In the course of my work, I'm sometimes able to attend advance screenings of unreleased films, or view screening copies of TV pilots before they are. It's a great luxury to see some of the new pilots over the summer, because it alleviates some of the pressure in the fall to View All The Shows -- wth luck, you already know which ones you don't like and don't need to TiVo.
(And even after years in this business, I still get a little thrill from the validation that comes with any "insider" invitation.)
I recently sat down to view a selection of pilots for shows that are either not picked up, or not picked up until midseason. 2 of them Canadian-made, so I was interested in checking out the look and feel in the likelihood that I run in to cast and crew around town -- it's always nice to be familiar with people's recent work. During production, of course, there's very little time to keep up with current releases, much less advance releases, so it's nice over hiatus to catch up on favorite shows, friends' shows, and upcoming trends.
The thing that struck me in viewing a selection of this year's crop was how cinematic 3 out of the 4 selections were. Not just in the camerawork and acting style, but in the premises -- I kept seeing stories that seemed perfect fodder for a gripping 2-hour feature, but was hard-pressed to imagine how they were planning to continue for 13 or 22 weeks, much less 5 years
Of course *every* year's crop of pilots serve as a stark reminder of how hard it is to make good television, and how easy a few missteps can make what must have seemed like a good idea at the time into an unwatchable mess. No one sets out to make lame or cheesy shows, and people work just as hard -- and are likely just as excited about -- the losers as the winners
What makes the difference? What's the ligtning in a bottle that makes one show grab you from the first week and make you eager to shout "More show! More show!" ? I'm convinced that one key element is casting -- the wrong leads will tank a clever idea, and the right leads will put butts in seats. But that's only one of so many elements. Messing up even one can drag all the rest down.
Can this things be solved by analysis? Or is this a case where you need to get zen and do the best you can, and then see where the cards land?
In case you haven't noticed, I'm not very good at just watching TV with my feet up. Even when it's not supposed o be work, it turns into grist for the mill.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
A Whole New World
Twitter. You may have heard of it. Me, I'm too verbose to be an early adopter of anything requiring concision. 140 characters? Is that even enough room for a haiku? I've got ThingsTo Say, people!
But if you want to get better at stuff, you've gotta do things that aren't a natural fit. People use a phrase around here, "in his wheelhouse," meaning that a task plays to a person's known strengths, and thus they are the perfect choice, sure to succeed.
To a point. On Season 3 of Sanctuary, I was fortunate to write a couple of episodes that were right down my alley, containing the sort of stories that I'm drawn to and known for writing. In fact the second of my two Season 3 episodes, "Awakening," is one that I actively pursued being assigned to because I was so fond of its premise.
In the course of writing Season 4, through the vagaries of scheduling and the needs of the ongoing story, the two scripts I wrote were well outside my usual specialty -- each in a different way. For 403, "Untouchable," in particular, I had to tap into a style and structure that did not come naturally to me. (More about the details of that after it airs. Spoilers, Sweetie!) And you know what? I am more proud of those two scripts than of anything I've done in a long time. I had to really wake up and dig down to get 'em done, and the results are something I am very proud of.
So, lesson re-learned: Don't fall back on old tricks when you can embrace new challenges.
And so, finally, Twitter. With ComiCon looming large in my sights, shiny new Smartphone in hand, I figured I'd jump in the deep end. I quickly found myself tweeting from any place I was standing still -- and cursing when I couldn't get a wireless connection from inside the press room while I waited for the Sanctuary Cast to make their rounds. No signal! Unthinkable!
Yesterday I participated in an event organized by some of our Sanctuary publicity gurus, in honor of the release of our Season 3 DVD sets. A number of cast and crew with Twitter Handles were recruited to play #SanctuaryTwitterTag for the day, passing a virtual baton around cyberspace by tagging one another with questions. Of course it didn't go to plan -- which I soon realized was all for the best. It would have been less fum and less memorable if it had all gone off without a hitch! (This is another of those important life lessons, I assure you.)
