I've been meaning for ages to write a blogpost for each West Wing episode, especially for people who have as much knowledge of America and its politics as I had before I became obsessed with both. Problem is, like my other projects - the Donna Moss diary, the list of exterior locations to check out when I am next in DC - it tends to fall by the wayside as I get into the storyline, the writing, and the close-ups of Josh Lyman.
Still, though, I'm going to give it a go with tonight's episode, "Guns not Butter". I love this one, because Donna is my favourite, and she is brilliant here, when she tries - and almost succeeds - to find a Senator to whom the President urgently wants to speak.
In doing so, she walks straight into the baggage claims area of National (Washington National Airport, known by some people as Ronald Reagan Airport, though never by anyone on the West Wing, firstly because Reagan didn't exist in their world and secondly, I would guess, because Democrats only refer to it as "National"). Walk straight into baggage claim! With no passport! No flight to catch! Everywhere I've ever been you go through baggage claim before customs, and only then do you get to come out and meet your enthusiastic placard-holding greeters.
But not on American internal flights. I was very confused by this when I flew into LAX from Dulles. (Sorry, that's me showing off with my "I'm so knowledgeable about America" insider speak. LAX is Los Angeles' main airport and Dulles is one of Washington's.) Baggage claim is a bit of a free for all. Anyone can walk in. Which is one of the many things I found disorientating over there.
At one point, she also tries to call "Dirksen". This is a reference to one of the three buildings where Senators have their offices - Russell and Hart being the other one. And as for Will being an Eaton valedictorian, that means he gave the speech at high school graduation and was probably the highest ranked student in his year. And it's nothing to do with Eton College - it wouldn't have surprised me if Will had been educated there, but I'm glad Aaron Sorkin did not make the mistake of placing an American tradition in a venerable British education.
All clear now? Good.
Showing posts with label donna moss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label donna moss. Show all posts
Friday, 13 January 2012
Tuesday, 12 January 2010
In defence of Bradley Whitford's moustache
Unless you are one of those obsessive types who searches Twitter on the hour every hour for West-Wing-related gossip (and who would do that? Hmm?), you have probably missed the most controversial issue to hit the West since the Monica Lewinsky scandal: Bradley Whitford now has a moustache.
I’ll give you a minute to recover from the shock.
The Twitterverse is in uproar, myself included, because my intense devotion to (a clean-shaven) Josh Lyman is second only to Donna Moss’, and not by very much, I can assure you.
Here’s the thing, though – and those of you with sensitive dispositions may wish to look away now.
Bradley Whitford is not Josh Lyman. That some of us cling to the belief that he is, is actually testimony to his talent as an actor.
I have not (as yet) had the immense pleasure of meeting him and asking him about this (and would no doubt be too tongue-tied to say anything coherent at all in that happy event), but I assume, and think I may have read somewhere, that he practises something called Method acting. I know a tiny amount about this thanks to the wonderful book “Getting into Character: Seven Secrets a Novelist can Learn from Actors”, by Bradilyn Collins, easily the freshest, more original and all-round best book I have read about writing (along with Francine Prose’s “Reading like a Writer”). (And I’ve read a fair few.) I admit that part of the reason I bought it was that I could get one tiny step closer to my heroes, Bradley Whitford himself (who needs no adjectives) and the thoroughly exquisite Janel Moloney.
Purely gratuitously, and because neither Twitter nor Facebook give me enough room to do this on my profile page, I’m copying my favourite quote from the book here. Favourite because it’s inspiring, and because it make me feel as if, if I were to sit down for coffee with Brad and Janel (and let’s throw in Allison Janney, because she’s fabulous, and Josh Malina, because he’s cool, and he makes me laugh every day), I’d have huge amounts to talk about with them, and it would be the start of a several beautiful and mutually inspiring friendships.
(I haven’t left the topic of Brad’s moustache though, so don’t tune out. This is all relevant, I promise.)
We writers of fiction are alike in one way. We’re a mighty strange breed. We view the world differently. We walk around with voices and shadowy figures inside our heads. We tend to stare out windows and mumble to ourselves. The Normals can’t begin to understand us. Only our first cousins, the actors, can come close to matching our eccentricities. For we share the same goal: bringing characters to life.
There we have it. Bradley Whitford was not put on the West Wing to be Bradley Whitford, and he’s not been put on Code 58 to be Bradley Whitford. Unlike some actors, who only really ever play some version of themselves, Brad is talented enough to be able to create a character, and it’s details like knowing that Dan would have a moustache that make a difference.
Method acting, which from what I can gather is really just good acting, means you create a new character for every role you play. You give them mannerisms in keeping with their personalities and backgrounds. You still your own inner rhythm, your own emotions (while drawing on them when necessary), in order to better portray theirs. You consciously become a blank canvas onto which you can paint all the physical, emotional and character traits of the person you are bringing to life, drawing of course on your own experience and observation of life.
So, there you have it. Bradley Whitford did not just grow a moustache because he heard I was coming to the US and wanted to hide, though it pains me greatly to think I may have walked right past him and been denied the opportunity of said beautiful friendship.
He did it because he is, and always will be, a great actor who understands his character. Which is why we loved Josh Lyman, and why we love Brad. Well, that and the dimples...
I’ll give you a minute to recover from the shock.
The Twitterverse is in uproar, myself included, because my intense devotion to (a clean-shaven) Josh Lyman is second only to Donna Moss’, and not by very much, I can assure you.
Here’s the thing, though – and those of you with sensitive dispositions may wish to look away now.
