Viewer Fatigue

During fall quarter of my freshman year in college, I watched the soap opera, All My Children, with my friends at my dorm. Yeah, I really did. In a later quarter, I grew to resent the intrusion of an econ class that kept me from watching TV at noon. How dare the school schedule classes that cut into my soap opera viewing!

Many years later, I find myself resenting TV for cutting into my life. How ironic for a person who usually spent her downtime in front of the tube.

Though I watched and enjoyed the two-hour season finale of Agents of Shield last week, I felt relieved that I wouldn’t have to watch it this week. I had spent the season having to play catch-up when a friend and I got together other every Tuesday—the night Agents appeared on TV. With that relief came another realization: I’m a bit weary of the continuing storylines of many TV dramas.

Remember the days when TV episodes were more self-contained—a different problem or villain each week? You could elect to skip a show one week and not feel that you had to catch up on the episode you missed. Nowadays, with continuing storylines or multiple-episode arcs featuring a slow reveal of key information, if you miss a show, you’re lost the next week. You have to keep watching to get the whole picture. I watched shows like Battlestar Galactica and Babylon 5 with strong arcs that meant you had to watch the episodes in order.

For those in charge of television programming, this is a good strategy for keeping viewers engaged. Obviously, this strategy of linking episodes worked for soap operas for so many decades.

Over the years and even recently, friends and family highly recommended shows like Daredevil, Game of Thrones, Arrow, The Walking Dead, The Flash, Downton Abbey, Scandal, and many other critically acclaimed, entertaining shows that I have yet to watch though they have huge fan bases. Believe me, I’m not doubting the quality of these shows or anyone’s right to watch them. It’s just that now I’m tired of tuning in.

 

I need a viewer vacation this summer. If I watch anything, it has to be a one-shot deal—something that begins, then ends with no messy arcs to follow.

I might binge on Downton Abbey, Flash, and Arrow at some point in life. (Thank you, Netflix!) But for now, I’m reluctant to invest more weekly time in someone else’s televised world, especially if I neglect my own fictional world.

In the coming days, I’ll work on my book. When I take a break from that, I’ll seek inspiration from reading or hanging out with people or walking in nature. I desperately need to fill my senses with the sights of the great outdoors.

Today (Monday), I’m having lunch with a friend and dinner with another group of friends. On Tuesday, I’ll probably hang out with another friend. I’m not sure what the rest of the week will look like. But I plan to take this advice.

What about you? How do you feel about shows with continuing storylines? Love them? Deplore them? Feel comforted by them?

Television from sewarental.wordpress.com. All My Children logo from blog.chron.com. The Flash logo from lyricis.fr. Scandal logo from abcallaccess.com. Agents of Shield logo hihimag.com. Daredevil logo flickeringmyth.com. Think logo from irregulartimes.com.

Post 200: “I Fly Blind”

As I considered the 200-post benchmark for this blog and writing in general, I was inspired by the process of J. Michael Straczynski, creator and head writer of Babylon 5—arguably one of the best science fiction shows ever televised here in the States. It aired from 1993—1998. Note the key words one of. Many people have differing opinions about which shows belong in the top ten list of all time best. But some polls list the Hugo-award winning Babylon 5 at least in the top 10 or 25. It was “conceived as, fundamentally, a five-year story, a novel for television” (Wikipedia). This year, I started watching the show for the first time ever, thanks to Netflix. (Yes, I’m late to the party.) I just finished the third season.

Out of 110 episodes in the show’s run, Straczynski wrote an unprecedented 92! I’ve mentioned before on this blog that I love to watch the behind-the-scenes documentaries of TV shows and movies. I especially love listening to commentaries where a show’s creator dishes on how everything was done. Joe Straczynski is particularly forthcoming about Babylon 5. He doesn’t shy away from spoilers, so be warned if you’re planning to listen to his commentaries as you watch key episodes.

If you’re squirming right now because you’re not a fan of science fiction, let me reassure you: you don’t have to have a built-in appreciation for science fiction in order to learn something from this guy. In a commentary for one of the most anticipated episodes in the show’s five-year run—Z’ha’dum from season 3 (sorry; I can’t explain why it’s key without giving spoilers)—Straczynski provides a master class on writing. All of the quotes below have been transcribed from that commentary. First, he talks about his methodology:

The way I wrote this show is to put my cards out on the table every season. I told you, “Here’s what’s going to happen, but you won’t know how it’s going to happen, or why it’s going to happen, or what it’s going to mean.” And that to me is a great portion of the fun.

So, an author is the ultimate sleight-of-hand artist. But you knew that, didn’t you? It takes skill to tell a reader what’s going to happen, and yet surprise him or her with the how. This is why foreshadowing is an author’s best friend. In a sense, you’re hinting to a reader what’s going to happen, but not telling him or her how. Yet in visual media like Babylon 5, foreshadowing has to be shown through key images. This builds anticipation. But as Straczynski alluded to, you might know what’s coming, but you don’t know how or why. And that keeps you watching.

Straczynski then moved on to a discussion of plots and outlines. This quote really resonated with me:

Plots almost don’t matter. Effects don’t matter. Wardrobe doesn’t matter. Technology doesn’t matter. What matters is what William Faulkner called the human heart in conflict with itself.

