There is Wisdom In Brunch

THE SCENE: A sunny Sunday morning in pre-G20, soon-to-be-fortress-Toronto.  A circled table, light streaming in through huge windows. The sound of easy laughter & whispered confidences; a bit of gossip, some eggs, a couple of killer beignes and coffee for miles.

Six TV writers -- all Canadian.  All, strangely, working right now.  From far flung Nova Scotian comedies to single girl in the city shows,  to new plans & destinations & adventures and maybe even a little bit of Prairie heart.

The question is raised:  "What's the single best bit of career advice that you'd give to a noob? We're talking the knowledge hardest won... not "advice on writing" or "how to write" or "process advice."  Everybody's got that and you can find it everywhere you look if you take the time to Google.

More like, "what's the thing you know now you wish you knew then?"  Some thoughtful chewing, and many nods, before the torrent starts:

"When you're young, you're not as good as you think you are.  When you get old, you're not as bad as you think you are."

Nods & chirps; dark rumblings of, "Hey, I resemble that remark." But we're just getting started.

"I don't think I knew how important tenacity was.  There were people in University who were way more talented than me.  They were better writers. But I kept at it.  I'm better than they were then -- now -- but that's cause I kept going. Eventually you outlast people, if you stay focused.  Keep showing up."

An insanely juicy piece of gossip squeaks out.  A quick check to confirm for one and all that we are "under the dome."  Ah yes. The dome of silence.

"Keep your mouth shut."

Everybody laughs.

Someone quotes a personal mentor: "So-and-so's line was always, 'never repay petty with more petty.'"

The group takes stock, mentally flicking through the cards --  instances where pettiness was met; the scorecard of how often it was repaid, and how often one managed to rise above.

"Your best writing will never make it to the screen."  Nods all around.  And, "the market has nothing do you with your talent."

A few nods, a few quizzical glances, "I'm just saying that process is more important than product.  For all we do, to stay focused always on the commercial success, to fixate on that is ultimately meaningless.  All this, 'will the show go?'  It's more like, "How am I going to have a good day this week?"

"Having a show go doesn't excuse, condone, or ameliorate a situation if you're hating every minute, feeling abused, marginalized, belittled, ignored.  The writing can't be a chore; you have to enjoy the process. You have to have quality of life." 

After all, "it's just TV."

Sigh. Yes it is.  Oh, TV. Bitch mistress to us all. 

"Make friends with frustration.  It's the precursor to change. Frustration shouldn't make you give up -- your dissatisfaction is telling you something.  Keep at it and the breakthrough comes."

Sip of OJ.  Crunch of toast.  A slug of a mimosa.  I pipe in with my contribution, "Learn to write fast. There's no sense spending six months working on that spec script if the job is how much can you rewrite on the fly.  If you want to staff, you have to be able to crank pages out."

I get ragged, that's writing advice. I've broken my own rule.  A heaving sigh.  It's true. Too much blogging, I guess. The teat is dry.

A slide into shop talk.

"Isn't it fun to get premise-challenging notes at Blue?" Yes. Yes it is.

Everybody agrees that you get to a point where the "no asshole" rule is inviolable.  It doesn't matter how talented someone is if they're a jerk. It sucks all the goodwill out of the room.

But there will be idiots. Oh yes. They're everywhere.  Oh, the difficulties. The hours spent trying to keep your disbelief in check.  What about getting through that?  "You will survive the network executive who is making your life hell."

But how? How do you do all this? Stay tenacious, make friends with frustration, live through the assholes when they come, embrace process...never be petty -- it sounds great, but how? HOW? How do you do all this?

A beat.  Then,

"Remember that everyone was an itty bitty baby once, that their Mama loved.  If you can remember that, you can find the way to be kind."

Silence.  Just so.

The check comes.  Cash & the three credit card split. We write out the amounts to try and help the waiter.  Tally -- the tip is generous.  Deep down, we're service industry too. We know.






The sun's brighter now, even higher in the sky. It's going to scorch.  Hugs & Last glances;  stumble out into the day -- "Remind me of that TED talk you liked again?" And "How badly is the core fenced in?" And "how many more days you got?"  And as the group breaks up, brunched, sated, talked out, happy -- one final riposte, tossed over the shoulder as we depart:

"Never, ever, ever admit your real age."


W. Profound thanks & respeck to badlady, Clooney, KMac, Escog, and Whitey McLegs4days.

It Is Accomplished.

WELL THIS IS a day some time in coming.

It's with not too heavy a heart I'd like to let y'all know that effective immediately, I'm pressing 'pause'. Dead Things ON Sticks is finally, especially dead, or at least mostly dead, in that magical Princess Bride-y kinda way. Why? 

Wellll...

I've got a new gig that's going to take me to Los Angeles, like so many Canadian creatives before me. I apologize to the friends I didn't get to see before leaving: it came up as these things do, and boom, next thing you know, you're throwing clothes in a bag and hailing a taxi.

The gig is finite; the move...um...Ida know.   I think I can honestly say that I've tried as hard as anyone to make my stand here.  I've worked, agitated, evangelized & given to the cause of keeping quality Canadian creatives at home, in the hopes that things were changing, and that we were getting closer to being recognized & given the creative respect and environment in which to grow.  On good days, I still believe this.  On bad, I accepted a lot of joshing for being naive.  There are people who I consider good friends who actually cussed me out when they found out that I had an actual U.S. Passport.  

There was even a time at Banff last year when -- mmm... let's see, how do I put this?...let's call it a party with a direct, measurable degree of power over the way the Canadian system runs asked me flat out, with deep incredulity, "if you can work in the USA, why would you ever stay here?"

That question made me sad then. It does now. But it is, unfortunately, like our own Gulf of Mexico Oil Slick. That kind of thinking has permeated the water table and the wetlands and the marshes and the beaches and driven deep down into the shale and the bedrock of the cultural consciousness of this otherwise wonderful nation.   Fighting it has made me very, very tired.  Mr. Blackett, this is why. You're just the latest symptom of the problem.

The L.A. writing life & industry is more than well represented by bloggers, and I won't really have my finger on the pulse of the Canadian scene anymore, so I think it's better to leave you in the capable hands of other observers of same: Prairie Dog Will Dixon and Uncle Jim "Axe to Grind" Henshaw.  There's also Jaime Weinman in Macleans. (I secretly think he's more Canadian scene-curious than he fronts; guy just needs a little push.)  Hopefully, John Doyle might get over whatever's been up his bum for the last little while, too (if we don't lose him to soccer writing, I mean.)

