This is Part Two. Click here for Part One.
Okay, so now you’ve got the show.
Now what?
Stupid is the writer who starts writing a screenplay without an outline. But the TV writer who attempts a spec without a Beat Sheet is a total maroon. But here's the rub, chickens -- we're nowhere near the beat sheet. Not yet. Before you start to prepare a beat sheet, you have to do your Research.
In this case, research involves immersing yourself in everything you can find about the show. This is a lot easier today than it was a few years ago. Many writers blog, or there are online sites, official or fan-driven, where you can read all the interviews, online chats, blogs, and press materials in one place. Your first journey should be to try and get in the headspace of people who already write for the show. What do they think it’s about? What motifs or themes do they return to, again and again? Is it possible to explain the show in a couple of sentences? Early pre-press, and the first interviews given about the show are often invaluable for this – because it gives you the first blurt – often the simplest distillation of what the show’s about, and what makes it different.
It’s great if you can get screenwriting articles from the WGA or Creative Screenwriting or Script – and if you can find a script online, that’s gold. If not, reading some transcripts can help – just remember that you’re reading fan transcripts, not shooting scripts, so don't follow them for style -- just dialogue. Once you’ve waded through all that, here’s your next step:
Set it aside.
In the end, the only way to get a feel for the show that you’re about to spec is to screen multiple episodes, and deconstruct them. This is very much active, not passive viewing – so it’s best if you’ve seen the shows before. Watch them once for entertainment value, then return to them with fresh eyes; professional eyes.
Actually, if you’ll let me backtrack a bit, sometimes the best approach is not to use eyes at all – not at first.
Once upon a time, what set TV and the movies apart was the fact that movies were visual, and TV was radio with pictures.
If you think about the visual grammar of TV – it’s traditionally largely been composed of medium shots and close ups. The visual fooferal you’ll see in auteur-movies is largely absent.
In TV, stories have been conveyed primarily through dialogue. If you think back to childhood, I’m sure you’ve got memories of doing your homework in front of the tv. You still followed the show, right?
People watch TV and talk on the phone. People fold laundry, do their taxes, cook dinner, make love, in short, they often don’t devote 100% attention to the tv.
This has changed a bit over the years. DVD rewatching of TV means that more info can be layered in visually. HD and 16:9 mean the same thing. The complexity of TV storytelling is exponentially greater than it was a generation ago. But TV still has those Radio with Picture roots. So a first step in discerning how your show works may be to listen to the show. Go in the other room, play the recording back, and see how much you can follow the action. When you watch it later, ask yourself, “how much did I miss?” And what kinds of things did you miss? Were they major turning points? Most of the time, you’ll find that you may miss atmospheric details, but the essential turns in plot will either be revealed, or underlined in dialogue. By listening to the show first, you can “tune” just how visual or action-driven your show is, compared to how dialogue-driven it is. That’s an important thing to know going in to the rest of the research process.
The aim at this point is to break the show down into its component parts. Your object is to crack the DNA code of this show.
So how do you watch that way?
Sit on the couch with a stopwatch. Watch the teaser start to finish. Now watch it again. How long was it? How many scenes? Was it a cold open or a true teaser? Which plots were introduced? Which characters were featured? When did the A Plot get introduced?
Go through the whole show that way. You’re looking to construct a log of the show – how many scenes are there in total? How much time is given to the A? The B? Are there other plots or runners? How much screen time do they get? If it’s a show that has arcs, how much screen time is given over to plot threads that begin and end in the show, and how much to the overall arc?
How many acts, and how long are each? Some shows will have long teasers, almost an act unto themselves. Some shows will have the major turning point at the end of Act Two, some at the end of Act Three. Are any of the acts longer, or are they of more or less uniform length? Some shows tend to have longer scenes at the beginning, and then have the scenes get shorter and shorter as the show progresses – the better to suggest momentum. In some series, the penultimate scene is the longest scene in the show. In others, it’s the last scene. Does the A and B plot resolve in the last scene, or does the B resolve earlier? What else did you notice?
All of this is math.
You are doing a mathematical deconstruction of how the show fits together. You're looking for patterns. This is why…and get ready to groan… you have to do this at least three times, with three different episodes.
I know people who do it with two. But the problem is that even a great show can have an atypical episode. If you pick at random, an atypical ep, you may skew the pattern. Better to log three…chart em….put em up on the wall. And look at the map you’ve created.
Whatever episode you write is going to have to replicate this math.
Now, cast the math aside, and go back through the shows again.
This time you’re mapping character interactions, and story points. Is the show an ensemble or a main star? How does the story revolve around the core cast? (One of the biggest rookie mistakes is writing an episode with a great guest star and having the story revolve around the guest star. Even if the guest star is compellingly written as all get out, in series television, the show revolves around your core cast…everything needs to be their point of view and reveal their characters.)
Are there characters who always find themselves paired? That might be important later – because you either have to nail the essence of that relationship, or if you’re going to play against type, put two characters together who don’t normally interact and go from there.
What role do the various characters play in the show? Who drives the plot? Who discovers things? Who is the conscience? Who sends our characters off in another direction? Which characters are instigators and which are followers? What is the map of how these characters interrelate? Do all interactions go back through the star/central character (ie: Raymond on Raymond) or are they allowed to go off on their own tangents (Jack and Karen on Will & Grace.) Now look at the plots the same way – Are the A & B separate? Are they linked thematically? Do they stay separate, join in the end, kiss somewhere in the middle, and then spin off to separate conclusions, or do they conclude together? Does the solution for the B point the way to the solution for the A? Most of the time, you’re going to see some kind of overall theme emerge. Usually the plots won’t say the same thing about the theme – they may act as point or counterpoint. Or the connection between them might be slight at best. What’s the norm for your show?
Finally, apply the old rule of “what is this scene doing?” Traditionally a scene can fulfill three functions: it can move the plot along, it can reveal character, or it can reveal theme. Good scenes do one of these things. Better scenes do two. The best scenes do all three. What happens in your show?
Meredith and Cristina walking along the corridor with the bomb in the guy’s chest moves the plot along, but it also gives them a chance to talk through Cristina’s relationship troubles, which reveals both what they think is important in life, and their deepest fears. This is another way of approaching the hoary and difficult subject of laying in subtext in the scene. Breaking it down into its three components is often easier than thinking of a big scary word like subtext. When you look at the scenes this way, it also helps you to understand how the show handles the difficult problem of laying pipe and hiding pipe. (doling out plot info, and doing it in such a way that it’s not overly exposition-y.)
Once you’ve done your due diligence, and performed this task for three episodes, you should start to grok the DNA of how the show works.
Now it’s time to come up with your plot.
That’s for next time.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Monday, February 20, 2006
Specs: Part One
So you want to write a spec script.
Great. Good for you. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you know if you’re targeting the half-hour or the hour arena. In places like Canada, you do flip back and forth between hour and half-hour, simply because there’s not enough work to specialize too much. There’s also some odd ducks here too, like the occasional half-hour drama.
In the U.S. this isn't usually the case. You pretty much have to declare yourself an hour writer or a half-hour (comedy) writer. There’s not a lot of flipping between the two camps. Switching between one and the other is not impossible, but it’s extraordinarily unlikely. Few seem to even try. In Canada, it’s not at all uncommon to have a half-hour sample, and an hour sample in your library. I think that’s probably of much more limited value if you’re going to take a run at L.A.
So if you’re looking about, how do you pick the right show?
Well, to decide that you need to know a bit more about you-- what kind of person you are, where your interests and skills ultimately lie; also what’s going on in the industry at large.
I’ve always thought a good time to spec a show is at the end of its first solid season, or sometime in its second. Every show takes several episodes to find itself. If you compare, for instance, early episodes of My Name is Earl or Commander in Chief to the ones that are on the air now, you’re going to see some subtle but very important differences. (In the case of the latter, you'll also have the benefit of seeing how a show that seemed like a sure-fire hit can go south; CiC took exactly the opposite trajectory as last year's House.)
The show you pick should have a degree of familiarity and currency. You don’t want to pick a show that’s going to be canceled. You want one that’s going to be around for a while, but that’s had the time to find itself.
It should also be something you’re naturally interested in. If you’ve had a background in science, maybe a medical drama or a police procedural would work for you. For my part, you’d never catch me specing a House or a CSI in a million years. All the science leaves me cold, and the one true thing about a spec script is this: you cannot fake it. If yours is a show that requires research, you need to do the research. (And yes, I know, on House they have people that do that. But you're not on House yet, are you? Suck it up, buttercup.)
I spec’ed a West Wing at the end of Season One. I’ve read a lot of bad West Wings over the years, but it was a natural for me because I have a very deep grounding and interest in U.S. Politics. I also took a bit of insider knowledge and worked that into my spec – years ago as a journalist, I’d done a story on the Library of Congress…I interviewed the Librarian, Dr. James Billington. So I worked that kind of insight about the institution, its history, what it meant, and hung that on a couple of my characters. And the result was something that still gets me work six years later.
Is there some kind of personal experience you’ve had that you can imbue into the script? We’ve all gone to high school, certainly, but is there something that happened to you in High School that might inform or put a new spin on Summer or Seth on The O.C.?
Trying to match your sensibility to the show you choose to spec is a very important step. The one thing I’ve seen fail, time and again, is when someone decides to spec a certain show because it will be “easy,” or because “How hard can it be?”
It’s hard, Cochise.
It’s hard because of one very, very salient fact:
You are not trying to write an average episode of that show. Average episodes are not going to impress anybody. If your spec’s going to pop, it needs to be a superior episode of that show. An episode that displays that you can write the structure of the show, and embody the singular voices of the characters, but a story that also engages or twists, or turns, or shines brighter than all but the very best that show is about. There’s going to be a median level of knowledge that readers bring to this show you’re doing. Some who read your script will know the show quite well, and some will know the show only in passing. Most will fall somewhere in between. Your dialogue, action, story, and description needs to crackle with the very essence, the lifeblood of the show. It has to nail the template, and offer the reader an experience that stands out not only against all the other specs of that show they’re ever going to have to read – but also against the show itself.
Tall order.
So starting with a show that connects with you emotionally is a good start. At the same time, it probably shouldn’t be your favorite show. We all tend to get a little fanboy about our favorites. You’re not writing...shudder... fanfic. You’re trying to show your professionalism and your talent.
Once you’ve come up with candidates of shows you think are in your wheelhouse emotionally or experientially, then there are a few strategic questions to ask:
Is this going to be the thing everyone is writing?
The more spec scripts of a certain show that go out, the more tired people get of reading them, and the higher the bar gets – in order to impress, you have to rise above the rest, and also impress enough to overcome all the half-hearted, desultory attempts at the same material the person has to wade through.
What market are you trying to target? Can your show do double duty?
There are some shows that really have very limited appeal, and others that can work for wider, or multiple markets.
For instance, the new Battlestar Galactica might be on everyone’s best of lists – but it’s still sci-fi. That will probably help you with Sci-fi work – but even though it should, it probably won’t help you with Adult dramas. People are funny that way.
On the other hand, Smallville works for Sci-fi, and it would probably also work as an action adventure sample, and a youth sample. You could send that out for multiple assignments. The O.C. has both Adults and Teens in it – if you write ‘em both well, you could show breadth that way.
Grey’s Anatomy shows you can write relationships and adult drama. CSI or Law & Order can show that you write procedural, but if you’re trying to also demonstrate mastery of character, CSI probably would have the edge. Scrubs shows that you can write comedy, absurdity and character, but because it also has serious scenes it can show a certain depth that say, a Two and A Half Men can’t touch. (Also, 4 camera and single camera half-hours: very different. But you know that already, right?)
A teen sample might work for animation aimed at teens as well, or vice versa. Children’s or Sci-fi shows probably don’t work beyond those genres.
Recently, some people have tackled vintage specs, either as parody or straight-up. I think they’re risky. Jane Espenson wrote on this subject a while back. I certainly can’t add anything better than she’d say. But I know if I was looking at scripts, and I got a well-written Cheers, that might be something that could stand out, and provide an edge.
All these come with the same caveat: they have to be extra-special good.
So now you’ve found your show. Good for you. Now what?
Next time, we’ll talk about prepping and analysis, doing the ‘ear’ test, and spec math for math idiots.
Hola, amigos.
Great. Good for you. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you know if you’re targeting the half-hour or the hour arena. In places like Canada, you do flip back and forth between hour and half-hour, simply because there’s not enough work to specialize too much. There’s also some odd ducks here too, like the occasional half-hour drama.
In the U.S. this isn't usually the case. You pretty much have to declare yourself an hour writer or a half-hour (comedy) writer. There’s not a lot of flipping between the two camps. Switching between one and the other is not impossible, but it’s extraordinarily unlikely. Few seem to even try. In Canada, it’s not at all uncommon to have a half-hour sample, and an hour sample in your library. I think that’s probably of much more limited value if you’re going to take a run at L.A.
So if you’re looking about, how do you pick the right show?
Well, to decide that you need to know a bit more about you-- what kind of person you are, where your interests and skills ultimately lie; also what’s going on in the industry at large.
I’ve always thought a good time to spec a show is at the end of its first solid season, or sometime in its second. Every show takes several episodes to find itself. If you compare, for instance, early episodes of My Name is Earl or Commander in Chief to the ones that are on the air now, you’re going to see some subtle but very important differences. (In the case of the latter, you'll also have the benefit of seeing how a show that seemed like a sure-fire hit can go south; CiC took exactly the opposite trajectory as last year's House.)
