Ultimately, I think writing is more … satisfying [than acting], … because if you write something, later on in the day … you can read it through again and you know that it's … good. That's a very satisfying feeling because [the work] is there, it's something you've created. … Acting is … a skill which a lot of people have. Less so with writing …. But, I'm enjoying acting now much more than I did. It was torture for me at one point, in the latter days of [Monty Python's Flying Circus]. But then, after sobering up, I really began to enjoy it again.

Once I got into it, I (realized) in this medium, you can use musical theater to connect and make a dream come true, like fly on stage. Through stagecraft you can wow (the audience) and make them feel that sense of wonder. ... You’re singing, you’re dancing, and you’re performing a feat of wonder. I couldn’t stop thinking in those terms. There was so much potential.

Then the writing became so fluid that I sometimes felt as if I were writing for the sheer pleasure of telling a story, which may be the human condition that most resembles levitation.

Actors are so filled with wonder and imagination that when they get it, they get it real quick, no matter how strange something is; they get it, and their talent is to make it real from a deep place. When that happens it's really, really beautiful.

The sun beats down and you pace, you pace and you pace. Your mind flies free and you see yourself as an actor, condemned to a treadmill wherein men and women conspire to breathe life into a screenplay that allegedly depicts life as it was in the old wild West. You see yourself coming awake any one of a thousand mornings between the spring of 1954, and that of 1958—alone in a double bed in a big white house deep in suburban Sherman Oaks, not far from Hollywood. The windows are open wide, and beyond these is the backyard swimming pool inert and green, within a picket fence. You turn and gaze at a pair of desks not far from the double bed. This is your private office, the place that shelters your fondest hopes: these desks so neat, patiently waiting for the day that never comes, the day you'll sit down at last and begin to write. Why did you never write? Why, instead, did you grovel along, through the endless months and years, as a motion‑picture actor? What held you to it, to something you so vehemently professed to despise? Could it be that you secretly liked it — that the big dough and the big house and the high life meant more than the aura you spun for those around you to see? Hayden's wild," they said. "He's kind of nuts — but you've got to hand it to him. He doesn't give a damn about the loot or the stardom or things like that — something to do with his seafaring, or maybe what he went through in the war . . ." Sure you liked it, part of it at least. The latitude this life gave you, the opportunity to pose perhaps; the chance to indulge in talk about “convictions — values — basic principles.” Maybe what kept you from writing was the fact that you knew it was tough. Maybe what held you to to acting was the fact that you couldn't lose — not really lose, because you could not be considered a failure if you had not set out to succeed... and you made it quite plain that you didn't give a damn. And yet, you did hate it. Perhaps you were weak, that's all. You hated it because you knew you were capable of far more. You hated the role of an actor because, in the final analysis. an actor is only a pawn — brilliant sometimes, rare and talented, capable of bringing pleasure and even inspiration to others, but no less a pawn for that: a man who at best expresses the yearnings and actions of others. Could it be that you thought too much of yourself — that you could not accept sublimating yourself to a mold conceived by others, anyone else on earth?

Interaction with fans has always been one of my most coveted prizes as an actor. The chance to stand or sit or have dinner or share a drink, with people who appreciate your work as a performer and who feel genuinely compelled to share a story with you. Whether they loved the effects or about how your character, or that situation, or the overall arc of that one story helped them in some way; resolve something in their lives, address some unanswered question, or even just entertained them. It's always really humbling to connect with fans. I'm very glad to be in a position to touch people’s lives in a creative way. To share and love and teach through story.

As an actor – I’d been an actor for many years before I did Doctor Who – you have an effect on an audience. You hear them laugh, you hear them cry in the theatre, or every now and again if you do a telly or a film, you bump into someone in the street and they might say something nice. But working with the fans and meeting them all around the world, they come to you and tell you that ‘you got me through my childhood’, ‘I had an unhappy childhood but Doctor Who was there for me’. I’ve met scientists who said ‘I became a scientist, I became a doctor because of you and Doctor Who’ and you think ‘wow, I was only trying to learn the lines and not bump into the monsters’. I didn’t realise that there was this other effect. So it’s very touching, moving and humbling. I’d say that.