For a dose of your Canadian crafty, may I suggest the redoubtable Alex Epstein? And if you want info on Canadian shows, there's no finer resource than Tv-eh? -- still a one woman, all volunteer shop run by not-connected-to-the-industry-at-all writer/editor Diane Wild.

I might pop in from time to time.  Maybe I'll post a few dirty Haikus about CRTC policy or something.  I honestly have no idea.  I'll also continue to represent my fellow Central Canada WGC members on the Writers Guild of Canada Council, as long as I'm able.  From foreign ownership to value for signal to licenses to copyright, there's still a lot of fights ahead. I won't stop if you won't.

Evolution of a Canadian Creative.
Maybe Brioux will write about me now!.

When I put out a PayPal button earlier this year, I was stunned by the number of people who gave me a donation.  Five bucks here, five there -- and more than one person stepped up way more than that -- giving me the equivalent of the yearly subscription fee to Playback Online.  That is just...crazy.  Not bad for something I dashed off every day.  Thanks, from the bottom of my heart for your support.  You bought me a portable hard drive so I could back up five years worth of my rants. Don't trust the cloud, people. Heh heh.



I've learned a lot, knitted closer to my fellow Canadian creatives, and enjoyed the exchanges I've had here immensely over the last five years.  Even the occasional glimpses into the petty underbelly of the internet has made me a stronger person & a better writer.

(Truth be told, I came very close to packing it in last summer after a couple of weird incidents where I was stalked by people mistaking their online familiarity with my writing for an offline relationship.  More than once, I found a stranger laying in wait so they could yell at me "because I yelled at him every day on your blog."  Uh. Yeah.  Then there were the pests who'd just somehow ... be ... whereever I was.  Sometimes with a camera!)

As Craig Ferguson might say, "I KNOW!!!"

The supportive emails & comments, and the Cuppa Joe donations got me through that patch.  But I have to say with all honesty & humility that the thought of being one more dressed-down writer in a city  teeming with them is tremendously appealing to me right now.   I won't miss being the lightning rod -- even admitting that sometimes, yup, I sought out that role.  I guess at the root of things, I like telling stories a lot.  Being the story, really not so much.

In any case, I'm a big believer in both professional honesty and giving back, which is why as my career gained some steam I tried, whenever possible, to offer a take on industry doings that never seemed to make it into the paper or the trades.  That's also why I tried to make myself available for mentoring & advice to up and coming writers. I don't know how much good that's done, if any, but I encourage each and every one of you to punch through your fear and to speak up for what you believe.  It turns out that the jobs you lose are few, and the fellow travelers you meet quickly become friends. (Most of them anyway; hey, you meet crazies on the subway, too.)  When it comes to the important stuff,  the disagreements we have are better solved in the warmth of the cold light of day. Secrecy, jealousy, and passive aggressive tendencies have not served our industry well. It is time, finally, finally, to try another way.

Look at that. Sermonizing til the end.  Little bit douchey.  Sigh.

This has become the quotational equivalent of using Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" in your big climactic TV montage.  But it fits, so eff it--

Margaret Mead once said, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."

We're going to have one more post on crafty later today, just cause that's how I'd like to leave it.  So watch for that.

Good Night, from Sticksville…and Good Luck. 

Stress Reading

I'M IN A bit of a pickle right now.  Lot of stress, lot of open questions, lot of stuff to do & think about & move & collect & everything.  And of course there's our old friend Mr. Insomnia.  But with that and all I want to call attention to two wonderful books I've been reading in fits & starts when I can. (Both on my Ipad, but I hear you oldies can buy them in hard copy too.)

The first is Kathryn Borel's memoir of an ill-fated wine tour with her difficult father, Corked.

Borel's prose style is easy & conversational, and what starts out feeling like one long overshare winds up being tremendously affecting and wise thoughts on dealing with aging parents, death, and coming to terms with personal responsibility -- the debts we owe others, the hurts we inflict on family, strangers, lovers, and ourselves.  Borel's funny, too.  Wish I got to know her better when I was doing all those Q bits.

And as an added bonus, you get to learn a bit about wine.  How fine.

While the vuvuzelas are still droning, it's nice to read into the context & beauty of The Beautiful Game. I remember so well being in South Africa in 2004 when the Cup was awarded.  On the ground in Cape Town less than two days, jetlagged as hell, and suddenly the whole city went BANANAS with joy.  It was quite something to see.  Then there were the many games of the Euro 2004 tournament that various Scots, English & Africans educated me about during that summer in bars down on the V&A Waterfront.  Come match time you couldn't find a soul on the stroll, even with the pleasant winter sun shining down.  (The kind of sun that still had the South African girls wearing scarves.  Ah. Memories.)

So with that kind of recall, it's a pleasure to read John Doyle's new tome about the meaning of soccer -- The World is a Ball.  Other books about the game I've found dry, too much process. But Doyle's gift is capturing the moment, and putting you among the joyous, raucous, jubilant people.  We all need stories that uplift, these days -- and Doyle's painting of scene after international scene shows the world for the glorious mosaic it can be.  That little ball comes with a whole lot of hope that doesn't necessarily translate into kicks and feints & yellow cards.  But then again, maybe it doesn't have to.

Anyway, that's what I'm reading in ten minute increments here and there when I'm not a twitter and a-worry.  Pick 'em up.

On The Strangest Sea

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me

-Emily Dickinson

WOODY ALLEN famously titled one of his collections of written essays, "Without Feathers," and that's a hipper usage than I can probably muster today.  But there's always been something about that Dickinson poem to me, something that keeps bringing me back to it at certain times, or during certain trials.

I think one of the reasons why I like it so is because it tells me that hope, besides being free, is generous if you let it, and can survive whatever kicks you choose to throw at it. The secret is to let that little bird in.

In that spirit then, a few stories today that could conjure the usual clouds of creative cynicism, but won't. Not today. Today let's look on these items and try to hear the song without the words.

