I’m going to keep running with this theme about the importance of critical thinking to writers, so here’s a brainy (at times pompous-sounding) piece featuring 30 mostly-British writers chatting about God, religion, and reason.

via Open Culture

Public Relations reps grapple with a lot of difficult, high-stress situations. I totally respect their ability to work under fire. However, I’ve begun to notice a decline in critical thinking in those who either work in PR or unknowingly espouse PR-like views through social media. This concerns me because I recognize how I was a victim of PR groupthink in my own work as an accidental journalist.

When I was a contributing freelancer to The Georgia Straight, for whom I wrote sporadic pieces on the Canadian film and TV industry, I frequently had to reach out to PR reps for CBC, CTV, Global, APTN, et cetera. They were the point people responsible for feeding information to the media about each broadcasters’ program offerings.

I never set out to be The Straight‘s Canadian TV critic; at the time, I was 26 years old and only a year or two into the industry. While I was, and remain, a fan of Canadian entertainment, I was primarily interested in providing useful information to readers who might otherwise be wholly ignorant to homegrown media productions. That was my mission.

But that position aligned me closely with PR reps – a dicey place to be as a writer. It’s something properly trained journalists (unlike me) should be able to combat with a healthy inner critic. Looking back, I think my copy sounds a bit too similar to press releases. I’m still proud of everything I wrote for The Straight – I only wish I had made a clearer distinction between my voice as an independent writer and that of a Kool Aid-chugging cheerleader.

———-

Public Relations has a pretty nefarious past. Though we may cheer on Don Draper when he “changes the conversation” to something more favourable to a client, it’s worth stating that mass manipulation – for whatever reason – is some pretty twisted shit. We’re inundated with countless persuasive messages every day to do something, and that gets overwhelming if you don’t have a strong filter to protect yourself.

The problem is most of us likely believe our filters are strong; I doubt there are many out there who would describe themselves as hopelessly gullible. As a Twitter lover, I encounter a daily barrage of positivity: “This is awesome!” “Best news ever!” “You should read this amazing article!”

The name of the game in the online world is to attract followers with all the interesting things we encounter. You’ll notice most local Twitter celebrities (in Vancouver, BC) are strong proponents of sharing happy news. Whether it’s Miss 604 or Vancity Buzz or any number of Twitter users with thousands of followers, the tone of tweeting is generally “Yay!” — which makes sense because who wants to hear bad news all the time, right?

The problem is that this quest for greater influence, in and outside of the social media realm, is eroding our appetite and capacity for critical thinking. We’re glossing over when we should be investigating, and this creates an ouroboros-style scenario of false celebration.

Using Vancity Buzz as an example, one brief look at the Developments tab of their blog, and you’ll notice how pro-developer they are; new projects are rarely questioned, which is curious considering the fact that housing was the hot-button issue in the recent municipal election. There is a ton of material to debate when it comes to construction in Vancouver – but these writers seem uninterested in asserting an independent voice from developers. I think it’s disingenuous to present yourself as a Vancouver-relevant news and events blog while forwarding a specific agenda without providing any critical counterpoint. They’re definitely not the only online media source with this problem, though.

———-

Despite working as a copywriter in a busy marketing department, I’ve never actually studied marketing or communications. Maybe that’s why I feel it’s necessary to put this rant out there. I know my company inside and out, but I’d like to think I’ve retained my ability to think independently. Blind spots are like that.

Vancouver has a plethora of young communications grads, many of whom know how to flex their impressive social media muscles. It saddens me to think of how these hyper-professional and talented go-getters, with their squeaky-clean online personas, may willfully shut down their capacity to question in order to join this cult of superficial positivity we’re creating.

I’d love to see those who work in PR show a little more life in their online voices. There are always two sides of the coin and you shouldn’t be afraid to present both. You have more to express than the company line. To writers, I’d simply suggest staying on your toes. Question everything – not in a conspiracy-hunting way, but with a healthy sense of curiosity. We are nothing without our own unique voices and points of view on the world around us.