Bradley Whitford is not Josh Lyman. That some of us cling to the belief that he is, is actually testimony to his talent as an actor.
I have not (as yet) had the immense pleasure of meeting him and asking him about this (and would no doubt be too tongue-tied to say anything coherent at all in that happy event), but I assume, and think I may have read somewhere, that he practises something called Method acting. I know a tiny amount about this thanks to the wonderful book “Getting into Character: Seven Secrets a Novelist can Learn from Actors”, by Bradilyn Collins, easily the freshest, more original and all-round best book I have read about writing (along with Francine Prose’s “Reading like a Writer”). (And I’ve read a fair few.) I admit that part of the reason I bought it was that I could get one tiny step closer to my heroes, Bradley Whitford himself (who needs no adjectives) and the thoroughly exquisite Janel Moloney.
Purely gratuitously, and because neither Twitter nor Facebook give me enough room to do this on my profile page, I’m copying my favourite quote from the book here. Favourite because it’s inspiring, and because it make me feel as if, if I were to sit down for coffee with Brad and Janel (and let’s throw in Allison Janney, because she’s fabulous, and Josh Malina, because he’s cool, and he makes me laugh every day), I’d have huge amounts to talk about with them, and it would be the start of a several beautiful and mutually inspiring friendships.
(I haven’t left the topic of Brad’s moustache though, so don’t tune out. This is all relevant, I promise.)
We writers of fiction are alike in one way. We’re a mighty strange breed. We view the world differently. We walk around with voices and shadowy figures inside our heads. We tend to stare out windows and mumble to ourselves. The Normals can’t begin to understand us. Only our first cousins, the actors, can come close to matching our eccentricities. For we share the same goal: bringing characters to life.
There we have it. Bradley Whitford was not put on the West Wing to be Bradley Whitford, and he’s not been put on Code 58 to be Bradley Whitford. Unlike some actors, who only really ever play some version of themselves, Brad is talented enough to be able to create a character, and it’s details like knowing that Dan would have a moustache that make a difference.
Method acting, which from what I can gather is really just good acting, means you create a new character for every role you play. You give them mannerisms in keeping with their personalities and backgrounds. You still your own inner rhythm, your own emotions (while drawing on them when necessary), in order to better portray theirs. You consciously become a blank canvas onto which you can paint all the physical, emotional and character traits of the person you are bringing to life, drawing of course on your own experience and observation of life.
So, there you have it. Bradley Whitford did not just grow a moustache because he heard I was coming to the US and wanted to hide, though it pains me greatly to think I may have walked right past him and been denied the opportunity of said beautiful friendship.
He did it because he is, and always will be, a great actor who understands his character. Which is why we loved Josh Lyman, and why we love Brad. Well, that and the dimples...
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
I am Donna Moss...
I am Donna Moss.
Deluded, I hear your cry. Someone give her a dozen tablets and lock her in a small room with no light and definitely no West Wing DVDs.
It’s okay. I am fully aware that I am not tall, slim, blonde and stunningly beautiful.
But I do have more in common with Donna than a predilection for handsome, powerful Democrats with dimples, good hearts and a certain heroic determination to make the world a better place. (Not realising, of course, that their very presence does that. Ahem. I digress.)
Those of you who know me probably realise I am not talking about her powers of organisation. I like index cards, but am pretty sure she would not approve of the way they are strewn on my mess-ridden floor.
I did use to think philately was fun, and I also have been told that there is a bright future for me as a stalker, should I desire to go down that career path.
But there’s something else, too.
“I’m a flautist. I play the flute... I ask myself, if I’d pursued the flute professionally, would I be meeting interesting men? And the answer comes back to me: Probably not."
All depends, of course, what you mean by interesting. If you mean men capable of distracting you from Josh Lyman, well, let’s not fool ourselves: that is a tall order for anyone.
If you mean interesting as in “would make a great character in a novel”, though, there is plenty of mileage in it. (Although let’s not overdo the artist thing. A professional flautist and a professional writer? I’d have no time to bore you all with my delusional thoughts...)
Men who at, say, 45 ask you how much you paid for your flute and does it have a silver heard and you really should consider investing in one of those flutes with holes in the keys (I’m so unprofessional I don’t even know what they’re called). Interesting, yes. In a sociological study kind of way. It does make you wonder, you know, about their childhood and stuff.
So yes, Donna. You would be meeting “interesting” men. But I think you and I probably ought to stick to politics.
Deluded, I hear your cry. Someone give her a dozen tablets and lock her in a small room with no light and definitely no West Wing DVDs.
It’s okay. I am fully aware that I am not tall, slim, blonde and stunningly beautiful.
But I do have more in common with Donna than a predilection for handsome, powerful Democrats with dimples, good hearts and a certain heroic determination to make the world a better place. (Not realising, of course, that their very presence does that. Ahem. I digress.)
Those of you who know me probably realise I am not talking about her powers of organisation. I like index cards, but am pretty sure she would not approve of the way they are strewn on my mess-ridden floor.
I did use to think philately was fun, and I also have been told that there is a bright future for me as a stalker, should I desire to go down that career path.
But there’s something else, too.
“I’m a flautist. I play the flute... I ask myself, if I’d pursued the flute professionally, would I be meeting interesting men? And the answer comes back to me: Probably not."
All depends, of course, what you mean by interesting. If you mean men capable of distracting you from Josh Lyman, well, let’s not fool ourselves: that is a tall order for anyone.
If you mean interesting as in “would make a great character in a novel”, though, there is plenty of mileage in it. (Although let’s not overdo the artist thing. A professional flautist and a professional writer? I’d have no time to bore you all with my delusional thoughts...)