Hollywood realizes that safe sucks.  Nikki Finke has an interesting story about studio heads scheduling meetings with agents to try and figure out where the hell to go next. The retrenchment that's gone on over the last couple years hasn't been just about the economy, though the over-reliance on sequel-bumping & TV show remaking is tied up in that.  There's also a lingering anger & resentment left over from the last WGA strike. Hollywood's uneasy relationship with that dificult and whiny & prickly class, scriptus writerus, fed a lot of fantasizing over the last little while -- from the idea that Leno could work at ten to the multiplexes would still burst with gelt no matter what crappy, half-assed spectacle you threw up there.  Well, with the box office off so much, it seems like maybe there's finally a move to listen to some new ideas:

"I have three heads of studios coming into my office. They're completely at a loss about what to do," one top tenpercenter put it bluntly. So what are the agents going to tell the studios? Here are our writers, here are their pitches and treatments and scripts, here is the originality you should be making instead of numbing predictability. Like, duh. Could this be an opportunity for creativity? That's what a major producer told my colleague Mike Fleming yesterday: "this sluggish summer might be a blessing in disguise for talent and producers who want to take risks but have been hamstrung for the past two years by studios that have been operating in retreat mode, and looking for the safest bets possible.

We'll see if it materializes. It depressed me a bit to see that Splice didn't catch on in its theatrical run -- but the horror market has been so dumbed down & Sawporned that maybe expecting more was ambitious.  I bet Splice will do great on Video.   For my part, I read the articles like this one tracking the up-and-coming promotional efforts around Inception with great interest.

About a month and a half ago I i.d.'d this as the only film that was likely to get me into a theater this summer. If it does well, maybe we'll see more movies with smarts & thrills.  And that's good for both audience & creators.

Good Looking Cops Having Sex? I'm in!

Meanwhile, here in Canada, Canwest Global sent out a press release alerting people that they were going to really, really, really promote the heck out of Rookie Blue,  in advance of its premiere June 24th. (Simulcast on ABC in the USA.) They've got a website with flash & whistles, even a special game you can play.

Complementing the vast off-air, on-air and digital media elements of the campaign are promotional rookie cards – a collectable item featuring glossy photos and key facts about the series’ rookies. These cards will be distributed in a targeted fashion to consumers, advertisers and press in the weeks ahead.

In tandem with the marketing efforts, Global’s comprehensive publicity campaign involved an original press kit in the unique form of a police academy notebook distributed to print, online, radio and broadcast outlets across the county. Additionally, the network is actively leveraging the homegrown cast with a number of targeted publicity tactics including an integrated press junket to build awareness of the series and the up-and-coming stars.

All creative and media plans were developed in-house through the Canwest Creative Agency and Media Strategy teams.

I guess Global's still smarting a bit from the pasting they took in the articles on their upfronts last week. Oh sure, one could point out that it isn't actually too newsworthy for a putative media company & TV network to try and self-congratulate for doing what is normally considered, uh, part of the job, but hey, it's Global promoting a Canadian series and spending money to do it!  So Shhhh, naysayers. Listen. Listen for the bird.  Ahhh.  See, doesn't that sound sweet?

The air may be lousy with cop shows, but Rookie Blue has always struck me as a savvy pitch -- Grey's Anatomy, but with cops.  That sounds fun and frothy & summery.  The scuttlebut and whispers in the industry say that when ABC tested the show, it did really, really well.  I'll be tuning in.  I hope lots and lots and lots and lots of people do the same, and Global gets giddy on the thought that maybe their CanCon could make money for them.  Oh little bird, sing your song. Sing the fuck out of it.

"If you tell me TV is dead one more time,
I'm gonna kick you in the Rundle."

Finally, there's Banff. Oh, sure. Once upon a time, when Pat Ferns was in charge it seemed to be more about the content & less the deal -- and deals actually got done there instead of just being announced there -- but Ferns kind of ran the fest into the ground.  Still, every year it seems to be more about visiting U.S. creators & less about creativity -- and now that it, like every other conference in the world, has been swallowed by the Convergence Traveling Digital The Future's Coming TV Is Dead Honky Tonk Roadshow, the expecations are even lower. I'm still hoping that along with all the self-evident tweets from #banff2010 (ably ripped on by Jim Henshaw here) there might be one, teeny tiny morsel of creative juice, one tiny new idea that gets reported back that makes me think, "ah yes, that festival is good for something other than clean mountain air."


Oh little bird, flap those wings harder, fly faster...sing louder -- cause I'm working real hard to name that tune.

Or, in the case of Banff, somebody could just, you know...shoot the bird.

20/20

SO, I JUST finished up a very fast four weeks in a wonderful story room -- the third season for the much-admired (even by me) Less Than Kind.  Besides offering a chance to work with people I've long admired, like Mark McKinney (Kids in the Hall, Studio 60, SNL)  and Brian Hartt (Jamie Kennedy Xperiment, MADtv) -- it's also a chance to come full circle. I story edited a very early version of the pilot script by my friends Marvin Kaye & Chris Sheasgreen, when they were part of the NSI Totally Television program.

And then there's Jenn Engels, who was nominated for a Canadian Screenwriting Award for a season 1 LTK script she wrote.  She's great on story.  And Kim Coghill gamely, patiently keeps the notes and preps for what will be her first professional script...one more new member for the WGC!

What a pleasure it is to be back working on a show that has a set of well-defined characters, and actors who you know can sell the scenes, as well as a tone that goes for both laughs & heart.  It's amazing that Canada's pay channels TMN & Movie Central rescued this worthy show.

As much as I love the room, now there's an outline and a script to write, as well as my own ongoing projects.  Now that I'm in a good, fullsteam workweek groove, I'm loathe to give it up.  And Oh Bloggy, you can so be a distraction.

So I'm stepping out for a bit.  For the next week or so, we're hosting "Hindsight Week" here in Sticksville.  Part of the fun of blogging is that there are no lead times; publishing is instant. What happens when we revisit old posts & opinions with wiser, older eyes & a fuller appreciation of what followed?

Well, guess we'll find out.

Note to commenters: comments will be on the original posts, but since I'm stepping out -- approvals might be slower than normal.  I'll get to them.  Meantime, enjoy the sun, and feel free to use this as an open thread to leave any suggestions for stuff you'd like to talk about or see down the road.

An earlier version of this story contained errors. It has been corrected.

Lucy, Schroeder & Robin Hood Explain the Movie Business.