The show you pick should have a degree of familiarity and currency. You don’t want to pick a show that’s going to be canceled. You want one that’s going to be around for a while, but that’s had the time to find itself.
It should also be something you’re naturally interested in. If you’ve had a background in science, maybe a medical drama or a police procedural would work for you. For my part, you’d never catch me specing a House or a CSI in a million years. All the science leaves me cold, and the one true thing about a spec script is this: you cannot fake it. If yours is a show that requires research, you need to do the research. (And yes, I know, on House they have people that do that. But you're not on House yet, are you? Suck it up, buttercup.)
I spec’ed a West Wing at the end of Season One. I’ve read a lot of bad West Wings over the years, but it was a natural for me because I have a very deep grounding and interest in U.S. Politics. I also took a bit of insider knowledge and worked that into my spec – years ago as a journalist, I’d done a story on the Library of Congress…I interviewed the Librarian, Dr. James Billington. So I worked that kind of insight about the institution, its history, what it meant, and hung that on a couple of my characters. And the result was something that still gets me work six years later.
Is there some kind of personal experience you’ve had that you can imbue into the script? We’ve all gone to high school, certainly, but is there something that happened to you in High School that might inform or put a new spin on Summer or Seth on The O.C.?
Trying to match your sensibility to the show you choose to spec is a very important step. The one thing I’ve seen fail, time and again, is when someone decides to spec a certain show because it will be “easy,” or because “How hard can it be?”
It’s hard, Cochise.
It’s hard because of one very, very salient fact:
You are not trying to write an average episode of that show. Average episodes are not going to impress anybody. If your spec’s going to pop, it needs to be a superior episode of that show. An episode that displays that you can write the structure of the show, and embody the singular voices of the characters, but a story that also engages or twists, or turns, or shines brighter than all but the very best that show is about. There’s going to be a median level of knowledge that readers bring to this show you’re doing. Some who read your script will know the show quite well, and some will know the show only in passing. Most will fall somewhere in between. Your dialogue, action, story, and description needs to crackle with the very essence, the lifeblood of the show. It has to nail the template, and offer the reader an experience that stands out not only against all the other specs of that show they’re ever going to have to read – but also against the show itself.
Tall order.
So starting with a show that connects with you emotionally is a good start. At the same time, it probably shouldn’t be your favorite show. We all tend to get a little fanboy about our favorites. You’re not writing...shudder... fanfic. You’re trying to show your professionalism and your talent.
Once you’ve come up with candidates of shows you think are in your wheelhouse emotionally or experientially, then there are a few strategic questions to ask:
Is this going to be the thing everyone is writing?
The more spec scripts of a certain show that go out, the more tired people get of reading them, and the higher the bar gets – in order to impress, you have to rise above the rest, and also impress enough to overcome all the half-hearted, desultory attempts at the same material the person has to wade through.
What market are you trying to target? Can your show do double duty?
There are some shows that really have very limited appeal, and others that can work for wider, or multiple markets.
For instance, the new Battlestar Galactica might be on everyone’s best of lists – but it’s still sci-fi. That will probably help you with Sci-fi work – but even though it should, it probably won’t help you with Adult dramas. People are funny that way.
On the other hand, Smallville works for Sci-fi, and it would probably also work as an action adventure sample, and a youth sample. You could send that out for multiple assignments. The O.C. has both Adults and Teens in it – if you write ‘em both well, you could show breadth that way.
Grey’s Anatomy shows you can write relationships and adult drama. CSI or Law & Order can show that you write procedural, but if you’re trying to also demonstrate mastery of character, CSI probably would have the edge. Scrubs shows that you can write comedy, absurdity and character, but because it also has serious scenes it can show a certain depth that say, a Two and A Half Men can’t touch. (Also, 4 camera and single camera half-hours: very different. But you know that already, right?)
A teen sample might work for animation aimed at teens as well, or vice versa. Children’s or Sci-fi shows probably don’t work beyond those genres.
Recently, some people have tackled vintage specs, either as parody or straight-up. I think they’re risky. Jane Espenson wrote on this subject a while back. I certainly can’t add anything better than she’d say. But I know if I was looking at scripts, and I got a well-written Cheers, that might be something that could stand out, and provide an edge.
All these come with the same caveat: they have to be extra-special good.
So now you’ve found your show. Good for you. Now what?
Next time, we’ll talk about prepping and analysis, doing the ‘ear’ test, and spec math for math idiots.
Hola, amigos.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Query-Feary
A reader emails, basically, the following:
That being said, I guess a more general rundown of exactly what I'm working on right now wouldn't be too out of order. So, in my best vague terms, here we go:
This is the main reason why I want to be out of the development game for a while. At this point, being able to focus on one project through production would be a godsend. Some of my projects seem tantalizingly close. But close, we all know, is only good for horseshoes, hand grenades, and shooting close personal friends of the Vice President.
So that's what I'm up to.
You write a lot about a lot of stuff. And you don't mind saying what you think. But you don't talk about what you're doing. Why not?That's a good question. In some cases, it's to be circumspect. I'm not sure, exactly, what my obligations are when it comes to development deals I have, and what I can and can't talk about. So I mostly err on the side of "say little." Also, I'm of Irish background, and fatalistic in the way of all the Irish in the sense that it's not nice to talk about something until it's actually something. Development deals are like bums. Everyone has one. They all work the same. Nothing to get excited about.
That being said, I guess a more general rundown of exactly what I'm working on right now wouldn't be too out of order. So, in my best vague terms, here we go:
- A half-hour comedy -- currently on a desk somewhere in Toronto waiting to be read -- takes place in the dorm of a mid-sized University somewhere in Canada. It's like Degrassi meets Dawson's in a Dorm. Status: Work completed, in with the Network.
- An hour-long mystery series about a father and a daughter, set in two eras. Status: Two of three scripts co-written, and in with a Network. Revising 1 & 2, writing 3, and revising bible.
- A half-hour comedy set in and around a neighborhood, about small neighborhood issues, and the whole NIMBY movement. Status: Pilot and Script, In Consideration for the Canadian Film Centre Pilot program. Currently being pitched.
- An hour-long series that's part soap, part office drama, and a spin on the "case walks in the door each week" engine that fuels most cop, lawyer, and medical shows, but in an arena that isn't cops, doctors, or lawyers. Status: Bible + Pilot, 2nd Episode currently at Outline. With a Network.
- Writing an episode of an animated series.
- Story Editing a half hour comedy series.
- Writing & Story room work for a friend's half hour series.
This is the main reason why I want to be out of the development game for a while. At this point, being able to focus on one project through production would be a godsend. Some of my projects seem tantalizingly close. But close, we all know, is only good for horseshoes, hand grenades, and shooting close personal friends of the Vice President.
So that's what I'm up to.
What Happens When You're Bold?
It's a cold and beautiful sunny day here in Toronto. I'm enjoying coffee and an omelette at the place on the corner. It's the kind of day where you almost don't mind working through the weekend.
Well, except for the fact that I'm not working. I'm writing this. But anyway.
The week ahead has a few meetings, and a few "definitely have to do that's" attached, along with the usual passel of "hmm, that might need to get done too's" -- but I'm definitely thinking in the Spec Script frame of mind. So I'm probably going to do a series of posts on how to approach that, since the Agent's put me on notice that it's time (past time) for me to wade in with some new samples myself.
In the meantime, I'd like to address a slightly different, slightly smaller audience. And I'd like to do it by saying, "lookee at this picture."
I'm assuming you know who the guy on the right is. The guy on the left is the President of the Sundance Channel, Larry Aidem. In the middle is Sundance Channel Executive Vice President Laura Michalchyshyn.
Ms Michalchyshyn is the reason why Americans are seeing the great Canadian series Slings & Arrows, which starts its second season on the Sundance Channel today.
Michalchyshyn used to be an executive at Alliance Atlantis here in Toronto, where she oversaw a number of specialty channels. She developed a reputation for being very encouraging of talent, and shepherding a number of high-quality projects to the screen. She was bold, and worked hard, and had vision, and was very good at what she does.
Now she's in New York, working for Robert Redford, and bringing some of those great series she helped get going reach a wider audience.
This is an interesting time for the Canadian TV biz. There's lots of competing visions about how things are going to go. CBC...Global...CTV...CHUM...CORUS...all have some serious decisions to make about how they're going to go forward. Now the future can belong to the shoppers, who go to the U.S. screenings, and cherry pick and come back and simulcast and tell themselves that they're really very, very important and effective broadcast executives...
...or the future can belong to the bold.
Just saying.
Enjoy Slings & Arrows, guys. Second season's awesome.
Well, except for the fact that I'm not working. I'm writing this. But anyway.
The week ahead has a few meetings, and a few "definitely have to do that's" attached, along with the usual passel of "hmm, that might need to get done too's" -- but I'm definitely thinking in the Spec Script frame of mind. So I'm probably going to do a series of posts on how to approach that, since the Agent's put me on notice that it's time (past time) for me to wade in with some new samples myself.
In the meantime, I'd like to address a slightly different, slightly smaller audience. And I'd like to do it by saying, "lookee at this picture."
I'm assuming you know who the guy on the right is. The guy on the left is the President of the Sundance Channel, Larry Aidem. In the middle is Sundance Channel Executive Vice President Laura Michalchyshyn.
Ms Michalchyshyn is the reason why Americans are seeing the great Canadian series Slings & Arrows, which starts its second season on the Sundance Channel today.
Michalchyshyn used to be an executive at Alliance Atlantis here in Toronto, where she oversaw a number of specialty channels. She developed a reputation for being very encouraging of talent, and shepherding a number of high-quality projects to the screen. She was bold, and worked hard, and had vision, and was very good at what she does.
Now she's in New York, working for Robert Redford, and bringing some of those great series she helped get going reach a wider audience.
This is an interesting time for the Canadian TV biz. There's lots of competing visions about how things are going to go. CBC...Global...CTV...CHUM...CORUS...all have some serious decisions to make about how they're going to go forward. Now the future can belong to the shoppers, who go to the U.S. screenings, and cherry pick and come back and simulcast and tell themselves that they're really very, very important and effective broadcast executives...
...or the future can belong to the bold.
Just saying.
Enjoy Slings & Arrows, guys. Second season's awesome.
Friday, February 17, 2006
I, Your humble Heywriterboy, Have Changed The Face of Canadian Television Forever.
Today, speaking to the Canadian Film and Television Production Association's annual meeting in exciting and exotic Ottawa, CBC VP Richard Stursberg announced that CBC is going to change the way they do things when it comes to drama.
For the humor impaired, I'm kidding. I don't for a millisecond believe that I had anything to do with this. Even if that Dithering and CBC article I wrote did get Antonia at Canada's largest Newspaper to go, "Oh, Snap!"
The reality is that the whole thing's been so broken for so long that even a monkey could realize that clearing the decks was a good way to go.
Except...
In the aftermath of the cancellation of This is Wonderland, The Tournament, and DaVinci's City Hall, ACTRA, the Canadian Actors' Union, has come out with their usual hysterical condemnation that doesn't really help things.
I love the Actors' Union. Seriously, I do. But it's funny how, just like the Directors' Guild of Canada, and IATSE, the whole banging the drum on indigenous Canadian production chorus has gotten a whole lot stronger in the last few years, since all those juicy U.S. service productions that employed all their members dried up.
All of a sudden now -- well Gosh Golly -- the Actors and the Directors and the Crews have started getting behind what the Canadian Writers have been saying for years, "um, guys...maybe we should, you know...have a domestic industry too."
Don't get me wrong. It's great to have them onside. But like Actors always do, if we start to make inroads now, I'm sure they'll take a lot of credit for winning the battle...even though they came pretty late to the party, once all the Relic Hunters dried up, and that dollar of ours started flirting with parity, and the pressures against "runaway production" made the whole counting-on-the-U.S. thing seem a little dicey.
So hell, if that's the way it's going to go, might as well get in front of the curve:
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
(Toronto, February 18) Richard Stursberg, VP of CBC, is implementing a whole new way of doing drama at the CBC because of what I, Denis McGrath, wrote on my blog. I am clearly awesome.
Take that ACTRA, and Friends of Canadian Broadcasting!
Anyway, once you look at the Broadcaster report on what Stursberg said today, it's less champagne-cork popping and more sad-little-noisemaker-going-pffft.
A few key sentences from the article I linked to above:
"Riggggghhhht."
The CBC's answer to everything is "we need more money." Oh...uh....and "we need to lock our employees out." And...um..."wanna rent our building?" Is this change-of-heart for real or more dog-and-pony? Remains to be seen.
Canada is a billingual country, so let's see if I can reach for my French here. Okay. Here goes.
What. The Fuck. Does that mean?
"Increased rigor" is something that just sounds like...well...I don't know what it sounds like. But it's a perfectly formed bureaucratic phrase that really means not a lot of anything. The problem with CBC is that everything is developed by committee. There are no uniform standards...money doesn't drive it - except when it does...ratings don't drive it - except when it does...and quality certainly doesn't drive it. Sadly, a lot of the time -- geography drives it. Welcome to the Pleasuredome. "Increased Rigor" isn't the problem, guys..."Decisiveness" and "Having a Clue" is the problem.