At the end of the day, I saw tweets from fans that resonated with me, saying that they had found and were now following one another thanks to participating in the event. I was reminded of the times when I was in frequent attendance at Highlander Conventions, realizing that while the panels with cast and crew are the initial reason for coming, after the first time the fans are gathering to see one another as much as to see us. That they could have (and sometimes do have) awesome conventions without us showing up at all. Their shared love is the glue to their community, online or off. We are mere facilitators.
And I figured out the secret to keeping it short on Twitter, too. It's a conversation, not a lecture. Characters on TV aren't supposed to make speeches longer than five lines, why would I?
Except over here, of course. Still got Things To Say.
But if you want to get better at stuff, you've gotta do things that aren't a natural fit. People use a phrase around here, "in his wheelhouse," meaning that a task plays to a person's known strengths, and thus they are the perfect choice, sure to succeed.
To a point. On Season 3 of Sanctuary, I was fortunate to write a couple of episodes that were right down my alley, containing the sort of stories that I'm drawn to and known for writing. In fact the second of my two Season 3 episodes, "Awakening," is one that I actively pursued being assigned to because I was so fond of its premise.
In the course of writing Season 4, through the vagaries of scheduling and the needs of the ongoing story, the two scripts I wrote were well outside my usual specialty -- each in a different way. For 403, "Untouchable," in particular, I had to tap into a style and structure that did not come naturally to me. (More about the details of that after it airs. Spoilers, Sweetie!) And you know what? I am more proud of those two scripts than of anything I've done in a long time. I had to really wake up and dig down to get 'em done, and the results are something I am very proud of.
So, lesson re-learned: Don't fall back on old tricks when you can embrace new challenges.
And so, finally, Twitter. With ComiCon looming large in my sights, shiny new Smartphone in hand, I figured I'd jump in the deep end. I quickly found myself tweeting from any place I was standing still -- and cursing when I couldn't get a wireless connection from inside the press room while I waited for the Sanctuary Cast to make their rounds. No signal! Unthinkable!
Yesterday I participated in an event organized by some of our Sanctuary publicity gurus, in honor of the release of our Season 3 DVD sets. A number of cast and crew with Twitter Handles were recruited to play #SanctuaryTwitterTag for the day, passing a virtual baton around cyberspace by tagging one another with questions. Of course it didn't go to plan -- which I soon realized was all for the best. It would have been less fum and less memorable if it had all gone off without a hitch! (This is another of those important life lessons, I assure you.)
At the end of the day, I saw tweets from fans that resonated with me, saying that they had found and were now following one another thanks to participating in the event. I was reminded of the times when I was in frequent attendance at Highlander Conventions, realizing that while the panels with cast and crew are the initial reason for coming, after the first time the fans are gathering to see one another as much as to see us. That they could have (and sometimes do have) awesome conventions without us showing up at all. Their shared love is the glue to their community, online or off. We are mere facilitators.
And I figured out the secret to keeping it short on Twitter, too. It's a conversation, not a lecture. Characters on TV aren't supposed to make speeches longer than five lines, why would I?
Except over here, of course. Still got Things To Say.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
My Ears are Burning
Pat Elrod stumbled upon this blog and put up a lovely livejournal post linking back here and reminiscing about some time we spent together in the aftermath of a con. (I'm pretty sure it was a Forever Knight event.) I can't comment on her post without joining LJ, so I'm hoping she has a Google alert on her own name that will lead her to this post. I'm I'm glad to know that my link is helping people find and enjoy the new Highlander minisode, and always enjoy the ongoing reunion of acquaintanceship that is enabled by virtual space. Earlier today I exchanged Facebook messages with a writer of Star Wars RPG's, whom I'd met at conventions years ago and remember fondly. (Although by "today" I guess I technically mean "yesterday" -- as always when on deadline, I reverse my nights and days, writing long past midnight and sleeping past noon.)