IF YOU'RE LIKE me, you probably greeted the new Robin Hood movie with a bit of mystification.  Especially when the reviews came in.  If you were going to tell such a well-trod & explored story (a couple of movies & TV series just in the last few years!) how could you not make sure you were bringing something new and different to it?

Well it's simple. As Bill Martell explains, you start with new and different -- in this case, a nifty script called NOTTINGHAM, and then you systematically murder it.  Until it is dead, dead, dead, well and truly dead.

So, Ridley Scott wanted to change the NOTTINGHAM script which featured period forensics to a script about archers and archery...

Then he came up with a brilliant idea! What if the Sheriff Of Nottingham and Robin Hood were the *same person*! Kind of like FIGHT CLUB. He’d be chasing himself for the whole damned movie! And there were some drafts of the screenplay written like that, until someone (maybe Helgeland) must have hinted that it might be a little silly.

And draft after draft, they script changed - evolved - twisted - becoming something completely different. The way the most expensive meal you have ever eaten turns into something else when it goes through the digestive process.

The full blow by blow is painful & illuminating.

Of course, this kind of collaboration doesn't just happen with Directors.  Sometimes it's with Producers too.  Most writers have these stories floating around.  And most of those stories can be very adequately explained by this simple interaction between Lucy & Schroeder from A Charlie Brown Christmas:

No Business Like Show

IN WHAT OTHER business can you sit around with colleagues, speaking in the voice of a Thai Ladyboy about how what you do is more honest work than screenwriting, whilst a smoky, take-no-prisoners dame provides Yenta services for the next generation, and the shop talk reveals human frailty, the apex of vanity, and murderous incompetence all at once?

Accountants don't get to do this.

But then again, they no meet Ting Ting.

Oh, Dear, It's the Mop & Pail...& They'd Like To Borrow A Cup of Crazy

FURTHER TO OUR silly little contretemps yesterday, I notice-- "Quelle horreur!" -- that Canada's National Newspaper has gone squirrel with my little story.  (As opposed to "going viral" where an internet meme takes off, "going squirrel"is when the MSM can't help themselves from picking up something from a blog, but still manages to intimate that people the internet are nuts.)

Exhibit A -- Jane Taber's Ottawa Notebook:

First, favouring one homegrown squad or the other when there are only two Canadian teams left in the playoffs is bad enough when you are the Canadian Heritage Minister. But going so far as to favour the Western team (he represents a suburban Vancouver riding) over the team from Quebec when the party that you represent as Minister of Official Languages is depending on the province for its majority government is deranged.

In a blog post called Tweets Have Consequences, Denis McGrath, a TV writer and a big deal in the Writers Guild of Canada, wrote: “I wouldn’t have minded the evocation of the 2nd iteration of the Alberta wingers who took over the Conservative party a while back, but Moore is a politician – and words, whether they’re calling a constituent a ‘bigot’ or choosing a team in a match – have impact.”
Arguing that sport is a “special metaphor for everything”, Mr. McGrath writes that by stating that the Canucks are Canada’s team, Mr. Moore is doing what the Harper Conservatives do best – splitting Canadians apart into “an us or them.”
“Us doesn’t include the CBC, artistic elites, union people, city dwellers – and Quebec. In a fractious, minority parliament situation, divide & conquer, shore up your base & cherry pick some ridings here and there might be the only way toward stability. But it’s killing the country. Killing it.”
Mr. McGrath comments, too, on Mr. Moore’s poor timing in declaring the Canucks “Team Canada” on the heels of the men’s hockey Olympic gold medal victory that united the country. He says it goes beyond “tone deafness, into a very much darker corner of the current political climate.”
Oh, and he was just warming up…
Building to his conclusion, Mr. McGrath tells Mr. Moore not to lecture the electorate as to who is more Canadian, based on who they are rooting for in the playoffs.
So James Moore, what were you thinking? “Was trying to have fun. Relax, lighten up. Geez,” Mr. Moore told his critic. 

To correct the gentle writer for the august organ of record, I am a big deal only in relative circumference.

The thing is, I am more than willing to give the Honourable Member from Port Moody, Coquitlam & the other place I can't remember the benefit of the doubt -- poorly chosen words by a superfan in a medium that's (supposed to be) informal -- but the divisive, secretive and closed thinking this government shows dealing with anyone who disagrees with them, and the Minister's own propensity for being highly dismissive and rejecting input from anyone who isn't in "his" camp colours it a bit differently.

And the "lighten up" response -- that riposte that followed a thousand dirty jokes & ass grabs in the office 20 years ago -- isn't  stellar. What would have been the harm in, "I misspoke, and it was dumb. I thought like a hockey fan not a government minister. Like all Canadians, I just hope for some good hockey and a final between two Canadian teams -- and then, may the best team win. P.S. I think that's the Canucks.")

There. P.R. problem solved.

The post I wrote was really using the Hockey thing as a jumping off point to discuss and illustrate the minister -- and the government's -- prevailing attitude, which is -- "we know better, and if reality or data disagrees, we will choose ideology."

Sometimes teachable moments come wrapped in padding & face masks.

Ah well, back to the word mines.

I expect acorn showers from the Small Dead Animals nuthatch in 5, 4, 3...

-Posted from iPad, nerds!

UPDATE 05/03: 


This is cross-posted from below, where a commenter, "Red Snapper" points out another excellent take on the subtext of this article:

I also question his increasing use of the "block" function. He's actively shunning cultural organizations he's supposed to be standing up for as well as taxpayers who are so outrageous as to now [sic, he means 'not'] fawn over him 24/7.

That's a great point. The Minister got Pissed off at ACTRA a few weeks ago and blocked them, so that he doesn't have to read their responses, and they can't "follow" him.  This is a regular thing now with the Minister.  If you're not in step with his worldview, he does the digerati equivalent of putting hands over ears and petulantly shouting, "naah naah nahh can't hear you!"

You know, part of the rumbles over the Gordon Brown gaffe last week (separate & apart from the debate over whether the woman he spoke to was actually a bigot or not) comes from the fact that deep down, this is what a lot of us fear about politicians -- especially in a Parliamentary system where they're supposed to be more loyal to the party than their constituents -- when the doors are closed, they barely pay lip service to other people's opinions.  We're not naive.  We saw the result of George W. Bush's government shutting out any and all advisors that didn't conform to their worldview:  it transformed government into a purely political apparatus, with disastrous effects for the United States, and the world.  (In contrast, if you'll remember, to the Clinton years, when Republicans had to worry and harrumph over stained dresses because any of their good ideas were actually, you know, embraced by Clinton)

Blocking contrary voices on Twitter just proves that the guy is really, really interested in saying how great he is going around handing out money -- serving his portfolio? Not so much.