But I'm sure it's a lot less fun to say in a speech. And, you know, you might get called on that. Rather than "increased rigor," which means, um, you know, whatever you want it to mean.
The words are okay. The words are good.
The words have been said before.
Now let's see what the follow-through is. I'm rooting for them. Lord knows I am.
After all -- I'm the guy responsible for all of this...right? Right?
I'm going to go have a lie down.
For the humor impaired, I'm kidding. I don't for a millisecond believe that I had anything to do with this. Even if that Dithering and CBC article I wrote did get Antonia at Canada's largest Newspaper to go, "Oh, Snap!"
The reality is that the whole thing's been so broken for so long that even a monkey could realize that clearing the decks was a good way to go.
Except...
In the aftermath of the cancellation of This is Wonderland, The Tournament, and DaVinci's City Hall, ACTRA, the Canadian Actors' Union, has come out with their usual hysterical condemnation that doesn't really help things.
I love the Actors' Union. Seriously, I do. But it's funny how, just like the Directors' Guild of Canada, and IATSE, the whole banging the drum on indigenous Canadian production chorus has gotten a whole lot stronger in the last few years, since all those juicy U.S. service productions that employed all their members dried up.
All of a sudden now -- well Gosh Golly -- the Actors and the Directors and the Crews have started getting behind what the Canadian Writers have been saying for years, "um, guys...maybe we should, you know...have a domestic industry too."
Don't get me wrong. It's great to have them onside. But like Actors always do, if we start to make inroads now, I'm sure they'll take a lot of credit for winning the battle...even though they came pretty late to the party, once all the Relic Hunters dried up, and that dollar of ours started flirting with parity, and the pressures against "runaway production" made the whole counting-on-the-U.S. thing seem a little dicey.
So hell, if that's the way it's going to go, might as well get in front of the curve:
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
(Toronto, February 18) Richard Stursberg, VP of CBC, is implementing a whole new way of doing drama at the CBC because of what I, Denis McGrath, wrote on my blog. I am clearly awesome.
Take that ACTRA, and Friends of Canadian Broadcasting!
Anyway, once you look at the Broadcaster report on what Stursberg said today, it's less champagne-cork popping and more sad-little-noisemaker-going-pffft.
A few key sentences from the article I linked to above:
Today, CBC Television unveiled its new program and development commissioning process at the annual meeting of the Canadian Film and Television Production Association. With appropriate funding, the new process would help CBC Television to vastly increase the amount of original prime-time drama and entertainment programming it broadcasts.Emphasis above is mine. *Sigh.* See? On some level, all this could be cynically read as more window-dressing for a cash grab. From a Conservative Government. Okay everybody, pinky to the lips and do your best Dr.Evil/Lorne Michaels:
"Riggggghhhht."
The CBC's answer to everything is "we need more money." Oh...uh....and "we need to lock our employees out." And...um..."wanna rent our building?" Is this change-of-heart for real or more dog-and-pony? Remains to be seen.
The new process will improve turn-around times for new program pitches; improve the ratio of programs developed to programs produced; and bring increased rigor to the development process.Well, the turn-around time was pretty much what I wrote about. The ratio of development is good, too. But the "increased rigor to the development process" thing just makes my blood run cold.
Canada is a billingual country, so let's see if I can reach for my French here. Okay. Here goes.
What. The Fuck. Does that mean?
"Increased rigor" is something that just sounds like...well...I don't know what it sounds like. But it's a perfectly formed bureaucratic phrase that really means not a lot of anything. The problem with CBC is that everything is developed by committee. There are no uniform standards...money doesn't drive it - except when it does...ratings don't drive it - except when it does...and quality certainly doesn't drive it. Sadly, a lot of the time -- geography drives it. Welcome to the Pleasuredome. "Increased Rigor" isn't the problem, guys..."Decisiveness" and "Having a Clue" is the problem.
But I'm sure it's a lot less fun to say in a speech. And, you know, you might get called on that. Rather than "increased rigor," which means, um, you know, whatever you want it to mean.
Unless you don't give us the more money, in which case, my fingers are crossed.
Over the next four years, CBC Television would increase to 250 hours the amount of original Canadian drama and entertainment programming it brings to air.
"Achieving this goal," said Stursberg, "would solidify CBC Television's position as the cornerstone of Canadian dramatic programming, just like the public broadcasters in Britain, France, Germany, Italy, Australia and New Zealand."
The words are okay. The words are good.
The words have been said before.
Now let's see what the follow-through is. I'm rooting for them. Lord knows I am.
After all -- I'm the guy responsible for all of this...right? Right?
I'm going to go have a lie down.
In The Jungle, The Mighty Jungle, The Lion Sleeps Tonight (or at least his heirs do.)
Well it appears to be South African day here at Dead Things on Sticks Labs.
When I was working in S.A. in 2004, I was pretty entranced by the story of Solomon Linda. You've never heard of him, I'm sure. Why would you?
Except that he wrote one of the most famous songs in the world.
From the 1939 Mbube -- definitely the most famous song to ever come out of South Africa, came the Weavers and the Tokens "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." Disney made a bit of money on that tune courtesy of "The Lion King."
Linda, as these stories always seem to go, died mostly penniless in 1962. But thanks to the kind of Copyright Laws at work in the British Commonwealth at the time, the rights to Mbube and that famous "In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight," and that memorable chorus, should have reverted to the family 25 years after Linda's death. (There's a lesson in there somewhere for the real pirates at the RIAA trying to ram-through copyright provisions that enrich corporations, not people.)
Anyway, while I was in S.A. the story took a funny turn. S.A. courts decreed that while the case proceeded, the Disney trademarks in S.A. might attach to ... the Linda family. Ho ho.
There was much bluster from the mighty corporation at that point.
Lo and behold...two years later, they've finally settled with Linda's heirs.
Now, some of Mbube's (Zulu for Lion) money might finally start going where it belongs.
UPDATE-Y DO: Alex is clearly better at Googling than I am. Way to work it, Epstein. This is an article that the South African Journalist Rian Malan (My Traitor's Heart) wrote for Rolling Stone about the Linda story.
When I was working in S.A. in 2004, I was pretty entranced by the story of Solomon Linda. You've never heard of him, I'm sure. Why would you?
Except that he wrote one of the most famous songs in the world.
From the 1939 Mbube -- definitely the most famous song to ever come out of South Africa, came the Weavers and the Tokens "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." Disney made a bit of money on that tune courtesy of "The Lion King."
Linda, as these stories always seem to go, died mostly penniless in 1962. But thanks to the kind of Copyright Laws at work in the British Commonwealth at the time, the rights to Mbube and that famous "In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight," and that memorable chorus, should have reverted to the family 25 years after Linda's death. (There's a lesson in there somewhere for the real pirates at the RIAA trying to ram-through copyright provisions that enrich corporations, not people.)
Anyway, while I was in S.A. the story took a funny turn. S.A. courts decreed that while the case proceeded, the Disney trademarks in S.A. might attach to ... the Linda family. Ho ho.
There was much bluster from the mighty corporation at that point.
Lo and behold...two years later, they've finally settled with Linda's heirs.
Now, some of Mbube's (Zulu for Lion) money might finally start going where it belongs.
UPDATE-Y DO: Alex is clearly better at Googling than I am. Way to work it, Epstein. This is an article that the South African Journalist Rian Malan (My Traitor's Heart) wrote for Rolling Stone about the Linda story.
Helluva Towne
Checked out Robert Towne's talk last night at the Art Gallery of Ontario's Jackman Hall, as presented by the Toronto International Film Festival Group and Cinematheque Ontario.
Host Geoff Pevere reined in his more annoying side, and proved to be a very able moderator. He actually did an excellent job - I've been left twitching in the past at those kinds of things by the double whammy of bad moderator/bad questions from the audience. But mercifully, not this time.
The stories from Towne were definitely worth the journey on a very wet and rainy Vancouver winter night (made marginally more disturbing by the fact that, um, I live in Toronto, so heavy rain in February is...um...out of place.)
They showed a bunch of clips and one of the highlights, of course, was that scene from The Godfather between Michael and Vito in the garden, where Vito expresses regret that he never wanted this life for Michael.
Towne said that he got a call from his friend Francis Ford Coppola to come to New York. They were about to lose Brando from the picture, and they realized that Puzo hadn't written any scenes between father and son. Puzo was in no condition to do it - he had other troubles.
Towne was ushered into a screening room in the Gulf & Western building on Columbus Circle and shown 45 minutes of Godfather footage.
Here's the most interesting part of the story for me: at this point, Coppola was a beaten dog. The studio and everyone was saying that the Godfather was a disaster. When Towne saw it he told Coppola it was "the best daily footage he'd ever seen." And Coppola shook his head. He didn't believe it at this point.
Just goes to show. Those brilliant executives being so supportive of their talent.
Oh, I hope there's a special slab in hell for those types of executives.
Anyway, Coppola said he wanted some sort of scene where the father told the son that he loved him. And Towne immediately said, "I can't do that." And Coppola agreed. Towne took the part that said "at that meeting you will be assasinated" and split the speech, shoehorning all the gold in between about "I never meant this life for you" and all, and then ended with the "whoever comes to you will be the assassin" line from the original script.
When they went out to shoot, Brando made Towne read the scene to him twice. He then went through every line with him and asked what it meant. Then he did the scene.
What a fucking scene.
There were other entertaining blind alleys and half-steps -- Towne got involved with the film version of The Firm, for instance, when his next door neighbor Sydney Pollack asked him for help one day. They were both outside, and Pollack was taking out the garbage -- Towne thought he needed help with the cans. I liked hearing about The Firm because years later just about the only thing I can remember about that film was the jazz score and the fact that Towne's ending in the screenplay was so much better than Grisham's ending in the book. Every time the bookists break out the "how the book is always better" canard, I'm right there with, "Oh yeah? What about The Firm?"
Someone in the audience asked Towne if when he was doing the work on Godfather, Shampoo, Chinatown, etc, if he wanted to direct even then, or if he was happy screenwriting. He replied instantly, "No, I was happy screenwriting. Very happy." That made me feel kind of good. Occasionally I've had friends ask why I don't seem particularly interested in directing right now. I've always had this vague sense that maybe I'd want to direct -- someday -- but I guess it took hearing Towne to realize that my reluctance has nothing to do with fear -- it has to do with marshalling energy. I need to focus my energy and work on making my scripts great first, before I go off on a tangent and start trying to direct. The word at this point in my career is more important to me. That's not fear. That's focus.
After the session, they showed Towne's latest film, which he wrote and directed, called Ask The Dust. That was a bit of a treat because the film isn't supposed to open til March, and they had only said they'd be showing 15 minutes. Also, there was a weird sense of things coming full circle screening that film, since it was shot in South Africa while I was there shooting Charlie Jade.
To my everlasting dismay, I never did see Selma Hayek, but the Cape Times was full of Colin Farrel sightings, and I even saw the guy once as he sidled up beside me to wait for his Sushi order at my beloved Beluga Restaurant, whose bar and fine wine cellar I still miss.
Ask the Dust is an interesting, strange, weird, messy film. It really is all over the place, strangely paced -- but with something compelling at the core. It makes me want to read the book, which Towne apparently has been trying to film for 30 years, and which was one of the inspirations for the L.A. he painted in Chinatown. If you're a Towne buff, I think it's something you have to see -- but it's a strange film. Stranger still seeing a bunch of places that four years ago would have been exotic to me, but now are as familiar to me as my own street.
Host Geoff Pevere reined in his more annoying side, and proved to be a very able moderator. He actually did an excellent job - I've been left twitching in the past at those kinds of things by the double whammy of bad moderator/bad questions from the audience. But mercifully, not this time.
The stories from Towne were definitely worth the journey on a very wet and rainy Vancouver winter night (made marginally more disturbing by the fact that, um, I live in Toronto, so heavy rain in February is...um...out of place.)
They showed a bunch of clips and one of the highlights, of course, was that scene from The Godfather between Michael and Vito in the garden, where Vito expresses regret that he never wanted this life for Michael.
Towne said that he got a call from his friend Francis Ford Coppola to come to New York. They were about to lose Brando from the picture, and they realized that Puzo hadn't written any scenes between father and son. Puzo was in no condition to do it - he had other troubles.
Towne was ushered into a screening room in the Gulf & Western building on Columbus Circle and shown 45 minutes of Godfather footage.
Here's the most interesting part of the story for me: at this point, Coppola was a beaten dog. The studio and everyone was saying that the Godfather was a disaster. When Towne saw it he told Coppola it was "the best daily footage he'd ever seen." And Coppola shook his head. He didn't believe it at this point.
Just goes to show. Those brilliant executives being so supportive of their talent.
Oh, I hope there's a special slab in hell for those types of executives.
Anyway, Coppola said he wanted some sort of scene where the father told the son that he loved him. And Towne immediately said, "I can't do that." And Coppola agreed. Towne took the part that said "at that meeting you will be assasinated" and split the speech, shoehorning all the gold in between about "I never meant this life for you" and all, and then ended with the "whoever comes to you will be the assassin" line from the original script.
When they went out to shoot, Brando made Towne read the scene to him twice. He then went through every line with him and asked what it meant. Then he did the scene.
