When The Shark Jumps You: The Grey's Anatomy Writers' Blog

One interesting side-effect of the internet as universal equalizer is the increased communication between those responsible for creating entertainment (artists, if you will) and those responsible for consuming entertainment (the fans). A few months ago I stumbled upon the writers' blog for Grey's Anatomy. Within a day or two of a show's airing, the lead writer of that episode writes a post about the writers' thoughts while creating that episode. Sometimes they fill in back stories: personal histories that informed the content of the episode. Sometimes they talk about the real medical conditions portrayed in the episode. And always, always they glow about how what they wrote HAD to happen and how AMAZING and PERFECT the next episode will be. Let's take their most recent post, for example (gushy emphasis all theirs):

The answers to that question and a lot more will be coming up in the next three weeks. I promise, it’s going to be a GREAT ride. Next week’s our two hour episode and it’s moving and funny and all things Grey’s Anatomy.

The thing that I find interesting about the blog (apart from those few-and-far-between moments where they actually talk about the process of writing for television), is how blurred the line between creator and fan becomes. Aside from the gag-inducing self-fandom, these posts open up the writers to the immediate feedback of their audience. (And head writer/executive producer Shonda Rhimes claims she reads all/most of the comments.)

Granted, you can argue that they're preaching to the choir. Anyone who would take the time to track down the Grey's blog and write a comment, must be a fan, right? Yes, definitely. But it's Season 3 now. The audience is invested and feels complete ownership of the characters. The show is on the brink of a season finale and a new spin-off for one of its characters. The mood on the comment board has shifted from "THAT WAS THE BEST SHOW EVER!! I LOVE YOU!!" to a more wary, often threatening tone:

"I'm trying to understand why you guys are doing this to your characters, and I'm failing miserably. I don't want to hate this how, I don't want to hate these characters, but you've given me no other choice." --R

"I can't believe that you as a writer have the heart to sacrifice this. I can't believe it. Doesn't it make your artistic soul cry?How could you sleep at night? Imagine what would have happened if Shakespeare decided to spin off Juliet after Act I. Think twice, please, before you make this big mistake of splitting them up."--SK

"What was once my life is now becoming just another show I need to remember to watch. It's absolutely heartbreaking."--Sara

"I feel like I am going to puke. Not because of the show, the show just made it worse."--McSad

(All comments in reaction to the 4/26/07 episode "Desire")

While there is the illusion of openness, a dialogue between creator and consumer--how much does fan input really influence the final product? Will the writers hear their fans cries? Will they be able to appease the diehards while maintaining their own artistic integrity? Do television writers have artistic integrity? Is this what it sounds like to jump the shark? Does the expression really come from an episode of Happy Days where Fonzie jumps over a shark on water skis?

And most importantly: how much (if at all) should artists bend to the will of their fans, when the very livelihood of their work is dependant on keeping their fans happy and interested?

Because It's Monday...

This is why I love Boston. Or should I say, this is how Boston has gotten its jagged meat hooks in me--forcing upon me a crippling addiction that renders me incapable of living anywhere else.


Yes, all those blue markers represent the location of my next iced coffee fix. I'm in talks now to open another branch in my basement. I'll keep you posted on the deal's progress.

Giant thanks goes out to The Bostonist for bringing this critical information to my attention.

What Your Friends Will Be Quoting All Summer Long: Hot Fuzz

Went out last night with my Boston gang (Double Solo! *pumps two fists*) to check out the latest from Shaun of the Dead duo Simon Pegg and Nick Frost: Hot Fuzz. And how did I enjoy it? Let's just say it's about to get gushy in here...

First off, the editing and film production were insanely impressive. When it comes to comedies, my only expectation is that the movie should be funny. Boom mics can drop out of the sky and the camera can shake, as long as the laughs are coming I'm cool with that. Hot Fuzz got the laughs (loud, mouth-dropping, squirming-in-the-seat-with-glee laughs) but it went way beyond your standard comedy production. Hot Fuzz was slick. Director (and Pegg's co-writer) Edgar Wright is adept with the quick edit. A perfect fit for the action genre, the quick cuts between scenes both built suspense and comedy through sharp juxtaposition. One brilliant travel sequence--scored by the screech of public transportation--flashed shots of Pegg on a train with his peace lily, a phone searching for service, Pegg asleep on a bench waiting for a train, Pegg again on train with lily, the phone, Pegg woken by train, the phone, etc. The humor in this scene was subtle--the monotony of the journey--but the effect was dead-on.