We Were Happy To Be Served

AW.  TURNS OUT Leslie Buck has died. It's okay if you have no idea who he was.  Neither did I. But thanks to the eagle-eyes of sometime guest-Stickser Mike McPhaden and Tv-eh's redoubtable Diane Wild, we learn that the man who gave New York its iconic coffee cup has gone to that great steaming lunch counter in the sky.

It was for decades the most enduring piece of ephemera in New York City and is still among the most recognizable. Trim, blue and white, it fits neatly in the hand, sized so its contents can be downed in a New York minute. It is as vivid an emblem of the city as the Statue of Liberty, beloved of property masters who need to evoke Gotham at a glance in films and on television.

It is, of course, the Anthora, the cardboard cup of Grecian design that has held New Yorkers’ coffee securely for nearly half a century. Introduced in the 1960s, the Anthora was long made by the hundreds of millions annually, nearly every cup destined for the New York area.

A pop-cultural totem, the Anthora has been enshrined in museums; its likeness has adorned tourist memorabilia like T-shirts and ceramic mugs. Like many once-celebrated artifacts, though, the cup may now be endangered, the victim of urban gentrification.

Of course, if you're a longtime Sticks reader, this cup might have done more than simply keep your hot beverage warm on that trip to New York.  It might just have made you a better writer.

I'm off this morning to do a workshop on spec writing in a very Grey Winnipeg.  I am reliably informed that all the rain will be creating the standing pools of water that make the bugs so bitchin' in about a week or so.  I am glad I'm on a flight out tonight.

Come up and say 'hi' at the workshop. Hope they get something out of it.

Black Veil in the White Room.

SOMETIMES WHEN YOU find yourself in a hotel room in a strange city looking to do your work, you find they have a pretty kickass stereo but no Ipod input.

And since you don't travel with CD's anymore, you find yourself poring through a strange list of CD's available at the Front Desk.

This can get into odd philosophical territory, as you realize, "oh my God, how many albums has Bublé put out?" And then there's the dagger in the heart that is every single Diana Krall title.  But eventually you make your choices. And sometimes, shamefully, it's a CD you yourself own but have long since forgotten about.

And that's how I came to marvel at the wonder of the Chieftains' 1995 duets album, "The Long Black Veil."

Where to start on this 15 year old wonder?  Mo Ghile Mear (Our Hero) -- maybe the last non-bullshit song Sting ever recorded?  Tom Jones' reading of Tennessee Waltz?  Mick Jagger on Long Black Veil, Sinéad O'Connor on The Foggy Dew?  And on and on, for nearly 59 minutes.  A revelation.

If you don't have it, I suggest clicking above & buying it.  That is all.

No Book Learnin In the Library

THANKS TO EVERYONE who came out to the College Street Public Library for Elize Morgan & Karen Walton's PWYC screenwriting sessions.  I managed to slip in to catch the end of the session with Walton & Semi Chellas on adaptations, and learned more in five minutes than I did my last year of Ryerson.

Okay that's a bit of hypberbole. (I'm fragile and I've only had one coffee.)  But it was pretty interesting.

I was extremely lucky to be on a panel about showrunning & show creation with two colleagues who I've learned a lot from -- Graeme Manson (The Bridge, Flashpoint, Rent-A-Goalie) and the great Peter Mohan. (Mutant X, Blood Ties, The Bridge.) Peter's in production right now on Lost Girl, but he's such a mensch that he still took time out of his Saturday.

I hope we gave good info -- it's always hard to tell at these things. I'm fairly sure we could have gone another hour.

And it was nice to see Peter Mitchell -- the WGC Showrunner of the Year -- winner of the Alex Barris Mentorship Award at the 2010 Canadian Screenwriting Awards --in the house, too.  Another strong proponent of the kind of mentorship that makes writers into better writers, and probably better people, too.

Wish I could have been there the whole day.  If you were at the conf, and want to share the best insights gleaned from the day of panels, I hand the mike to you now. Comments are open.

But How Was It, Really?

YOU CAN READ all about the winners of the 2010 Canadian Screenwriting Awards here, but c'mon... how was the party? 

Packed in like newts, nobody shut up til Peter Mitchell quieted them down with a hilarious & digified speech, and host Deb Digiovanni hosted like a champ.   Oh and I finally got to talk to (sigh) Geri Hall.

But never mind me. What did y'all think?

Great Event. What I liked: a) Amazing food, thank god, due to (b) Awesome open bar that (c) Stayed open/free after the ceremony. Loved Shelley Eriksen's speech about Peter Mitchell [Where she explained that "he does not hate you, he is just socially awkward"]- very lovely, not to mention Emmy/Oscar-worthy. My only complaint was the volume - it was almost impossible to hear anybody, but hey, that's apparently what the kids like. I just think next time it should maybe be held in a forest.   ANNE FENN

Thought the show was terrific, even though longer than it has been.  But that was our fault, we wrote too much.  Deborah de Giovanni was killer.  So much energy!  Lowlight -- still how much people talk during the awards.  Highlight -- John Krizanc.  His acceptance speech nailed the irreverence (how's that for Canadian understatement?) we aimed for when these awards were first created.   CHARLES LAZER

It is great just to be nominated, but it is a little disappointing not to win.  I always seek comfort in quantum physics which posits that, in a parallel universe, I did win, while in another parallel universe I was too busy defending the princess against an invading army of nazi dinosaurs to even worry about it.  DENNIS HEATON

Who dosed John Krizanc with sodium pentathol before he got to the podium? God damn Miss Eriksen gives good speech and congrats to Pete Mitchell - so deserved that award.  MATT MACLENNAN 

Highlight:  discovering that @wcdixon doesn’t just live between the bits and bytes of the Internet Lowlight:  discovering that not everyone thought ‘and the minister tweets’ was as funny as I did KELLY LYNNE ASHTON (WGC Director of Policy) 