Men who at, say, 45 ask you how much you paid for your flute and does it have a silver heard and you really should consider investing in one of those flutes with holes in the keys (I’m so unprofessional I don’t even know what they’re called). Interesting, yes. In a sociological study kind of way. It does make you wonder, you know, about their childhood and stuff.
So yes, Donna. You would be meeting “interesting” men. But I think you and I probably ought to stick to politics.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
Claire's West Wing article
Implausible as it may sound, I happen to know that someone googled "Claire Handscombe West Wing article" today. Sadly, they would have come up with nothing. Zero. Nada. Zilch.
Well, okay, not quite zilch. We'll call it zilch plus one. They would have come up with my west wing fan fiction, which is how I know they googled it the first place, but that's another story.
But they would not have found my article.
Which is sad. Tragic, almost.
So, dear fans, be disappointed no longer. (Fans of mine, or fans of the West Wing, who knows - or are the two synonymous these days? There go those delusions of grandeur again...)
By way of introduction and a quick plug, this article was written for a fantastic language-learning magazine called the MAG, which is available for advanced students of French, Dutch and English, and which I highly recommend, and not only for the penetrating insights shared by some of the contributors. (Ahem. Those delusions again...) Not even just for my dulcit tones which make an occasional appearance on the accompanying CD.
I wanted to scan in the actual article, but both my computer and my technological powers have failed me, so for now text only will have to do.
So without further ado, here it is - written for an audience who have likely never heard of the amazing viewing experience that is my favo(u)rite TV show... but have hopefully now all been converted!
It’s ten years since the pilot episode of The West Wing was aired, but the TV show still inspires devotion that goes way beyond the norm for a television programme, and arguably with good reason. It informs and educates even the most politically ignorant, but never patronises. But that’s not all it does: it makes you laugh, cry, gasp and occasionally shout and perhaps throw things at your television.
The West Wing gives us a behind-the-scenes look at what goes on in politics, in much the same way as ER does with hospitals, or the Wire with the legal world. As the name suggests, it is set in the West Wing of the White House, under the fictional (left-leaning, Democratic) President Bartlet, and features his family, senior staff, and other political types, such as journalists. Sound boring? Think again.
In the words of the late John Spencer, who played Leo (Chief of Staff and closest advisor to President Bartlet): “The West Wing is about human relationships, the backdrop is politics in the White House. But, basically, it's about ... these people who have worked together and formed complex friendships over the years.”
And these people are not just anybody. They are fantastically written, brilliantly portrayed, and complex. (Kudos to Aaron Sorkin, the creator and original writer, for that and so many things). It has been said that “in fiction, in order to engage our attention and sympathy, the central character must want and want intensely."; politicians at this level are deeply passionate people, and that is perhaps the key. This passion in the characters is intensely captivating – you find yourself rooting for them, crying with them, wanting to hug them. Of course, it does not hurt that several of them are rather attractive.
There are even a few love interests, subtly interwoven into the plot, and often doomed and difficult, most notably the smouldering romance between Josh Lyman and his devoted and highly capable assistant Donna Moss. The chemistry between them manages to gently simmer for seven seasons until... well, you’ll just have to watch it and see.
This show has everything you could possibly want from a television series: drama, humour, suspense, superlative acting from an amazing cast. The writing is fast paced and intelligent, with dozens of fantastic one-liners which fans delight in pulling out of their hats at any opportunity. The filming has also been deservedly praised, and the thoughtfully matched, often haunting music also merits a mention. Critical acclaim has been overwhelming, in the shape of 27 Emmy awards and many more nominations for individual actors, the casting as a whole, and various aspects of the writing, filming and music.
Whether you tune into the West Wing with a good grasp of American politics, or with no clue whatsoever, you will come away having learned something, whether it’s the meaning of an obscure Latin phrase such as “post hoc, ergo propter hoc” , or that there are only three words in the English language that start with “dw”. You will have been “ensorcelled” and “bewitched” by the characters (to quote one of them), the big themes, and the outstanding writing. You may even start planning a trip to America or writing fan fiction.
You risk losing a large chunk of your life to the West Wing if you cave to temptation and buy the boxed set of DVDs (currently priced at just under £50 on Amazon.co.uk, a bargain by any standards) . You may be hooked for life. You may never be the same again.
You have been warned.
Well, okay, not quite zilch. We'll call it zilch plus one. They would have come up with my west wing fan fiction, which is how I know they googled it the first place, but that's another story.
But they would not have found my article.
Which is sad. Tragic, almost.
So, dear fans, be disappointed no longer. (Fans of mine, or fans of the West Wing, who knows - or are the two synonymous these days? There go those delusions of grandeur again...)
By way of introduction and a quick plug, this article was written for a fantastic language-learning magazine called the MAG, which is available for advanced students of French, Dutch and English, and which I highly recommend, and not only for the penetrating insights shared by some of the contributors. (Ahem. Those delusions again...) Not even just for my dulcit tones which make an occasional appearance on the accompanying CD.
I wanted to scan in the actual article, but both my computer and my technological powers have failed me, so for now text only will have to do.
So without further ado, here it is - written for an audience who have likely never heard of the amazing viewing experience that is my favo(u)rite TV show... but have hopefully now all been converted!
It’s ten years since the pilot episode of The West Wing was aired, but the TV show still inspires devotion that goes way beyond the norm for a television programme, and arguably with good reason. It informs and educates even the most politically ignorant, but never patronises. But that’s not all it does: it makes you laugh, cry, gasp and occasionally shout and perhaps throw things at your television.
