Year End List 2007: Fuel for Inspiration (Part Two)

7) STEVE MARTIN "Born Standing Up"

Last night I went out for a couple drinks. (It's always nice going out on December 30th. You kind of have the the city to yourself.)

I met my friend, in from L.A. for the holidays. During the course of the evening, she told a funny story about working as a shopgirl in L.A. and, since it was slow, reading Steve Martin's Shopgirl on the job. You probably know how this ends -- Steve Martin walked in the door. I'd like to say that my friend talked to him -- but she didn't.

Reading Born Standing Up, (or more accurately, listening to it -- I bought the audiobook, unabridged, read by Martin) it's pretty clear that she made the right choice. Martin's always been that most fascinating of performers: Closed off, basically introverted, private. Unlike the desperate attention seeking of today's brand of tabloid celebrity, Martin disappears totally between projects. You can tell that he considers promotion a chore, he jealously guards his private life, and there's something a little unlikely about the triangulation of his obsessions: art, writing, comedy. He seems almost ill suited to the performer's life -- yet he's very, very good at it.

What's always been even more interesting to me is that once upon a time, Steve Martin was one of the biggest stand up comics in America, but he walked away from it and never, ever looked back. I'm far more used to the other comic trajectory: you make it, maybe you move on, but you always crave the stage. I'm used to Robin Williams slipping into the back of a room somewhere to do a few minutes. Or Jay Leno, Jon Stewart, Brent Butt -- who all get something out of doing their live act that they don't from their TV shows. Even Jerry Seinfeld, a guy who redefines the phrase "never has to work again," felt compelled to retire his lifelong act, and build a new one from scratch, (chronicled brilliantly in the fascinating documentary, "Comedian.")

But not Martin. Since walking offstage in 1981, he's never performed his act, never missed it, never looked back, never really talked about it, and never explained why.

Born Standing Up doesn't exactly explain why. I mean, it does, but the explanation is so specific to Martin and his personality that I'm not sure it gives any real insight into the decision.

What is brilliant about this book, though, is how it shows the building of Martin, the performer. The sheer tenacity and family tension that took him from a teenager working in Disneyland's Magic Shop to the Tonight Show, SNL, and finally, to a life outside of standup.

Martin calls it a chronicle of his "war years" and it's hard not to agree. A restless, often lonely soul, the memoir traces his early life, strained relationship with his father and sister. It touches on lost loves and missed opportunities, and some key moments in the life of a performer's life. When he decides to cut anything that isn't original from his act, you share in his despair when he realizes his act's just been cut in half. He notes a bit where he has to drink a glass of wine on stage, and hears a tape back later, hears a slight slur, and never drinks during or before a show ever again. In fact, the wonderful thing about this book for anyone who's a performer or a writer is how goddamn serious he is about it, and how hard he has to work. That's the number one thing that I find I can never quite get across to people who ask me for advice, or students that take a writing class from me: it's hard. It's harder than you think it is. And it never stops being hard.

I guess maybe Martin walked away because to him, performing was a means to an end. He continues to do interesting work. The fact that he hasn't thought about his act for almost a quarter-century and can look back on it now and still admire some of it, well, it makes me quietly hopeful. But mostly, I appreciate his toil. Just because you don't see the sweat doesn't mean it wasn't there all along.

Oh, and his encounter with Elvis is hilarious.

6) Paul and Rob Make Tracks for the Mosque

Now it can be told. Almost exactly a year ago, when the first articles about Little Mosque started to appear, I spent the night talking about the show with a bunch of people who write comedy in this country.

Our concerns about Little Mosque turned out to be mostly justified. The general consensus on the show when it came out was that it was cute, but not exactly gut-bustingly hilarious. That first, eight episode season finished with an average of a million viewers a week -- a great number, but troubling, since it represented just 50% of the initial tune in. What's more -- the show would never again have that burst of insane-pre-publicity. Something had to be done.

Then, wonder of wonders, something was done. I broke the story here on this blog in March.

Little Mosque on the Prairie has hired away two writers from Corner Gas for next season. Paul Mather (The Rick Mercer Report) is taking the showrunning reins and Robert Sheridan (Naked Josh) has also signed on. This is in addition to at least two of the writers from last season who will be continuing with the show. This is great news -- not just for Little Mosque. Mosque (which we must remind people, was rushed to air - originally it wasn't supposed to debut til Summer '07) will get the advantage of two people who've worked in the most professional and successful writing room in Canada. But it'll be good for Corner Gas too. The show is now a mature hit, and new blood and a new spin will be good. Plus people who've been there for a while can now move up. (Because there was nowhere else to go in Canada, that roster has been pretty static for the last few years.) And it's that last bit that's best for the industry as a whole. Imagine! Competition for Canadian writers. It almost makes me misty. If I had tears left to cry for Canadian TV, I mean.

By going to Mosque, Paul and Rob shook up a whole bunch of tenets in the Canadian industry. Shows in this country aren't used to competing for talent. There's a certain attitude of misplaced noblesse oblige that's ruled the producing and network class in this country.

Years ago, before I started writing, I knew a few guys who got a comedy show on the CBC. This was post-Kids in the Hall. They wrote their six episodes, they went to air, and they waited around to see if they would get picked up. And they waited. And they waited. And they waited. And then the CBC said, "well, we're not going to do it now, but maybe in a year."

And that was it. "Maybe in a year" is an attitude that springs from feeling you have all the time in the world, and all the cards, and that people are entirely at your mercy. But Corner Gas, having proved that it was a show that worked, that took bright, funny writers and let them work to the top of their abilities, trusted by both producers and network -- it was a template that begged to be copied.

As Mosque passes the halfway point in its sophomore season, the huge promo budget is spent; the articles have slowed to a trickle. And yeah, the ratings haven't been as stellar. They've stayed north of 750 000, for the most part. But most of the reviews, even from the Mosque haters, had to admit that Mosque was, in fact, funnier in year two. It's a better show, because it's more enjoyable. It works at being what it is: a comedy, instead of a show that fulfills a social agenda.

What's more, people tune in when they do know it's out there -- when it gets a little promo. The Christmas/New Years specials I wrote about in this space last week took Mosque back up to the million mark -- and a subsequent rerun drew almost 75% of the same audience.

What's more, Mosque's numbers this whole season have been in line with Global's numbers for Back To You, which enjoyed heavy promotion, ad buys, editorial coverage, and the presence of Patricia Heaton and Kelsey Grammer. That story hasn't really been written in the Canadian Press. Strange, that.

But in every article that does get written about Mosque, part of the story now is those two writers who were lured away from Corner Gas.

As for Gas? Kevin White moved up to become showrunner. They shuffled their staff -- creating openings on an existing show -- also a new thing in Canada. The show this season had a couple of episodes that drew their highest ratings ever.

And it didn't stop there. Robson Arms lost a couple of writers -- one to a new CBC show, J-Pod.

Is it possible that this could be, you know, a trend? Maybe experience and craft counts. And maybe down the road we'll start talking about how writers don't have to scramble or wait a year til the next season gets setup; maybe, just maybe, we'll start seeing real-money options on writers, and deals that reflect that creative is worth something; that in fact, it's everything.

