From: Jms at B5
Subject: Re:The Last, Worst Hope for
To: AOL
Date: 12/14/1995 6:21:00 PM
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Thanks. No, you can't please everyone, I learned that lesson a long
time ago. What you have to look at are the percentages. No matter *how*
wonderful the work, there will always be a certain portion who won't like it
because it isn't to their tastes. That simple. (I like bluegrass,
classical, Japanese music, celtic music, hard rock, and others...can't abide
straight-ahead country music or opera. That's just how I'm hardwired.) So
basically, a work of superior quality will get about 40% who love it, 50% who
think it's good, and 10% who hate it. A middle of the road work gets
30/30/30. A flop gets the first breakdown but in reverse. There's never
been a novel, story, song or painting that everyone on the planet thought was
nifty, without dissent. So as long as the percentages favor the notion that
we're doing right, I'm okay with it.
As far as the assessment of this latter stuff being my best work...god,
I hope so. I've been writing and selling since I was 17; in TV for a tick
over 10 years, and the absolute honest truth is that I think I'm just now
*starting* to get halfway decent as a writer. So many years you spend just
pumping out the bad stuff, the cliche characters, the implausible plots,
until you finally get to the good stuff. I write 7 days a week, 10 hours a
day, 52 weeks a year, except for my birthday, my spousal overunit's birthday,
christmas and new year's. I'm in constant battle with the English language,
slamming together different combinations of verbs and nouns and adjectives,
hoping to provoke an explosion whose flare can illustrate a notion, or incite
a moment of reflection. And half the time I feel like it's a losing battle;
the language beats you every time. But if script #152 is just 1% better than
script #151, well, that's progress.
And then I make the mistake of sitting down and watching something by
Serling or Chayefsky or Rose or Corwin, and conclude instantly that I should
get out of the profession before somebody discovers I'm a fake. THOSE guys
could WRITE. Hell, they didn't just write, they thunder'd and lightning'd
over the typwritten page, and the echoes have followed us down for decades.
So maybe someday, if I work hard, and write to the best of my ability, and am
sufficiently honest in what I write, I'll be good enough to carry their
pencil cases....
jms |
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