Epsiode 5: Not funny like last week

(Prelude)Ah, the innocent me that wrote the caplet. Rewatching the show made me realize that actually I hated this episode a little. I apologize, in advance, for going Woody Allen on you. This isn't one of my earlier, funny movies.

So, I'm sitting upstairs writing my novel this afternoon when I realize that I've forgotten to actually DO the recap this week. So I think to myself, I think, "Well, self, you should probably do that. I mean, sure nobody is watching the show, and sure nobody is reading your recaps because the first one was so toxic and hateful that it made the baby Jesus cry, and nobody on the show is even talking to you now, let alone reading, but you have an obligation to finish the things you start." So I went downstairs, and Gayleen and I imported the show from VHS to digital. It's sort of easier to work with it that way, stopping and starting as I need to, and taking the time to ruminate and meander. It's a whole process, really, and after the last week, I think I'm starting to actually get it.

Now, sitting here and getting down to it, I find myself thinking about that whole responsibility to finish what I start. I think that my decision to take the attitude is what made the difference between my just being a guy with lots of ideas and half-finished books to being a guy who finishes shit. These days I don't start a project without that promise.

My first novel, which still has no name I'm happy with, but which I'm calling Now England Sees, was worth that effort. So too, were my two three day novels. I did, however, write a whole 85,000 word novel last year that is, if I'm honest, just not any good at all. I knew it wasn't working. I hit the halfway point, and I kept on plunging through. For all kinds of reasons, it's not something I'll be going back to revise.

I don't regret it.

I learned some things about the ways in which I can do well and do poorly from the experience, and I'm not so sure I'd have learned that lesson if I'd aborted.

And now, even though I'm five episodes in, and still not at all certain if this was a success or a failure, I will finish what I start, dammit.

I did receive a letter to Penthouse by the way, as per last week's contest. Unfortunately, the letter is from a spambot offering excellent prices on prescription medication. So, I think that their primary goal was not to gratify me sexually. I admit to being mildly disappointed by that.

Still, on with the show.

We start with the last week in review. The Parasite lauds Marty for using his 300 dollars to buy the other writer's books. There is a tone in his voice that makes him sound like he's actually being a sarcastic cunt about the whole thing. Not for the first time, I find myself wanting to fight him. He also reminds us that Jennifer cleans in a fancy dress and that Rebecca slept in a tent.

He further reminds us that the new judge, Melissa is no pushover, and that she was not looking for letters to Penthouse. I was. I really was, and you people let me DOWN.

Which reminds me. I have another co-capper this week. It's my great pleasure to introduce you all to George Lucas.

George: It's my pleasure to be here.

George, you're responsible for three of the most culturally important films of our times, Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back, and American Graffiti. You're also responsible for Return of the Jedi, and the Prequel trilogy. And Willow.

George: Um...

So, I've asked you here today for two reasons. First, because you know more than anyone the ways in which a creative person can have a runaway success, and then show again and again that they have nothing else to say. Secondly, I want to have you here with me, in this closed room to provide both rewards and punishments for the period of about half an hour.

George: Should this door be locked?

Yes. So we're into the credits again, and I find myself thinking of the opening scrolls we had in the prequel trilogy. Did you actually think they compared to the ones from the first two films?

George: Why is my cell phone not getting any bars?

Have you seen the movie Saw? Anyway…

Sunday afternoon is nigh, and the writers are sharing their word counts, which vary wildly. Marty bravely says, "Page count, who cares about page count?" He does. I'm fairly sure they all do. Rebecca and Paul seem to be experiencing some setbacks. Paul says the scene he's working on feels as if he's been writing it since his eighteenth birthday.

Actually, that's not so uncommon. Sometimes an artist's most vital creative work can be his early work, the work he's spent a life time preparing for. For example, in your case, George. Star Wars was such a fresh thing when it first came out. It owed a lot to the science fiction films of your youth but brought a kind of life and energy that had been long absent. Empire, the sequel, was a slightly deeper take, and much assisted by the fact that the actual screenplay was written by other parties based on your ideas. To many it's the perfect fusion of your imagination and something that is actually good. When it came time to make Episode 1: Attack of the Clones, whatever made you think your ideas were any good, and that you should write the screenplay?

George: You know, I don't understand why so many of you take this so personally…(breaks into incoherent screams as I taser him in the genitals)

Wrong answer.

Jennifer also hoped to be further along. Matthew is plugging along well, and Marty seems confident, as does Nancy. Rebecca, like Pollyanna, is determined to remain optimistic, no matter what may come to pass.