From there, maybe you start getting more shows like Blood Ties, and The Border, and Corner Gas, where writers were respected, listened to, and allowed to do their very best, by tending to their field with the support of their producers.

Old battles will still need to be fought. There are those out there in Canculture circles who are disappointed that Little Mosque isn't as "socially responsible" now -- whatever the fuck that means. But whatever. The precedent is set. Paul and Rob have blazed a trail for every hardworking writer in the Canadian industry. And that episode where Layla wound up wearing the hijab to school because the popular girl said "nice scarf" was a great piece of comic construction. Well done, Paul, Rob, and the rest of the Mosque writing staff.

5) Spring Awakening

Won the Tony this year, and there's a ton of articles that have been written about it by people wiser and more erudite than me. But as a sometime dabbler in the musical form myself, I have to say that there's nothing more thrilling than seeing perfectly choreographed dancers & singers flail around the stage to a rousing chorus of "Totally Fucked."

Spring Awakening, based on Frank Wedekind's 1891 play, is coming of age. It's a rock musical that's worthy of the appelation. It's joyful and mournful and beautifully staged. It's the kind of spectacle you pay 100 dollars to see and never regret for a second.



I'd been aware of Duncan Sheik for awhile. Oh sure, sure, sometimes I'll put on the coffee house channel on the XM and you'll hear one of those sweet strummy songs -- but he was clearly saving something for the stage. The powerhouse performance of one of the show's more disturbing numbers by Sheik and his book/lyrcist Steven Sater on the Tonys proved that:



The great thing about doing things from period is the ability to use it to view our attitudes today through the same prism. So The Crucible says things about McCarthyism that even Arthur Miller wouldn't say directly, and Spring Awakening, by dramatizing the tortured coming of age of adolescents in 19th century Germany, shows not how far we've come -- but how disturbing the undercurrents are today -- the misinformation, self-hatred and mixed messages we throw at young people, and how toxic they can be.

Also, how ... ANGRY it makes you. Man, it's a weird thing when you pay a privileged premium to sit in a New York theater and remember what it was like to be PISSED OFF AT EVERYTHING!

But I guess that's just the Bitch of Living.

Part 3 tomorrow...

Year End List 2007: Fuel For Inspiration (Part One)

LAST YEAR at this time, I had a tough time trying to narrow down what I'd put on the list, and what I'd leave off. I guess it's kind of indicative of where I am right now that this year has made for an entirely different challenge.

I managed to staff on two entirely different shows this year, with just a couple of weeks off in between. I also spent the first quarter of 2007 in a different city -- part and parcel of the nomadic, spread-out reality of the Canadian Television business. It's the combination of those two events that most profoundly influenced my thinking this year. This was my year without time.

Friends -- bemusedly or not -- got used to me lamenting how I didn't have the time to read this year. Let's lay aside for a moment the fact that, of course, that's ridiculous -- I could have always snuck ten minutes before bed, or something -- but, you know, sometimes it's just easier to be angsty about things. I've never quite managed the feat of being able to read a novel just a few chapters at a time...I become a little monomaniacal and devour it all at once.

But my (self-directed) resentment over not being able to read as much as I'd like led me down a path when it came to other media, too. I broke up with TV shows at an alarming rate -- Sayonara 24, Prison Break, Rescue Me, and many others. I didn't go to the movies very much, either. It takes a lot to drag me out to the theatre these days -- and when I get there and see something shoddily made and crappy, well, it bothers me way more than it used to.

When you work as a TV writer, and you define yourself by how much time you haven't got, it can make you a crazy person, or it can affect your story sense. I chose the latter, and I think it's made for a positive turn in my work.

Simply put -- that impulse "Don't waste my time" started to affect the way I thought about story, character, act outs, and craft. I've had the tendency in the past to hit the "what is the audience getting out of this?" drum a little heavily in the past, but this is the year where it personalized for me. If we expect people to give us their limited time -- in a world where there's a new thing competing for that slice of time every ten seconds -- well, that means bringing game. It means not settling for good enough. It means making sure that if you're doing a comedy, that it's funny above all else. It means pushing to not settle for a twist that isn't a twist because you've seen it before; it means trying to find the original, even the original in the derivative -- not to show how clever you are or to say something important -- but because that's the compact you make with the audience: watch this, and I'm not going to waste your time.

In the past week, I've watched a bit of TV, I've read and listened to audiobooks and seen plays, and walked the streets of my favorite city in the world. I've revisited childhood haunts and come to terms with the fact that the most authentic pub you can find in Orlando, Florida is in a mall. I've had visits from relatives I see too infrequently, and a relaxing time with the people I've known all my life. The battery fills, ever so slowly.

At the same time, there's also the knowledge that what inspired me the most this year is the people who challenged me, supported me, explained and disagreed and synthesized with me -- in story rooms or in the shadow of the Canadian Rockies, in the side booth at the Paddock, or right here, in the comments section of this blog.

This blog became the thing I wanted it to be all along this year -- a great, rollicking conversation that brought creators, fans, TV partisans, onlookers and even the occasional troll together. I've had my hand slapped, my cheek tweaked, my mind blown, my heart broke, and my butt moved by the rumbles I've seen. I've had people describe this blog as a "must read in the Canadian industry" and as "just a bunch of insiders" - in the same conversation, by the way - but in the end, I've learned as much from my regular commenters as I've put out there, warts and all. So that's a good thing. I think.

Thanks also to the fabulous writers I got to work with in the room of two great series this year: Peter Mohan, Dennis Heaton, Travis McDonald, Shelley Eriksen, Mark Leiren-Young, Janet MacLean, Sarah Dodd, Steve Lucas, and David Barlow. And to the other writers who've given me encouragement and advice through the year.

But that's inside baseball. So, besides the flesh and bone inspiration, here are the things that helped shape my thinking this year. (And though there's a numbering here, remember, this does not connote ranking)

The 2007 List:

10) Radio, Radio...Tell Me a Story

For most of us, concurrent to falling into the TeeVee, there are campfires and ghost tales, or a relative who weaves family stories together in a compelling manner. Before we add picture and music, the mood, the idea, the thrill of the story is how it engages our imagination. And the oral tradition of storytelling is alive and well.

There's nothing like being able to fall asleep, drifting off to a world that's evoked entirely with voice and sound. Theater of the Mind can be mind expanding, if you do it right.

Matt Watts toils in radio series storytelling, and sometimes it seems like he suffers way more for his art than anybody should. But if the result is funny, geeky, wise, and wonderful programs like Canadia, well, then, your suffering pleases me, Matt. Bwaahaha. Best of all, if you go to Matt's site right now, you can get the skinny on how you can catch up on Canadia from the beginning, starting this Wednesday, Jan. 2. Yaaaay!

Afghanda is another CBC Radio drama that won a Canadian Screenwriting Award this year. It's tough and wise, and timely all at once.

And finally, Decoder Ring Theatre's original old-time radio serials make me pine for a time when people actually gathered around the radio. Now that Gregg and co. are collaborating with the Mad Pulp Bastard, who knows what evil (and good) will lurk in the click wheel of your Ipod?