I’m a huge fan of The Verdict (1982), directed by Sidney Lumet and starring Paul Newman. It’s not the kind of movie that’ll have you at the edge of your seat, but it’s probably got one of the most inspired, economical screenplays ever written (in my humble opinion). David Mamet adapted the book of the same name, taking a courtroom drama that didn’t interest Lumet at all and turning it into an extremely focused story of redemption.

When I was a Teaching Assistant in the Writing for Film & Television program at Vancouver Film School, I frequently referenced this screenplay during workshops as one worth studying. The structure is sound, and everything revolves around attorney Frank Galvin’s singular journey from an alcoholic ambulance chaser with a ruined career, to a moral crusader on behalf of those abused by monolithic and unfeeling organizations.

The Verdict was nominated for five Oscars, including Best Screenplay and Best Picture. Totally worth checking out this film if you’re a screenwriter or playwright — or if you just dig Paul Newman.

US President Barack Obama delivered his first State of the Union address last night, making some grumpy-looking old white dudes clap wildly — while some other grumpy-looking old white dudes crossed their arms and frowned disappointedly.

The White House made the following “behind the scenes” video available, taking us inside the speechwriting process. In some senses, this reflects any other rewriting assignment for the writers involved… except they’re writing it for a pretty important dude who’s catching some flack from all sides. Not an easy assignment.

I wonder what the equivalent Stephen Harper video would be? Meh. It’d probably be super boring and edited into the ground so the final cut would be two and a half seconds of hamburger frying.

I really appreciate when the arts media provide useful commentary on prodigious but underexposed writers. Too often, arts editors try to disguise celebrity gossip or falsely celebratory press releases as informed opinion on what’s happening in the world of film, theatre, books, etc.

“Cronenberg does it again! And he’s Canadian!”

“Leonard Cohen has a deep voice! And he’s Canadian!”

“Did you know Michael Bublé is Canadian? And Americans like him!”

“Margaret Atwood [insert anything]“

South of the border, there are still a few publications that take a position of authority on books — meaning, they still pay their writers to craft well-considered pieces for a narrowing demographic of readers interested in thinking critically about the arts scene. Nearing its 90th year, The New Yorker is one of them.

I’ve only recently discovered the work of Chilean novelist Roberto Bolaño (1953-2003) with the publication of 2666. The book’s size is a bit intimidating, but its omnipresence in stores catches my attention. My two failed attempts to work past the half-way point of DeLillo’s Underworld taught me that, when it comes to canonized writers, it’s best to start by dipping your toes into his/her more accessible books. Maybe I should’ve given White Noise a spin first?

Given that, where should I start with Bolaño? Thanks to The New Yorker, I at least have a few recommendations. Check out “In the Labyrinth: A User’s Guide to Bolaño“.

Even though this is just a brief, subjective take on an author’s entire body of work, it demonstrates the magazine’s commitment to being an authority in the arts realm. I’d love to see more content like this in Canadian media — aside from the occasional piece in The Walrus (which helps, but it’s not nearly enough to reverse a trend of shoddy arts coverage). As for 2666, well, there’s this advice:

Avoid “2666” for as long as possible, and for heaven’s sake, don’t start with it. The book is a desert of negative space across which the panting reader will search in vain for the traditional pleasures of the novel: form, character, coherence, meaning.

Maybe I’ll dislike Bolaño’s writing entirely. There’s definitely a good chance of that. But at least I’ll know I’m not the only one trying to dig into something new.

And here’s why…

via TED

Read up on what SOPA and PIPA are, and how these US bills threaten the internet.

For some reason, I’ve encountered this phrase a few times this weekend: “The pattern in the carpet”. It refers to a story by Victorian-era author Henry James, a writer whose work has never really caught my attention — at least, not as much as this single expression. The story is about a novelist who dies without conveying to the world the one secret that links all his books together.

For me, the phrase doesn’t seem to require much explanation but opens a lot of interesting trains of thought, particularly in the context of writing. Though similar to searching for shapes in the clouds, seeing a “pattern in the carpet” is a bit more grounded. As writers, we’re constantly looking for a different way of seeing the constructed world around us, tilting our heads one way or another to take it all in from a new angle. And the success comes when you coax others en masse into seeing things in the same manner.