It's clear the recession has still got its hold on writers, judging by the number of people cadging cigarettes last night instead of carrying their own. And I have to say I miss the good old days when there JUST WEREN'T THAT MANY PEOPLE.  Are we all really competing with THAT MANY PEOPLE?  That being said, I thought the cheers for nominated writers were heartfelt and heartwarming.  Great to hear our own applauding our own.  And hey, brave of Shelley Scarrow to admit to all our fears when she accepted her award.  Highlight for me, though, had to be Pete Mitchell getting the mentorship award.  Long overdue - even if the award's only lasted a few years.  SHELLEY ERIKSEN


Heather Conkie wins Showrunner of the Year– first woman to win ever!  She was Dear Aunt Agnes!! (the 3 people I was standing with didn’t know what that was, but some random guy at the bar said, “yes! I loved that show!) ALEX HOUSE


Among many, some highlights include Heather Conkie taking home the Showrunner Award  [For Heartland, a show that in its 4th season pulls close to 2 million viewers every Sunday night on CBC] Shelley Scarrow's speech and dress, Debra DiGiovanni's hosting and material co-written by Steve and Daniel Shehori, Shelley Eriksen's introduction to Pete Mitchell, and Pete Mitchell's advice on managing a writing staff and, inadvertently, marriage: give [them] space [to do their thing].

Lowlight: it's the same drill every year but so many writers talking through the awards to honor writers in an industry where we complain about our voices not being heard.  I kept this short because you asked for 25 words or less (as if!) but I could go on. The biggest highlight is and always will be connecting with writers I mostly only see on these occasions unless I'm fortunate enough to be working with them.  KAREN McCLELLAN

From Peter Mitchell to Heather Conkie's exceptionally graceful speeches about how much they've learned from the writers they've worked with, the importance of mentorship in this industry is something that can easily be glossed over, so it was brilliant to see it celebrated. Oh, and the cupcakes and free booze were nice.  ELIZE MORGAN


Once again I had a blast. The WGC National Forum and Writers Guild Awards party was like my Martin Blank high school reunion in Gross Pointe, but without the awkward and messy pen kill by the lockers...though I was tempted to take out Mitchell just for being so awesome. And I learned to accept 'Hey I know you from the internet!' as my thang. And was really happy to see Rob Cooper win for his Stargate Universe script. Congrats and cheers to all. WILL DIXON

Lowlight -- I didn't get to chat with you. Shithead.  CYNTHIA KNIGHT 


Alrigthy then.  That's a wrap.  Feel free to continue it in the comments below. 





  

A Sher Thing.

IT'S  A FUNNY thing when you're sitting there in your WGC meeting, hearing the latest sturm and drang, and the vibrating of your iPad alerts you to a happy little story like this in the Hollywood Reporter.

Rob Sheridan lands Warner Bros. TV pilot deal

Lands blind pilot script deal for a six-figure package

By Etan Vlessing

April 16, 2010, 11:23 AM ET

TORONTO -- Canadian screenwriter Rob Sheridan is partnering with Warner Bros. Television to develop a comedy.

The blind pilot script deal will see Toronto-based Sheridan, whose writer, story editor and producer credits include HBO Canada's "Less Than Kind," the CBC's "Little Mosque on the Prairie," and CTV's "Corner Gas," land a six-figure package and move to Los Angeles this summer to start developing a half-hour comedy series.

"WBTV have produced some of my favorite television comedies and I think together we'll be able to create something special," Sheridan said.

Rob is one of my bestest writer peeps. We met at the Canadian Film Centre about -- oh my God it's nearly ten years ago now.  (He was 14.  You're welcome, Sheridan.)  Rob is a meticulous & dedicated comedy writer, and above-average commiserator.  His dedication to his craft is unparalleled. He's very funny.  He's exactly the guy that should have a six figure blind script deal.

So, further to a column by Jim Henshaw here, and my own recent lament here, I ask you, gentle reader, what does it say that while Rob was being written up in the Hollywood Reporter, I was hearing about the new "Canadian Content" on CTV -- The Borgias, follow up to The Tudors, about an Italian noble family.  (No Canadian writers.)  or CBC's upcoming Camelot. (No Canadian writers.)

These shows will get tax credits because maybe there's a few Canadian actors in supporting roles, and they manage to satisfy the co-production treaty requirements by doing post here, for instance.

But let's not kid ourselves. 

I've worked with Rob on a couple of his development projects.  They were funny.  They didn't go. I've read his spec scripts. Hilarious.  He won a Screenwriting award for a Corner Gas he co-wrote a couple years back.

I can tell you with all authority that Rob, while hilarious and morose and yes, single, ladies, I'm just saying -- is no funnier today than he was yesterday.  Yet today I know in my heart he is more desirable to Canadian producers or Canadian networks, because he's going away.  Probably for good.

And that's fucked.

Rob never got a blind pilot deal here, though you'd have had to be blind not to see the guy had chops.

In fact, he'd probably be the first to tell you that he's sure that half the producers in this country would never have heard of him.

Well, Rob, your friends -- over 57 of them at last count had posted bittersweet congratulations on his Facebook page in just a few hours -- we always knew you had the funny in you.  We'll be sad to see you go -- but happy that your talent is getting its due. May it be the start of great things.

Now if you don't mind, I think I'm going to go somewhere and get me a nice glass of bourbon.

UPDATE:  It has been pointed out to me that Rob DID get a blind pilot deal -- from a very, very, aggressive and interesting prodco that's part Just For Laughs, Part Muse.  Kudos for them, -- but hardly surprising as they operate in Quebec, where they respect talent.   And no uptake from Cdn nets.  But I did not in anyway mean to diminish their effort.  More of that, not less, and with timely intent, keeps talent here.

But whatever. I still feel like King Canute ordering the sea to turn back.

Freelancing for SGU: Ya Gotta Have Faith

I WILL ALWAYS remember my day in the SGU writers' room, because it started with me in my hotel room, looking out over a beautiful, crisp & clear Vancouver day, watching Barack Obama take the oath of office to become the 44th President of the United States.

I will say that watching the new President's inaugural address (made possible by the 3 hour time difference) was a considerably less stressful occurrence than the last time history bumped up against my career.  That time, I had to finish up a half-hour comedy script and get it in by five p.m. on the afternoon of September 11, 2001.  I made my deadline.  I don't remember the script. I'm gonna go out on a limb & say that the legacy of Gleason is probably safe.