9) Desperate Networks by Bill Carter

Meeting Bill Carter was one of the highlights of my trip to Banff this past June. His clear-eyed reporting on the Late Night Wars (as chronicled in The Late Shift) continued in this book.

Desperate Networks is actually a 2006 Publication, but I include it this year because it figured in just about every conversation I had with someone about the Canadian TV business this past year. Specifically, Carter's reportage revealed, fundamentally, that there's not a show on TV that got to be a success without a champion within the network. That champion usually isn't the person in charge, and it can sometimes be somebody not that far up the totem pole -- but it has to be someone with the tenacity and courage to stick their neck out and say, "this is good. this is what we should be doing." That kind of courage is sometimes in short supply in Canada -- because we're not a nation of risk takers.

DH revealed to me that there's no sense railing against network types.

The only path, difficult as it might seem, is to try to inspire them -- or at least infect them with your enthusiasm. I almost feel like every time I make that point in a conversation (and I've made it a lot this year -- I feel like I should send Bill a nickel.)

8) The Lookout

It's slightly bad form to punt to someone else's blogpost on your year-end list, but I want to return to those thrilling days of yesteryear for a moment, when you could check out The Artful Writer on a subject other than the strike. Craig wrote about this scene from The Lookout several months back. As I said up top, there weren't a lot of movies that got me into the theater this year, and even some that I did go for, like No Country For Old Men, didn't entirely do it for me.

I saw The Lookout near the end of my time in Vancouver. And months later, I still find myself thinking about it. It's not just that the level of the writing described in that scene above extends through the whole movie. It's not the aching beauty of the fireflies scene, the compelling character relationships, or the quiet, devastating moments that move me...it's all of those things. It's the kind of story that is complete -- the thing that I love about the movie form. As a guy who writes stuff that is meant to continue or go on, always, it's wonderful to see a story that's adult, complete, rich and human. The Lookout inserts itself into my dreams. If you haven't seen it, rent it or buy it. It's a thing of beauty.


...more of the list tomorrow.

Wake The Neighbours and Phone The Kids

LETTERMAN'S GOING BACK with his WGA writers. Craig Ferguson too.

Crack in the dam, kids. Crack in the dam.

THE BORDER: The Trailer

THE BORDER premieres January 7th on CBC Television.

Book Review: Billion Dollar Kiss

THERE'S A VALUE for any young aspiring TV writer in reading books on the craft. Everyone's got a few that they'll recommend as Gospel. And there are sites like Jill Golick's and Jane Espenson's that are invaluable when you're trying to put together those first, all-important sample scripts.

But after a while, if you're not careful, it's easy to descend into a pit of script porn -- where you discuss format or technique endlessly; where discussing the minutae of craft starts to crowd out the ass-in-seat time that's actually going to get you somewhere. For all the resources now available to the aspiring, there are very few, I think, that offer the one thing you desperately need: perspective. A leg up so that your baby-writer gaffes aren't fatal, a way for you to understand what you're getting into before you're too far down the path.

Billion Dollar Kiss: The Kiss That Saved Dawson's Creek and Other Adventures in TV Writing (available right now as a bargain book from Amazon...5.99!) isn't just the truest, most straightforward tome I've ever read about the actual life and process of writing for TV, it also serves as a pretty decent history of the last twenty years of the business -- and it's now particularly timely as a backgrounder to how we found ourselves in the morass of the current WGA strike.

This book is also the only TV-writing related book I'd recommend to a fan -- somebody who has no intention of ever writing themselves, but is interested enough in how the game works to want to know more. Billion Dollar Kiss sometimes reads like a good thriller, sometimes like a psychological study. If you read this book, you'll definitely be the smartest cookie in the sleeve when anyone wants to talk about realityTV, or the strike, or how a show gets made, or why TV sucks so often -- and why it's good, when it's good.

That's a pretty tall order, but Stepakoff's straightforward prose and his willingness to explore his own mistakes and shortcomings makes for a refreshing, and ultimately inspirational read.

He also nails the personality of a TV writer to a T:

It's hard to explain in succint terms just what makes a good TV writer, and by association good TV, because of course you're dealing with something that is subjective. But by this time, just like I saw a pattern in the pathology of all my colleagues, I saw similarities among the most talented. Obviously, they all have good skills, a mastery -- or at least an intuitive understanding -- of craft. But with hard work and commitment that can be picked up. There's something else, too. The best way I can explain it is tha they have a sensitivity to the world around them, a sort of sixth sense. They pay attention to the little things that others miss. Every outing to the bank, mall, or post office is a chance to people-watch. They listen for subtext instead of just what someone is simply stating. They watch body language, what someone is wearing, how someone is behaving. They always look for the inside joke. They examine and consider how everything tastes and smells, to the point where even a simple lunch from Baja Fresh is subjected to extended critical analysis. Everything is turned over, reflected upon. They look for connections in the chance. Meaning in the random. Metaphors in everything. Their interactions with the world beocme a process of looking for secrets and clues that will unlock the Great Truths, so that these things can be examined and written about for the ever-approaching next episode...

At times, frankly, this life can be downright exhausting...Simply put, TV writers are original and whacked-out people.

That last part's important. Elsewhere he puts it in less diplomatic terms, describing himself and other TV writers as "nutjobs."

And we are.

But that's not what makes Stepakoff's story compelling. What gives Stepakoff a leg up is the peculiarity of his timing. He entered the business -- thanks to a break from University alum John Wells -- just as the 1988 WGA strike got underway.

Besides evocative passages describing how he came to sign with his first agent, the author relates a story about his struggle with being a brand new writer, not yet union, in a time of labor unrest. A top exec offers him a secret deal to scab for $10 000 -- at a time when he's flat broke, and fresh in town. The struggle is something that I imagine several people are going through right now as I type this. You owe it to yourself to read about his experience, and how he came to turn the offer down.

Stepakoff's career straddles the end of 80's style schlock tv like Simon & Simon, to stints writing for The Wonder Years, Sisters, and Disney animation. He witnessed first hand, the gold rush into TV writing that defined the 90's (he runs down the numbers...and they're staggering) and the end of fin-syn rules that profoundly changed the relationship of studio and network to writer, and led to the rise of the conglomerates (and in many ways led us to the brink of the current strike.) And for process wonks, the insight into the story room and production process behind Dawson's Creek (where Stepakoff worked starting in a very troubled season 3) is worth the price of the book on its own.

But there's other wisdom in here too. Why is TV so white, and why does the industry consistently fail to deal with its diversity problem? It's in there. He's also sympathetic to actors in a way that many writers aren't:

For a writer to work on a troubled show, your career is not on the line. For one thing, everyone around town knows it's a troubled show, and for another your agent is already working on getting you another. The most important thing for a writer's career is not the show, not the credit, it is to work hard, contribute to the Room, write scripts that satisfy the showrunner -- basically to get along. If you do these things you get good recommendations, your showrunner and your colleagues want to hire you again, and good buzz follows you, no matter how stupid the show.

However, if you are an actor on a stupid show, it's your face saying those stupid words. You become forever associated with them. Actors' businesses are the characters they are associated with, and if the characters on the TV show they are doing are not being cared for, they get tense.