What a fucking scene.
There were other entertaining blind alleys and half-steps -- Towne got involved with the film version of The Firm, for instance, when his next door neighbor Sydney Pollack asked him for help one day. They were both outside, and Pollack was taking out the garbage -- Towne thought he needed help with the cans. I liked hearing about The Firm because years later just about the only thing I can remember about that film was the jazz score and the fact that Towne's ending in the screenplay was so much better than Grisham's ending in the book. Every time the bookists break out the "how the book is always better" canard, I'm right there with, "Oh yeah? What about The Firm?"
Someone in the audience asked Towne if when he was doing the work on Godfather, Shampoo, Chinatown, etc, if he wanted to direct even then, or if he was happy screenwriting. He replied instantly, "No, I was happy screenwriting. Very happy." That made me feel kind of good. Occasionally I've had friends ask why I don't seem particularly interested in directing right now. I've always had this vague sense that maybe I'd want to direct -- someday -- but I guess it took hearing Towne to realize that my reluctance has nothing to do with fear -- it has to do with marshalling energy. I need to focus my energy and work on making my scripts great first, before I go off on a tangent and start trying to direct. The word at this point in my career is more important to me. That's not fear. That's focus.
After the session, they showed Towne's latest film, which he wrote and directed, called Ask The Dust. That was a bit of a treat because the film isn't supposed to open til March, and they had only said they'd be showing 15 minutes. Also, there was a weird sense of things coming full circle screening that film, since it was shot in South Africa while I was there shooting Charlie Jade.
To my everlasting dismay, I never did see Selma Hayek, but the Cape Times was full of Colin Farrel sightings, and I even saw the guy once as he sidled up beside me to wait for his Sushi order at my beloved Beluga Restaurant, whose bar and fine wine cellar I still miss.
Ask the Dust is an interesting, strange, weird, messy film. It really is all over the place, strangely paced -- but with something compelling at the core. It makes me want to read the book, which Towne apparently has been trying to film for 30 years, and which was one of the inspirations for the L.A. he painted in Chinatown. If you're a Towne buff, I think it's something you have to see -- but it's a strange film. Stranger still seeing a bunch of places that four years ago would have been exotic to me, but now are as familiar to me as my own street.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Traffic Spike, Ho!
Hi to anyone surfing in for the first time from Antonia Zerbisias' Toronto Star Media Blog which linked to my Dithering & CBC piece.
Here at Dead Things On Sticks Labs, we endeavor to provide the finest chatter about TV writing, Canadiana & General foolishness, with occasional sidetrips into Politics and other weirdness. Please stay awhile, look around, kick the tires, and jiggle the handle on the toilet after flushing.
For the record, I actually kind of like the CBC. I do not want to see it privatized. I just want them to make fewer stupid decisions.
Here at Dead Things On Sticks Labs, we endeavor to provide the finest chatter about TV writing, Canadiana & General foolishness, with occasional sidetrips into Politics and other weirdness. Please stay awhile, look around, kick the tires, and jiggle the handle on the toilet after flushing.
For the record, I actually kind of like the CBC. I do not want to see it privatized. I just want them to make fewer stupid decisions.
'Och Aye Buh-bye
Wow, some days the news just wants you to procrastinate.
One of the odd quirks of Canadian life is this strange little undercurrent of Scottishism.
I think it may go back to Mike Myers' So I Married An Axe Murderer, where he played a character who was Scottish, based on his Dad. (This is years before he pulled the same trick as Fat Bastard in one of the Austin Powers movies, but a few years after he kicked off the trend with the "If it's not Scottish, it's crap" sketches on SNL.)
For my money, neither was as funny as the incarnation of the angry wacky Scot he did when he was trying to kill time between sketches at Second City in Toronto back in the 80's. Then, he'd get up there and say, "Okay, here's my impression of Sean Connery starring in Anne of Green Gables." He'd then take a pigtailed wig, put it on, and say in a pretty passable Connery: "I'm Anne of Green Gables, ya bashtard..."
I guess you had to be there.
Anyway, point is, however it started, for years now, Canadian airwaves have been filled with Ads featuring "angry/wacky Scots."
It completely replaced the other trend in Canadian advertising from a few years ago, which was the "voiceover-actor-with-a-British-accent-for-no-discernable-reason."
The "Angry/Wacky Scot" shows up all over the place. Mostly in bad radio ads. It's an easy Go-To (a term I really should post about) because in craven copywriters' minds, just the sound of the Scottish accent is funny -- which means you don't actually have to write anything with wit or humor. The funny voice will carry it. Ugh.
Probably the worst example of the trend right now is a gum ad where an animated piece of gum runs after a woman running a marathon. For some reason, the whole time, this piece of gum talks in a Scottish accent. It's not funny. It's not motivated. It's just weird.
It probably made the client swoon.
On the other hand, the most ubiquitous "angry/wacky Scot" in Canadian television for the last few years has been the shill for Alexander Keith's India Pale Ale. (right) He's a full-on Scot in sporin and everything, berating people in bars for not treating their beer with the proper respeck. The ads are really annoying, and a little bit funnier than...mm...cancer.
Anyway... my friend Rob and I now humbly predict the end of the Wacky/Angry Scot in Canadian TV. From Today's Toronto Star:
You can read the full story in the Toronto Star. Warning: High Ick Factor.
One of the odd quirks of Canadian life is this strange little undercurrent of Scottishism.
I think it may go back to Mike Myers' So I Married An Axe Murderer, where he played a character who was Scottish, based on his Dad. (This is years before he pulled the same trick as Fat Bastard in one of the Austin Powers movies, but a few years after he kicked off the trend with the "If it's not Scottish, it's crap" sketches on SNL.)
For my money, neither was as funny as the incarnation of the angry wacky Scot he did when he was trying to kill time between sketches at Second City in Toronto back in the 80's. Then, he'd get up there and say, "Okay, here's my impression of Sean Connery starring in Anne of Green Gables." He'd then take a pigtailed wig, put it on, and say in a pretty passable Connery: "I'm Anne of Green Gables, ya bashtard..."
I guess you had to be there.
Anyway, point is, however it started, for years now, Canadian airwaves have been filled with Ads featuring "angry/wacky Scots."
It completely replaced the other trend in Canadian advertising from a few years ago, which was the "voiceover-actor-with-a-British-accent-for-no-discernable-reason."
The "Angry/Wacky Scot" shows up all over the place. Mostly in bad radio ads. It's an easy Go-To (a term I really should post about) because in craven copywriters' minds, just the sound of the Scottish accent is funny -- which means you don't actually have to write anything with wit or humor. The funny voice will carry it. Ugh.
Probably the worst example of the trend right now is a gum ad where an animated piece of gum runs after a woman running a marathon. For some reason, the whole time, this piece of gum talks in a Scottish accent. It's not funny. It's not motivated. It's just weird.
It probably made the client swoon.
On the other hand, the most ubiquitous "angry/wacky Scot" in Canadian television for the last few years has been the shill for Alexander Keith's India Pale Ale. (right) He's a full-on Scot in sporin and everything, berating people in bars for not treating their beer with the proper respeck. The ads are really annoying, and a little bit funnier than...mm...cancer.Anyway... my friend Rob and I now humbly predict the end of the Wacky/Angry Scot in Canadian TV. From Today's Toronto Star:
Whoops. This actor also stars in lots of other Canadian ads. (Casting directors up here, for some reason, always cast the same twelve people. Hmm...in light of this story, maybe that trend can go away now, too. After all, you never know what those crazy actors will do when they're away from set...better to spread the work around...)
A 40-year-old Toronto comic better known as the obnoxious Scot who berates bartenders and pub patrons in television commercials for Alexander Keith's India Pale Ale has been charged with possessing child pornography and making it available over the Internet.
You can read the full story in the Toronto Star. Warning: High Ick Factor.
Rabbittown Goes Down
Hey, remember that CBC Pilot I praised when they ran the three pilots in January? It was the only one of the three that wasn't brain dead or stillborn. It was actually quite charming. It was called Rabbittown, and I wrote about it here. Some excerpts:
CBC President Robert Rabinovich has bloviated that he wants to be "audacious."
ZZZZZt. Failed right out of the gate. What a load of hooey. Plus ca change, plus ca meme CBC.
The template is simple: two girls, best friends, who probably shouldn't be friends, because they're destined to bring the worst out in each other. Their competitiveness means poison for the relationship...I've seen articles written about toxic female friendships. I've seen them in action among some female friends. But I've never seen a TV show about it, with the exception of AbFab. It's a rich, comic area...Rabbittown weaves through logical, rich, consistent character development...every scene in the half hour promises more... If this sucker doesn't get at least six episodes, then there's no hope.Well, Alex, let's go for item (b.) I've just heard through an impeccable source that CBC passed.
CBC President Robert Rabinovich has bloviated that he wants to be "audacious."
ZZZZZt. Failed right out of the gate. What a load of hooey. Plus ca change, plus ca meme CBC.
What Happens When You Don't Have A Story Room.
I've got a big post brewing about spec scripts and how to start one - and also a little about the TV writer/Movie Writer demarcation point. But those posts will be heavy-lifting and heavy committment (which, by the way is the one word, after all these years, that I can never remember how to spell, so if I got it wrong there, then great: the streak is alive.)
So instead today I offer a wafer.
I've written before about development, and how lonely and crazy-making it can be...and how sometimes you really find yourself jonesing for the story room.
What I didn't share was this: a couple years ago, a writer friend and I were bitching over the difficulties of breaking story by yourself. There's no trick to it, there's no back and forth, and you never know if you're really going in the right direction.
So anyway, she confessed at that point that when things got really bad, really lonely, sometimes she'd dig out her childhood teddy bears and arrange them around the table so it seemed like she had company, or people to bounce ideas back and forth with.
Hearing this, I did what any self-respecting man would do in the situation with a girlfriend with whom he was not currently canoodling: I passed about three inches of vodka through my nose and mocked her mercilessly for the rest of the night.
To her credit, not only did she take it, she bought me a new vodka. And then she fixed me with a vengeful gleam in her eye and she said five words that chilled my soul:
"You laugh now. But wait."
Well, now here it is February 2006. I'm trying to break an important story for one of my shows. It's going very slowly. I have the corkboard out. I have the index cards with beats on them. I have the coffee. I have the laptop.
Hell, I even broke out the Magic Guinness Hat.
Sometimes, it helps me to focus. Not today.
Today, nothing seems to be working. So... *sigh*
Opus has an absolutely foolproof bullshit detector, and surprisingly, Marvin the Martian is really good with story. Although he does go for the ray-gun vaporization deus ex machina climax a little too often for my taste.
If this series goes, and these guys sue me for story credit, there's gonna be scissors.
So basically, I guess what I'm saying is...
Dorothy Parker*, you win.
*not her real name
So instead today I offer a wafer.
I've written before about development, and how lonely and crazy-making it can be...and how sometimes you really find yourself jonesing for the story room.
What I didn't share was this: a couple years ago, a writer friend and I were bitching over the difficulties of breaking story by yourself. There's no trick to it, there's no back and forth, and you never know if you're really going in the right direction.
So anyway, she confessed at that point that when things got really bad, really lonely, sometimes she'd dig out her childhood teddy bears and arrange them around the table so it seemed like she had company, or people to bounce ideas back and forth with.
Hearing this, I did what any self-respecting man would do in the situation with a girlfriend with whom he was not currently canoodling: I passed about three inches of vodka through my nose and mocked her mercilessly for the rest of the night.
To her credit, not only did she take it, she bought me a new vodka. And then she fixed me with a vengeful gleam in her eye and she said five words that chilled my soul:
"You laugh now. But wait."
Well, now here it is February 2006. I'm trying to break an important story for one of my shows. It's going very slowly. I have the corkboard out. I have the index cards with beats on them. I have the coffee. I have the laptop.
Hell, I even broke out the Magic Guinness Hat.
Sometimes, it helps me to focus. Not today.
Today, nothing seems to be working. So... *sigh*
Opus has an absolutely foolproof bullshit detector, and surprisingly, Marvin the Martian is really good with story. Although he does go for the ray-gun vaporization deus ex machina climax a little too often for my taste.If this series goes, and these guys sue me for story credit, there's gonna be scissors.
So basically, I guess what I'm saying is...
Dorothy Parker*, you win.
*not her real name
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
For Toronto-based Cinephiles...
This Thursday, Feb 16, The Toronto International Film Festival Group is presenting a conversation with Robert Towne. Sounds like it could be interesting.
Details here.
Details here.
If You Speak Up, then the Quail Will Win
Well Jon Stewart sure didn't disappoint. But watching the Cheney-shooting-a-guy-in-the-face story play out in the news cycle, it amazes me that right there in there, again, is the root of all the trouble that people seem to have with this administration.
This is a nothing story. It's so obviously a hunting accident, unfortunate, but not anything sinister. (EDIT: Well, except if you have something against shooting canned, pen-raised animals rather than actually, you know, going hunting -- the part of the story that isn't getting much play outside of The Daily Show. Thanks to Alex for that catch.) Point is, It's a one-day story.
Except the conduct of the administration makes it more:
In other news -- I know it's Valentine's Day, so before I tell you how much I love each and every one of you in my special way in my secret places, let me tell you that I love this post.
It's beautiful to see someone make an argument, and then see a bunch of commenters prove the argument for him.
