There are guys I admire. Like Jimmy Stewart and - a more modern example - Tom Hanks. They managed to do it and have a really high standard for their work, but at the same time they remained incredibly classy and well-regarded personally throughout the process, which I thought was rare and kind of cool. And I'm trying. I try. I haven't thrown any TVs out the hotel window yet.

But if you do, then it's a high class problem to have. And if you do, you're the architect of that problem. There's no one else to blame but yourself. You've kept doing the same kinds of movies and that's what they want to see.

When I was younger, I was reticent to be vulnerable on camera and everything I was doing was just a really finely honed defense mechanism from when I was a kid, and I was now using this to make a living on camera.

When I first moved to Los Angeles I came down there on a wing and a prayer in a way. I had about six weeks worth of money to make it there and that was just from doing a couple of episodes of the X-Files just to finance that trip. I got there and it is either you got to hit it or you got to go and, thankfully, I found a job.

I had a lot of different jobs between fifteen and nineteen. I'd moved out of my house way, way younger than I should have. So I was living out on my own with my brother when I'd just turned sixteen. I did busboy stuff, and worked in warehouses, and did odd jobs, and stuff. I earned me some Pesos.

When I meet thousands of fans of the comic - when I realize every one of them can recite the Lantern Corps oath ('In Brightest Day, in blackest night...') - I know how important this is to people.

Like a lot of people, I've got a self-loathing streak that's alive and well. It acts as a de facto engine when I'm working, but it also has its extraordinary pitfalls, too.