It's clear Pegg and Wright spent the 3 years in between Shaun and Fuzz watching every action movie they could get their hands on, with Point Break (starring my all-time favorites Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze--gag) and Bad Boys II (of Will Smith and Martin Lawrence fame) get two of the biggest shout-outs in the movie.

I'm not really that well-versed in the police action movie archetypes, but I particularly enjoyed the "tender" cop-partner relationship Pegg and Frost built through the movie. There was a tongue in every cheek and a wink in every eye, but a genuine earnestness was there too. Through the parody, you could see the love. Action movies have big emotions and big explosions--simultaneously wince-inducing in their over-the-topness and yet intensely gratifying.

And if you like action, Hot Fuzz does not disappoint. I never thought I was a gratuitous violence kind of girl--but man did I love watching a sleepy little British town turn into the stage for one of most intense free-for-all shoot-em-ups I've ever seen. Everyone gets in on the action and man is it fun to watch.

Though I have no plans to operate a firearm in the near future, if I ever do get a gun in my hand, the first thing I'm going to do is squeeze off a round into the sky while screaming "AHHHH!" in homage to this movie.

Go get tickets and get them now.

We Now Interrupt Our Previously Scheduled Programming...

I'm in the middle of writing up a review of Hot Fuzz, but need to preempt myself to announce that Deliberate Motion's Better This Way (a multi-media performance piece based on the Persephone myth) has been accepted to the New York Fringe Festival!!! {Insert crazy capitalized proclamations of joy and gratuitous use of the exclamation point here.} I'll update with specific details of date (sometime in August) and location (somewhere in New York City) when I get them tonight.

:-D

Philosophy of Love, Sex (with animals), and Understanding

You know you've received a fantastic college education when an article about "Zoo," Robinson Devor's movie on bestiality, in Salon reminds you of a class you took freshman year. The class was Philosophy of Love and Sexuality taught by Rebecca Goldstein and we tackled everything from the Greek philosophers' predilection for young boys, to foot fetishes, to the morality of bestiality.

When I first heard about the movie "Zoo" I thought--in part due to the source referencing it--that it was going to be an exercise in poor taste, performing a gleeful postmortem on a man who died after having sex with a horse. After reading a full review today, I am relieved to hear it's not like that at all. (Though it just goes to show you how quickly opinions are formed based on the movie's premise alone.) The movie's actual approach, as reported by Salon writer Andrew O'Hehir, had a far less salacious slant:

As Mudede [Devor's co-writer] said in a discussion after the film's Sundance premiere, "Zoo" morphed into a kind of thought experiment: "If someone can go there physically -- be there under that horse," he said, "then I should be able to go there mentally."

I'm not really surprised this movie has stirred up moral outrage and criticism from people who have not seen it; their opinions based, as O'Hehir put it, "on willful ignorance and incomprehension." Willful ignorance. The fear of knowledge. Wow. Being a person so consumed with the desire to know everything about everything, this concept is on the outer edge of my understanding. Isn't knowledge power? Even if you don't agree, how could you not want to know? What are you so afraid of?

I found myself asking similar questions this morning while reading performance artist Mike Daisey's account of his phone conversation with the man who destroyed his art in the middle of his performance (the full story and video can be found on his website). What struck me about Mike's conversation with both the school administrator and the man who defaced his work, is the language they used to describe how they felt in the situation:

She insisted it was a "safety issue", and that "we had to get our students out of there." There was no discussion of language or appropriateness--it had become a safety issue, as though the students were in danger of being physically assaulted. I think it is tremendously chilling that the language of the war on terror, the language of security, has been appropriated for even this--we can't even begin a dialogue about what is and is not appropriate, because it has all become a "safety" issue.