This is a nothing story. It's so obviously a hunting accident, unfortunate, but not anything sinister. (EDIT: Well, except if you have something against shooting canned, pen-raised animals rather than actually, you know, going hunting -- the part of the story that isn't getting much play outside of The Daily Show. Thanks to Alex for that catch.) Point is, It's a one-day story.
Except the conduct of the administration makes it more:
- Wait a day to disclose something that they should have gotten out in front of immediately.
- Spin it so that you blame the victim, which leads to the refutation stories by wildlife officials.
- Keep the VP out of sight and unwilling to comment, insuring that you can't put it behind you
- Change your story a couple of times about how and when the President found out.
In other news -- I know it's Valentine's Day, so before I tell you how much I love each and every one of you in my special way in my secret places, let me tell you that I love this post.
It's beautiful to see someone make an argument, and then see a bunch of commenters prove the argument for him.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Burning Grey
The conclusion to Grey's Anatomy's two-part Code Black-bomb episode actually managed to outdraw Desperate Housewives on Sunday. Overnights point to 25.3 million viewers 18-49 -- that's a 25 share, 5 points and 3 million viewers more than Housewives got.
With the first season coming out on DVD tomorrow, and a post-Superbowl audience of 38 million, I'd say a couple of things are clear:
In fact, Grey's is a pretty good example of the weird, feminized man I talked about in an earlier post. Let's look at the male characters:
Dr. McDreamy/Shepherd - the idealized, unavailable sex object. He's sensitive as all get out. He doesn't always know the right thing to say, but he does seem to always be on the verge of tears.
Dr. Burke - constantly trying to push Yang to define their relationship; the first to say "I love you." Capable of expressing his emotions to the more witholding Yang.
Alex Karev - the one reliable 'bad-boy' in the beginning, who's now that kind of cuddly bad-boy lite.
George O'Malley- great actor. Great comic chops. The standard "let's be friends" guy. Practically one of the girls. The one time he gets to have sex on this show where everyone has sex constantly, he gets chlamydia.
Dr. Webber - nominally the 'big guy in charge.' But he's evidently terrified of his wife. And it looks like in his early affair with Meredith's mother, he wasn't exactly in the driver's seat, either.
I've watched this show from the beginning, and it's amazing how much the "strong male" characters (Burke, Webber, Karev) have been slowly feminized as the show progressed. The level of sensitivity among the men in Seattle Grace Hospital now runs the gamut from A all the way to B.
I mean, fair enough -- it's a show aimed mainly at women, and the head writer and creator's a woman. And yup, we've had years of stereotypical females in every show under the sun. But would it have killed them to keep Alex a jerk? Really?
Carla on Cheers took eight years to become a cream puff. Karev didn't last 22 episodes.
Just sayin. 18-49 year old men, meet Halo...Halo, 18-49 year old men...
With the first season coming out on DVD tomorrow, and a post-Superbowl audience of 38 million, I'd say a couple of things are clear:
- Start writing that Grey's Anatomy spec. Stat.
- This sucker's the next huge, huge hit.
In fact, Grey's is a pretty good example of the weird, feminized man I talked about in an earlier post. Let's look at the male characters:
Dr. McDreamy/Shepherd - the idealized, unavailable sex object. He's sensitive as all get out. He doesn't always know the right thing to say, but he does seem to always be on the verge of tears.
Dr. Burke - constantly trying to push Yang to define their relationship; the first to say "I love you." Capable of expressing his emotions to the more witholding Yang.
Alex Karev - the one reliable 'bad-boy' in the beginning, who's now that kind of cuddly bad-boy lite.
George O'Malley- great actor. Great comic chops. The standard "let's be friends" guy. Practically one of the girls. The one time he gets to have sex on this show where everyone has sex constantly, he gets chlamydia.
Dr. Webber - nominally the 'big guy in charge.' But he's evidently terrified of his wife. And it looks like in his early affair with Meredith's mother, he wasn't exactly in the driver's seat, either.
I've watched this show from the beginning, and it's amazing how much the "strong male" characters (Burke, Webber, Karev) have been slowly feminized as the show progressed. The level of sensitivity among the men in Seattle Grace Hospital now runs the gamut from A all the way to B.
I mean, fair enough -- it's a show aimed mainly at women, and the head writer and creator's a woman. And yup, we've had years of stereotypical females in every show under the sun. But would it have killed them to keep Alex a jerk? Really?
Carla on Cheers took eight years to become a cream puff. Karev didn't last 22 episodes.
Just sayin. 18-49 year old men, meet Halo...Halo, 18-49 year old men...
Further to the below...
Now the reports are that the mock-doc series The Tournament, which followed a small town's kids hockey team, will also be axed.
On the one hand, I never really got into The Tournament. I thought there was a subtle disconnect in tone. Unlike The Office or Trailer Park Boys -- other examples of the faux doc genre -- The Tournament seemed implicitly to judge its characters -- which unbalances the whole thing and steals both the heart and the funny.
But Howard Busgang, one of the creators, is a guy who should have a series on CBC. Oh wait. He did -- it was called An American in Canada, and it was funny. CBC canceled it three years ago. Hmmm.
On the one hand, I never really got into The Tournament. I thought there was a subtle disconnect in tone. Unlike The Office or Trailer Park Boys -- other examples of the faux doc genre -- The Tournament seemed implicitly to judge its characters -- which unbalances the whole thing and steals both the heart and the funny.
But Howard Busgang, one of the creators, is a guy who should have a series on CBC. Oh wait. He did -- it was called An American in Canada, and it was funny. CBC canceled it three years ago. Hmmm.
Drama and Dithering: A CBC prescription
This one's about TV. I promise.
Canada's recently-departed Prime Minister, Paul Martin, was widely referred to in his short tenure as "Mr. Dithers," a rather unflattering (and occasionally unfair) categorization of his propensity for going back and forth over an issue. (What would be known in some circles as "consideration" and in the United States as "flip-flopping."*)
It always struck me as a funny kind of criticism, since Canada is pretty much a nation of ditherers. Always has been. Faced with the catastrophic breakdown of civility and statehood that was the U.S. Civil War, they dithered their way into Confederation. Canadians dithered over creating a Constitution for about a hundred years. Even Quebec doesn't so much really talk about separating, as dither over it. And we dither over keeping them from separating. Dither, Dither, Dither.
About the only time Canadians don't dither is on the ice, or when they commit their armed forces to a war -- where they go in and kick major ass.
But the Dither Disease is well-entrenched. There's an old joke about how you spot a Canadian once they've died. The punchline's something like, on the way to heaven there's a fork in the road and one way says "Heaven" and the other way says "Royal Commission Studying the Possibility of Going to Heaven." The Canadians will opt for the latter way.
Lame, I know. I much prefer my favorite Canadian joke: "How do you get 200 Canadians out of a pool? Say, "okay guys, pool's closed, get out." (Bonus: Count how many times they say 'sorry' as they get out of the water.)
Anyway...If press reports are to be believed, the CBC is taking a step away from dithering today. Later today, the dramas "This is Wonderland," and "DaVinci's City Hall" will be canceled.
This is Wonderland -- an odd little series now in its third season, never really did it for me. It was set in and around the courts in Toronto. And it was supposed to chronicle the
futility and capriciousness of the system. But the series was entirely too shrill -- the poor, luminous lead Cara Pifko (right) constantly found herself paired with one shouting lunatic after another. Having to play off that most frequently leaves you just no place to go. Wonderland boasted some great characters and some good acting, but the stories had an odd structure to them and there was entirely too much shouting for it to be really compelling, appointment viewing.
DaVinci's City Hall, on the other hand, continued the downward slide that its parent show, Davinci's Inquest, had fallen into in its last couple of years. It's a dense narrative, and probably wasn't very welcoming to new viewers. There's some talk that it may continue as a series of yearly movies -- a format that would probably fit it better anyway.
The cancellation of DaVinci is probably more political, anyway. The network has done something smart and ordered 13 episodes of Intelligence, the Chris Haddock-written TV movie that premiered last fall, which I picked as one of my ten best things of the year. With the limited series slots available on the CBC, it probably wouldn't look good to give two hours a week to the same guy.
All this, of course, also has something to do with the desire of new CBC executives to put their stamp on the network. VP Richard Stursberg, the beloved doyenne of last year's lockout, hasn't had a kick at the can yet. And after a long search, Kirstine Leyfield was finally named to the Director of English Language Programming position. (Thanks to Matt Watts for the link.)
Now she's got her chance to make some changes to the drama slate, and hopefully draw new audiences back to the national broadcaster. Corner Gas' numbers are embarrassing to CBC - -or at least they should be.
But this is where the dithering comes in.
No one. But no one - dithers more than the CBC.
In the U.S. right now, they're right in the middle of Pilot Season. Scripts are being written, people are being cast, shows are being shot. They'll be whittled down to a few, which will be announced at the upfronts. Then, in the fall, we'll ignore most of them and they'll fade into deserved obscurity.
This process happens every year. Yeah, okay. The CBC does not have that kind of money. They are not going to do tons of pilots and chuck most of them. But the thing about that robust process of development, shoot, cull -- is that occasionally a show gets on the air that actually does manage to speak to the zeitgeist. That's in the right place at the right time.
CBC can't compete on the most important playing field -- being up-to-date, because of dithering. Because by the time the average drama makes it onto the CBC schedule, it's been picked over and 'developed' and dithered -- for years. Two, three years sometimes.
Now. I'm going to state something here that shouldn't be controversial, but probably will be. Television is a responsive medium. There is no such thing as the TV series that is improved by two years of talking about it. Write. Discuss. Rewrite. Cast. Shoot. Air.
LOST went from a vague idea by Lloyd Braun to a show on ABC's schedule in under six months. Frigging LOST! Please don't tell me that in light of that story, you can defend six months where you don't read the script, another six where you wonder what to do, another six to do it, and six more before anyone sees it. Get off your ass. Get out of your office in Fort Dork and get those creative juices pumping. Pretend you're playing hockey. Give'r.
Yes, the stakes are high. Yes, it's hard to commit that amount of money on something that won't necessarily work. But what CBC has been doing up to now obviously isn't working. Audience numbers for drama on CBC continue to go down.
By dithering as a matter of course (as well as doing other dumb things, like consistently ordering hour long pilots for half-hour comedies...which is just plug-stupid, and which CBC did for years) is anathema to getting a show on the air that might -- might just spark something in the people's minds and hearts.
Law & Order's "ripped from the headlines" formula has more than paid off for them.
24 had 5 episodes in the can when 9/11 happened. It didn't start out that way, but because they were on the air at the right time, 24 became the reflection of Americans' post-9/11 unease.
If that show had been Canadian, they would have pulled it. And dithered over what to do. And they would have missed the boat.
CBC may not have the money of a US studio, but it does have resources that the private sector doesn't have. If it wanted to, it could go into rapid-response mode. It could do TV projects that were on the air while Canadians were still thinking about the issues contained within them. . Rather than what happens now -- where dramas have a slightly musty, picked over, and bland cant to them when they premiere. CBC could do Life On Mars. For pity's sake, take a chance and do something original. And if you do do something original, don't be ashamed of it, like you were with Cara Pifko's previous (delightful) series Our Hero.
It would mean an end to the dithering. If Kirstine can resist the dither-impulse, and streamline her commissioning process, maybe CBC dramas could become relevant again.
It's a big if. We'll see.
*only if you're a Democrat, tho.
Canada's recently-departed Prime Minister, Paul Martin, was widely referred to in his short tenure as "Mr. Dithers," a rather unflattering (and occasionally unfair) categorization of his propensity for going back and forth over an issue. (What would be known in some circles as "consideration" and in the United States as "flip-flopping."*)
It always struck me as a funny kind of criticism, since Canada is pretty much a nation of ditherers. Always has been. Faced with the catastrophic breakdown of civility and statehood that was the U.S. Civil War, they dithered their way into Confederation. Canadians dithered over creating a Constitution for about a hundred years. Even Quebec doesn't so much really talk about separating, as dither over it. And we dither over keeping them from separating. Dither, Dither, Dither.
About the only time Canadians don't dither is on the ice, or when they commit their armed forces to a war -- where they go in and kick major ass.
But the Dither Disease is well-entrenched. There's an old joke about how you spot a Canadian once they've died. The punchline's something like, on the way to heaven there's a fork in the road and one way says "Heaven" and the other way says "Royal Commission Studying the Possibility of Going to Heaven." The Canadians will opt for the latter way.Lame, I know. I much prefer my favorite Canadian joke: "How do you get 200 Canadians out of a pool? Say, "okay guys, pool's closed, get out." (Bonus: Count how many times they say 'sorry' as they get out of the water.)
Anyway...If press reports are to be believed, the CBC is taking a step away from dithering today. Later today, the dramas "This is Wonderland," and "DaVinci's City Hall" will be canceled.
This is Wonderland -- an odd little series now in its third season, never really did it for me. It was set in and around the courts in Toronto. And it was supposed to chronicle the
futility and capriciousness of the system. But the series was entirely too shrill -- the poor, luminous lead Cara Pifko (right) constantly found herself paired with one shouting lunatic after another. Having to play off that most frequently leaves you just no place to go. Wonderland boasted some great characters and some good acting, but the stories had an odd structure to them and there was entirely too much shouting for it to be really compelling, appointment viewing.DaVinci's City Hall, on the other hand, continued the downward slide that its parent show, Davinci's Inquest, had fallen into in its last couple of years. It's a dense narrative, and probably wasn't very welcoming to new viewers. There's some talk that it may continue as a series of yearly movies -- a format that would probably fit it better anyway.