The West Wing gives us a behind-the-scenes look at what goes on in politics, in much the same way as ER does with hospitals, or the Wire with the legal world. As the name suggests, it is set in the West Wing of the White House, under the fictional (left-leaning, Democratic) President Bartlet, and features his family, senior staff, and other political types, such as journalists. Sound boring? Think again.
In the words of the late John Spencer, who played Leo (Chief of Staff and closest advisor to President Bartlet): “The West Wing is about human relationships, the backdrop is politics in the White House. But, basically, it's about ... these people who have worked together and formed complex friendships over the years.”
And these people are not just anybody. They are fantastically written, brilliantly portrayed, and complex. (Kudos to Aaron Sorkin, the creator and original writer, for that and so many things). It has been said that “in fiction, in order to engage our attention and sympathy, the central character must want and want intensely."; politicians at this level are deeply passionate people, and that is perhaps the key. This passion in the characters is intensely captivating – you find yourself rooting for them, crying with them, wanting to hug them. Of course, it does not hurt that several of them are rather attractive.
There are even a few love interests, subtly interwoven into the plot, and often doomed and difficult, most notably the smouldering romance between Josh Lyman and his devoted and highly capable assistant Donna Moss. The chemistry between them manages to gently simmer for seven seasons until... well, you’ll just have to watch it and see.
This show has everything you could possibly want from a television series: drama, humour, suspense, superlative acting from an amazing cast. The writing is fast paced and intelligent, with dozens of fantastic one-liners which fans delight in pulling out of their hats at any opportunity. The filming has also been deservedly praised, and the thoughtfully matched, often haunting music also merits a mention. Critical acclaim has been overwhelming, in the shape of 27 Emmy awards and many more nominations for individual actors, the casting as a whole, and various aspects of the writing, filming and music.
Whether you tune into the West Wing with a good grasp of American politics, or with no clue whatsoever, you will come away having learned something, whether it’s the meaning of an obscure Latin phrase such as “post hoc, ergo propter hoc” , or that there are only three words in the English language that start with “dw”. You will have been “ensorcelled” and “bewitched” by the characters (to quote one of them), the big themes, and the outstanding writing. You may even start planning a trip to America or writing fan fiction.
You risk losing a large chunk of your life to the West Wing if you cave to temptation and buy the boxed set of DVDs (currently priced at just under £50 on Amazon.co.uk, a bargain by any standards) . You may be hooked for life. You may never be the same again.
You have been warned.
Friday, 20 November 2009
The third best job in the world...
Today, by the standards of a West-Wing-addicted language geek, has been a good day.
Well, it was actually yesterday, since two episodes of said amazing TV show have somehow caused it to be after 1 am as so often tends to happen. It’s Friday, so that shouldn’t matter, except it kind of does, because my Fridays aren’t really Fridays... five hours of teaching await me tomorrow. Sigh.
But my seven hours today went well, particularly the two-hour slot with my advanced English class. I have to admit to not having taught them a whole lot of grammar (actually, possibly none at all – oops!), but we did list 40 of the American states (and I put them right when it came to their belief that there are 51 or 52 of them – I assume they were counting the UK, which as enthralled with the US as I am, I am not quite ready for, and I’m sure many of my compatriots would be with me on that one) ... and I later added two more... Which is quite impressive, considering that a couple of years ago, I could just about list Florida, California and erm maybe Washington, is Washington a state? (I am now fully briefed on all angles of the answer to that, before you all rush to the comments box.)
After having done this, I pretended, erm I mean, explained it was all an introduction to our topic of the day – oh look, someone has written about the West Wing in the MAG (an excellent language learning magazine, by the way, and not only because I’m a contributor). Maybe, for our general culture, you know, we should read it and analyse every sentence and every paragraph and talk about what’s so great about the West Wing? Yes, let’s do that.
So yes, we did that. I taught them the words “boyish” and “dimple” – just like in that photo, said one of them, pointing at the very sexy Josh Lyman – and successfully got them to say things like “the West Wing is amazing” and “maybe we buy the DVDs”.
They could recognise Josh and Donna and they knew that the photos did neither of them justice (particularly Donna- the photos we got permission to print were some early ones, which are not great considering how very beautiful Janel Moloney is) and that it was all very heart-breaking because they were in love and couldn’t do anything about it because they worked together (puritanical American work ethics, some would say). Well, you have to simplify slightly, even when you are teaching advanced students.
In fact, I gave one of them a gold star (well actually two stars: a blue one and a gold one, because they were stuck together; nothing is ever simple in my world) for naming Martin Sheen with no prompting and (mainly) for recognising Josh Lyman, having given me the impression he wasn’t really listening to me or understanding me. They clearly were after all. Ha! Caught you!
In case you are worried their money is wasted, I did also teach them plenty of other vocabulary, such as bewitched, ensorcelled, gasp, simmer, smouldering, cliff-hanger, interwoven, fast-paced, one-liners, kudos, head over heels, dwarf, dwell, dwindle, and of course the very useful phrase “Post hoc, ergo propter hoc”. Also how to say “raison d’ĂȘtre” with an English accent. (Thanks Richard Schiff for that one.)
And of course I imparted my vast political wisdom: Democrats GOOD, Republicans BAD. (I also taught them the word “patronise”.) They loved what they saw of President Bartlet and correctly identified him as the anti-Bush.
So my work there is done, even if they do need to work on their tenses and irregular verbs a little bit. That’s for another day.