The effect of POD deals, Vertical Integration, how MTM invented Quality Television, why a pitch is easier to sell than a script, and how the end of independent studios damaged the training up of young talent...it's all in there. If you read this book, you'll understand TV a lot better...you'll understand why this strike is so bitter, and you'll hopefully see why writer-driven TV is really the only sure path to putting out a decent product.

Interestingly enough, though Stepakoff works in L.A. there's a lot of parallel wisdom in here that informs the Canadian industry. The problems aren't the same, not by a long shot. But in reading Stepakoff's explanation of fin-syn, I saw parallels to the 1999 CRTC decision that killed drama in this country. That's the thing about clear-headed prose. It helps you see things -- even things you already know -- just a little bit differently. I'll be working that into a separate post in a few days.

Billion Dollar Kiss is like the Cliff's Notes of how to live as a TV writer. It's a fast read, just over 300 pages -- and it's wise. And like any good TV story, it even ends on a note of hope.

Which I know we all could use right about now.

An Article And a Question.

OKAY. Go read this article. I'll wait.

I have just one question:

Is it just me, or does this guy come off like he's four fucking years old?
Really, this is what we're worrying about now?

Really?

Across The River To Motor City

RIGHT. I can't see it. Cause I'm, um....a long way away right now. But it occurs to me, I do believe, that the finale of Across The River To Motor City airs on most Citytv stations in Canada tonight.

If you've watched til the end, and seen the whole show, I hope you were entertained. My profound thanks for sticking with it.

And yes, shooting in Tiger Stadium was cool. The director, Michael DeCarlo, tells me the fog was totally flukey. They just went with it.

ATR concludes tonight at 10pm.

Hand Waving, Redux

AS YOU FLAIL and digest turkey, and contemplate Macy's disappointing fourth quarter, know, chickens, that I toil on the Year End List, as well as something about the zeitgeist and U.S. Theater and also, um, a book review.

Stop. It's coming. What the hell have you done in the last 72 hours, smartass?

The Key Of Oscar

I MET HIM once. A generous smile. A quiet, humble, decent man. He spoke up and out about human rights. And he helped change jazz. Forever.

I also bought his Powerbook 170 when he sold it to a Toronto used dealer. It was great to have him in Toronto. He'd pop up every once in a while, even in his later, post-stroke years, and his presence brought warmth and smiles from everyone. Jazz never had a better Ambassador. Toronto's lost another of our icons.

Here's some clips to show you what was lost:



With Ella!



And at Newport.



Rest in Peace, Mr. Peterson. Thank you for your gift to us all.

Santa Came On Waterskiis

IT'S STRANGE returning to a place where you were a child, and where you haven't been for a long time. I've been back to Florida only a handful of times since I moved away when I was eight. The last time was Christmas 2004.

Last night, after a long-delayed flight and an interminable wait for a rental car, I found the house by muscle memory. It was 3:30 in the morning, after all.

What struck me driving in though, was all these long-ago thoughts about the two Christmasses I spent in Florida as a child.

One year, we went to this big party up at a golf club. And at the end of the party, Santa arrived on a helicopter. It was impressive, to be sure, but it didn't really beat the whole sleigh and reindeer thing. He handed out presents, the whole magilla, but the pomp and pageantry couldn't make up for something being... off.

Then, the next year, Santa came in on waterskiis. And I just thought, "man, they're really messing with Santa's dignity there." It didn't feel right. It felt ... sweaty ... like it was too hard to work in the legend, so they were going to shoehorn something else in there. It was outrageous, bending and stretching Santa like that. Had they no shame?
The moral of this story? Writers are born early. And the first thing that comes is indignation, and a desire to protect the character.

Merry Christmas to all.

Canon, Fanon & Authorial Intent

FLYING IN THE United States sucks. That's all I'm going to say.

This morning, better rested and all, I came across this interesting article on Firefox News.

Written by somebody with the delightful handle of Merlin Missy, Canon Versus Fanon Versus Authorial Intent explores three sides of how fans react to work, and order their understanding of a constructed Universe. If you've never dabbled or watched genre stuff, this might seem mindblowingly arcane to you, but it's actually sweet -- and her deconstruction of the point is very wise.

Author intent is the personal canon of the person (or people) who wrote the source. When J.K. Rowling said that Harry and Ron became Aurors as adults, that is author intent.

Author intent is not canon.

Let me repeat, because it's going to be important: author intent is not canon.

Most authors know what happens next to their characters, who they marry, how many kids they have, that the grandkids are called Vera, Chuck and Dave. Their favorite breakfast cereal. How they're going to die. Some authors end up giving out all this information, either via writing it in the text or including it as an appendix in the back ala J.R.R. Tolkien. Some writers can't, because the medium (TV, film) won't allow it, but that doesn't stop them from knowing what they want to do. In this day and age, message boards allow them to share with fans what they intended to do, had they time. It's lovely and helpful for fans who want to know more. It is not, however, canon.

The same thing can be said for authorial interpretation of the source material. Canon is what is in the source material. Reader/viewer interpretation is up to the individual, although the author may have intended something else entirely. For example, Ray Bradbury recently claimed that Fahrenheit 451 was not about censorship, but instead warned against the perils of too much television. In an episode of Torchwood, a character utilizes the alien equivalent of Rohypnol in order to get lucky. Showrunner Russell T. Davies was called on the carpet for this by some female fans, who said these actiosn made the character a rapist; Davies said it was "just a joke" and did not. Authors don't always intend to show what appears in the text, but the text is the canon.

What's more, I completely agree with her about authorial intent -- when the work is over, I mean. The final word on interpretation can't be the author's, or why is it out there to read in the first place? Understandings change. Hemingway was once famously quoted when asked about the symbolism in his books: "I suppose there must be symbols, since people keep finding them."

One of the most famous cases for me of the limitations of "authorial intent" is actually an afterword to George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion. There's quite a tart essay at the back about how Eliza could not, ever, under any circumstances, ever wind up with Higgins. And I read it, and I saw what he was saying, and in the end, I thought, "I don't care."

That is the miracle of an art that demands to be interpreted.

Dead Things Stick-Fu: 2007 Edition

WELL, I HAVE to say that objectivity is pretty hard to maintain when it's Aaron Sorkin's words and Hank Azaria's presence and the subject is Philo Farnsworth, David Sarnoff and the invention of Television. Pretty yummy. I'll have more on that later, but as I run out to another play, and then JFK, I figure maybe it's time to rev up the old Stick-fu. Here are some past posts that jiminy my cricket, arranged (more or less) by type:

2007: The Year That Was:

The Writers Guild of Canada instituted a Showrunner Award, which I thought was a nifty idea.

I worked in Vancouver a while. The experience proved once and for all that I can indeed be happy while working. Although that rain does also give you ideas sometimes.

Twitch City got released on DVD, and I admitted I didn't like it. Don McKellar weighed in. I think we parted friends.

We talked about what makes something original and what makes something derivative and how to find the former in the latter.

I attended the Banff TV fest as Blogger-Media and wrote a bunch of posts. (Click through for my reportage on Rob Thomas, my two part interview with Greg Daniels from The Office, Brit writer Paul Abbot and much more.)

Jim Shaw stamped his feet and people like me tried to, you know, call the entitled goof on his B.S.