Marty explains to us that the first day was easy because it was Friday, and he write furiously from midnight to 1:30 and passed out, and that Saturday he got into a good rhythm. Rebecca feels as though she did well on Saturday but is running out of things to say. Jennifer experienced writer's block for the first time on late Saturday night. That's rough.

Nancy talks about how the beginning is an exciting time when writing a novel, and that when you get to the end, you are in that home stretch, and the goal is in sight. It's the middle that's hard, and that's where she is.

George, let me help you up. Don't worry. I won't zap you again as long as you act right. Let me ask you something. What was the reason you went back to the original trilogy and did the digital special editions?

George: I…I had visions of how I wanted it to be originally (sobs) and the effects weren't there…and…

I see. Did it occur to you that people loved what you'd done, and that by messing around with it you were soiling it and making it dirty?

George: No.

Well, at least that's honest.

The Parasite says, in a nonsensical response that apparently a novel can't be reduced to a page count, word count, beginning middle, and end.

Of course, that's just what the last segment showed. It can be. Novels are built that way, through the slow accumulation of pages over time. It's work, just like building a house, or slowly torturing a film director who took your childhood mythology and showed you that it was just product. Product like nylon hose, or anti-perspirant. Once you know that, you can't un-know it, and it forever changes how you take in art, and how you produce it.

There's a lot of talk about this person or that person who remakes a movie or revamps a TV show "raping my childhood". This notion that the past is this perfect place, and we should leave it alone. I don't agree. I think artists revisit their own work, and the work of others. Sometimes a remake is brilliant. The Fly (1956) is perfect the way it is, but The Fly (1986) is also a perfect little thing, both of them the unique child of unique parents.

But I can never lose sight of the fact that the things we write and watch are released, primarily, by corporations, and to these corporations they may as well be machine parts. They can be graded and taken apart and reassembled in new ways to make them more commercial, or to wring out that extra dime.

So, you see, I'm finding myself a little distressed at getting what I wanted here. If you'll recall, I wanted more talk on the process of writing, and what the writers were going through. On the other hand, I wanted more talk about the books itself, the characters that live there, the actual art of it. Instead we're focusing on them as nothing more than a word count, a page count, a beginning, middle, and end. And they can be reduced to that.

Of course, they're more than that too, if they work. I'd like to see some of that. But what can you do in twenty two minutes?

Increasingly, I'm aware these episodes were chopped nearly in half. They're product. Time filling Canadian content product, released only to get the CRTC off their backs because they were smacked for not releasing enough Canadian content, and hey don't we have a whole fucking show in the can?

George: Wow, that is pretty shitty. I mean, okay, I'll admit, maybe I was motivated by profit when I made the Special Editions, but at least I actually care about the movies. Star Wars is kind of my thing, you know. It's what I have.

Yeah. And it is YOURS. Which makes it a shame that you basically fucked it all up and have released edition after edition solely to suck money out of the fans who love it. But at least you've been adding more to it, not cutting it to ribbons. Here, have a cookie. The people responsible for this edit have no connection to the production except they own it. Like you'd own a pair of shoes.

George: That's just wrong.

It is. Gayleen is talking about how writing is a lot like voyeurism, when it works. It's as though everything is just going on, and if she can manage to tap into it and watch it and describe it that's the goal state.

See, that's the artistic process described with a modicum of passion. Good for her. I mean, naturally, my first instinct is to pillory her and talk about voyeurism, but who am I kidding? This is a reality show. Voyeurism is the name of the game. Readers are all voyeurs.

Joe tells us that yesterday she was just sort of banging away, but a night's sleep and the new day have brought a sense of creativity and humour to it.

Jennifer likes where her novel is going, and that it has taken a bit of a twist. Matthew is enjoying the writing and actually wanting to get it done, though he is feeling the panic of the clock.

Naturally, just as the writers begin to discuss their actual feelings about their work, we are transitioned to the cold artifice of product again, and taken to a new challenge. I remember this challenge. At least it was fun.

It's a spelling bee. They are broken into four teams by row. Look at Gayleen apologize to her teammates. the rules are simple. Spell a word wrong and you're out. The first team eliminated are the losers. The last person in the contest wins for the whole team.

Rachel asks Melissa why it matters of we can spell anymore. Lord. Melissa explains that spell-check isn't perfect. That's true. For example, a lot of misspellings are not picked up because they, themselves, are perfectly acceptable words. Also they don't help to catch the use of the wrong "their", "they're, or "there" for example. So that's true enough. And how about this, I would add, you people are fucking writers. Words are your passion. I mean, I'm sloppy as hell with my punctuation and it pisses me off, especially when I'm writing in haste and not revising as much as I should be. I misuse commas the way alcoholics drink. I know this, I'm not proud of it. I feel shame. When I see writers, supposedly professional writers, say things like "Spelling doesn't matter" I want to shock them in the genitals. Like this.

