How could I not be? Everything eventually comes back to the simplest three act structure. First, there was nothing. Then, something happened. And now we're here. I've spent the last ten years (give or take) studying story and the craft of writing, most of it through tertiary education, but also various classes at local writing institutions and with fellow writers, readers, watchers & listeners of all ages. But I need to accept that it's more than just story. Narratives anywhere, in any form, including (but not limited to) television, film, theater, advertisements, music, video games.... not to mention published works by our contemporaries and forebears. Fiction & non-fiction, poetry & prose, comedy, tragedy, drama, documentaries, first person shooters & RPGs. Everything and anything telling us something about something is fair game here.
There are many things worthy of one's passion, in my view. Sports fans can obsess all they like about averages, RBI's and sacks in a season (or some other sporty term). Narcissists are empowered to stare at their own reflection until they fall into the lake a drown (though I don't recommend it). But story, that's where my heart lies. I'm not sure why or where it started. Maybe with my dad. He's a storyteller's storyteller. Arm gestures and a variation of pitch and tempo to emphasis transitions in emotional resonance.
The first story I ever created was at an age before I knew how to read or write. I dictated the story to my father who happily typed it up on an old-timey typewriter. (It's unlikely either of us saw all this heading for us back then... I'm looking at you, internet.) I don't recall much of it now, as this was another time and another place, and you don't commit things to memory quite so deliberately when you're young. It was a ghost story, I know much, and it wasn't scary. Maybe because I didn't understand fear at the time (honestly, I'm still not sure I understand fear). Maybe I was intrigued by the ideal of non-corporeal existence & lacked a proper lexicon to express such a concept. The story was from the ghost's perspective, or more or less just narrated his (or her... at the time I doubt I had figured out gender roles, or even thought of a ghost as a disembodied spirit, a former human being) nightly activities. His hand against a tree branch, merging with it, then discorporating. His back against the bottoms of clouds and the rain passing through his belly. It was probably disjointed and dreamlike, as are the musings of a young child. It was less than a page long. Maybe that's where it all started.
There are TV shows, I don't mean particular episodes or noteworthy arcs/seasons, but entire series I have watched over and over and over again. The biggest offenders are likely Deadwood and Scrubs, with honorable mentions to Sports Night, Firefly, The West Wing, Arrested Development and most recently, How I Met Your Mother. There are movies that I have watched more than several dozen times apiece. The rogues gallery here is lengthy, so I'll only call out Shawshank Redemption and The Big Lebowski. (The rest of you know who you are). There are pieces of fiction, short stories and books, that I return to several times a year because they move me unlike anything else in the 'verse. The Alchemist, The Ice at the Bottom of the World, Wicked, White Teeth, House of Leaves.... Rick Moody's 'Boys,' Donald Barthelme's 'The School,' Kelly Link's 'Stone Animals.' And I usually page through Leaves of Grass once a week. It may take me a lifetime to absorb everything Whitman was trying to say, which makes a kind of sense, as it took Whitman a lifetime to say it. (If any aspect of him is still around, he's probably wishing he could edit that masterpiece a little more). It occurred to me (a while ago, actually) that participation as mere spectator will no longer suffice. Not for me, not with how much passion I have for the medium of story.
Here's what troubles me: I wrote a lot of essays as an undergrad film reviewer (notice how I avoid the title critic in that description) for the campus newspaper. Most of these reviews are still available on my alma mater's website, and I stumbled across a few reviews of movies I don't remember watching. I cannot abide such a lapse in my own recollections. So, dear reader, this space will be devoted to my personal experience with story, in all its forms.
I think the genesis for the series of essays coming soon is owed partially to AMC's Mad Men, my pick for the greatest television series of all time, and a testament to the aesthetic power of the medium. I loved the first season, but I did not get it. I knew I was watching something profound, something individual, something different, and I knew I liked it, but I didn't understand why. This lead me inexorably to Alan Sepinwall's "What's Alan Watching" blog back when he worked as a TV critic for the Herald (he now writes for Hitfix.com. If you're reading me and not him, I strongly urge you to trade up to the pros. The man's insight is unparalleled). This opened a floodgate. Now I read several TV blogs just to keep up, regularly visiting the TV page at The Onion's AV Club. Doc Jensen's mad genius recaps of Lost were hard to follow at times but impossible to put down. I used to wonder about my place in the world, and seeing what these brothers and sisters do has solved some part of that question. If story were a drug, I'd like to be less a junkie and more the needle.
I still write fiction and screenplays, but those don't belong on blogs. Not in my opinion, anyway. But everything we read informs everything we write. And if I am able to unpack my appreciation (and yes, my criticisms) of stories I like as well as stories I'm not so crazy about, that can not hinder my level of craft in work I do not share publicly.
One of my top priorities is providing content on a somewhat regular basis. Due to my own nature and how poorly I live up to my own expectations, expect a slow start to knew content. I'd like to create a new essay each day, but between work and various obligations and agendas, I may not post a new essay every day. I hope commit an essay proportionate to the length of the work I am relating. The benefit of writing essays about television is the built in structure it provides. Let's say an hour long drama should is worth a 2000 word write up. (This is a guess). A half hour show should be worth 1000, depending on how much I have to say about it at the time I write the essay. If I post a West Wing recap on, say, a Monday, expect to see a new recap of the next episode (in order) the following Monday. I may take breaks on certain shows between seasons, and I may not. I'll let you know during a season finale's write up.
Short stories may not see that much coverage, but they will be featured on a regular basis. Novels will be tricky, depending on the depth of the story and everything I'd like to share about my experience with it. Everything else will be thrown out in an action sack (unless I figure out a way to keep my writing schedule solid in addition to other obligations & agendas).
Needless to say, everything I share will be complete. These are not advertisements. These are are reviews of what you should read or watch. These are essays with story analysis, character analysis, scene and setting, tone and imagery. They are mean to entertain and (maybe?) enlighten, but I'm not going to play coy with plot developments or big reveals. In other words, this is Spoiler Country. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was released three years ago. If you still don't know how it ends and you would prefer to be kept in the dark, don't read the essay discussing that book.
I hope my days of intellectual negligence are nearing a close. And I hope you, dear reader, are willing to participate with me. That's why there's commenting available below.
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