But back to that date in January, 2009.  The reason I was sitting there waiting for transport to pick me up at the Sutton Place in Vancouver was due to a phone pitch I'd done a few weeks before Christmas. My agent had arranged for me to pitch the new Stargate show.   I'd gotten a copy of the premiere episode of SGU -- watermarked with my name -- very fancy -- and read it and gotten excited.  It really did seem like a show that was going to take the best of a loved franchise & take it in a new direction.  The character of Rush seemed like a wonderful antihero, and Eli got some great lines.  Along with the script, I'd been given a few pages that described the other stories that were already being written. The object was to come up with pitches for new episodes.

This is harder than it sounds -- especially when you're doing it for a show that has all that Stargate backstory...terrible baggage for a freelancer.  After a while your success starts to handcuff you.  How do you not repeat a story in a franchise that's done hundreds of episodes?  Star Trek showed the danger of the law of diminishing returns there. How many stories were they recycling by the end of Voyager? Never mind Enterprise. Oy.

In my case, I took the brief about the characters of SGU and how they were new in the situation, and also that they were going for something grounded in reality. So I noodled around with issues of science & astronomy.  I have a friend who's an astrophysicist with the National Research Council in Victoria, and when he was doing his doctoral thesis & post grad work, it was in the new and emerging field of Exoplanets.  I'd always been interested in that, though my science is limited to 10th Grade biology & screenings of From the Earth to the Moon.

That led to the mystery hook at the heart of the pitch SGU eventually bought.  (I don't even remember the other two I came up with.  The mind tries to protect itself.)  I decided it would be cool if the Destiny came out of FTL, and the Stargate didn't fire up and nobody could figure out why they'd stopped -- except there was this funny planet there that wasn't on the charts.  And the planet was green & perfect for life -- except it shouldn't be there; the star's age & the planet's age didn't match --

-- Whatever did it all mean?

Smartypants Has Act Two Problems

SOME DAYS, WHEN you're a screenwriter, you just need an extra lift to keep going.  Like, oh, I don't know ... how about this nifty Salon article on the unproduced screenplays of famous intellectuals?

It's actually courtesy of two of my favorite reads that I don't have time for: The Believer magazine, and the always amusant McSweeney's. (Now available in an iPhone app!)

Vladimir Nabokov
As a struggling young writer in Berlin, Vladimir Nabokov once wrote a phenomenally depressing screenplay titled "The Love of a Dwarf" (1924). The protagonist, a sexually frustrated London circus dwarf, has a one-night stand with the depressed, childless wife of a circus magician. The dwarf quits the circus and retires to a small northern town, waiting vainly for the magician’s wife to join him. Eight years later, she turns up on his doorstep, announces that he has a son, and rushes away. The dwarf pursues her, but dies of a heart attack at her feet. To the gathering onlookers, the magician’s wife announces that her son died a few days ago. In 1939, Esquire printed a short-story version of "The Love of a Dwarf," titled "The Potato Elf": it was Nabokov’s first American publication.

Read more at Salon.

Everything & The Kitchen Sink

MY SISTER TRISH was the first person to say it.  We were talking for some reason about renting vs. buying, and  I had to admit that I kind of didn't want to buy a house because I was paralyzed by the thought of having to learn to fix anything.  She fixed me with a steely eye and said, "Denis, you are NOT handy." 

Ouch. Such wisdom from one so young.  But it's true. I'm not.  I've had plenty of friends buy homes in the last little while. I've heard their stories of fighting contractors, or the joy of learning to grout a bathtub.  I think these people are secretly from space.  But you get this kind of thing regularly in Toronto, since I remember reading somewhere that we have the oldest housing stock in North America. 

Which brings me to my kitchen. 

The kitchen sink has got a real attitude problem. It's been building for awhile now.  You turn the faucet on and the spray goes everywhere. It leaks from the base, and shoots out and gets everything wet.

Except.

There's this trick.  If you just open it up, forcefully, hard to hot and cold, full tilt -- there's no leak. Taking half steps gets you wet. Going full bore gets you water to do with as you see fit.

See where I'm going here?

The knocks we so often get with material in this country is that it starts slow, or it pulls punches, or it doesn't take characters to the extremes.  When it does take characters to the extremes, it isn't earned because there's a level of emotional inertness because we haven't pushed THAT to the extreme.

It's hard. Canadians can be a reticent and subdued people. Unless they're watching a hockey game.

But the only way you get the water is to make that faucet your bitch.

I got to talk to another couple of wonderful, positive, optimistic groups recently -- last night at the CFC Prime Time info session and over the weekend at the Toronto Screenwriting Conference.

I wish I'd told them about the faucet.

Domestic Partnerships are Nifty!

LIKE MANY PEOPLE living in Canada, I've been looking at this photo on and off for the last 24 Hours.

Have You Heard the News? There's Good Rockin' Tonight!

That's Chad Kroeger, the lead singer of arguably the most hated band in the world, Nickelback, with the Prime Minister of Canada  Stephen "Don't call me Steve" Harper, at the door of the Prime Ministerial residence, 24 Sussex Drive.

I don't quite know where to begin with all the things that are wrong, so very, very, very wrong with this picture. The one armed half-hug.  The pink shirt. (For those not in the Canadian know, the PM is the type of guy who buys his blue shirts & leaves the hanger in when he wears them.) During the last campaign, they put him in a warm and fuzzy sweater in front of a fireplace, and kittens everywhere started to explode.  This guy's about as warm and fuzzy as a glass of orange juice poured onto a canker.

Notes From a Screeny Weekend

THINGS GLEANED from a couple of solid days & one wonderful, lingering dinner with screenwriters & smartypants at the 2010 Toronto Screenwriting Conference.

1)  Ted Danson is apparently a Mensch.

2)  According to the Simpsons' Tim Long, who hails from the fine Ontario town of Exeter -- "the rule of thumb about how stupid Homer can be is that Homer Simpson should never be dumber than a dog, and cannot forget his own name."

Long also sounds like he's scored a coup with the opening episode of the Fall 2010 Simpsons' -- a musical ep featuring Flight of the Conchords & the cast of Glee; and he proved that in a wingman situation, he can get one about 40% of the way there without even breaking a sweat. The follow through, alas... is up to you.

And the Magazine geek in me will be forever in awe of Long just because he worked for a time at the great, storied, legendary SPY Magazine.