Monday, February 9, 2009
AFK
Good heavens, where have I been for over two months?! Well, FaceBook, of course, but besides that? One thing that happened is that my primary computer stopped working, gradually and infuriatingly, making signing on slow torture until I finally gave up and switched to my laptop. Which was then hit with the Vundo virus, incapacitating me and reducing me to logging on via an ancient laptop, which gave me a new relationship with the Internet for the last month or so: "Please oh please just let me check my email and send these files, and then I promise I'll turn you off and let you reboot." *sigh* Unable to surf without crashing, I was reduced to playing Spider Solitaire when I needed to procrastinate! (Don't let anyone tell you that procrastinating isn't a necessary part of the writing process! Whatever gets those folds of your brain properly aligned to start the words flowing, I say go for it.)
The primary computer is now back to life so I'm back to being able to surf freely during work-break intervals. Which brings us to the more proximate cause of my recent disappearance, a well-known syndrome known as On A Show.
Talk to any peer group of working writers, at any stage of their career, and they are familiar with the syndrome: one of them gets a staff job, and promptly vanishes off the face of the earth. The first time it happens, you may think that the lucky staff writer is snubbing you, but then it's your turn to be in the same situation, and you realize it's not at all intentional. And then your hiatus rolls around and it's your turn to call everyone you used to hang out with, and beg their forgiveness for going AWOL. And they forgive you, because they did the same thing.
Being On A Show can be all-consuming. Even if it's not a situation where you're in the office till 9 every night and every weekend (and many situations ARE like that), you're usually taking dailies home to watch over dinner, or researching your next story, or assessing every situation through the eyes of your characters. Even when you're 'off the clock,' you're BORING, because everything on your mind is the troubles and triumphs of getting that week's episode in the can. You start to think that the story of how you had to redo the script three times to accomodate the limited availability of a guest star is actually entertaining! So it's best, really, that you confine your social life to your current colleagues and one or two long-time friends who've followed the whole saga like it's their favorite soap opera. (Best if these confidantes are in other lines of work entirely.)
A few years ago I worked on a show that shot in Hawaii, and went on location for 5 weeks, a time of such intensity that it felt like a year's worth of absence. Another time, I travelled with MythQuest to Canada for 6 months at a time. These physical absences were clear cut, and easier to explain, But sometimes, without leaving town, you have to mentally "Go To Canada" with your show, and hope that your friends understand.
I've just finished doing a major piece of writing/rewriting on something I can't publically name at the moment. It's something I very much enjoyed doing, a return to characters I've worked with before and am therefore quite fond of. It's been a brief but intense period of metaphorical Going To Canada-- and returning from it is like returning from months on location. I have to restock the fridge and reconnect with my life. Except I actually have another project with an approaching deadline (not complaining!), so...
As we progress in our careers, my friends and I have sought to create a balance, where we can be working on a project without having to go into the On A Show zone. I do believe it's possible, but I also accept that there will always be weeks when the only thing to do is just give in to it, to be transported out of my actual life and into the fictional world that exists only in the bubble around my monitor.
The primary computer is now back to life so I'm back to being able to surf freely during work-break intervals. Which brings us to the more proximate cause of my recent disappearance, a well-known syndrome known as On A Show.
Talk to any peer group of working writers, at any stage of their career, and they are familiar with the syndrome: one of them gets a staff job, and promptly vanishes off the face of the earth. The first time it happens, you may think that the lucky staff writer is snubbing you, but then it's your turn to be in the same situation, and you realize it's not at all intentional. And then your hiatus rolls around and it's your turn to call everyone you used to hang out with, and beg their forgiveness for going AWOL. And they forgive you, because they did the same thing.
Being On A Show can be all-consuming. Even if it's not a situation where you're in the office till 9 every night and every weekend (and many situations ARE like that), you're usually taking dailies home to watch over dinner, or researching your next story, or assessing every situation through the eyes of your characters. Even when you're 'off the clock,' you're BORING, because everything on your mind is the troubles and triumphs of getting that week's episode in the can. You start to think that the story of how you had to redo the script three times to accomodate the limited availability of a guest star is actually entertaining! So it's best, really, that you confine your social life to your current colleagues and one or two long-time friends who've followed the whole saga like it's their favorite soap opera. (Best if these confidantes are in other lines of work entirely.)