Oh, and did I mention that this was all on the basis of an article I had been paid to write?!
Paid to write about the West Wing, then paid to talk about it.
Paid to talk about Josh Lyman’s dimples.
(As I may accidentally have squeaked out loud in the class in my excitement.)
It’s official: I have the best job in the world. Well, except for Aaron Sorkin’s and Janel Moloney’s. The third best job.
And now, inspired by Donna Moss to be a tiny bit more organised, I have got my coffee machine ready for tomorrow (who can name the episode where she does that? Hmmmm?), and am heading for bed so I can be up far too soon to teach some French grammar and Spanish verbs. Sadly there will be no excuses to bring my obsession into any of that, but I do have a free evening to indulge in the next part of series 6, and maybe even do some writing. It’s been far too long. And Brad and Janel need their next film script after all... ;)
Well, it was actually yesterday, since two episodes of said amazing TV show have somehow caused it to be after 1 am as so often tends to happen. It’s Friday, so that shouldn’t matter, except it kind of does, because my Fridays aren’t really Fridays... five hours of teaching await me tomorrow. Sigh.
But my seven hours today went well, particularly the two-hour slot with my advanced English class. I have to admit to not having taught them a whole lot of grammar (actually, possibly none at all – oops!), but we did list 40 of the American states (and I put them right when it came to their belief that there are 51 or 52 of them – I assume they were counting the UK, which as enthralled with the US as I am, I am not quite ready for, and I’m sure many of my compatriots would be with me on that one) ... and I later added two more... Which is quite impressive, considering that a couple of years ago, I could just about list Florida, California and erm maybe Washington, is Washington a state? (I am now fully briefed on all angles of the answer to that, before you all rush to the comments box.)
After having done this, I pretended, erm I mean, explained it was all an introduction to our topic of the day – oh look, someone has written about the West Wing in the MAG (an excellent language learning magazine, by the way, and not only because I’m a contributor). Maybe, for our general culture, you know, we should read it and analyse every sentence and every paragraph and talk about what’s so great about the West Wing? Yes, let’s do that.
So yes, we did that. I taught them the words “boyish” and “dimple” – just like in that photo, said one of them, pointing at the very sexy Josh Lyman – and successfully got them to say things like “the West Wing is amazing” and “maybe we buy the DVDs”.
They could recognise Josh and Donna and they knew that the photos did neither of them justice (particularly Donna- the photos we got permission to print were some early ones, which are not great considering how very beautiful Janel Moloney is) and that it was all very heart-breaking because they were in love and couldn’t do anything about it because they worked together (puritanical American work ethics, some would say). Well, you have to simplify slightly, even when you are teaching advanced students.
In fact, I gave one of them a gold star (well actually two stars: a blue one and a gold one, because they were stuck together; nothing is ever simple in my world) for naming Martin Sheen with no prompting and (mainly) for recognising Josh Lyman, having given me the impression he wasn’t really listening to me or understanding me. They clearly were after all. Ha! Caught you!
In case you are worried their money is wasted, I did also teach them plenty of other vocabulary, such as bewitched, ensorcelled, gasp, simmer, smouldering, cliff-hanger, interwoven, fast-paced, one-liners, kudos, head over heels, dwarf, dwell, dwindle, and of course the very useful phrase “Post hoc, ergo propter hoc”. Also how to say “raison d’ĂȘtre” with an English accent. (Thanks Richard Schiff for that one.)
And of course I imparted my vast political wisdom: Democrats GOOD, Republicans BAD. (I also taught them the word “patronise”.) They loved what they saw of President Bartlet and correctly identified him as the anti-Bush.
So my work there is done, even if they do need to work on their tenses and irregular verbs a little bit. That’s for another day.
Oh, and did I mention that this was all on the basis of an article I had been paid to write?!
Paid to write about the West Wing, then paid to talk about it.
Paid to talk about Josh Lyman’s dimples.
(As I may accidentally have squeaked out loud in the class in my excitement.)
It’s official: I have the best job in the world. Well, except for Aaron Sorkin’s and Janel Moloney’s. The third best job.
And now, inspired by Donna Moss to be a tiny bit more organised, I have got my coffee machine ready for tomorrow (who can name the episode where she does that? Hmmmm?), and am heading for bed so I can be up far too soon to teach some French grammar and Spanish verbs. Sadly there will be no excuses to bring my obsession into any of that, but I do have a free evening to indulge in the next part of series 6, and maybe even do some writing. It’s been far too long. And Brad and Janel need their next film script after all... ;)
You know your addiction to the West Wing is beyond all hope of redemption when...
...you get the cravings. You know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, there is still hope for you
... you're listening to Eva Cassidy's "Fields of Gold", and think you heard, "you'll remember me when the West Wing moves"
... you know exactly how long it’s been since you last watched an episode
... you are proud of yourself when you get through the day without watching an episode, so you reward yourself with some fan fic, a fan video, or some discussion on Facebook or twitter and end up spending longer on this than an episode would have taken
... except, of course, that an episode always takes an hour at the absolute minimum because you have to rewatch every Josh and Donna scene, pause to scribble down particularly good one-liners, and occasionally tweet to let the emotion out. And then if the inspiration strikes for writing some fan fic, well, what can you do...
... there being a B in the president's name, it sometimes happens that you are listening to Radio Four and think they are talking about President Bartlet. In your defence, this is usually while cooking or clattering about - so lots of background noise.
... you visit New York City and half expect to bump into Janel Moloney and become best friends with her. In fact, you do a double taken every time you see anyone blonde. You’re sure you saw her husband, too.