George: (screams)

Midichlorians. Fuck you.

Anyway, Melissa rightly points out that an understanding of spelling reveals an understanding of the origins of words and the fine delineations of meaning they can hold. I've long said that there are really precious few synonyms in English. Damp and moist, for example, are technically synonyms. But they aren't.

She also says that writers need to read, and a lot of them don't bother. This is also true, but I fail to see the connection. I will forgive it, though, as she is well-spoken and rational, and does not dress like a cartoon character.

The losers, we find, will be forced to man the barbecues for the cook out. The winners will get to spend an hour seeing something pretty, far away from the store. Something, I presume, that will add visual variety to the show while providing no material benefit to the winner at all. Typical. WInning is not a thing to be desired. All these people want is to get back to their goddamned books. They get to spend this time with Timothy, who won the show the year before (or four years ago, but who's counting), and he will provide some critique. I would posit critique is not valuable at this point. It can only distract from production and undermine morale.

Jesus.

Gayleen is up first, protesting she's been good. Her word is zephyr. Bitch better be able to spell zephyr. Fuck. And she does. Marty's word is insouciant. He asks for a definition, and then spells it. Lorna misspells gibbous, somehow, and Gayleen loses her first teammate. Matthew is eliminated on cephalalgia, and I might have lost on that one too, so I will refrain from mockery. Tracy is eliminated with the word amanuensis. Now, she didn't even come close, and Gayleen is on her own. But I'd like to point out that the fucking people doing the fucking show have spelled the word wrong on the screen. They have spelled it "amaneunsis". What the fuck? I mean, honestly. Look up the fucking word you assclowns, seriously!

There is some show biz editing here, and rightly so, as the contest went on a bit.

Gordon misspells etymology very, very badly. He makes up for it by spelling "walking off' entirely correctly, to the laughter of all.

Jennifer spells bibliophile, and Marty spells ascetic.

Rebecca misspells phalanx, and is the last person on her team to go. She, Matthew, and Gordon are the chefs of the day. So the punishment has been decided. The punishment for winning remains.

James spells kaleidoscope, his first actual spoken part in this episode. A note here that the sound in this challenge has an odd echo, and I'm not sure why. Anyway, here's James, ladies. And he's MARRIED.

Nancy spells monozygotic. There's a joke here, I'm sure. I'll probably come up with it tonight as I lay in bed and think of her. For now, I'm stumped.

Gayleen spells bureaucratic, typing on an invisible keyboard as she does it. That word is my frigging Waterloo. My chances there would have been fifty-fifty at best. So far, cephalalgia and bureaucratic are the only two words that would have challenged me. Notice here that Gayleen is now entirely on her own against two entirely intact teams.

Paul is eliminated by clurichaun, because he is not enough of a geek. Joe is eliminated by bivouac, and Jennifer by gnosticism.

Marty surrenders on the word formaldehyde, spelling "MICKEY MOUSE". I suspect he knew how to spell the word, but didn't want to win. That's what I think. I think he was voting with his funny.

Our final three are Gayleen, Nancy, and James. Gayleen spells sanguine. James spells gemellology. I would have totally fucked that one. James, you are officially better than me. The key is in realizing that gemellology is the study of twins. I would have assumed they meant gemology. Nancy spells Aurora Borealis, which is a giant step back in complexity, in my book. Also, it's two words. Whatever. Gayleen spells thaumaturgical. Seeing as her book is about magic, she'd better know that word.

James loses out on glossolalia, a word I'd have gotten, but only because it's a phenomenon I am fascinated by. Nancy is taken out by logorrhea.

I fucking embody that word.

So Gayleen wins it for her team. This is funny, as she was so whiny about it. Rachel refers to her as a hustler. I love this. Gayleen claims she honestly thought she could not spell. She may be sincere but if she is it's only because people never seem to get what they are good at.

The Parasite says that, after the break, the winning team will take their trip, but one writer isn't going anywhere. He makes that sound as though there is something naughty about to transpire. There isn't.

So, we're at a commercial break now, and George has curled into the fetal position here. I'm inclined to leave him that way. I feel a little bad for what I've subjected him to. I mean, Star Wars is his work. I suppose he's entitled to do with it what he will. Nobody is making us watch the special editions or the prequels. People do that because they're invested. That's not his fault, I suppose.