3) Rhett Reese understands EXACTLY how lucky he is that he and his writing partner Paul Wernick (who he's known since high school) were with Zombieland.  The movie started life as a TV pilot.  The first half of the movie is basically the TV pilot. The movie changed very, very little from their initial draft, except when it walked over from Sony DVD/TV Movie land to Sony Pictures (and when does THAT happen?) the director suggested the amusement park ending, now that they had a bigger budget.

Oh and apparently the scene that was written most was the Bill Murray scene -- for Patrick Swayze, Jean Claude Van Damme, The Rock, and about seven other people. And in the end, at the last minute... they come up with Bill Murray.

Ladies and gentlemen, THAT is lucky.

4) My interview with Robert Zotnowski (fmr. Sr. VP of CBS Drama Series Development, now Head of Development at Stars Road Entertainment (with Josh Donen & Sam Raimi) revealed much wisdom for the aspiring writer about how to effectively manage your relationship with the network.  When it comes to notes, always remember to "take the spirit of the note," and remember that your biggest friend is, "we'll take a look at it."  The sweet spot for getting your pilot script into the network isn't Thanksgiving, and isn't to play the "get in late after New Years'" game (by then you better have sheer genius, cause there's no time to fix anything.)   But I think one of the best things he had to say was about how a writer needs to approach that pilot script. “A pilot is not a show – is is an opportunity to have a show." he said. “The pilot process should be looked at as an audition for the people we are going to want to work with on a series.” 

How often writers forget that the first product they're trying to sell...is themselves! Oh, and one more from Mr. Zotnowski:  "the best series bible in the world won't help a weak pilot script get made."

P.D. Days for Scribes: The 2010 Toronto Screenwriting Conference

WHEN I WAS but a wee snapper in grade school, I remember vividly being of two minds about what they called "P.D. Days."  P.D. stood for "Professional Development." Teachers would huddle in conference rooms (I suppose, I was never really sure) and we'd get an extra day off for fun and frolic.  There were a lot of P.D. days in the winter, it seemed, and they all involved tobogganing and snow down your snowpants.  I'm kidding. I was too cool for snowpants.  Not too cool for pneumonia, though.

 Sometimes I'd imagine the teachers and what they were doing.  At first I pictured them with a whole different set of kids -- rough kids, like crash test dummy kids, and their job was to learn'em. They'd learn to appreciate us more.  Then I got a little older and I just figured they went skiing or something.  Man, I hope they didn't have to play that trust exercise where they close their eyes and fall back and expect people to catch them. That one always creeped me out.

Professional development is important in any job.  You always want to be learning new and better ways to do what you do, to unlock unrealized potential, or shake off old patterns that might prevent you from stretching yourself, and doing better.

When I got older I'd hear talk of my corporate friends going to retreats at places like Deerhurst Inn where they hit each other with pillows and did the falling back thing.  It all seemed rather odd and exotic. And a little bit gay.

I don't mean that as a pejorative. I really mean "gay." If our culture has taught me anything, it's that adult pillow fights inevitably lead to same sex hookups. Not that there's anything wrong with that. That's what she said.

Alright. The point is, for writers, professional development is much like the profession itself -- solitary, and haphazard.  You're always looking for inspiration, and most of what training you get is from soaking up the world around you, and occasionally reading books.

Add to this: most writers are self-taught.  I don't mean that they don't take a course now and then, but the only way you really ever get good at writing is to be bad at writing, by yourself, for years, getting slowly better until you're not bad anymore and then you show selected people what you've done, and hopefully build from there.

What's interesting with that is that there are probably as many systems or tricks or tips or processes for being a writer as there are writers. And we rarely, if ever, get to peel back the curtain and see how someone else gets it done.  Maybe a stray quote in an article might hint at something, but you can't really follow up, ask for clarification, or just look the person in the eye and say, "Really? Ginger Ale, Oprah, and Animal Crackers?"

It's in this spirit that my agent, Glenn Cockburn, organized his first Toronto Screenwriting Conference, happening this weekend, Saturday, April 10 and Sunday, April 11th.

"I am so excited to be a part of this event," says Cockburn. "I have found over the years there exists a large gap in the entertainment education and event market for experienced writers to continue to master their craft.  In starting the Toronto Screenwriting Conference the idea was to create a new annual event where experienced writers could come and share their expertise with working writers and the people who work with them like producers, directors, and network executives."

"Have a Take. Don't Suck"

YOUR WRITER CRACK of the day comes courtesy of Emily Nussbaum's excellent New York Magazine profile of David Simon (The Wire, Homicide: Life on the Street, The Corner, the upcoming Treme)

A tiny taste:

Simon and I sit on the bench outside, as he sips an orange juice and vodka. His cold has gotten worse. (Earlier, I’d heard him moan to Lippman on the phone, “God, don’t even talk about lung cancer while I have this cough.”)

As a vendor shills barbecue, Simon tells me about other projects: a film about the Lincoln assassination he’s writing with Tom Fontana, a book about the drug trade, an HBO series about the CIA. He reminisces again about his years as a reporter, peppering a corrupt politician with questions. The guy derided Simon from the assembly floor, announcing, “This little person came up to me … ”

He loves the punch line, the politico privately telling him, “Thank you, Mr. Simon, for being fair.”

We discuss Lippman’s website the Memory Project, on which readers share childhood stories. Simon has long had a love-hate relationship with the Internet, that prime suspect in the death of newspapers. When I’d asked Simon how much he read comments online, he said he read sparingly: “It’s your job not to listen.” (Then I interviewed, separately, Overmyer and Treme producer Nina Noble. “I don’t read at all, and he reads everything,” Overmyer said, gesturing down the street at Simon. “Somewhat,” Noble said. “But not as obsessively as he does,” shooting Simon a glance.)

But lately, he’s been thinking about ways he can turn the web to his advantage.

“Fuck the exposition,” he says gleefully as we go back into the bar. “Just be. The exposition can come later.” He describes a theory of television narrative. “If I can make you curious enough, there’s this thing called Google. If you’re curious about the New Orleans Indians, or ‘second-line’ musicians—you can look it up.” The Internet, he suggests, can provide its own creative freedom, releasing writers from having to overexplain, allowing history to light the characters from within.

"Pugnacious D" is available online here.

Hipped to me once again by the vivacious Karen "Thrillkill" Hill.