How NOT To Save Your Show (This one's still being linked to everywhere, it seems.)

Writing Nitty & Gritty:

Preparing to write a spec script. Part One. Two. & Three.

And don't go crazy with the continuity.

How 24 Changed Everything

Protagonist or Hero?

What happens when you go up against bitter, bitter LOST fanboys? Well, it looks a lot like this or this.

Bottle shows and why you should love them.

US vs. Canadian vs. British TV

What the @%#$% is the Objective Correlative? And fridge logic and all the other stuff writers worry about?

How men watch TV.

Those wacky sci-fi fans.

Should I include music cues in my script?

So why do I need a story room, anyway?

What if they won't pay me to write TV?

What does it take to be a Writer? HINT: It's kind of a lot like coming out.

Recently I've been working on a few new pilots. Which brings on the occasional bouts of sturm and drang.

What happens when you go into prep.

Actually, now that I think about it, that prep was a whole series of posts.

Keeping it fresh and familiar, while pulling the impossible trick.

Elvis Costello, Michael Richards and amibiguity.

Writer on the set.

And at the Wrap Party.

How to Give Notes.

The Importance of the takeaway.

Co-writing and Gang-breaking.

Why writing at night is bullshit.

How One Idea Could Be Executed Many Ways, Using Three Moons Over Milford as an Example.

On Comedy:

One

Two

Three

Conversations with Family

Race and sensitivity in comedy

Canadian comedy: satire or something else? Probably something else.

Or maybe it's not that funny.

Can we just try making it funny?

On that most lonely and peculiar of creatures: Canadian Television

What the hell's wrong with Canadian Television? How do we fix it?

Or the CBC, for that matter?

Is it all just like the Capulets vs. The Montagues?

What about when CTV tries to balance culture and commerce?

Or Cancon? What about the whole system. Is it worth saving?

Logrolling and Admiration:

Durham County -- Canada finally gets an HBO quality drama.

Sons & Daughters

The Unit

Checkin out Robert Towne.

A Charlie Brown Christmas

Charlie Jade

Profit

Commander in Chief

What I dug in 2005.

The E-book Valuable Lessons.

What's the future of TV? Beats me.

Important things I've learned from Drunks:

Really.

I might add more to this list in the next day or so, but I wanted to get it up. Now I gotta get to the airport. Toodles!

Hit The Ground At JFK...

WALK TO THE BAGGAGE carousel. A News Network is playing. I never saw which one. Might be one of those specialized feeds they do for airports. Anyway, it took about 5-7 minutes for my bag to come around. And the entire time -- the whole time I stood there -- there was one report on the TV.

It was about a stretch of I-35 in Minnesota. Seems some idiot was reading Isaiah, Chapter 35, and there's a verse that mentions some sort of Highway of Hope. And so there's a report that states -- for NEARLY EIGHT MINUTES -- "Could the prophets have anticipated Interstate 35?" They had people praying by the road, and Pat Robertson talking about it, and they made mention of the fact that that Bridge collapse was "near I35" because I guess there's a battle for the soul of the fucking road or something...

...I had been in the United States for a minute and a half, and this is the shit that's on. For nearly eight minutes.

A bit of context. In 1993, when I was a story producer, I once did a story where we explained the entire concept of THE INTERNET in four minutes.

The show was long.

So I cut it.

To Three. And that's when assholes were still calling it the Information Superhighway.

But the %#@^& Jesus Road? Eight Minutes.

Guess I better go see if I can blow off some steam around St. Mark's Place. A nice walk should do it. Golly, I sure hope there are no fornicators out tonight!

Linkslutting fa-la-la-la

WELL I'M FOR the plane right now, but I wanted to generously point you to two great reprints on Will's blog. After all the excitement of late, a little good old fashioned TV Production craft is just the mint we need.

So, then, the world of the coloured revision,

And the 80 % solution...

(A further note: Comment Moderation is on, because I've been getting a lot of charming stuff that I've had to delete lately about a certain show starring Muslims on the CBC -- and my monitoring will be spotty. This will continue only through the holidays. Be safe.)

A Working Writer

THERE'S A NEW LINK in the strike sideboard here. A Working Writer.com is where you can go to hear some short stories from working writers. Contrary to the AMPTP propaganda, these are not rich and spoiled types. Most of their names, you don't know, and probaly never will. All they are asking for is something fair -- an equitable piece of a very big pie.



Eight of the largest media conglomerates in the world walked away from the table in an orchestrated piece of theatre almost two weeks ago. They don't care about the Christmas or the crews. They care about dividing. And just like the writers who gave up their residuals so that future writers would have them, and just like the writers who struck so that they could get health coverage at a time when it was already standard in many American companies, the WGA knows from past experience that nothing will be gained unless they stand firm.


I'm going off for Christmas, lucky to have just finished a job. Lucky to not have to walk a picket line. But my thoughts will be for all those writers, and crew who are struggling through a Christmas not knowing what the future will bring.

Go to A Working Writer, and hear some of their voices. Not the voices of organizers or spinners or activists or PR flacks. Listen to the voices of the people who bring you the entertainment you love.

Then read a bit like this about how the other side continues to lie about the issues.

If I was writing this into a script, I'd be a little worried cause the bad guys seemed so...cliche bad. Unreasonably, irredeemably bad. You'd almost be tempted to invent a horrible backstory just to give some....reason.

Or maybe in the end, it really is just greed.

John Harkness -- a Big Loss To Canadian Film

THE THING I always appreciated most about John Harkness is that his name fit. Whatever the mysterious word "Harkness" meant -- is it one that you are drawn to hearken to, perhaps? Or more like Hark the film angels sing? I don't know. But it seemed like "Harkness" was a quality. And he had it in spades.

John Harkness wrote film reviews that made me laugh out loud, and some that made me toss Toronto's free alt-weekly, NOW, across the room in disgust or frustration.

Back in University days, I experimented a few times writing film reviews for the paper -- and I remember seeing him at the screenings. He was a figure of fascination. People would whisper about him.

He had a breadth and depth of knowledge and opinion that never made for a dull read. He was, in many ways, one of the last of his type. He could defend shit movies -- but the guy was not fluffy. As our culture continues to slouch toward Gethsemane, it's cruel to find that voice gone.

Michael Hollet eulogizes a great Toronto critic here. A short excerpt (the full column is really worth reading.)

He spoke as he wrote, with humour and intelligence, often trying out lines on unsuspecting fellow staffers who could be spellbound – or headlocked – listening to him, his wiseass conversational cracks refined and repeated in copy in the next day’s paper.

John’s favourite muscle was his brain, and while he could at times appear oblivious to outward appearances, his intellect was as fresh-pressed and natty as the fine Italian suits he began wearing later in life, after he became fabulously wealthy through a dot-com windfall.

But he was always what late Globe and Mail film critic Jay Scott called a “heavy metal film writer.” Often clad in threadbare film-company giveaway T-shirts with hints of yesterday’s lunch on them, he almost defied you to dismiss him, but his wit and knowledge, not just of film but of almost everything, made him impossible to ignore.