It's not like, for example, twelve people devoted an enormous amount of energy to it with the promise that they would receive the attendant publicity and exposure inherent in the show, only to find out that they network intended to just let it sit on a shelf for two full years until a legal tangle with the CRTC forced them to air it.

Sigh. I know. I know I should let this go. I know I should just be happy they're airing the show at all. I should try to appreciate it for what it is. I'm just so damned disappointed. This was supposed to be seven hours. I find myself thinking of the last episode. It was filmed live, with a studio audience. I don't know how they will cut that to half the running time, but I bet they'll do it by just not showing everyone's reviews.

That is so unfair it makes me want to scream. They all worked so bloody hard. The production staff, too, and now it's all in the hands of these strangers. Strangers who don't seem to get it.

Strangers who can't spell amanuensis, and probably don't think it's important. Tate would have cared. Tate would have looked it up.

So, George, I forgive you. You went back to your well one time too many, and you messed up your own work, but at least you pissed in your own sandbox. You're free to go.

George: Really?

Yes. The door's open. Be free.

George: (sound of scampering, and then the joyous scream of a man breathing air as a free man again, when he never expected to)

That's nice. I hope it inspires him.

We're back from the commercial. The Parasite says, "Before the break, Gayleen and her team of Lorna and Tracy won the spelling bee challenge". Ha! Those girls were each eliminated on their first words. Gayleen won that contest solo. Her team is totally reaping the "reward" by her sufferance.

Gayleen, "feeling the pressure to produce more pages", by which we mean, not being an utter fucking fool, and wanting to get back to the task at hand, gives her prize to Joe.

That was actually sweet. Joe was well ahead of schedule, and bemoaning the fact that all she'd seen of the city was the bookstore. So, this way she got to see some of the pretty parts of town.

They head out on the Radio Railway, to cross the High Level Bridge. it is a very nice trip. Timothy gives some pointers.

Joe mentions that she thinks Edmonton is pretty and that Timothy's advice is invaluable.

A word on Timothy here. I like Timothy. In this segment he is the most diplomatic man in the world. I am in awe of his performance.

He explains that Joe's book is very ambitious, both in scope and message. Joe had a feeling that she was a bit too distanced from the action in the beginning of the book, and he confirms that she is not revealing enough of the story through her characters. This is probably dead on good advice, and certainly Joe feels so. Timothy expresses his doubts that three days is enough time to fully deal with the concepts of her book.

He says that Tracy is an intuitive writer, just starting to second guess herself. He hopes she'll ditch some stuff that's distracting from the story. Tracy is being polite, but doesn't seem to think TImothy was helpful. She's a little, I'm sorry, snotty here, saying he's given her a good idea what to expect in the Alberta publishing world. Her tone indicates, in my opinion that she has a pretty low opinion of that world. I don't think I'd want to come off that way on a TV show, if it were me.

Lorna seems to have appreciated the fresh air, and the fresh eyes on the manuscript. Timothy says she is having some structural problems. Lorna is having consistency issues with the male voice, and she seems to have taken his advice to heart. He feels the second half of the book may be her chance to shine, which is usually not the way it goes in the 3 day where people tend to start strong and fall apart.

And we're back to commercials again. Do we have an extra break this time out? That seemed very short. Huh. Inconsistency.

Back from the break, Matthew is announcing the Barbeque is ready.

It's at this point that I realize two things. They've cut a whole challenge wherein the contestants reenact or perform scenes from past winners' books. Also they've cut out the visit from Lucha Libro, the book wrestler.

I am not particularly sorry about either of these things going missing, actually, but they were both. I'm told, funny.

This maniac in a Mexican wrestling mask, who called himself Lucha Libro attacked Gayleen with a Gabriel Gracia Marquez book and informed the children of the world that reading would make them mighty. I missed his appearance, oddly. I have no idea why. I was there all weekend. In fact, I'd only just excused myself a few minutes earlier. After he left, I returned, slightly dishevelled and out of breath, and was informed he'd already vanished. Huh. Just my luck. Anyway, not having seen this happen, and having no personal connection to the event whatsoever, I can't much mourn that it was cut. I'm told, however, that it was awesome.

The performance challenge, which was not that much fun to watch, did lead to the infamous incident in which James hung a stuffed dog from a noose. In the children's section. This incident was a highlight of the weekend for the participants. I can attest to the great humour and merriment that arose from that.

Gordon, who really resented the job of grill cook, is being snarky. A customer asks if he thinks he'll finish in time. He says that he will not. I think he really believed this. Also, he is sitting much to close to the hot grill for a guy who has partial feeling, at best, in his legs.