A few years ago I worked on a show that shot in Hawaii, and went on location for 5 weeks, a time of such intensity that it felt like a year's worth of absence. Another time, I travelled with MythQuest to Canada for 6 months at a time. These physical absences were clear cut, and easier to explain, But sometimes, without leaving town, you have to mentally "Go To Canada" with your show, and hope that your friends understand.
I've just finished doing a major piece of writing/rewriting on something I can't publically name at the moment. It's something I very much enjoyed doing, a return to characters I've worked with before and am therefore quite fond of. It's been a brief but intense period of metaphorical Going To Canada-- and returning from it is like returning from months on location. I have to restock the fridge and reconnect with my life. Except I actually have another project with an approaching deadline (not complaining!), so...
As we progress in our careers, my friends and I have sought to create a balance, where we can be working on a project without having to go into the On A Show zone. I do believe it's possible, but I also accept that there will always be weeks when the only thing to do is just give in to it, to be transported out of my actual life and into the fictional world that exists only in the bubble around my monitor.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Attention Bob Chapin Fans!
My pal Bob Chapin has a great turn as "Elliot" in Episodes 5 and 6 of the webseries Faux Baby, availbale on strike.tv, youtube and hulu. One of the writer/producers on the series is my friend Laura Brennan, who worked on the 6th season of Highlander: The Series and wrote the excellent "Star of Athena" story in the Evening at Joe's anthology.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Listen Up!
The day after Thanksgiving has been designated the National Day of Listening -- a time to sit down with someone and hear their story.
If you're with family, take the time to ask an older relative about their life and their memories, while they're still here to share.
I'll be at LosCon that day, LA's excellent longrunning SF Convention. I'll take the opportunity to really listen to some people who know more than I do about the earlier days of SF, fandom, and TV. Some of the program participants I'm always interested to hear from include Michael Engelberg, D.C. Fontana, David Gerrold, Larry Niven, Steve Barnes, Harry Turtledove, Bill Warren, Len Wein, and Marv Wolfman. I'm also planning to make the effort to try some new things, hear some new voices -- I'm particularly looking forward to the rich track of panels by actual scientists and futurists.
On Saturday, I'll be talking as well as listening -- I'll be participating in 3 panels, on Writing for TV, the interaction between TV Fans and Writers/Producers, and something fun entitled "What I Do When I Should Be Writing." (You're soaking in it.)
If you're with family, take the time to ask an older relative about their life and their memories, while they're still here to share.
I'll be at LosCon that day, LA's excellent longrunning SF Convention. I'll take the opportunity to really listen to some people who know more than I do about the earlier days of SF, fandom, and TV. Some of the program participants I'm always interested to hear from include Michael Engelberg, D.C. Fontana, David Gerrold, Larry Niven, Steve Barnes, Harry Turtledove, Bill Warren, Len Wein, and Marv Wolfman. I'm also planning to make the effort to try some new things, hear some new voices -- I'm particularly looking forward to the rich track of panels by actual scientists and futurists.
On Saturday, I'll be talking as well as listening -- I'll be participating in 3 panels, on Writing for TV, the interaction between TV Fans and Writers/Producers, and something fun entitled "What I Do When I Should Be Writing." (You're soaking in it.)
Monday, November 17, 2008
Amen
There's an absolutely heartbreaking sentiment about our newly-elected President at Postsecret this week.
http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a7jkcMVp5Vg/SSA5F-71nAI/AAAAAAAAHVQ/pww8BW89qdA/s1600-h/hope.jpg
I wish I didn't have to carry the same prayer in my heart, but I do.
On the other hand, I adore the graphic on the postcard itself.
(PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a postcard.)
http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a7jkcMVp5Vg/SSA5F-71nAI/AAAAAAAAHVQ/pww8BW89qdA/s1600-h/hope.jpg
I wish I didn't have to carry the same prayer in my heart, but I do.
On the other hand, I adore the graphic on the postcard itself.
(PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a postcard.)
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