He had an astounding knowledge of pop culture, could explain the intricacies of poker or a curve ball pitch, yet also had a deep understanding of classic literature, the visual arts and the joys of watching things “blow up real good” on the screen. John’s work has appeared in every edition of NOW since we started in September 1981, and he never missed a deadline.

The Ghost of Media Christmas Parties Past

WE'RE JUST ABOUT ready to pull the plug here in Sticksville, pre-XMas, anyway. (You know the whole XMas thing? It's not crass like I thought it was. Apparently it's not 'X' in the sense of X at all -- it's Greek for "C" or something -- in the days of typesetting, they wanted one character to represent Christ. So, X.

I learned that from Bob Dylan today. Thank you, Bob, and your XM Theme Time Radio Hour.)

Anyhow, day after tomorrow I decamp to New York then Florida, but before I do -- I should shine a light on another good media biz blog I've been enjoying for a while.

Book of Don has been around. My favorite part of his blog is that he juxtaposes his copious early career journal entries with his thoughts today. That's perspective. Man, where was this kind of thing when I was thinking of getting into this ridiculous business?

Anyway, today Don posts about horrible Media Christmas parties. An excerpt:

It's that time of year again when Exec Producers describe newsrooms as "family", when unit managers drink too much cheap white wine and bore the crap out of everyone by driveling on and on about accounting software upgrades ... when freelancers scarf all the shrimps at the buffet table... and Shooters try to bed anyone they can.

Yep, it's Christmas party time. And TV parties are without doubt the worst.

Why ?

Because we spend WAY too much time crammed into dark little rooms with each other trying not to scream "YOUR STUPID IDEA IS GOING TO GET ME FIRED"...and now we're going to set all that repressed hostility aside and trade man-hugs ?

Right.

Not without copious amounts of Bushmills, we're not.

As you may have guessed I've seen my share of Good Will Gatherings. So, in the spirit of the season here are a few chestnuts-roasting type memories.


-- Christmas 1978. Calgary Sun party. Calgary.

Legendary columnist Fred Kennedy is about to retire so the publisher has a mock front page made with stories about Fred's career. The gift is blown up to 3 x 4 and we're all asked to sign it. Late in the evening someone scrawls in black marker..."I never liked you, you fat fuck. Ho Ho HACK !!".


-- Christmas 1980. SCTV party. Edmonton.

Too much Ouzo. Too much Rick Moranis. Too much Catherine O'Hara. Steal milk truck. Lose shirt. Wake up in bath tub

You can get the full post here. And hey -- you. Yeah, you, at the party. Hands off the P.A. Jesus!

Be an F.C.C. Grinch

ONE OF THE peculiar things about living in the City of Toronto is that we probably are better served by media than most places in the country. That's because we have four daily newspapers -- a rightish tab called The Sun (which rose from the death of a newspaper called The Telegram in the early 70's -- today it's owned by a company called Quebecor.) The Toronto Star is a left leaning broadsheet, and the overall circulation leader. Then there's The National Post -- which was started by right wing jailbird tycoon Conrad Black, and is now owned by Canwest. Finally, there's the good grey Globe & Mail -- which people elsewhere in the country call (sometimes rightly) "Toronto's National Newspaper."

Then there's the two alternative weeklies eye and NOW. They're big lefty, mostly.

The competition for stories, and the different focuses and political stripes of the various papers help make for a lively debate. This debate, though, is ultimately couched in the larger context of media consolidation. Two of the papers are owned by the same companies that own Canada's two private television networks.

If the current WGA strike and the last ten years have taught us anything, it's that the whole fooferal surrounding vertical integration of media is a lot of hooey. No one talks about 'synergies' anymore -- and nobody even tries to pretend it's better for us folks.

What it is better for, is the bottom line of rapacious corporate media behemoths. The same kind, loving, reasonable corporations who are currently trying to break the WGA and offer them nothing for new media.

When you reduce the number of owners of media outlets, you reduce diversity and opinion. More and more stories get ignored. It's not hard to find evidence of this -- there's plenty of links to be had if you go looking.

In my experience, I've noticed the effect of consolidation twice recently. When I had a Vancouver adventure earlier this year, I got used to the fact that the two newspapers there were owned by the same company. That's the case in a lot of cities. The coverage was bland and uninspired, very rarely straying off canned content for Arts and "feature-y" things. I've been a daily newspaper reader all my life, but after a week I dropped reading the daily paper altogether, and sucked it up to buy the Weekend paper, along with a nine dollar Sunday New York Times.

But as bad as that experience was, and as softened as it was by still being able to check all the online sources I love, the experience I get when I visit the U.S. is worse.

My parents retired to Florida a couple years ago. We lived in Florida in the 1970's. Now, when I go back, I notice that the newspapers and the tv stations are all owned by the same people. Radio in the USA is a joke -- it's all bland Clear Channel crap, or Dittohead noise. No wonder people have started diving for NPR.

It's astonishing how narrow a field of information actually gets discussed there. The paucity of thought and ideas expressed has actually noticeably started to affect the democratic process. People are ill informed. They're kept in the dark and fed bullshit. And the bottom line of the media congloms grows ever larger.

This is sounding pretty lefty, I know, and I'm sorry for that. I do try to keep an open mind. There are plenty of centre, and rightish thinkers that I admire. In Canada, you actually get to hear all of these people for yourself. You're allowed to decide.

If you're an American, now that it's coming up on Christmas and you're cutting down trees, dreaming of reindeer and songs of joys and peace, and TeeVee and media seems like a background sideshow, I'd ask you to pay attention to one more thing.

This.

The other rule, which gives owners of newspapers more leeway to buy radio and television stations in the largest cities, is a step in the direction of deregulation. It is intended to help the newspaper industry, which is suffering from dwindling advertising revenue, and to recognize that the historical conditions that gave rise to cross-ownership restrictions have changed, now that more news sources are available on the Internet and cable television.

But the change drew criticism from newspaper executives, who said it was too modest to be meaningful, and from prominent lawmakers and commission Democrats, who called it a Christmas present to the nation’s largest conglomerates.

Both rules are certain to be reviewed by courts in the coming months. On Capitol Hill, some lawmakers said Tuesday that they would try to undo the rule about the newspaper industry.

Bush's F.C.C. flunky has been trying to push through further media consolidation for a while now. Earlier this year, he was rebuffed by an outpouring of citizen outrage. No matter. He promised W. that the rules would go through and that the kinds of good, thinking citizens who run the AMPTP would get a Christmas gift -- the ability to control even more of what you read and see and hear.

The rules were successfully changed yesterday. But it's not final. There will be appeals.

I want you to think about the news in the last few years -- the bad info leading up to the Iraq war, and everything else and ask, "have you been well served by your media?"

If you think the answer's no, then before you start wrapping or playing Guitar Hero or trying to figure out what to do with weird Uncle Harry, take a second to write your congressperson.

Tell them that -- never mind changing the rules -- they should hold hearings into media concentration.

It's bad for us as citizens. It's bad for America. (It's not great for Canada, either, but we're at least not as far down the road in restricting voices.)

The Hairy Eyeball, The Grumps, and The Day The Love Died

IT ALL COMES DOWN to the hairy eyeball, my friends.

