specialists? Certainly. Though if he or she is accomplished, I am confident that they possess masterful knowledge of all aspects of filmmaking.
Where does that leave me? Where does one begin when days begin at dawn after sleep interrupted by subconscious dreaming of storylines, production strategies, rehearsal development and end with late night phone calls with actors, editors, writers, producers and my assistants? This is not working 9-5. No bankers hours for the aspiring auteur.
After each of these interactions I proceed to the next meeting or task while the editor goes to the park with his kids, the actor goes to the golf course and the writer goes to dinner with his wife.
I had a meeting at the Open Studio with the writer and supposedly producer of High Desert Psalmist. I was working on that film twelve-plus hours a day last week, pitching a film that wasn't on paper. He and I were discussing the possibilities of the story he'd written. Many were signing on based on my integrity and vision without reading a script. I told myself that if the writer couldn't deliver soon, I would do it. Why not add writer to lead actor-director-producer-editor? I'm angry at myself looking at that last sentence. One hyphen is pushing it. Four? Five? Give me a break. That's ridiculous. It's been done. Sure it has, and sometimes with excellent results. More often it's a short-sighted desperate attempt to succeed in an unsupported environment.
He was begging off, just as he had done when I told him he needed to up the resources of the production for me to get involved as an actor. He took the easy road and hired me to direct. Then he suggested I produce it, based on my experience. He was relying very heavily on my writing skills as well. I'd suggest clear direction for the opening scene and he'd ask me to hold his hand. Screenwriting is rewriting. I've written over thirty drafts after what I thought was the final draft on one of my screenplays. Being an artist is knowing what works, what doesn't and how to amend it until it's successful.
I put my foot down on the fifth hyphen and it turned out to be the demise of my involvement.
I felt absolutely desperate after he left. Trapped, hopeless and uncertain of any measure of success. I decided that my gut was trying to tell me something. After discussing it with a couple of trusted souls, I tendered my resignation the following morning. Not once since have I felt an opportunity lost.
Quite the contrary, Michael Cassidy is keen on getting one of my scripts, Original Glory, produced with him and Zach in the leads and me in the director's chair.
Before I get to take the helm, I have to polish the script and ready it for the cold, hard journey across the desks of Hollywood's power brokers. At least I'm past the gatekeepers this time. Should Michael's agents like the script as much as he, I will have to produce a line item budget.
One of these days I want to kill the hyphenate. For now, I'll continue my climb up the ladder with all my hyphens at my disposal.

ciao,
signore dirretore