Since stories are about people, a character’s emotional arc matters. As Straczynski has mentioned in other commentaries, viewers need to have a connection to the characters and their desires. A story resonates with us on an emotional level if we can relate to what the characters want and the forces that keep the characters from attaining their desires. What Babylon 5 does brilliantly is showcase characters who gain what they want and deeply regret that they did. We can all identify with that.

Straczynski followed up that discussion with a quote that warmed my pantser heart:

I don’t write from outlines. After the end of the first season, Warner [Brothers Domestic Television] stopped asking me for outlines. . . . I sit down with a script, get into the scene, and say, “Where do I want to go with this?” And I listen to the characters and write down what they say. I fly blind. I know where I want to go in general with this story, and what the benchmarks are per episode, but whenever there’s a character like [name cut due to spoiler] talking right now, whatever [this person] says is a surprise to me while I write it as it is to you to hear for the first time.

Please don’t come away with the mistaken notion that Straczynski is against outlining. As he mentioned in this commentary and others for the show, he had a five-year plan for the show. So he started off with an outline. He stopped having to write them for the episodes, because he already knew where he wanted to go with the show and each character’s arc.

“I fly blind.” That’s an apt description of me as I write each post for this blog. 🙂 I’m not like J. Michael Straczynski: a writer with a five-year plan. I simply wanted to write about what interests me—what I love. But as a novelist, my process is evolving. For my latest novel, I wrote an outline years ago. As I completed the draft of the novel, I had to throw out parts of the outline, and essentially fly blind as I listened to the characters and learned more about them. But you know what? I ended up in the exact place where I’d planned to end up.

So, to wrap this up in a neat little bow, my plan for the blog is to keep doing what I’ve been doing: writing what interests me and interviewing people who write about what interests them. Thanks for coming along with me on the journey.

Babylon 5 logo image from bolumrehberi.com. Joe Straczynski photo from zimbio.com.

More Valuable?

I don’t know about you, but when I was a kid, all you needed to do to make my day was to hand me an inflated balloon. Didn’t matter what color. Just hand me one and I’d be happy. And when it would pop, as inevitably it would since I was the kind of kid who quickly popped balloons or broke things because of my less-than-gentle grasp, I would be devastated. But for those moments of having that balloon, all was right with the world.

What is it about a balloon that brings such joy? The fact that they float? Their roundness when inflated? I dunno, but I’m done trying to analyze the appeal. Let’s just leave chalk them up to fun, okay?

While pondering the issue with balloons, I couldn’t help segueing to the issue of humor in a story. I’ve pondered this issue many times, because I’ve had conversations about the subject over the years. These conversations raised the following questions: Are serious stories more valuable than humorous stories? Is the entertainment factor of a humorous story equal to that of the entertainment value of a balloon—here today and probably popped tomorrow? In other words, not long lasting?

By now, you might be calling for my head for daring to equate humorous writing with balloons. Rest assured—that is not my assessment. As I mentioned in the previous paragraph, I’ve been thinking about the subject. Part of the reason for my pondering comes from conversations in which I’ve heard unfavorable comparisons made between humorous writing and writing of a more serious nature with humor writing deemed as the lower life form. I’ve also been told that you’re not a “real” writer unless you write War and Peace, Antigone, or something else of a serious nature.

               

I’ve heard similar thoughts uttered about graphic novels and picture books—basically that their brevity of text and higher ratio of pictures (the nature of both types of books) make them entertaining but not as valuable as, say, Ulysses.

I think we all know that such comments are subjective, rather than constructive. Anyone who has ever written a graphic novel or a picture book knows how difficult it is to write a good one. Because of the marriage of text and images, every word has to be chosen carefully.

Same with humor. Don’t believe me? Then read something by Dave Barry, David Sedaris, or Tina Fey.

              

The funny thing is (and yes that pun was intended) humor is sometimes discounted, because the value of laughter is discounted. But you have only to Google laughter is good medicine to find many videos on the medicinal value of laughter.

I’ve had bouts of depression over the years. At those times, I often turned to books written by this guy:

Sir Terence David John Pratchett or Terry Pratchett

At those times, books with a somber tone would have gone over like the proverbial lead balloon. Even when the cloud lifted, I turned to Terry’s books. Many have a gorgeous combination of humor and pathos—not an easy combination to get right.

Don’t get me wrong. I love a good tragedy. Macbeth is one of my favorites. And I’m totally loving Babylon 5, a series created by J. Michael Straczynski that I somehow missed in the 90s and can now see, thanks to Netflix. It has a wonderful combination of humor and agonizing tragedy. Season 2 is heartbreaking!

          

I’m reminded of this passage from Ecclesiastes:

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: . . . a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh. Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4

Sometimes a heartbreaking story or angsty poetry “speaks” to me. Other times, a laugh-out-loud-funny book is just what I need. So I can’t value one over the other, because they both meet a need at a particular time.

Getting back to the balloon, there’s a time for them too. While recovering from an illness or surgery over the years, nothing heartened me more than a cheerful balloon floating above my bed. There are some things, you never let go of. Balloons are one of those joys I never outgrew.

If you like John Cleese, click here for a great video on laughter. (And no, it’s not a Monty Python video. Sorry.)

Balloons from happypartyidea.com. Terry Pratchett photo from Wikipedia. Book covers from Goodreads. Babylon 5 image from brainstomping.wordpress.com.