As someone in the midst of a new project, I feel this is a perfect way to describe the task of rewriting; it’s not so much about inventing characters as it is recognizing characters that an audience will respond to: the disapproving parent, the jealous lover, the selfish child, etc. That’s definitely tricky, as you’re banking on the fact that people will share the same general outlook on the world, but have yet to consider a particular way of seeing it. All the while you’ve got to avoid clichés and well-trodden storylines.

And this is why writers drink.

I was 23 when I packed up my few worldly possessions and left Ontario for the West Coast. I jettisoned everything I could: a futon, 90% of the books I’d accumulated as a Carleton U English Lit major, clothes, a desk, lamps, appliances, my electric Hamer Explorer guitar — you name it, I shunted it. I gave an electronic typewriter to a friend in exchange for a copy of Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer.

I eventually read the book I had first heard about in a Seinfeld episode called “The Library” (which included this awesome monologue from “Mr. Bookman”). As was the case when I first read Hemingway, I was underwhelmed for the first 100 pages or so. I didn’t know what the big deal was. And then, on page 150 (in my edition), Miller hit his stride and created some of the best-written pages of his generation — in my humble opinion, of course.

When I returned to work this week after the holidays, I had a lot of proofing to do. That reminded me of a section of Miller’s brilliant rant, which I’m pasting here. [Some context: Miller's narrator is referring to working as a proofreader at a newspaper.]

They have a wonderful therapeutic effect upon me, these catastrophes which I proofread. Imagine a state of perfect immunity, a charmed existence, a life of absolute security in the midst of poison bacilli. Nothing touches me, neither earthquakes nor explosions nor riots nor famine nor collisions nor wars nor revolutions. I am inoculated against every disease, every calamity, every sorrow and misery. It’s the culmination of a life of fortitude. Seated at my little niche all the poisons which the world gives off each day pass through my hands. Not even a fingernail gets stained. I am absolutely immune. [...] The world can blow up–I’ll be here just the same to put in a comma or a semicolon.

- Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer (1934)

Not bad for a book that was described as “a cesspool, an open sewer, a pit of putrefaction, a slimy gathering of all that is rotten in the debris of human depravity” by a Pennsylvannia Supreme Court judge.

As posted yesterday on JohnAugust.com, the Big Fish screenwriter/burgeoning app chef unveiled Bronson Watermarker — an app that embeds unique watermarks in PDF files so screenwriters or producers (or whomever) can better control where hush-hush screenplays are going.

For ten bucks, you can download the Mac app from iTunes and be on your way to discovering that your best friend is the guy who’s been leaking your work all over the internet. Check out the video below for the full features of the app.

It’s worth noting, as John August did in his blog post, that this is also the team behind FDX Reader, which allows you to read Final Draft files on your iPhone and iPad, and Less IMDB — the browser extension that “fixes” IMDB.com page displays.

At the end of 2009, I posted a writing roundup looking back on the projects I worked on that year. It was a big transition period for me: from balancing a not-so-demanding gig and freelancing as a journalist/screenwriter on the side, to jumping into marketing headfirst and limiting the breadth of personal writing projects.

2010 deepened my involvement in the work-a-day world as a copywriter, creating an effect has been helpful in narrowing down what I’m most drawn to writing in my off-hours — surprisingly, it’s plays. There’s something really appealing in knowing that, while I’m developing a project for the stage, I’m creating something that will (ideally) be performed and read by a wide variety of people — not just a producer or competition judge, as it typically goes with screenwriting ’round these parts. It could be the ego talking, but I like the idea of a well-tuned script living on past its initial production. That’s at least what I’m aiming for in the work I’m churning out now.

2011 saw the professional production of Prodigals at SFU Woodward’s, which drew these great reviews and capped off three years of fruitful collaboration. There is still a screen adaptation in development that I hope to pull off the back burner in the coming months. I also wrote a number of wayward drafts of a new play. Having now nailed down its direction, I’m confident our staged public reading coming up in May of 2012 will be a blast.

In case I don’t say it enough, thanks for checking out my blog. Have a safe and happy New Year!

Follow my blog with Bloglovin