The cancellation of DaVinci is probably more political, anyway. The network has done something smart and ordered 13 episodes of Intelligence, the Chris Haddock-written TV movie that premiered last fall, which I picked as one of my ten best things of the year. With the limited series slots available on the CBC, it probably wouldn't look good to give two hours a week to the same guy.
All this, of course, also has something to do with the desire of new CBC executives to put their stamp on the network. VP Richard Stursberg, the beloved doyenne of last year's lockout, hasn't had a kick at the can yet. And after a long search, Kirstine Leyfield was finally named to the Director of English Language Programming position. (Thanks to Matt Watts for the link.)
Now she's got her chance to make some changes to the drama slate, and hopefully draw new audiences back to the national broadcaster. Corner Gas' numbers are embarrassing to CBC - -or at least they should be.
But this is where the dithering comes in.
No one. But no one - dithers more than the CBC.
In the U.S. right now, they're right in the middle of Pilot Season. Scripts are being written, people are being cast, shows are being shot. They'll be whittled down to a few, which will be announced at the upfronts. Then, in the fall, we'll ignore most of them and they'll fade into deserved obscurity.
This process happens every year. Yeah, okay. The CBC does not have that kind of money. They are not going to do tons of pilots and chuck most of them. But the thing about that robust process of development, shoot, cull -- is that occasionally a show gets on the air that actually does manage to speak to the zeitgeist. That's in the right place at the right time.
CBC can't compete on the most important playing field -- being up-to-date, because of dithering. Because by the time the average drama makes it onto the CBC schedule, it's been picked over and 'developed' and dithered -- for years. Two, three years sometimes.
Now. I'm going to state something here that shouldn't be controversial, but probably will be. Television is a responsive medium. There is no such thing as the TV series that is improved by two years of talking about it. Write. Discuss. Rewrite. Cast. Shoot. Air.
LOST went from a vague idea by Lloyd Braun to a show on ABC's schedule in under six months. Frigging LOST! Please don't tell me that in light of that story, you can defend six months where you don't read the script, another six where you wonder what to do, another six to do it, and six more before anyone sees it. Get off your ass. Get out of your office in Fort Dork and get those creative juices pumping. Pretend you're playing hockey. Give'r.
Yes, the stakes are high. Yes, it's hard to commit that amount of money on something that won't necessarily work. But what CBC has been doing up to now obviously isn't working. Audience numbers for drama on CBC continue to go down.
By dithering as a matter of course (as well as doing other dumb things, like consistently ordering hour long pilots for half-hour comedies...which is just plug-stupid, and which CBC did for years) is anathema to getting a show on the air that might -- might just spark something in the people's minds and hearts.
Law & Order's "ripped from the headlines" formula has more than paid off for them.
24 had 5 episodes in the can when 9/11 happened. It didn't start out that way, but because they were on the air at the right time, 24 became the reflection of Americans' post-9/11 unease.
If that show had been Canadian, they would have pulled it. And dithered over what to do. And they would have missed the boat.
CBC may not have the money of a US studio, but it does have resources that the private sector doesn't have. If it wanted to, it could go into rapid-response mode. It could do TV projects that were on the air while Canadians were still thinking about the issues contained within them. . Rather than what happens now -- where dramas have a slightly musty, picked over, and bland cant to them when they premiere. CBC could do Life On Mars. For pity's sake, take a chance and do something original. And if you do do something original, don't be ashamed of it, like you were with Cara Pifko's previous (delightful) series Our Hero.
It would mean an end to the dithering. If Kirstine can resist the dither-impulse, and streamline her commissioning process, maybe CBC dramas could become relevant again.
It's a big if. We'll see.
*only if you're a Democrat, tho.
Brokeback Mountain DOES NOT play in the Red States!
Mickey Kaus has got a teriffic piece in Slate today.
He talks about the "Brokeback Mountain" meme and how it damages progressives by leading them down feel-good roads that lull them into a false sense that their message is getting through. I've often said that my number one problem with a lot of the people I agree with politically is how smug they are. I love Michael Moore. But the guy does not help.
It's funny, but lately I've noticed the same pragmatism and "come on, really?" attitude coming off Jon Stewart on The Daily Show (Two references in one day. I really should send him that Valentine.)
When so many Americans choose to vote against their own interests and buy a line of obsfucation and lies -- at what point do you stop wrapping yourself in comfortable memes like "Bush is stupid," "the people will see the truth," and, yes, "Brokeback Mountain is changing Red State perceptions of Gays and Gay marriage in the Red States," and start actually focusing on a way to get you elected?
If this was a script, I would say the Dems have got the worst second act problems I've ever seen, because they don't even know the story they're telling. They've got a few months left to make it a feel good redemption story. We don't need another black comedy. Enough already.
He talks about the "Brokeback Mountain" meme and how it damages progressives by leading them down feel-good roads that lull them into a false sense that their message is getting through. I've often said that my number one problem with a lot of the people I agree with politically is how smug they are. I love Michael Moore. But the guy does not help.
It's funny, but lately I've noticed the same pragmatism and "come on, really?" attitude coming off Jon Stewart on The Daily Show (Two references in one day. I really should send him that Valentine.)
When so many Americans choose to vote against their own interests and buy a line of obsfucation and lies -- at what point do you stop wrapping yourself in comfortable memes like "Bush is stupid," "the people will see the truth," and, yes, "Brokeback Mountain is changing Red State perceptions of Gays and Gay marriage in the Red States," and start actually focusing on a way to get you elected?
If this was a script, I would say the Dems have got the worst second act problems I've ever seen, because they don't even know the story they're telling. They've got a few months left to make it a feel good redemption story. We don't need another black comedy. Enough already.
Be vewy vewy quiet. I'm hunting Wiberals.
Okay. So VP Dick Cheney stops clutching his bum ticker long enough to shoot a guy on Saturday, and the White House doesn't think, um, maybe someone should tell the...you know...um...press?
I think we have to seriously consider the possibility that God has joined the writing staff of The Daily Show.
UPDATE:
Salon and others are reporting how interesting it is that the spin is already out -- and people are going to great lengths to explain how Cheney did nothing wrong. Yup. They're blaming the victim...the guy who got shot.
Now...remember driver's ed? Remember how you heard that if you rear-end somebody, no matter what happens, it's kind of your fault? Remember?
If we can agree on nothing else, can we perhaps agree that if you SHOOT SOMEBODY, IT'S YOUR FAULT?
No?
This opens a real Pandora's box. Seriously. Just wait for the return of the, "I'm sorry I hit you baby, but why you make Daddy so angry?" defence.
Seriously. I'm peeing myself waiting for Jon Stewart on this.
I think we have to seriously consider the possibility that God has joined the writing staff of The Daily Show.
UPDATE:
Salon and others are reporting how interesting it is that the spin is already out -- and people are going to great lengths to explain how Cheney did nothing wrong. Yup. They're blaming the victim...the guy who got shot.
Now...remember driver's ed? Remember how you heard that if you rear-end somebody, no matter what happens, it's kind of your fault? Remember?
If we can agree on nothing else, can we perhaps agree that if you SHOOT SOMEBODY, IT'S YOUR FAULT?
No?
This opens a real Pandora's box. Seriously. Just wait for the return of the, "I'm sorry I hit you baby, but why you make Daddy so angry?" defence.
Seriously. I'm peeing myself waiting for Jon Stewart on this.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Jane Espenson!
One of my fave TV writers has kind of an interesting blog. She has credits and everything. Y'know like Buffy and Firefly and The O.C. and Angel.
Jane Espenson is the real deal.
She's got a pretty interesting take on the perils or payoffs of doing a novelty Vintage TV Show Spec.
Go. Go on. I'm serious.
Jane Espenson is the real deal.
She's got a pretty interesting take on the perils or payoffs of doing a novelty Vintage TV Show Spec.
Go. Go on. I'm serious.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
Travel & Worldview
Commenter Webs posted down in the "Chihuaha" comments something that was too good to just keep to the sidelines:
When I was in South Africa, one weekend just before I left we traveled to Durban, which was on the Indian Ocean, in the province of KwaZulu-Natal. We drove into the Zulu country one day -- very beautiful -- and on the way came to a craft village. There was a store there run by a couple who made beautiful toys out of wood. On the wall, they had a map of the world. Little push-pins marked the places of origin of all the visitors who'd bought something at the store.
When one looked at the map of the United States, the most striking thing about it was that practically all the pins came from the so-called "Blue States." (States that had voted for Al Gore in 2000.) There were very few pins from any of the "Red States." Funnily enough, the Redder the state, the fewer pins there were. For instance, in Texas, there were a bunch of pins from what I assume was Austin -- a blue district in a very red state.
This was the summer of 2004, and I just thought it was a funny, interesting anecdotal observation. Overwhelmingly, the people from the U.S. who had strayed this far from home were from heavily Democratic-leaning areas.
Now, of course, there's other stuff going on there -- Democrats do better in big cities, and cities have more people, so there would be more pins...but still. It was striking. I kept looking for a break to the pattern -- a Red place with pins...and there was none.
I never forgot that. Then, a few months later, the election of 2004 went the way it did. And in the election result number crunching, one of the most interesting stats I saw was people who held valid U.S. passports supported Kerry, by almost a two-to-one margin.
Just sayin.
I'm an anglo Quebecker, and I've had a sequence of francophone friends in my life, federalist and separatist.I have a similar story.
If there's one factor that is responsible for whether a francophone is federalist or separatist, it's travel. Francophones who have traveled outside Quebec - never mind outside Canada - are nearly always federalist. Those that stay inside Quebec, where "going out west" means a visit to Gatineau, tend to support separatism.
When I was in South Africa, one weekend just before I left we traveled to Durban, which was on the Indian Ocean, in the province of KwaZulu-Natal. We drove into the Zulu country one day -- very beautiful -- and on the way came to a craft village. There was a store there run by a couple who made beautiful toys out of wood. On the wall, they had a map of the world. Little push-pins marked the places of origin of all the visitors who'd bought something at the store.
When one looked at the map of the United States, the most striking thing about it was that practically all the pins came from the so-called "Blue States." (States that had voted for Al Gore in 2000.) There were very few pins from any of the "Red States." Funnily enough, the Redder the state, the fewer pins there were. For instance, in Texas, there were a bunch of pins from what I assume was Austin -- a blue district in a very red state.
This was the summer of 2004, and I just thought it was a funny, interesting anecdotal observation. Overwhelmingly, the people from the U.S. who had strayed this far from home were from heavily Democratic-leaning areas.
Now, of course, there's other stuff going on there -- Democrats do better in big cities, and cities have more people, so there would be more pins...but still. It was striking. I kept looking for a break to the pattern -- a Red place with pins...and there was none.
I never forgot that. Then, a few months later, the election of 2004 went the way it did. And in the election result number crunching, one of the most interesting stats I saw was people who held valid U.S. passports supported Kerry, by almost a two-to-one margin.
Just sayin.
If I Could Teach My Chihuahua to Sing
This is one of those random-thoughts post. Anyone looking for a well-constructed argument best move along.
I've got some attention issues right now. I've got someone else's script to read and story edit, an outline for a cartoon to deliver by Monday, and another outline that I really should get in at the same time. For the last two days I've been pulled apart and discombobulated. On the procrastination scale, it's been about a 6.1 -- which doesn't sound so bad until I tell you this: the procrasitnation scale is like the Richter Scale. It's exponential.
So today, sadly, is a bit of a load-bearing day. And once more, I'm probably going to be working through the weekend, which isn't too bad because I don't have too much planned this weekend.
Anyway, last night I went to see Texas singer-songwriter Joe Ely at Toronto's legendary Horseshoe Tavern. It was both Joe and the Horseshoe's birthday, and both were in fine form. I keep going back and forth about whether I'd seen Ely before. I saw him a couple of months ago at Massey Hall in a songwriter's night with Guy Clark, Lyle Lovett, and John Hiatt...but I can't remember if I'd also seen him on one of my trips to Austin in the 90's. It was either him or Guy Clark. I can't remember. Too much tequila.
Anyway. Last night we were at the back of the half-full 'Shoe, and there was a drunk Maritimer there. (I don't mean a salty seaman, I mean a guy from Nova Scotia.) I have been known, in my time, to be loud. But this guy was the loudest human I've ever heard. When he sneezed, dust came down from the ceiling. There was a blast radius of about ten feet around him as people tried to get away from his cellphone conversations, silly observations, and excruciatingly personal and banal conversations shouted at top volume to his pliant friends. He was roaringly drunk, and probably had no idea how loud he was being. The funny thing was, none of his friends mentioned anything to him. I found that telling.
Random thought number one:
When you're a writer, you can find yourself spinning out whole scenarios about a guy you've never met based on one detail, and the reactions of others around him to that detail. You can do this in the back of your head, whilst listening to a live performer you're really digging. It's a background process that just chugs along. And no matter how marvellous a skill this is, it is no guarantee that in the morning, your focus will be any sharper on the thing that you're actually trying to complete. Sigh.