I'll admit it. I woke up this morning feeling rather shattered. I was out with The Sister last night. The Sister is quite a sensible thing, good head on her shoulders, always with the top-shelf advice. And she's not afraid to bust Brother's chops about his media promiscuity. "People keep telling me they hear you on the radio," says she, "And I say, 'about the strike?' and they say 'No. I think he was talking about Christmas specials.' And then she shakes her head.

The Sister is amazed that apparently, I will talk about anything.

The Sister has a plan and an adventure. She's always planning some adventure, is The Sister, and this one involves Europe and Paris on the New Year's and it makes us feel rather ordinary and protean.

So when we're ordinary and protean we like to fix it with a bit of the Irish. And maybe a draught. Or six. And then there's laughter and it's all well and good because we're at the place, not the place I always go but the place that's even closer -- the place that's mere steps from the digs-- where there's wireless and the food's good and they make burritos with Havarti. And the sister's spinning the tale of the time so-and-so did so and so; and then there's the cameo appearance by a cutter friend -- top chap, let's call him Rentals, fresh from some reality-tv show wrap party and that, dear readers, is when it all started to tip into the wrong. By the time the sister grabbed her cab and the Rentals stayed on, the hairy eyeball was well nigh inevitable.

So ce matin I rose and Advil'ed and did some outline work for a while and was generally a man of the grumps. And lo, the student from years gone by tipped me on Facebook to someone of similar disposition. Seems John Doyle's back, my friends. He's got the hairy eyeball too. And it's pointed squarely at yours truly.

This is good in so many ways. There were those who were starting to suggest that there was, perhaps, something a little off in my praise of the Doyle. A little bit of dressdown does wonder for my cred. It chases away those annoying whispers of logrolling, even if it does sting a bit on a heavy-lidded day such as this.

In his column today, Doyle opines on the things that make him grumpy...an excerpt of which I reproduce lovingly below:

The wussiness of the Canadian TV racket While I was away - I came back grumpy, obviously - an issue blew up. Chris Haddock, creator of Da Vinci's Inquest and Intelligence, complained - during an interview with a reporter - about CBC's lack of promotion for Intelligence. He had a point. As anyone with eyeballs can conclude, The Tudors and Little Mosque get tons of promotion while Intelligence got little.

In a response, a CBC spokeschappy took this condescending view: "We have not yet made a decision as to whether we'll continue with the show; when we do, Chris will be the first to know. That's precisely as it should be. We're happy to see Chris remains a passionate supporter of his show, which we happen to think is pretty good." Yada yada. Spokeschappy also tut-tutted about Haddock's "attempts to negotiate through the media his relationship with the CBC."

Worse, the normally sensible Denis McGrath, a TV screenwriter of some note, tut-tutted in his blog, "I'm with the CBC on one thing on this: This is not something that should be playing out in the media."

What utter nonsense. The Canadian TV racket suffers from enough don't-quote-me wussiness as it is. There is so much fear of angering some self-aggrandizing TV exec that hardly anyone speaks the truth, out loud, to the press. Intelligence is an excellent, world-class TV drama, internationally acclaimed. CBC should be proudly promoting it and is mandated, as a public broadcaster, to air what is not necessarily massively popular, but simply excellent. Haddock is right. CBC is wrong. Another TV writer going all meek and mousy on the subject is disheartening. I really hate that.

Now I've already heard from one country, a wag and wit who took issue with the concept that I'm "normally sensible" about anything -- an opinion I'm sure The Sister would agree with -- but it's the tut-tutting I take issue with. I think it's fairly clearly established at this point that I do not "tut-tut."

If anything, I bloviate.

Doyle was reacting to the rather terse entry entitled CBC to Haddock: Mommy Has Other Kids, Too. But in selectively quoting only the first part of my comment, I think Doyle missed my essential point:

Whereever you come down on the issue, I'm with the CBC on one thing on this: this is not something that should be playing out in the media. There is precious little space available in our American dominated mediasphere for stories on Canadian shows as it is. Sucking the air away for a process story about a producer's griping is a bit unseemly.

Intelligence was burned in promo this fall. And they took away the late night window repeat. And it's unfortunate that they couldn't get a bump for Season 2 by getting those DVD's of Season 1 out before the premiere -- which, after all, is exactly the thing that made 24 (a middling success in Season 1, into a monster hit for Season 2)

Point is, Intelligence was promo'd in the first season, and didn't do that well then, either.

Doyle's frustration is palpable because he gets so much regular stick and doubletalk from the CBC, and Canadian producers in general. The timidity he speaks of is a real problem. I see it myself every day. It's why I started this blog. This week's round of holiday parties has brought out, once more, the comments from people who'll whisper things to me and then say, with horror, "don't write about this on your blog." (Inevitably, it's a piece of gossip I wouldn't write about in a million years.) It's hard getting people to go on the record about things like writing "letters of support" and the real commitment to homegrown stuff at various outlets. I just think the nature of my objection to Haddock's complaining comes from a different place.

Though CBC's Cancon bonafides can't be questioned, it also has the sturm, drang, and otherworldly considerations that go with being a first class bureaucracy.

The psychology of covering the Canadian TV racket is a thorny and complex stew. Diane of Tv, Eh? described Lee Anne Goodman at CP this way in a recent entry:

"one of the few reporters to integrate Canadian television into her TV coverage as if it's not living in a ghetto"

Doyle does that too -- but he's got a slightly different cant, being a columnist and not a regular reporter. This invisible ghetto of Canadian TV coverage is a real problem. And the column space comes down to math: if we get a Haddock complains article, we don't get another article about something that's coming up. It's process over content. I don't like political stories where they cover the polls and not the issues, either.

I would submit I've probably written almost as much as Doyle trying to support Intelligence. I've been clear that I'm an unabashed fan, and that I think Haddock's kind of a genius. And in my wrapup/eulogy for the show I pointed out that even if the show's done, it's not done...

I just find it difficult to differentiate between Haddock complaining and, say, Jeff Seymour complaining. What's the difference? Besides the fact that one show is a good show, and one was a bad show, aren't these two guys doing exactly the same thing? Why is it okay for Haddock to go off at his network, if it's not okay for Seymour to go off on his network?

Haddock is a man of supreme gifts, and Intelligence was a frequently sublime show. But the audience didn't find it -- for whatever reason. Bad promo is part of that. But it's not the full story.

And another thing. Now this is the hairy eyeball talking. With all the tremendous respect Haddock has in the industry, I wish he'd use a bit more of that to build up the industry, and not just promote Haddock. He's had a famously fractious relationship with the Writers Guild of Canada, for example. And the cross-country grapevine for months has suggested that he's none too pleased with The Border, either. I keep hearing that he considers it "his territory" or "Intelligence-lite."

You know, rather than complaining about your promo, hell, why not say that? That at least is a feud that gets the name of another show in there. That's a dustup I could get behind. It might even be fun.

Anyway, dear readers, as I sat here with a warm cloth on the head, trying not to see stars, the hairy eyeball feeling came full circle. My immediate thoughts of Doyle and the Sister and how I wronged the Rentals with that last Irish are supplanted by a call from an actor of my acquaintance. He was calling about his underwear. Apparently he left underwear here during the last poker game.