... you are more excited, in fact, that “wow, she has, like, actually been in this coffee shop” than about Macy’s or the Statue of Liberty or the tall buildings or anything, you know, normal.
... you visit Washington DC (of course), wander around in a happy daze, but are actually a little surprised and disappointed not to bump into Josh, Donna, Sam or CJ
... every time the Capitol building comes into view, you hear Josh in your head: “you want a piece of me? Come on! I’m right here” and you want to hug him. More than usual, that is.
... you get very cross when anyone misspells Janel Moloney’s name (it’s with an O people, where have you been all this time?!) even though there was a time when you thought not spelling it Maloney was just plain awkward for the sake of it.
.... in fact one of your characters in a future book is going to have that surname, just so her quirk can be “and it’s Moloney with a O.”
... speaking of future books, they all have politics in, and you have to figure out how to get the heroes not to all look like Brad and the heroines to not all look like Janel. Or you could just cast them in all the films. Yeah, come to think of it, that’s a much better solution.
... you weren’t going to bother with a pen name, but you like “Lyman”, so why not?
... you are in denial about the fact that Brad Whitford is, in fact, old enough to be your father. After all, your father is old enough to be his, just about, so it’s all okay, right?!
... you look up the name “Donnatella” on a website for baby names because you’re sure it should only be spelled with one N. And as it turns out, you’re right. But I guess the whole “It’s Dona, with 1 N” thing would have worn thin after a series or two.
... you inexplicably find yourself buying a lot of argyle, feeling like someone stylish and cool would wear this stuff, then realise while watching series 5 and 6 that Donna Moss in fact wears quite a lot of it.
... you have developed a habit of tilting your head when listening intently, and never knew where it came from till you just spotted Josh doing it
... you see a book that makes you laugh and think “I should buy that for Josh for Christmas, he’d like it”
... you are still boycotting everything with Rob Lowe in it, because you haven't forgiven him for his treacherous departure which was such a loss to the show, despite giving us more Josh, which is a (obviously) no bad thing
... you find yourself explaining the American political system to your bewildered students, who really couldn’t care less and whose level of English is not quite up to differentiating between Congress and Senate.
... you give a gold star to one of your students for knowing who Martin Sheen is and for picking Josh Lyman out of a picture of the cast. Well, it’s good to encourage their comprehension of authentic Anglophone culture.
... your students, in fact, know to say “it’s amazing” whenever you ask “what can anyone tell me about the West Wing?”
... you pester your editor to let you write about the West Wing, then you use your own article in a lesson.
... “dimple” is a word that you feel you need to include when you are teaching your students to describe people
... you get your students, who have explicitly told you they want to learn about British English (which you used to think was laudable) to try and name all the States, and are a little proud of them for knowing Wisconsin, and even more proud of yourself for resisting the temptation to tell them that Donna Moss and Brad Whitford both come from there
... you find yourself thinking in an American accent and adopting American vocab, and, shock horror, even grammar.
... the day inevitably comes when your spell-check (which in days gone by, you had, of course, set to British English) has to correct you when, for the first time, you write “color”, and it’s not on purpose.
... your list of must-haves for future partners has grown from just “single, male and passionate for God” to all those things plus American, Harvard-educated (okay, Yale or Princeton at a push), incredibly articulate, and of course Democrat-voting, though to be honest the chances of you falling for a Republican were always pretty (sorry, quite) remote. (Although, if it can happen to Donna... ) The furrowed brow and receding hairline you could probably live without, and you’ll (reluctantly) trade the dimple in for a passion for the West Wing. Otherwise, what will you do in the evenings? And what will you talk about?!
... You start planning to help out in the next Obama campaign, and wondering if that is, in fact, where this amazing yet slightly vulnerable man in need of an assistant and the love of a good woman is hiding.
... You spend longer communicating with people you have met via discussion groups on Facebook than you do with friends you have known for years. Oops.
... you’re watching a film, and you want to shout, “but where’s the politics in this?”
... and then you want to shout, “but where is Bradley Whitford? Who am I meant to be in love with here?"
... You have regular West Wing related dreams, your favourite one to date being the one where you are explaining to Matt Perry why it’s better than Friends. This in front of your heroes, Brad Whitford and Janel Moloney. Stupid alarm clock!
... People have to ask you to stop putting things like “wishes Josh would hurry up and kiss Donna” in your Facebook status updates, because you are ruining the plot for them
... you feel guilty writing a list like this and not yet mentioning Allison Janney, whom you love, and who was your favourite for a long time until your Josh and Donna addiction fully took over
.... you are determined to make it back to NYC next time Allison Janney is in a musical, or any of the cast are in anything at all in fact
... in fact, you need to set up a Google Alert for that, to go with the ones you already have on “the West Wing”, “Bradley Whitford”, “Janel Moloney”
... You are dedicating your next novel to Brad and Janel, and mentioning Aaron Sorkin in the acknowledgements for inspiring you to write
... You are in on a Friday night writing this list... but it’s okay, you’re going out to meet a friend soon, and she hasn’t even heard of the West Wing. You'll soon fix that...
... you're listening to Eva Cassidy's "Fields of Gold", and think you heard, "you'll remember me when the West Wing moves"
... you know exactly how long it’s been since you last watched an episode
... you are proud of yourself when you get through the day without watching an episode, so you reward yourself with some fan fic, a fan video, or some discussion on Facebook or twitter and end up spending longer on this than an episode would have taken
... except, of course, that an episode always takes an hour at the absolute minimum because you have to rewatch every Josh and Donna scene, pause to scribble down particularly good one-liners, and occasionally tweet to let the emotion out. And then if the inspiration strikes for writing some fan fic, well, what can you do...
