Taking professional errors as encouragement

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Two friends of mine work in Hollywood. One is a writer, and when he first went out there, the word spread among our friends that a well-known detective show was using one of his scripts. We were all pretty excited. None of us had ever read a word he'd written, so we didn't know what to expect.

Then, as a kind of aside, we learned that very late in their schedule, the script the show MEANT to use suddenly developed problems and had to be withdrawn. They needed a replacement YESTERDAY, but the only script on hand was the one my friend has written.

Still, it was on network TV! So it couldn't be bad, right?

Wrong. Oh, so wrong. It was bad. It was sad. It was wooden, predictable, etc., etc. It had a panoply of faults.

After watching it, my mother said, "I hope your friend kept his day job."

At the time, we all took it as a demonstration that he was a dolt.

When I think about it now, I see it differently. His script was used for a popular detective show. His script was shot and broadcast on national TV. I've never done that.

I hadn't thought about his "achievement" for years, not since I saw Season 2 of True Detective. It was an interesting experience, watching those episodes -- to keep waiting for it to gel, to make sense, to click -- but it never does.

I thought about my friend's script this morning, after watching a show that was NOT AS BAD as either of the ones I mentioned. In fact, it was fantastic, until the finish.

This one I actually watched twice, because Mr Portmanteaux missed it first time around. So I'm sure.

The show is Guilt. A four-hour miniseries, and I have to say the first three-and-a-half hours or more are wonderful. Scottish accents -- always good to hear. Clever twists, progressive openings of hidden levels. Plenty of ho-lee-shit moments. Great cast, with a heartbreaking lovely closeups of Sian Brooke, and the amazing Ruth Bradley with an American accent that would fool anyone.

But when it ends, you say, "... wait... what?" I won't spoil it for you. Emotionally it makes sense, but not in any other way. It makes you think, but what it makes you think is, "It couldn't go that way. It's impossible. He.. she... no."

And I think that's wonderful.

Why do I think it's wonderful? Because here we are, mostly amateurs, beating ourselves up for not posting when we thought we would, for not writing as well as we wish we could, beating up other writers for their typos -- and all the while PROFESSIONALS are getting their stuff on television with gaping plot holes, impossible dialog, and plenty of "wait, who is this now?" moments.

Do you remember writing term papers in high school? Have you ever written one on the morning it was due, just before the class? If you haven't, you should go back to high school and try it. You have a single goal: finish. Just like my friend with his detective-show script. Just like the team who made Season Two of True Detective, and just like the writer(s) of Guilt, who ran out of creative gas, or time, or something at the very end. Who knows.

The point is: If they did it, so can you.

- io

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