I know how that sounds. No, gentle reader, I have no further information on how and why the underwear came to be left here. I can almost 100 percent vouch that there was no nudity during the poker game. We simply don't play that kind of poker. I will, however, reveal one very important, salient point in this peculiar new development:

The last poker game at my place was three weeks ago.

I search around for about five minutes, and sure enough, there's a bag with the actor's three-week-old ginch. It's been sitting there in my entry closet for three weeks.

Oh my stars. It's all too much. I'm simply shattered. It's hard to worry about a show's promo or who's tut-tutting about what when you've got three-week-old-ginch staring you in the kisser.

But the writer in me has to admit, damnit, that is one fitting end to the day of the hairy eyeball.

So to sum up:

Haddock: still a genius. Doyle: grumpy, but a good read. The Sister: Adventurous and Sensible. Rentals: Wronged. The Actor: Ginchless.

As for me -- I'm just looking to warm up the cloth. Oh, my stars.

***

EDIT: I've been told that some people (a lot) don't actually read Blogger comments, and that they don't automatically come up unless you click the permalink. For that reason, I'm appending this post because Chris Haddock left a comment below where he responds to some of the stuff I said in the post. First, let's print Haddock's comment in its entirety:

Alright, to correct some very large and unsubstantiated comments attributed to me by some apparently anonymous types: Regarding the BORDER. The Producer, Peter Raymont, and I'm sure Peter will happily verify this, when developing the show the Border, was referred to me for some insight into producing, as he'd apparently never done a drama before. I happily agreed to talk to him. When he asked me to recommend a direcotr for his pilot, I recommended John Fawcett, who he did not know. He hired John Fawcett. That may address both comments a)that i do something to aid the industry. I offer freely (that is happily and no charge) to many producers, writers, actors and directors and network execs,all of whom solicit my advice from time to time.

My simple answer to yur suggestion that I help the industry and not just promote my show is I concentrate on making the best show I can, offering dozens, indeed, hundreds of jobs to crew, actors, directors, editors, producers, the chance to play at the top of their games. But dn't take my word for it. Ask around. You can ask John Fawcett, who solicited my comments on his pilot for The Border. I gave further solicited advice to others involved in the production as well.

B)Regardin my alleged comments that I don't like the border, or call it intell lite, or the silliest of all, that I consider they walk on my turf, these are all inventions of other people, at least I hope that they are of other people and not you. So if you choose to publish these sort of rumors, please do me the proper thing and solicit my comment on these allegations. Seems only reasonable, before you start saying things that are patently untrue

)what famous fractious relationship with the wgc are you talking about? I know nothing of what you speak, and would love to know more, you apparently know a side of things to which I am not privy. Really, you gotta watch your mouth if your'e gonna repeat things other people apparently make up on the spot. I would like to know where you heard these things, because I'm bewildered by them. Finally, I did not solicit any press, I did not solicit the ex spook who wrote for the Star. I responded to journalists who call me, which by the way, is really really easy to do. Phone, dial, ask for Chris. I do not comment publicly on other Canadian shows, unless it is to help out. When I have said that we do make our fair share of crap up here, I don't cite any particular show. As far as The Border goes, I wish it well. importantly, i wish the cbc well i happen to think it is operating on less than all cylinders. I do not agree with many of your comments about various aspects of the industry, I don't agree with your comments about me just speaking out to get publicity: It says more about the lack of publicity for the show that when I do make critical comments it's interpreted that aha, I must be doing it to get publicity. I don't think setting up false competitions between producers is at all helpful to the industry. When people take shots at me or the show, I let most of them ride, it's par for the course. However, it is also part of my job, and any producer worth their salt, to defend themselves or their shows from false, invented, or misleading information which is publiclly published. There is a truth in this industry in this country, and that is, it is small, it is competitive, and full of frustrated artists who daily equivocate between speaking the truth and keepign their mouths shut so as not to offend real or imagined powerbrokers and endanger their careers. Same goes for journalists. You're right about one thing: Intelligence ain't done. and the best of luck to you dennis, i understand you are one of the writer's on The Border. I hope you have the integrity to question your sources more rigorously in the future.

Blogging is not journalism and it is first draft stuff, but in retrospect, I guess it was a little offside to publish scurrilous rumor about The Border and Haddock. There is, of course, a few thousand miles between here and the coast and a whole lot of place for rumor to get inserted in. I may not have solicited Haddock's comments, but nevertheless, there they are, unedited -- so I hope that provides the record there, answered.

Second, John Fawcett has said on many occasions very nice things about Mr. Haddock and his work. As have I. And Alan Di Fiore, his collaborator on DaVinci's inquest, has an article profile up through the Victoria Times Colonist where he praises Chris and his work. It's not actually too hard to find people that will praise Chris and his work. I praise Chris and his work, so if I didn't think before I typed, I also have real doubts that I could do a bit of damage to the guy's rep.

Of course Haddock's over a decade (if you count DaVinci and Intelligence) body of work has helped the Canadian industry and lots of craftspeople, and writers in it. His company keeps many people working in Vancouver. So I probably chose my words poorly there. I'm sorry about that.

There's a couple of other things that get tossed in there too -- from the WGC thing, which I've heard from several people and was spoken about like it was a pretty well-known thing; Chris says it's not so. He also makes reference to the article I reposted about Michael Wilson, the ex-spy who inspired Burn Notice, and the op ed he wrote for the Star praising the show. Several of my commenters suggested Haddock was behind that. I think that's bullshit, frankly, I've exchanged emails with Wilson and he's the kind of guy who says what he wants, period. But because those comments were made on this blog, even if they weren't made by me, I'm more than happy that you get to hear straight from the horse's mouth that it's bullshit.

Here's the thing about Canada: it's a pretty small place. I write what I think here, and I want people to talk about it, and I really and truly believe that stuff doesn't get talked about enough. I wrote once upon a time about Twitch City and how I didn't really like the show (upon its DVD release, tied to a review in the NYTimes; a positive review, by the way) and Don McKellar came on here to poke me a bit. Now Chris is taking his turn. I am actually delighted by this. Not because I'm some self-aggrandizing ninny, though I'm sure that can be said -- but because this kind of thing will shake loose the quiet, stale orthodoxy that underlies and holds back the industry in this country. I think I am frequently right in what I write about here, but like every other guy in the world who ever sticks their neck out, I can get it wrong. Opinion's like that -- whether you're a mid-level writer or a guy with his name above the title, and a 200 person staff. You're not gonna get it right all the time.

For where I was unfair and conjectured unwisely, I apologize to Haddock -- and you know, though I've probably just pissed off one of the bigshots in this country, a guy who does have years more experience than me and who I admire, I still don't regret it. But nor do I back away from it.

Cause agreeing with someone, even 97% of the time doesn't mean you gotta agree with them all the time. And I still don't.

But I do count myself as one of those that hopes that Jimmy Reardon gets to get his shot ass out of the doorway of the Chickadee, and that Haddock and the CBC -- however they argue, through the media or in private -- continue a creative partnership that's set a very high bar of quality and a target for everyone else to aim for.

And the rest of it? I guess I'll wear it. If you got a big mouth, you have to do that sometimes.

Hairy eyeball out.