By Sunday night Gordon is at 15000, and Gayleen is at 16000. Matthew is at 13500. Jennifer is at 10500, but reminds us she is editing as she goes, which will save time in the long run. I am less certain this is true.

Marty says "Don't ask me about frigging word count." Joe says she hasn't done a word count but is at 73 pages. Lorna is at 45, and Nancy is at 50 pages. Paul is at 13,000 words.

Rebecca says she's not very far along, and that it's not a book at all it's just a really long paragraph. Rebecca is funny. I hope she knows this.

At this point, I want another challenge, because this is all sports scores now. And we DID THIS PART already. At the beginning. Ask them ABOUT THE BOOK!

Oh look, the camera guy is actually doing that. He asks Jennifer if she's happy with the quality of the book. I mean, its not a specific question but it beats the hell out of asking her again if she's beat the spread. She says she is.

Gordon, happily, says that his characters are surprising him. Tracy says the pressure is bringing out new angles and new characters. Nancy is saying it's difficult to judge quality because you're not doing a lot of re-reading. I must say i totally get that. Both times I did this contest, I had NO idea whatsoever if my books were good, bad, or nonsense. When Silver Bullets shortlisted, I was honestly surprised. I still don't know if my book this year is better or worse than last years. I think I like it better, though I've no earthly idea why. I think that those books become so intense and personal that you're maybe better off relying on other people to answer the question of quality.

Nancy looks like hell here, and no wonder as she was, at this point, suffering from a nasty toothache. So, if you're wondering where her chipper went, that's your answer. Gayleen provided her with top-notch painkillers, but it didn't help much.

Lorna feels that she started strong but is wavering off. Paul feels that he now can see the sequence of scenes that will take him to the end of the book. Marty is in view of his climax and anticipating Monday will be a straight print to the finish.

Matthew is feeling his deadline. Rebecca and Gayleen both seem pleasantly surprised with the quality of things.

Just before midnight, Joe finishes her book. That is insane. I still do not know how she did that. She and I are very different writers. Her plan appears to be, and she talks about this once the applause dies down, that she has the beginning middle and end in place and can spend Monday fleshing it out and making it better. That is surely a way to do it, and I hope they talk to her about it some in the next episode because that is so different from how I'd do it that it's fascinating.

I'm not hopeful. My prediction, and I'd love to be wrong, is that they will do a lot more sport scores, one of the dreadful challenges with Todd Babiak, and a lot of hugging and goodbyes.

Joe asks where the champagne is.

France, baby. Canadian TV can't afford champagne.

Instead of talking about the stories, the crew asks how people are holding up physically. Lorna says she's tired. No kidding. James says he's getting occasional waves that feel like he might collapse. Matthew says his eyes are bleary and people are asking him if he's sick. Gayleen says she's okay and she got three and a half hours sleep last night. Sure. That's probably enough. AMrty says that he is a wreck and not holding up at all.

This was very true. By this point, he kept doing actual faceplants on the keyboard. No kidding. The rest of them kept telling him he needed to go to bed.

Tracy is doing better. Nancy is also holding up for now.

Paul has just, he informs us, had his first cup of coffee. Ever. It has hit him like a train and he is talking and talking and talking. It's adorable. I hope it's true. Me, I'd have been on my ninetieth Dr. Pepper by now, and still drifting off.

I hope George is making his way home okay. Are those sirens?

Huh.

Rebecca brings the funny again. "Right now, you could shine a bright light in my eyes and I'd probably chase it like a cat."

Those are sirens. I need to wrap this up.

Ironically Paul and Gordon are discussing how they can get on schedule if they use the night well. Gayleen says she's not thinking of word count so much as she has a story she wants to tell, and thinks she's doing okay. I believe that I know what she means here. She had a pretty detailed outline in place, and thought she had to go to 50,000, so her challenge is to cut the non-essentials and focus on the prime story. The freedom she may feel here at only having to go to around 30,000 is balanced by her concern that she can't cut the wrong thing.

Joe says she has kids and can write in spurts.

Lorna has fifteen pages to write before sleep time.

Nancy hoped to be further along before bedtime. We see folks retiring, and are told next week is the dramatic conclusion.

The credits roll, and we see Rebecca walking in on Marty juggling again. She looks like a proud Momma even when he drops a ball. How can you not love this girl? Seriously.

Okay, my hands are up. Put the guns down, officers. Don't be crazy. Oh, this taser? Of course I didn't use a taser on George Lucas, that's...

I want a lawyer please.

Lawyer.

Lawyer.

Lawyer.

Next week.

Lawyer.