On Tuesday, October 28 at 8:00 p.m. at the Playwrights Center of Minneapolis, the 2003-2004 Jerome Fellows (including me) will be reading excerpts from their work for the public.
Fun, fun, fun. Come hear bits and pieces of a bunch of good writer's plays.
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
Thursday, September 25, 2003
I have figured out why most television sucks.
I have figured out why most television sucks.
This blog seems like the best place to put a realization like this one. It's not so personal that it will
embarrass me later (though it is revealing), and it's not so important that I'm thinking of writing a book
on the subject. Yet it's been running around my brain since I finished watching the new West Wing
episode last night, and a person might say that this is related to my chosen profession.
So here's why most television sucks: No one ever does anything out of character. Everyone always does
what you expect their character to do.
I was trying to figure out, while watching the West Wing last night, what the aaron-sorkin-less
difference was and at first I couldn't place it. There were still great actors, acting great. They were still
television characters discussing and debating subjects that don't usually find their way onto television.
And there was still a heart beating under all that policy discussion.
But instead of people who had opinions, they became opinions who had people. All Josh did all episode
was say it was a bad idea to invoke the 25th amendment -- so that someone could argue with him and
get the other view out. In the Situation Room, each character had their perspective and they did
nothing but repeat it, repeatedly. The acting president is cavalier. Big shocker. Toby is cranky. Will
Bailey is too smart for his own good. Suddenly instead of being people in situations, they become a
series of tics and established characteristics in situations.
Maybe it's the product of writing by committee. In order to keep a consistency of feel between different
writers they have to follow certain cause and effect rules of behavior. Josh is the political one. Toby is
the cranky one. Ross is the nerdy one. Joey is the stupid one. Chandler is the sarcastic one. (I've been
watching Friends in reruns too, and besides the odd effect that Friends is actually better to watch in the
reruns than when it is first on -- I think its the not expecting anything syndrome -- I've also noticed
that people who seemed human and complex in the first two seasons become cliched and flat without
seemingly becoming inconsistent with the characters that were initially introduced.) If the writers are
following preset rules though, how they hell do they expect to surprise us?
Well, I guess, one character an episode gets to do something. Anything. Last night, the chief of staff
gets to show how much he really cares about Zooey and he makes an unprofessional outburst in the
situation room. Not that this is hugely surprising, but I can see how a committee of writers sitting around
a table might think that its something. (Don't get me wrong; it was a nice enough moment.)
What made The West Wing good was the way in which Sorkin constantly surprised. Yes, he wrote great
dialogue and great characters and intelligent plots. But I don't think those are exclusive to him as a
writer. I think the West Wing could find writers who can write great dialogue and great characters and
intelligent plots. Sorkin knew the characters as people and let them be people. Cranky is an accessory to
a person. Ditzy is an accessory to a person. It's in the things they fight and the way they fight for them
that we see their humanness. Toby will fight for them in a cranky way, but it's what he does that
matters as much. Would a committee of writers have written the scene in which he calls the president's
father an asshole (or whatever he said)? I doubt it because the superordinates can't talk in that way to
the President. That's a rule of character that a committee couldn't break. And if they did allow it, then
the scene would become maudlin and the president would see the truth of his outburst or something. No
committee would have written "He's my father, not a Dickens character."
Ross may have been a nerd in high school, but it was when he was going after Rachel as an adult with a
job and a life that he seemed like a human being. When he's just a grown-up nerd, he is a cartoon
character. Nerd too is just an accessory to the true character underneath.
OK, I admit it. I'm a nerd too. And the fact that I spent any time at all writing this out is frightening to
me. But -- what the hell. I have this blog thing here that Ciso set-up, and I was going to write
something this morning anyway. In my defense, I didn't really plan this essay out. 8 minutes, I think, this
took me to write. Is that too long?
This blog seems like the best place to put a realization like this one. It's not so personal that it will
embarrass me later (though it is revealing), and it's not so important that I'm thinking of writing a book
on the subject. Yet it's been running around my brain since I finished watching the new West Wing
episode last night, and a person might say that this is related to my chosen profession.
So here's why most television sucks: No one ever does anything out of character. Everyone always does
what you expect their character to do.
I was trying to figure out, while watching the West Wing last night, what the aaron-sorkin-less
difference was and at first I couldn't place it. There were still great actors, acting great. They were still
television characters discussing and debating subjects that don't usually find their way onto television.