A safety issue? Seriously? Well, Mark was talking about sex with Paris Hilton right before they walked out--I could see the act of having sex with Paris being a "safety issue," but just talking about it? She can't be that contagious--can she?

I think the real root of the fear isn't the words themselves but the people who are so afraid of them. They aren't afraid of words, they are afraid of themselves. They are afraid they will hear these words--let these ideas enter their bodies--and they won't be able to control themselves. The ideas will inspire the darkness in them and they will have to give in to temptation. To have sex with horses. And Paris Hilton. I can understand where the terror comes from. That is a very scary fate indeed.

Are we really that weak? Do we really have to act on every dark thought that crosses through our minds? Maybe, if we are a person who spends all of our energy battling those impulses. If we believe deep down that we are bad people and need an external, holy Other to protect us from ourselves. Now I'm not about to launch in on a diatribe against Christianity (I'm specifically thinking of the most fundamentalist, fire-and-brimstone versions), but it's hard for me not to see links between the view of "inherent sin" and the fear of knowledge.

In the end "willful ignorance" sounds a lot more dangerous to me than watching movies about bestiality or talking about what it's like to have sex with Paris Hilton--no matter how icky the resulting visual images might get.

Etch-a-Sketchtastic!

Thank God I decided not to liveblog the America Gives Back! episode of AI. All I can say is making a poor African kid cry by repeatedly reminding him that his parents are dead does not pull at my heart strings (though the strings rolling my eyes back are working just fine). Check out Idolatorif you want the full minute-by-minute play-by-play.
I have decided to devote my evening to much more productive (and crafty!) endeavors. My roommate Jenny's birthday is tomorrow(!) and while racking my brain for a decent gift idea for her in the toy aisle of Stop & Shop yesterday (I was so stuck for an idea that I actually bought a pizza cutter as a back up gift--don't judge me) when I remembered a nifty-sounding Photojojo post (tip 'o the hat to Lifehacker feeding me the link) about turning an Etch-a-Sketch into a photo frame.


I read over the directions and it seemed simple enough: just a little Photoshopping, printing, and gluing and ta-da! a funky cool frame. Sounds easy enough, but was it?

To increase the drama: If I screwed it up, she was going to be getting that pizza cutter; I have virtually zero experience with Photoshop(criminal, I know); and the only access to the program I have is at work, so I had to pull it off as quickly and sneakily as possible.

So how did I do? First, the materials:

1. One large iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts (critical for my productivity)
2. A pack of Post-It stickable photo paper (at a whopping $15 per package, I'd recommend just using regular photo paper--the stickablity was not crucial to the execution)
3. One adorable photo of the old roommates all dressed up
4. One Etch-a-Sketch
5. One back of a photo frame (for propping up the Etch-a-Sketch)
6. Guerrilla er, Gorilla Glue (for sticking it all together--not for staging a coup)



Seeing as my only previous Photoshop experience resulted in the following exchange with my tech support (thanks Kev!), I was a wee bit skeptical about my ability to pull this off:

me: now how do i drop it in to the other layer? this is driving me crazy
Kevin: press v
me: i can manage to do something once but then when i try to do it again it doesnt
Kevin: (you'll have the move tool) make sure it's unlocked and then drag it
me: omg
Kevin: haha
me:MOTHOASDTHJASFKLAFWDS
Kevin: what's happening, yo? calm calm

I can't pretend my Photoshop work this morning wasn't without its fumbling 'where is the damn paint bucket?' moments--but at least this time the experience was key mashing free. It also took about 15 minutes, and that included trying out the effect on two different photos to see which one looked better. See for yourselves:

After that, it was all a matter of cutting, sticking, dismembering a photo frame and gluing. And the end result? Pretty damn cool, if I do say so myself:

And the final verdict? An 'Aww! That is so COOL!'

Ah, the sweet taste of victory; now to go cut some pizza to celebrate.

For those too lazy to scroll back up to the original link to get the instructions, you can find the link down here too--you lazy bum!

