This Is How My Brain Goes.

When I'm working in a group, or with other people, I am very open minded to collaboration, and subsequently, accountability. Some of the best creative results come from multiple voices - however, when I'm working alone on something, I regularly balk the norm and instead like to do things my way*.

*See, most people would have put quotes, or in conversation, air quotes around the words: my way. Not me. I like italics. Because I can, because this is my blog. About me.

So I was standing in the shower, thinking about all the things I like to do my way. Like this blog, for example - the title is an ass mess of html. But I did it. Me. My website? Also an ass mess of code (though less so, as I finally conceded to allowing a friend to help work on it because I couldn't even get it 50% close to what I wanted it to be - my way will never win out over my predilection to sheer laziness).

Writing is another thing I like to do my way - though, I expect most writers do the same. I never like to approach two projects the same way. Most ideas gestate in my brain for an absurd length of time (for example, my show was an idea eight years* in the making). Sometimes, I feel that a story is a bit like a bottle of wine. It's better with age. But some ideas get hammered out in a matter of days, hours, minutes. Sometimes, you need to just go.

*Dear Would-be Colleagues and Showrunners: please disregard the above statement should you ever be in a position to consider me for hire. I can produce an outline/episode in less than a week. Again, see my first paragraph. But when I'm working completely alone and unaccountable, show and steady. Hah! I meant slow. But I like that, so I'll leave it.

One of my favorite childhood books was Leo the Late Bloomer. I'm not certain why it lists the publishing date as 1994 - I read it when I was five, not fifteen. I like Leo. He doesn't rush - he takes his time. He doesn't give a shit about what the other tigers think. I'd like to share a drink with him.

Now I'm really rambling. This makes my last entry look like a lie.

I suppose what I'm getting at, in a rather roundabout fashion, is that in order to move things forward a little faster I'm going to have to pretend that I have other people to answer to. Because if the show doesn't go, I'm not waiting another eight years. I just don't have that kind of time.

Perhaps I need more accountability fire under my ass?

Or a better excuse.

Rambling.

I've hit a blog block.

There are many, many unposted, saved blog entries sitting in the wings. I can't seem to finish, or feel satisfied, with any of them - so forgive me but, I'm going to ramble in the hopes that I come across my groove again.

Mostly, I've been spending a lot of my interweb time reading other people's blogs. Many of them are informative, articulate, clever. Not a lot of naval gazing - which mine tends to be, sometimes. Just how interesting is my lint, really. Not very. I don't think, anyway. So between all my work writing, I've been trying to muster up something clever and intelligent to say... I will say, that the old gray cells seem to be pretty tapped these days. Pre-tay, pre-tay, PRE-tay tapped. Pretty tapped.

Hmm.

I've fallen in love with writer/creator Jonathan Ames' Bored to Death. It's a delicious comedy with a sprinkling of noir, and chock full of clever dialogue sandwiched with very simple, palatable plot-lines. The lead, Jonathan (aptly named after the creator) is a frustrated writer-gone-illegitimate private dick. Most episodes so far follow his "case of the week" - though this show is far from procedural. Lots of twists and turns, and I like that our lead is involved in each of them.

Ted Danson's character in particular is a real treat to watch - a self indulgent man-child, who is dependent on Jonathan for everything from marijuana procurement to advice on how to attempt a bi-sexual experiment.

That would be my top pick from the new lineup this fall. I am enjoying Glee, though I feel it's suffering from a few hang-ups... Community has funny moments, but it doesn't feel like it's found it's groove yet. Have yet to see Modern Family (it's waiting in the machine) but I've heard good things. FlashForward has piqued my curiosity - have only seen two episodes so far, but will keep watching for now. Parks and Rec finally hooked me in; it felt too similar to The Office last season, probably mostly due to the format, but it feels like it's own entity so far this year.

Ramble ramble.

Going to attempt to bake a blueberry pie this weekend, between the mountain of gigs I've found myself in the middle of.

Show's going well. I'm at a point of hurry up and wait, so there's not much to say.

Pants. Who needs 'em.

A Small Problem

Perhaps you can help?

I have an image in the header of my blog. The image is linked to my website, and because I am a cut and paste and Frankenstein HTML user at BEST, I wasn't able to figure out how else to include the image header than in the title... which, when viewing my blog, or linking to it, results in: No Pants Island <img src="http://erinmcgechaen.com/BBanner.jpg">

Gobbledygook!

Can anyone shed some light on this obnoxious little ankle biter?

Treading Water

For the past few weeks, I have been thrashing about in the middle of a very, very large pool.

It's my own pool - I designed it. I know where the shallow end is. I know where the deep end is. The stairs are there, the drain is down there, and the filter is somewhere behind me. However for the first time, I'm actually trying to swim.

I've read several books on swimming. Gone to swimming lectures, talked with other swimmers. Hell, I've even worked at jobs NEAR swimmers. I've spent a lot of time paddling around in my bathtub, practicing what I've learned. You'd think with all that knowledge swimming around in my head (forgive me...) that I'd be better prepared.

I'm not.

Apparently, things are very different for Canadian swimmers, as opposed to American swimmers. Canadians get thrown in the pool, all alone. American swimmers have coaches, and lifeguards, and cute little orange floaties for their arms. They aren't really alone in their own pool until all their swimming instructors, and fellow swimmers, are confident that they can do so without drowning.

Lucky bums.

Here's hoping I can keep my head above water long enough to master the breaststroke.