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.