And there was still a heart beating under all that policy discussion.
But instead of people who had opinions, they became opinions who had people. All Josh did all episode
was say it was a bad idea to invoke the 25th amendment -- so that someone could argue with him and
get the other view out. In the Situation Room, each character had their perspective and they did
nothing but repeat it, repeatedly. The acting president is cavalier. Big shocker. Toby is cranky. Will
Bailey is too smart for his own good. Suddenly instead of being people in situations, they become a
series of tics and established characteristics in situations.
Maybe it's the product of writing by committee. In order to keep a consistency of feel between different
writers they have to follow certain cause and effect rules of behavior. Josh is the political one. Toby is
the cranky one. Ross is the nerdy one. Joey is the stupid one. Chandler is the sarcastic one. (I've been
watching Friends in reruns too, and besides the odd effect that Friends is actually better to watch in the
reruns than when it is first on -- I think its the not expecting anything syndrome -- I've also noticed
that people who seemed human and complex in the first two seasons become cliched and flat without
seemingly becoming inconsistent with the characters that were initially introduced.) If the writers are
following preset rules though, how they hell do they expect to surprise us?
Well, I guess, one character an episode gets to do something. Anything. Last night, the chief of staff
gets to show how much he really cares about Zooey and he makes an unprofessional outburst in the
situation room. Not that this is hugely surprising, but I can see how a committee of writers sitting around
a table might think that its something. (Don't get me wrong; it was a nice enough moment.)
What made The West Wing good was the way in which Sorkin constantly surprised. Yes, he wrote great
dialogue and great characters and intelligent plots. But I don't think those are exclusive to him as a
writer. I think the West Wing could find writers who can write great dialogue and great characters and
intelligent plots. Sorkin knew the characters as people and let them be people. Cranky is an accessory to
a person. Ditzy is an accessory to a person. It's in the things they fight and the way they fight for them
that we see their humanness. Toby will fight for them in a cranky way, but it's what he does that
matters as much. Would a committee of writers have written the scene in which he calls the president's
father an asshole (or whatever he said)? I doubt it because the superordinates can't talk in that way to
the President. That's a rule of character that a committee couldn't break. And if they did allow it, then
the scene would become maudlin and the president would see the truth of his outburst or something. No
committee would have written "He's my father, not a Dickens character."
Ross may have been a nerd in high school, but it was when he was going after Rachel as an adult with a
job and a life that he seemed like a human being. When he's just a grown-up nerd, he is a cartoon
character. Nerd too is just an accessory to the true character underneath.
OK, I admit it. I'm a nerd too. And the fact that I spent any time at all writing this out is frightening to
me. But -- what the hell. I have this blog thing here that Ciso set-up, and I was going to write
something this morning anyway. In my defense, I didn't really plan this essay out. 8 minutes, I think, this
took me to write. Is that too long?
Saturday, September 20, 2003
On Monday, September 22nd
On Monday, September 22nd, The Playwright's Center will be presenting an informal reading of my new play, Music Lovers. The purpose of this reading is for me to hear the play -- with a pile of revisions I just completed this weekend -- in front of an invited, thoughtful audience. I'm hoping to discover where the laughs are and where the confusion remains.
The Center has gotten some good, professional actors for me, and, in an odd turn of events, Ciso Lobo will be coming up here to read the part that I originally wrote for him. Should be interesting to see him playing off of Minneapolis actors.
Here's the blurb we came up with (I hate writing them but this seems all right):
When a guitarist meets a woman in a crowded bar where his band is about to play, he believes he may have found someone who can help him escape from a life he no longer wants. But when the musical genius who shaped both their lives appears, they are forced to explore in barrooms and bedrooms how hard real change can be, and how much it can hurt.
Stop by the Playwright's Center of Minneapolis Monday at 7:30, if you're swingin' through this midwestern town. The reading is free. I have no idea what a plane ticket costs.
Much love.
The Center has gotten some good, professional actors for me, and, in an odd turn of events, Ciso Lobo will be coming up here to read the part that I originally wrote for him. Should be interesting to see him playing off of Minneapolis actors.
Here's the blurb we came up with (I hate writing them but this seems all right):
When a guitarist meets a woman in a crowded bar where his band is about to play, he believes he may have found someone who can help him escape from a life he no longer wants. But when the musical genius who shaped both their lives appears, they are forced to explore in barrooms and bedrooms how hard real change can be, and how much it can hurt.