... there being a B in the president's name, it sometimes happens that you are listening to Radio Four and think they are talking about President Bartlet. In your defence, this is usually while cooking or clattering about - so lots of background noise.
... you visit New York City and half expect to bump into Janel Moloney and become best friends with her. In fact, you do a double taken every time you see anyone blonde. You’re sure you saw her husband, too.
... you are more excited, in fact, that “wow, she has, like, actually been in this coffee shop” than about Macy’s or the Statue of Liberty or the tall buildings or anything, you know, normal.
... you visit Washington DC (of course), wander around in a happy daze, but are actually a little surprised and disappointed not to bump into Josh, Donna, Sam or CJ
... every time the Capitol building comes into view, you hear Josh in your head: “you want a piece of me? Come on! I’m right here” and you want to hug him. More than usual, that is.
... you get very cross when anyone misspells Janel Moloney’s name (it’s with an O people, where have you been all this time?!) even though there was a time when you thought not spelling it Maloney was just plain awkward for the sake of it.
.... in fact one of your characters in a future book is going to have that surname, just so her quirk can be “and it’s Moloney with a O.”
... speaking of future books, they all have politics in, and you have to figure out how to get the heroes not to all look like Brad and the heroines to not all look like Janel. Or you could just cast them in all the films. Yeah, come to think of it, that’s a much better solution.
... you weren’t going to bother with a pen name, but you like “Lyman”, so why not?
... you are in denial about the fact that Brad Whitford is, in fact, old enough to be your father. After all, your father is old enough to be his, just about, so it’s all okay, right?!
... you look up the name “Donnatella” on a website for baby names because you’re sure it should only be spelled with one N. And as it turns out, you’re right. But I guess the whole “It’s Dona, with 1 N” thing would have worn thin after a series or two.
... you inexplicably find yourself buying a lot of argyle, feeling like someone stylish and cool would wear this stuff, then realise while watching series 5 and 6 that Donna Moss in fact wears quite a lot of it.
... you have developed a habit of tilting your head when listening intently, and never knew where it came from till you just spotted Josh doing it
... you see a book that makes you laugh and think “I should buy that for Josh for Christmas, he’d like it”
... you are still boycotting everything with Rob Lowe in it, because you haven't forgiven him for his treacherous departure which was such a loss to the show, despite giving us more Josh, which is a (obviously) no bad thing
... you find yourself explaining the American political system to your bewildered students, who really couldn’t care less and whose level of English is not quite up to differentiating between Congress and Senate.
... you give a gold star to one of your students for knowing who Martin Sheen is and for picking Josh Lyman out of a picture of the cast. Well, it’s good to encourage their comprehension of authentic Anglophone culture.
... your students, in fact, know to say “it’s amazing” whenever you ask “what can anyone tell me about the West Wing?”
... you pester your editor to let you write about the West Wing, then you use your own article in a lesson.
... “dimple” is a word that you feel you need to include when you are teaching your students to describe people
... you get your students, who have explicitly told you they want to learn about British English (which you used to think was laudable) to try and name all the States, and are a little proud of them for knowing Wisconsin, and even more proud of yourself for resisting the temptation to tell them that Donna Moss and Brad Whitford both come from there
... you find yourself thinking in an American accent and adopting American vocab, and, shock horror, even grammar.
... the day inevitably comes when your spell-check (which in days gone by, you had, of course, set to British English) has to correct you when, for the first time, you write “color”, and it’s not on purpose.
... your list of must-haves for future partners has grown from just “single, male and passionate for God” to all those things plus American, Harvard-educated (okay, Yale or Princeton at a push), incredibly articulate, and of course Democrat-voting, though to be honest the chances of you falling for a Republican were always pretty (sorry, quite) remote. (Although, if it can happen to Donna... ) The furrowed brow and receding hairline you could probably live without, and you’ll (reluctantly) trade the dimple in for a passion for the West Wing. Otherwise, what will you do in the evenings? And what will you talk about?!
... You start planning to help out in the next Obama campaign, and wondering if that is, in fact, where this amazing yet slightly vulnerable man in need of an assistant and the love of a good woman is hiding.
... You spend longer communicating with people you have met via discussion groups on Facebook than you do with friends you have known for years. Oops.
... you’re watching a film, and you want to shout, “but where’s the politics in this?”
... and then you want to shout, “but where is Bradley Whitford? Who am I meant to be in love with here?"
... You have regular West Wing related dreams, your favourite one to date being the one where you are explaining to Matt Perry why it’s better than Friends. This in front of your heroes, Brad Whitford and Janel Moloney. Stupid alarm clock!
... People have to ask you to stop putting things like “wishes Josh would hurry up and kiss Donna” in your Facebook status updates, because you are ruining the plot for them
... you feel guilty writing a list like this and not yet mentioning Allison Janney, whom you love, and who was your favourite for a long time until your Josh and Donna addiction fully took over
.... you are determined to make it back to NYC next time Allison Janney is in a musical, or any of the cast are in anything at all in fact
... in fact, you need to set up a Google Alert for that, to go with the ones you already have on “the West Wing”, “Bradley Whitford”, “Janel Moloney”
... You are dedicating your next novel to Brad and Janel, and mentioning Aaron Sorkin in the acknowledgements for inspiring you to write
... You are in on a Friday night writing this list... but it’s okay, you’re going out to meet a friend soon, and she hasn’t even heard of the West Wing. You'll soon fix that...