Ely is a storyteller. He had a great one last night about turning forty above the Arctic Circle in Norway, not knowing a soul, waiting for an icebreaker to come and clear a path so he could travel south. Now that is a bad birthday.
If you check Joe Ely's tour schedule, you'll see that like Bob Dylan these days, he's a guy who basically lives on the road. I find that fascinating. I always wonder if that's an attempt to run away from something, or just a way to keep yourself from running to something. I know that the few times in my life where I've had extended work assignments on the road, I've hated it. And I'm a guy who doesn't feel particularly rooted anywhere.
One thing Ely did, though, was remind me how much I loved Texas. At least the Texas I saw. I didn't much care for Houston. But something about the flatness and the loneliness of the land really appealed to me. San Antonio was moving, and Austin ... well, if I ever chuck my life and disappear, people should know to look for me in Austin.
The funny thing about Texas, for me, is that though the majority of people outside the Austin area hold political views that I find ... well ... reprehensible ... the people themselves are warm, generous, inviting, and funny. Desperately funny. I've always had a wonderful time there. I miss it, in a way that you can miss somewhere you don't really know very well. Maybe if I spent more time there the bloom would fade.
Random thought number two:
People who have traveled or lived in other places are always more interesting than people who haven't. Even people who are from somewhere else and came somewhere and stayed there. I've spent time in L.A. and in New York, and in both places you find a lot of people who came there and stopped. L.A. was their destination, and now they're rooted there (as much as you can be) and they're done. And I think this reflects a lot in the entertainment that comes out of there. The blandness, the sameness of L.A. is, to me, one of the great shortcomings at work in entertainment today. If you don't have weather, how can you expect to have a diverse and singular understanding of the world? (Similarly, if your idea of "getting out of the city" is Brooklyn or Far Rockaway, we got trouble, kids.)
I've seen racism in all its ugliness at work in lots of places: the U.S. south, multicultural Toronto, cosmopolitan London, prairie Alberta, South Africa, 'tolerant' Vancouver -- and you know what I most took away from Paul Haggis' Crash?
I was bored. Even the racism in L.A. bores me.
I wish I'd backpacked when I was 19 or 20. I was so eager to get out of school and start working, and I never felt the wanderlust then. It's probably why I dream of Texas now. Or New Orleans. Poor, sad New Orleans. But one thing I do know: the perspective change I've gotten, whether as a Yankee living in Canada, or Florida, or being two continents away working in Cape Town, or laughing and enjoying the company of people I think are political idiots in Texas -- it's all that that makes me look at the loud drunk in the bar and wonder about him and his story, rather than summarily hate him and dismiss him.
Now...I did wish for some duct tape. Don't get me wrong. I'm human, after all.
I've got some attention issues right now. I've got someone else's script to read and story edit, an outline for a cartoon to deliver by Monday, and another outline that I really should get in at the same time. For the last two days I've been pulled apart and discombobulated. On the procrastination scale, it's been about a 6.1 -- which doesn't sound so bad until I tell you this: the procrasitnation scale is like the Richter Scale. It's exponential.
So today, sadly, is a bit of a load-bearing day. And once more, I'm probably going to be working through the weekend, which isn't too bad because I don't have too much planned this weekend.
Anyway, last night I went to see Texas singer-songwriter Joe Ely at Toronto's legendary Horseshoe Tavern. It was both Joe and the Horseshoe's birthday, and both were in fine form. I keep going back and forth about whether I'd seen Ely before. I saw him a couple of months ago at Massey Hall in a songwriter's night with Guy Clark, Lyle Lovett, and John Hiatt...but I can't remember if I'd also seen him on one of my trips to Austin in the 90's. It was either him or Guy Clark. I can't remember. Too much tequila.
Anyway. Last night we were at the back of the half-full 'Shoe, and there was a drunk Maritimer there. (I don't mean a salty seaman, I mean a guy from Nova Scotia.) I have been known, in my time, to be loud. But this guy was the loudest human I've ever heard. When he sneezed, dust came down from the ceiling. There was a blast radius of about ten feet around him as people tried to get away from his cellphone conversations, silly observations, and excruciatingly personal and banal conversations shouted at top volume to his pliant friends. He was roaringly drunk, and probably had no idea how loud he was being. The funny thing was, none of his friends mentioned anything to him. I found that telling.
Random thought number one:
When you're a writer, you can find yourself spinning out whole scenarios about a guy you've never met based on one detail, and the reactions of others around him to that detail. You can do this in the back of your head, whilst listening to a live performer you're really digging. It's a background process that just chugs along. And no matter how marvellous a skill this is, it is no guarantee that in the morning, your focus will be any sharper on the thing that you're actually trying to complete. Sigh.
Ely is a storyteller. He had a great one last night about turning forty above the Arctic Circle in Norway, not knowing a soul, waiting for an icebreaker to come and clear a path so he could travel south. Now that is a bad birthday.
If you check Joe Ely's tour schedule, you'll see that like Bob Dylan these days, he's a guy who basically lives on the road. I find that fascinating. I always wonder if that's an attempt to run away from something, or just a way to keep yourself from running to something. I know that the few times in my life where I've had extended work assignments on the road, I've hated it. And I'm a guy who doesn't feel particularly rooted anywhere.
One thing Ely did, though, was remind me how much I loved Texas. At least the Texas I saw. I didn't much care for Houston. But something about the flatness and the loneliness of the land really appealed to me. San Antonio was moving, and Austin ... well, if I ever chuck my life and disappear, people should know to look for me in Austin.
The funny thing about Texas, for me, is that though the majority of people outside the Austin area hold political views that I find ... well ... reprehensible ... the people themselves are warm, generous, inviting, and funny. Desperately funny. I've always had a wonderful time there. I miss it, in a way that you can miss somewhere you don't really know very well. Maybe if I spent more time there the bloom would fade.
Random thought number two:
People who have traveled or lived in other places are always more interesting than people who haven't. Even people who are from somewhere else and came somewhere and stayed there. I've spent time in L.A. and in New York, and in both places you find a lot of people who came there and stopped. L.A. was their destination, and now they're rooted there (as much as you can be) and they're done. And I think this reflects a lot in the entertainment that comes out of there. The blandness, the sameness of L.A. is, to me, one of the great shortcomings at work in entertainment today. If you don't have weather, how can you expect to have a diverse and singular understanding of the world? (Similarly, if your idea of "getting out of the city" is Brooklyn or Far Rockaway, we got trouble, kids.)
I've seen racism in all its ugliness at work in lots of places: the U.S. south, multicultural Toronto, cosmopolitan London, prairie Alberta, South Africa, 'tolerant' Vancouver -- and you know what I most took away from Paul Haggis' Crash?
I was bored. Even the racism in L.A. bores me.
I wish I'd backpacked when I was 19 or 20. I was so eager to get out of school and start working, and I never felt the wanderlust then. It's probably why I dream of Texas now. Or New Orleans. Poor, sad New Orleans. But one thing I do know: the perspective change I've gotten, whether as a Yankee living in Canada, or Florida, or being two continents away working in Cape Town, or laughing and enjoying the company of people I think are political idiots in Texas -- it's all that that makes me look at the loud drunk in the bar and wonder about him and his story, rather than summarily hate him and dismiss him.
Now...I did wish for some duct tape. Don't get me wrong. I'm human, after all.
Thursday, February 9, 2006
Wednesday, February 8, 2006
We are all Karl Rove now...or...Baby want bottle?
Even as a kid, I was interested in what was going on in the outside world. Probably more than your average third grader. I remember a day when I was home sick from school. Actually, I'd stayed over at my Grandma's place. It was a January day in 1977 and I lived in Orlando, Florida.
It also happened to be the day that Jimmy Carter was sworn in as President of the United States. I watched his whole inaugural. I had the sense that this was important. Moreover, it was interesting, because Carter was from the South, and I was still -- little New Yorker that I was -- trying to understand what being from the South meant.
My grandmother seemed to find me watching the inaugural with rapt attention a little upsetting. Later, I'd find out that she called my mother and said with a sad heaviness, "that boy's too serious. He'll never be happy."
I remember when CNN went on the air. I was just on the precipice of going from Grade School to High School. CNN was neat. Finally, you could watch the news when you wanted to. You didn't have to wait til Cronkite came on at 6:30.
I look back on that now and I think maybe that was the beginning of the end.
Watching the riots and burnings over the last few days (Let's hate the Danes! It sounds like a Kids in the Hall joke.) and especially the reaction and overreaction in the right wing blogosphere, I'm starting to come to the conclusion that maybe we've all surrendered the capacity for democracy.
The issue of the cartoons, the over-reaction by Islamic mobs, and the over-over-reaction by gleeful wingers here illustrates exactly what's broken in discourse today:
No one can sustain a nuanced argument.
I've read plenty of articles that condemn the riots and rioters and point out what freedom of speech means, whilst pointing out the uncomfortable truth that there is a double standard when it comes to Islam -- and to a one, when you see the comments, it's all people seizing on one strand they didn't like and going to town -- as if the rest of it was never written.
And that's where we live today, all of us. It's a Rovian world. Only the most basic, easy-to-understand, pre-digested and sloganeered reaction can make it through the noise. That's why so many Americans still think there was an Iraqi connection to 9/11. That's why the President can stand up and send out his minions and actually argue he's not breaking the law when his past conduct on the file, and the law itself clearly indicates he did.
If an issue or point has any complexity at all...if it can't be expressed in ten seconds and two bullet points, it bounces off. In a sense, the only difference between us and the mobs rioting over ugly cartoons of Mohammed is that we've yet to pick up our nails-with-boards, and pipes and torches. (And I don't doubt that's coming.)
CNN moved us to "news, now!" Which has come to mean a whole bunch of bloviating about nothing and not a lot of sober second thought. No one reads newspapers anymore. Fewer read newsmagazines, which offer a cooler, more cerebral, and yes-- nuanced -- approach to the news.
This isn't just about the news, either. I think the fruit of the poison tree is evident everywhere in our culture. Movie trailers that reveal the whole movie? It's simple. You want the audience not to be confused, so that first weekend word of mouth is solid -- so no one has to endure a surprise. Unless it's an M. Night Shamalamapalooza film, in which case YOU HAVE TO EXPLAIN THAT THERE IS A BIG, BIG SURPRISE TWIST ENDING!
It makes it pretty hard to write TV. Because now you get notes in note sessions that amount to "I don't know what's going on here." When that's the point. And the answer, "Yes, but that's what creates suspense -- and you find out in four pages what's going on..." well, that doesn't often wash. The audience cannot be confused for a second! If they are, they'll flee! Baby wants his bottle, and baby wants it NOW!
The problem, of course, is that life is not simple. Choices we all face are not as cut and dried as they seem on The O.C. or in the United States Congress. Political choices and issues should not be knee-jerk and automatic. But if you try for a third way, if you try to embrace the complexity, in life or art, there's always a Karl Rove there to point and call you a dreamer or a flip flopper, or worse.
I took a note in a meeting on Monday that was very different. Pointing to a reveal at the end of an episode that's meant to be part two of six, the executive said, "If we reveal that, I'm afraid the audience will feel finished, and won't come back for more."
I thought that was a pretty good note. It was at least arguable...a judgement call. In a sense, I was being told that I was revealing too much...I wasn't letting the mystery be. Maybe I'm starting to internalize the current mania for simpicity...for answering questions quickly. I don't know. In any case, I vastly prefer that note to the usual: "I'm confused, please change."
Confused is good.
Confused leads to scientific discovery, and art, and spiritual awakening.
But it's not easy to explain. And it's not instantly digestible, like the news on CNN or FOX, or the simplistic black hat/white hat view of Islamic rioting roiling through the blogosphere.
Oh Karl, how I hope they put you in jail.
It's not that there's a simple solution to this complex problem.
It's just that it would make me feel a bit better.
It also happened to be the day that Jimmy Carter was sworn in as President of the United States. I watched his whole inaugural. I had the sense that this was important. Moreover, it was interesting, because Carter was from the South, and I was still -- little New Yorker that I was -- trying to understand what being from the South meant.
My grandmother seemed to find me watching the inaugural with rapt attention a little upsetting. Later, I'd find out that she called my mother and said with a sad heaviness, "that boy's too serious. He'll never be happy."
I remember when CNN went on the air. I was just on the precipice of going from Grade School to High School. CNN was neat. Finally, you could watch the news when you wanted to. You didn't have to wait til Cronkite came on at 6:30.
I look back on that now and I think maybe that was the beginning of the end.
Watching the riots and burnings over the last few days (Let's hate the Danes! It sounds like a Kids in the Hall joke.) and especially the reaction and overreaction in the right wing blogosphere, I'm starting to come to the conclusion that maybe we've all surrendered the capacity for democracy.
The issue of the cartoons, the over-reaction by Islamic mobs, and the over-over-reaction by gleeful wingers here illustrates exactly what's broken in discourse today:
No one can sustain a nuanced argument.
I've read plenty of articles that condemn the riots and rioters and point out what freedom of speech means, whilst pointing out the uncomfortable truth that there is a double standard when it comes to Islam -- and to a one, when you see the comments, it's all people seizing on one strand they didn't like and going to town -- as if the rest of it was never written.
