When my agent told me I had an audition for 'Friar Tuck,' I burst out laughing. It actually brought a bit of sunshine to my day. I was thinking: fat suit. I was thinking: shaving my head. It was so outlandish, such a crazy idea.

Two years after drama school, I had a nervous breakdown: I heard voices, and the voice I heard in my head was Martin Luther King's.

I was plucking. Then I was shaving and plucking. Then I was actually scarring,

I was always the classroom clown, and the teachers allowed me a certain latitude. The assemblies were good, and the headmaster used to tell little stories; I loved the idea of communal storytelling.

I remember when I first came to Los Angeles being staggered by the range of roles open to me. These were leading parts in shiny new projects, and what always excited me was knowing there was a possibility that I could actually get these parts. I always had the impression that I had a chance.

No idea is so outlandish that it should not be considered with a searching but at the same time with a steady eye.