Cuh-Cuh-Cuh-Cold Hearted

A giant gold star of the evening goes to the folks over at My Old Kentucky Blog for posting Paula Abdul's Cold Hearted Snake. That was one of the very first tapes I ever owned--total contraband at my small Christian elementary school where DC Talk and Amy Grant ruled the airwaves. I remember watching the music video for this track and thinking, "I think I might be too young to know what sexy means, but damn, this video is hot!" Let's all take that steamy trip down memory lane...



You know what's not hot? Inspirational music. Boo urns to American Idol: the only thing your inspirational show inspired me to do is put the tv on mute. But if the Celien Dion dueting with Dead Elvis rumor proves true for tomorrow night... well, my brain might just explode. There are just too many levels of poor taste and torture going on there--live blogging might be in order. Though mostly I'd probably be sending out strings of OMG!!WTF!@#@#!@@. Maybe not the best way to establish myself as a serious, professional blogger.

Your Daily Diversion: Good Reads

Sunday night I sat down at my computer with a glass of wine, ready to book a flight to Atlanta (Bonnaroooooo!) when my attention was diverted by an invitation to Good Reads. Plain and simple, Good Reads is a social network created around books. You rate every book you ever read, make friends, see how they rated books, and write reviews. Being the book (and organizational) junkie that I am, I was all about it. This site fit perfectly into my ultimate cultural data tracking fantasy (oh yes, nothing is hotter than a data-based fantasy--ohhh pun!).

In my dream world there will be one MEGA social network where everything we experience: books, tv, movies, the internets, concerts, etc. will be rated and classified and recorded in our profiles. Which can then be compared to the other members of the network, what is everyone else doing, watching, consuming? It's a marketer's wet dream. Which makes me think my fantasy might actually be a little evil. The reasons it appeals to me are because A) we have too many unrelated social networks as is B) I want to keep track of everything I've ever experienced. Every movie, every book, everything that doesn't have room in my long term memory, I could now dump into the collective unconscious of the internet. I don't have to rely on my brain to remember how I felt about my first concert (Alanis Morrisette), it would be right there for me in breathless 12-year-old detail.

So what's the downside? The elimination of privacy. Our thoughts, feelings, preferences could be used to manipulate us into consuming. Or even more frightening (although perhaps far-fetched), the heightened awareness of other people's preferences manipulates our own preferences. The most popular things are popular for a reason, right? There would be no more free will. The dinosaurs would die. What am I forgetting?

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this issue. Oh, and sign up on Good Reads and be my friend!

Welcome to Diverted Motion!

I'm excited to introduce Diverted Motion, the newest member of the Deliberate Motion and Frivolous Motion family. Written by DelMo member Bailey Triggs (c'est moi), Diverted Motion is a blog about life's diversions: music, books, tv, movies, other blogs... whatever turns my head.

Because that's what's important: the turning of the head. Realizing that life isn't found between points A and B. It's when you wander off the map to pick flowers and meet the big bad wolf--who has this super duper underground band that's costumes are based on this crazy 80s Chuck E. Cheese training video, which reminds you of your fifth birthday when the mechanical singing rats made you cry, which has forever shaped your opinion of animatronic singing animals. (The verdict: Billy the Big Mouth Bass is pure evil.) And so it goes. You wander deeper into the woods, picking as many flowers and your hands can hold. You pluck them from the ground, admire them and classify them, pull them apart and use the petals as confetti. You rate, judge, synthesize, synesthesize, taking 'the you' with you and leaving the rest in your wake.

Earlier this month, the ignored performance of violin virtuoso Joshua Bell in L'Enfant Plaza, as orchestrated by The Washington Post, turned many heads (and blog posts) to the blinders many of us wear as we go about our days. Sure I could say I would have stopped to check him out. I would have walked by--emopoppunk (a not-so-guilty guilty pleasure of mine) blasting through my ipod--turned, looked, thought 'who's this hottie?', flashed him a wink and gone on my way.

But that's me. And if you'll stick around, you'll learn a lot more about me and my diversions. And maybe, just maybe, one day everyone will know my name!

Thanks for stopping by. And don't be a stranger: comments, ideas, love letters, and fan fiction are all very welcome.