And that's where we live today, all of us. It's a Rovian world. Only the most basic, easy-to-understand, pre-digested and sloganeered reaction can make it through the noise. That's why so many Americans still think there was an Iraqi connection to 9/11. That's why the President can stand up and send out his minions and actually argue he's not breaking the law when his past conduct on the file, and the law itself clearly indicates he did.
If an issue or point has any complexity at all...if it can't be expressed in ten seconds and two bullet points, it bounces off. In a sense, the only difference between us and the mobs rioting over ugly cartoons of Mohammed is that we've yet to pick up our nails-with-boards, and pipes and torches. (And I don't doubt that's coming.)
CNN moved us to "news, now!" Which has come to mean a whole bunch of bloviating about nothing and not a lot of sober second thought. No one reads newspapers anymore. Fewer read newsmagazines, which offer a cooler, more cerebral, and yes-- nuanced -- approach to the news.
This isn't just about the news, either. I think the fruit of the poison tree is evident everywhere in our culture. Movie trailers that reveal the whole movie? It's simple. You want the audience not to be confused, so that first weekend word of mouth is solid -- so no one has to endure a surprise. Unless it's an M. Night Shamalamapalooza film, in which case YOU HAVE TO EXPLAIN THAT THERE IS A BIG, BIG SURPRISE TWIST ENDING!
It makes it pretty hard to write TV. Because now you get notes in note sessions that amount to "I don't know what's going on here." When that's the point. And the answer, "Yes, but that's what creates suspense -- and you find out in four pages what's going on..." well, that doesn't often wash. The audience cannot be confused for a second! If they are, they'll flee! Baby wants his bottle, and baby wants it NOW!
The problem, of course, is that life is not simple. Choices we all face are not as cut and dried as they seem on The O.C. or in the United States Congress. Political choices and issues should not be knee-jerk and automatic. But if you try for a third way, if you try to embrace the complexity, in life or art, there's always a Karl Rove there to point and call you a dreamer or a flip flopper, or worse.
I took a note in a meeting on Monday that was very different. Pointing to a reveal at the end of an episode that's meant to be part two of six, the executive said, "If we reveal that, I'm afraid the audience will feel finished, and won't come back for more."
I thought that was a pretty good note. It was at least arguable...a judgement call. In a sense, I was being told that I was revealing too much...I wasn't letting the mystery be. Maybe I'm starting to internalize the current mania for simpicity...for answering questions quickly. I don't know. In any case, I vastly prefer that note to the usual: "I'm confused, please change."
Confused is good.
Confused leads to scientific discovery, and art, and spiritual awakening.
But it's not easy to explain. And it's not instantly digestible, like the news on CNN or FOX, or the simplistic black hat/white hat view of Islamic rioting roiling through the blogosphere.
Oh Karl, how I hope they put you in jail.
It's not that there's a simple solution to this complex problem.
It's just that it would make me feel a bit better.
Tuesday, February 7, 2006
In The Sun With Grey
So I finally got to see the whole post-Superbowl episode of Grey's Anatomy. (My PVR only taped the first half because of the game running over, and I couldn't stay awake for the West coast feed.)
It's a funny way to watch tv -- an enforced break of sleep at the half way point. It used to be that I would never, ever stop watching something til the end. But you get older, and, you know...sleep. Sleep is awesome.
*There's gonna be some spoilers coming, so if you haven't watched and still intend to...well...git.
I have to say that after the first half, I hadn't really seen any evidence to get me out of my usual "post Superbowl episodes are always overrated" box. Christina Ricci is a cute guest star. The shower scene was a cute (if obvious) tip to the post-Superbowl berth.
But once the primary plot asserted itself, my heart sank.
Because I've seen it before.
And if you haven't seen it before, then there's an episode of TV you need to go get.
A few years ago, Homicide: Life on the Street won an Emmy for a truly moving episode called "The Subway." The guest star was Vincent D'Onofrio, and the setup was truly horrible. A man gets knocked onto the subway platform by an incoming train. He's trapped between the train and the platform. His lower body is twisted beyond belief, and the pressure is the only thing holding him together. When they move the train, he will die. Period. Andre Braugher's Pembleton and Kyle Secor's Bayliss arrive on the scene, confronted with the paradox of trying to investigate a homicide, where the victim is still alive. (If he was pushed, it's homicide, right?)
Anyway, the show is basically a one-act play between Braugher and D'Onofrio -- and it's one of the most exciting, moving, and devestating hours of TV I've ever seen. It's everything that made Homicide great.
So initially, when I went to bed, I was a little disappointed. The girl with the hand on the bomb in the body cavity just seemed like a pale version of The Subway episode to me.
Then yesterday I watched the second half of Grey's Anatomy.
Wow.
Not just the delayed-too-long sex between Alex and Izzie, but the great scene about the Pink Mist...a nice, nice piece of writing there...and then the great twist at the end with Meredith.
They pulled it off. The streak is over. A post-Superbowl episode worked.
All that, and that great duet version of Joseph Arthur's In the Sun by Michael Stipe and Chris Martin from Coldplay. A great Katrina Hurricane-relief single -- go buy it on Itunes, and while you're at it, check out Joseph Arthur. This is a guy who deserves to sell a lot more albums.
Anyway, I think Grey's is really hitting an amazing stride. And I still think that George is the heart of the whole show.
It's a funny way to watch tv -- an enforced break of sleep at the half way point. It used to be that I would never, ever stop watching something til the end. But you get older, and, you know...sleep. Sleep is awesome.
*There's gonna be some spoilers coming, so if you haven't watched and still intend to...well...git.
I have to say that after the first half, I hadn't really seen any evidence to get me out of my usual "post Superbowl episodes are always overrated" box. Christina Ricci is a cute guest star. The shower scene was a cute (if obvious) tip to the post-Superbowl berth.
But once the primary plot asserted itself, my heart sank.
Because I've seen it before.
And if you haven't seen it before, then there's an episode of TV you need to go get.
A few years ago, Homicide: Life on the Street won an Emmy for a truly moving episode called "The Subway." The guest star was Vincent D'Onofrio, and the setup was truly horrible. A man gets knocked onto the subway platform by an incoming train. He's trapped between the train and the platform. His lower body is twisted beyond belief, and the pressure is the only thing holding him together. When they move the train, he will die. Period. Andre Braugher's Pembleton and Kyle Secor's Bayliss arrive on the scene, confronted with the paradox of trying to investigate a homicide, where the victim is still alive. (If he was pushed, it's homicide, right?)
Anyway, the show is basically a one-act play between Braugher and D'Onofrio -- and it's one of the most exciting, moving, and devestating hours of TV I've ever seen. It's everything that made Homicide great.
So initially, when I went to bed, I was a little disappointed. The girl with the hand on the bomb in the body cavity just seemed like a pale version of The Subway episode to me.
Then yesterday I watched the second half of Grey's Anatomy.
Wow.
Not just the delayed-too-long sex between Alex and Izzie, but the great scene about the Pink Mist...a nice, nice piece of writing there...and then the great twist at the end with Meredith.
They pulled it off. The streak is over. A post-Superbowl episode worked.
All that, and that great duet version of Joseph Arthur's In the Sun by Michael Stipe and Chris Martin from Coldplay. A great Katrina Hurricane-relief single -- go buy it on Itunes, and while you're at it, check out Joseph Arthur. This is a guy who deserves to sell a lot more albums.
Anyway, I think Grey's is really hitting an amazing stride. And I still think that George is the heart of the whole show.
Monday, February 6, 2006
Getting closer...
I have nothing to add about Super Bowl XL except for this:
I'm pleased to see that Gillette has finally taken the leap to a FIVE blade razor.
I've said this before, and I will say it again:
I will never be a happy consumer until I can shave closely with my ten-blade razor, and then sip a glass of Vodka that's been distilled no less than twenty-times.
Hop to it, Madison Avenue. You're falling behind.
I'm pleased to see that Gillette has finally taken the leap to a FIVE blade razor.
I've said this before, and I will say it again:
I will never be a happy consumer until I can shave closely with my ten-blade razor, and then sip a glass of Vodka that's been distilled no less than twenty-times.
Hop to it, Madison Avenue. You're falling behind.
I'd Give You Everything I've Got For A Little Piece of Mind
There are two types of music I use to measure emotional states in my life.
Heartbreak = Bob Dylan's Blood On The Tracks. When I'm Tangled Up in Blue, that's the album I inevitably turn to. I even have a rule for its proper deployment: here it is:
One play, once a day. Do not exceed recommended dosage.
The last time I had trouble enforcing that rule was when I was in South Africa. I played Blood on the Tracks a few days ago and I was pleasantly surprised to realize that I hadn't needed it in a while. Not cause I'm drinking champagne out of the glass slipper with Ms Right, mind you, but just because...Ida know...didn't feel I needed it. It's almost...almost...become just another CD on the shelf.
My other crutch is another story. The other one is The White Album. I know that as a card carrying member of Baby Boom Deriders Inc, I should probably not be picking two iconic boomer artists and albums. But sadly, when I came up no one gave a crap about young people. I was imprinted. You go to war with the cultural touchstones you have.
It's when I find myself turning to some of the half lullabyes, and the soothing Lennon vocal on "I'm So Tired" that I know that I've run out the stress clock.
I have a lot of projects I'm juggling now. Every single one of them wants to demand my full attention -- or more. On some, I'm on my own. On others, I'm partnered with other people. My basic makeup means that in a pinch, I'll always defer to the projects where I've got other people along for the ride. Because people bug you. And I hate when people bug me. So I cave. I never know if that's the right decision or not.
I keep a diary of what I'm working on and when -- very informal, just so I can look back on what I've been doing and spending my time on. Generally, I'm pretty good at giving each project its due. I don't shortchange anything. But every time you have to switch gears, it's like retooling the whole plant.
The battle to make money and juggle artistic output is an inimical marriage at the best of times. But I'm tired. I'm tired of working weekends. I'm tired of the fact that I haven't taken any sort of vacation since about Sept of 2004. I'm tired that I have to switch gears every day, and sometimes more than once a day. I long to be busy in the focused way production brings -- one job. one show. one goal.
Development is -- even when it goes well -- such a crunching, driving, uphill process. Every time I read a spec from someone with talent who's nevertheless done a half-assed job, I wonder, "what's this person going to be like when they have to roll that boulder up the hill, day after day?"
Tomorrow may be shiny. But today it's a lot of 'what nows' and 'what nexts.' And lurking just behind is the knowledge that at some point I have to refresh my specs. Soon. Like, next two months, soon.
Doesn't sound like a lot of beach time in my future. This is why when you become a writer, there is nothing more important -- nothing -- than having a couple of people around who can always make you laugh.
They're so valuable, you should be able to deduct them on your taxes.
Oh well. Better go ... think. And blame Sir Walter Raleigh. He was such a stupid git.
Heartbreak = Bob Dylan's Blood On The Tracks. When I'm Tangled Up in Blue, that's the album I inevitably turn to. I even have a rule for its proper deployment: here it is:
One play, once a day. Do not exceed recommended dosage.
The last time I had trouble enforcing that rule was when I was in South Africa. I played Blood on the Tracks a few days ago and I was pleasantly surprised to realize that I hadn't needed it in a while. Not cause I'm drinking champagne out of the glass slipper with Ms Right, mind you, but just because...Ida know...didn't feel I needed it. It's almost...almost...become just another CD on the shelf.
My other crutch is another story. The other one is The White Album. I know that as a card carrying member of Baby Boom Deriders Inc, I should probably not be picking two iconic boomer artists and albums. But sadly, when I came up no one gave a crap about young people. I was imprinted. You go to war with the cultural touchstones you have.
It's when I find myself turning to some of the half lullabyes, and the soothing Lennon vocal on "I'm So Tired" that I know that I've run out the stress clock.
I have a lot of projects I'm juggling now. Every single one of them wants to demand my full attention -- or more. On some, I'm on my own. On others, I'm partnered with other people. My basic makeup means that in a pinch, I'll always defer to the projects where I've got other people along for the ride. Because people bug you. And I hate when people bug me. So I cave. I never know if that's the right decision or not.
I keep a diary of what I'm working on and when -- very informal, just so I can look back on what I've been doing and spending my time on. Generally, I'm pretty good at giving each project its due. I don't shortchange anything. But every time you have to switch gears, it's like retooling the whole plant.
The battle to make money and juggle artistic output is an inimical marriage at the best of times. But I'm tired. I'm tired of working weekends. I'm tired of the fact that I haven't taken any sort of vacation since about Sept of 2004. I'm tired that I have to switch gears every day, and sometimes more than once a day. I long to be busy in the focused way production brings -- one job. one show. one goal.
Development is -- even when it goes well -- such a crunching, driving, uphill process. Every time I read a spec from someone with talent who's nevertheless done a half-assed job, I wonder, "what's this person going to be like when they have to roll that boulder up the hill, day after day?"
Tomorrow may be shiny. But today it's a lot of 'what nows' and 'what nexts.' And lurking just behind is the knowledge that at some point I have to refresh my specs. Soon. Like, next two months, soon.
Doesn't sound like a lot of beach time in my future. This is why when you become a writer, there is nothing more important -- nothing -- than having a couple of people around who can always make you laugh.
They're so valuable, you should be able to deduct them on your taxes.
Oh well. Better go ... think. And blame Sir Walter Raleigh. He was such a stupid git.
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