Sunday, 4 October 2009
Delusions of Grandeur - on writing, part 3
I have this ridiculous recurring fantasy of what happens after my first novel, "Inevitable", gets published to critical acclaim in both the UK and the US. Well, a girl can dream. After all, dreaming is what turns us into writers to start off with, isn't it?
Of course, if I actually put this much effort into writing the thing, it'd be a best-seller by now. But anyway.
So, in this daydream, I'm being interviewed on a TV show, preferably by Parkinson, who has come out of retirement for the occasion, and definitely not by Jonathan Ross.
We spend some time discussing the novel, its themes, whether it is in any way autobiographical. (The main character is a French teacher in Brussels who falls for someone who looks a lot like a young Bradley Whitford, and is slightly obsessed with the West Wing, so no - it's not autobiographical at all. Cough.)
Then he comes to the subject of my name:
"So, your name's Claire Lyman. Are in you in any way related to Josh Lyman?"
"Well," I weigh my answer carefully, "It would be kind of difficult to be related to him, since he's, you know, fictional."
"But Claire Lyman is a fictional name, isn't it?"
"A pen name, yes."
"So you could be related to him."
"In my craziest moments I like to imagine myself to be his cousin." (Laughter from the audience. Phew. I was hoping they wouldn't think I actually imagined the West Wing to be, well, real.)
"Not his wife?" He plays along. "I would have thought most women would prefer to imagine themselves to be his wife."
"Well, no, because he and Donna are living happily ever after. The ship's kind of sailed on that one." (It should be noted that I have, by the time my novel comes out, mastered the art of making people laugh with me, instead of at me as they used to. Kind of like Matthew Perry. Or maybe Brad Whitford. Yep, there's a theme here. Sorry.)
"Okay. So you've met them before?"
"Erm... are we back in reality now?" I'm increasingly unsure. Even in my daydream this is becoming slightly surreal.
"If you like."
"Well," I explain very slowly, "they are fictional, so it would be difficult to meet them."
"So you wouldn't like to meet Mr Lyman and Ms Moss?"
"You're joking," I squeak. That's it - he's played me long enough. I can't hold back my childlike enthusiasm one more second. "I'd absolutely love to."
"That's a relief, because they'd have been terribly disappointed if you hadn't. They've flown a long way to be here."
Bradley Whitford and Janel Moloney join me on the sofa.
I can't wipe the grin off my face.
And of course, during the course of the interview, Brad agrees to write the screenplay with me, as well as star in the film (we'll address the issue of how he is going to look 35 later...) and Janel, with that beautiful smile of hers, tells me she'd love the part that was written with her in mind.
I go out for dinner with them afterwards and we spend many happy hours discussing not only the best TV show in history, but plenty of other things it turns out we have in common. It's the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Well, two, really.
Look, I told you it was a ridiculous fantasy.
But, just in case, you read it here first.
And in the meantime, it is inspiring me no end.
Of course, if I actually put this much effort into writing the thing, it'd be a best-seller by now. But anyway.
So, in this daydream, I'm being interviewed on a TV show, preferably by Parkinson, who has come out of retirement for the occasion, and definitely not by Jonathan Ross.
We spend some time discussing the novel, its themes, whether it is in any way autobiographical. (The main character is a French teacher in Brussels who falls for someone who looks a lot like a young Bradley Whitford, and is slightly obsessed with the West Wing, so no - it's not autobiographical at all. Cough.)
Then he comes to the subject of my name:
"So, your name's Claire Lyman. Are in you in any way related to Josh Lyman?"
"Well," I weigh my answer carefully, "It would be kind of difficult to be related to him, since he's, you know, fictional."
"But Claire Lyman is a fictional name, isn't it?"
"A pen name, yes."
"So you could be related to him."
"In my craziest moments I like to imagine myself to be his cousin." (Laughter from the audience. Phew. I was hoping they wouldn't think I actually imagined the West Wing to be, well, real.)
"Not his wife?" He plays along. "I would have thought most women would prefer to imagine themselves to be his wife."
"Well, no, because he and Donna are living happily ever after. The ship's kind of sailed on that one." (It should be noted that I have, by the time my novel comes out, mastered the art of making people laugh with me, instead of at me as they used to. Kind of like Matthew Perry. Or maybe Brad Whitford. Yep, there's a theme here. Sorry.)
"Okay. So you've met them before?"
"Erm... are we back in reality now?" I'm increasingly unsure. Even in my daydream this is becoming slightly surreal.
"If you like."
"Well," I explain very slowly, "they are fictional, so it would be difficult to meet them."
"So you wouldn't like to meet Mr Lyman and Ms Moss?"
"You're joking," I squeak. That's it - he's played me long enough. I can't hold back my childlike enthusiasm one more second. "I'd absolutely love to."
"That's a relief, because they'd have been terribly disappointed if you hadn't. They've flown a long way to be here."
Bradley Whitford and Janel Moloney join me on the sofa.
I can't wipe the grin off my face.
And of course, during the course of the interview, Brad agrees to write the screenplay with me, as well as star in the film (we'll address the issue of how he is going to look 35 later...) and Janel, with that beautiful smile of hers, tells me she'd love the part that was written with her in mind.
I go out for dinner with them afterwards and we spend many happy hours discussing not only the best TV show in history, but plenty of other things it turns out we have in common. It's the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Well, two, really.
Look, I told you it was a ridiculous fantasy.
But, just in case, you read it here first.
And in the meantime, it is inspiring me no end.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)