Stop by the Playwright's Center of Minneapolis Monday at 7:30, if you're swingin' through this midwestern town. The reading is free. I have no idea what a plane ticket costs.
Much love.
Monday, July 28, 2003
Good evening.
Good evening. I am sitting in the lounge of a small East Coast college dormitory on a small East Coast hill above a small East Coast town that barely exists anymore since the factory moved to Mexico. Four men are playing cribbage behind me. Cribbage? What is Cribbage? And if it were really a game for men, would it be called cribbage? (No offense. I feel like aiming for a cheap laugh is all.) Wouldn't it be called macho-age or something? Maybe not. Meanwhile, three other gentlemen are learning the chords and words to "Imagine" by John Lennon so that they can play it at the talent show for the tiny, little psuedo-geniuses we're all supposed to be teaching. The woman on the computer next to me just asked me who sings this song. I am in some odd universe, yes, I am.
I'm only writing this because I won Andrea's contest (see links section). The prize is that I write a guest column. "I've never won anything in my life," but I'm not so honored not to wonder what kind of prize it is where I have to do something for it? I thought she might send me a cd or something. . . At least give some money to charity in my name. (If anyone would like to fulfill that obligation for her, than you should know that my favorite charity is me. What? I never make any money. I'm a nonprofit institution.)
Do I sound cranky as I write this? (Do I edit this before I post it or is the point to just spew? Blog sounds like a word that was meant for spewing.) I am cranky because I'm having a tough time teaching this summer and that is an understatement. I'd go into more detail, but these kids are more technically savvy than I am and they might see this. Allow me to just say that I still think I'm a pretty good teacher. I have the proof, too. But some things can make you wonder. . .
I've found that exercise helps with this anxiety. Someone said this to me a few weeks ago and I thought it was appropriate: "Doesn't it suck when you realize that everything older people told you when you were younger is true." Smoking is bad. And, yes, you are addicted to it. Getting up early in the morning does make you feel healthier and more productive. Exercise is fun. If you get into a car accident on your bicycle, then your eyes will change colors. . . OK. Maybe that last one is just true for my brother. (My brother is also more technologically savvy, and i think more often bored, and so he may check this post. I thought I'd put a joke just for him on here.)
I've run out of steam. Can I stop now, Andrea, or must I write until I say something profound? Am I looking for a narrative arc? Do I need to reveal more personal details? Teach me the rules of the blog, Maestro.
P.S. How is Chicago holding up without me in it?
I'm only writing this because I won Andrea's contest (see links section). The prize is that I write a guest column. "I've never won anything in my life," but I'm not so honored not to wonder what kind of prize it is where I have to do something for it? I thought she might send me a cd or something. . . At least give some money to charity in my name. (If anyone would like to fulfill that obligation for her, than you should know that my favorite charity is me. What? I never make any money. I'm a nonprofit institution.)
Do I sound cranky as I write this? (Do I edit this before I post it or is the point to just spew? Blog sounds like a word that was meant for spewing.) I am cranky because I'm having a tough time teaching this summer and that is an understatement. I'd go into more detail, but these kids are more technically savvy than I am and they might see this. Allow me to just say that I still think I'm a pretty good teacher. I have the proof, too. But some things can make you wonder. . .
I've found that exercise helps with this anxiety. Someone said this to me a few weeks ago and I thought it was appropriate: "Doesn't it suck when you realize that everything older people told you when you were younger is true." Smoking is bad. And, yes, you are addicted to it. Getting up early in the morning does make you feel healthier and more productive. Exercise is fun. If you get into a car accident on your bicycle, then your eyes will change colors. . . OK. Maybe that last one is just true for my brother. (My brother is also more technologically savvy, and i think more often bored, and so he may check this post. I thought I'd put a joke just for him on here.)
I've run out of steam. Can I stop now, Andrea, or must I write until I say something profound? Am I looking for a narrative arc? Do I need to reveal more personal details? Teach me the rules of the blog, Maestro.
P.S. How is Chicago holding up without me in it?
Tuesday, June 24, 2003
Check here
Check here for information on readings and/or productions and/or other comings and goings, etc. Also, look for the occasional rant when I'm feeling particularly politically pent-up and I can't find a live audience.
Friday, June 20, 2003
I can rant here all I want.
I can rant here all I want. Those of you who miss having drinks and listening to my nonsense can now grab a drink and read it here. I love the Internet. And World Peace!
Wednesday, May 28, 2003
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