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...

The moustache, part 2 of no-doubt-many

It's time I was honest with myself.


This moustache thing. You know, the thing that people can't help asking Bradley Whitford about. The thing that even he is starting to sound perhaps a little bored of, unless I've misread it.


The thing with the moustache is this: it makes him look old. Not like, old old, but too old to be my future husband. Too old to be Josh Lyman. Definitely too old to be the hero in my novel. It makes him look like other people with moustaches who remind me of dad figures rather than boyfriend figures.


If you listen very carefully you can hear the sound of a bubble popping.

Reality check

Back in the eighties, yes, the eighties, a little TV programme called Neighbours arrived on the BBC.

My life would never be the same again.

For the non-Brits and the desperately young, let me explain: it was (and, unbelievably, still is) an Australian soap opera based on one street, Ramsay Street, in the fictional Melbourne suburb of Erinsborough. And back then, it was incredibly tame, discounting the haircuts, which were horrendous. It starred the then-unknown Kylie Minogue and her on-screen boyfriend, Jason Donovan.

Except, oh happy day! My ever-knowledgeable friend Philippa came to stay with me and told me "they're married in real life, you know". The fairy tale was coming true! The on-off romance was permanently on, off screen. So exciting.

I was ten. It was forgivable.

Also forgivable was the fact that Philippa had got a little confused and Jason and Kylie never were actually married as such. But they were together - or at least, according to Between the Lines, Jason's recentish autobiography whose terrible ghostwriter has a predilection for the word "for". "Because" will do fine most of the time! Anyway, that's beside the point.

I owed it to myself to read it, you see. Because twelve-year-old me (yes, this obsession lasted a while) was in love with Jason. I even prayed semi-regularly for him to become a Christian so that I could marry him. (Since there was obviously nothing else standing in the way.)

Luckily for my mental health and my mother's phone bill, there was no twitter or facebook or livejournal, there were no yahoo groups, not even any internet to speak of.

Twelve-year-old me spent several years desperate to visit Australia and learning everything she could about Jason and Kylie and Melbourne and Neighbours. She may even have dreamed of living there herself, being on the show, who knows what went on in her head.

Ahem. Of course since I am now all grown up I do not indulge in any such behaviour.

Okay. Some of it I do. But I do not expect, say, Bradley Whitford and Janel Moloney to be together in real life just because they had amazing chemistry on the West Wing. Had I known that Janel was married (and few people did until recently; she's got to be one of the most elusive famous people in the world), I would certainly not have entertained the thought for even a hundredth of a second, despite the photos of them together as real people and the quotes that are still kicking around the internet suggesting that they were never exactly repulsed by the idea of having to kiss each other. I'm glad that Janel is seemingly so happy and I really do hope that Brad will be again one day, too. Heck, I'd even be willing to help him out with that one. Even despite the moustache.

(On a serious note, this interview of his now ex-wife Jane Kaczmarek made me sincerely wish they could work things out. I was so impressed with her - such dignity, grace and kindness.)

I am not confused. Well, not about this: Bradley Whitford is not Josh Lyman. But I will admit that this piece comparing the two may have been the initial trigger to the transfer of my affections from Josh, who is a fictional character, to Brad, who may as well be, because let's face it, I don't know what he's really like.

Or do I? If sites like eHarmony insist you can get to know people through reading profiles and exchanging emails, then surely reading interview after interview, and speaking to people who have met him, gives me some idea of the kind of person he is. Don't they? Who knows? I feel I know him a little. I feel I certainly know him enough to accept the offer of coffee should it ever be forthcoming.

So when I talk about Brad, I'm not talking about Josh. (Nor, incidentally, am I being disrespectful or implying close personal friendship by using his first name. It seems kinder and warmer to me, and when people use just my surname, it makes me want to smack them; I'm not sure why.) I'm talking about the Bradley Whitford I feel I know something about. When I say I want to marry him, it's shorthand for I'd like to meet him, I'd like us to become friends, I'd like us to fall in love, then, if all of those things work out and he shaves off his moustache, I'd like to marry him. What can I say, I love fairy stories. You know, ordinary girl marries handsome actor and lives happily ever after. Writes a book about it called "Find Me Valuable".

But of course that's all it is. A fairy story.

It's just that I'm not ten anymore, so perhaps it's less forgivable.

on my blog this week...

Wow. For the second time this week my blog has had over 100 hits today. I'm quite happy about that, even though I know, I know, that it is fact entirely meaningless in terms of anything that really matters.

More excitingly, it seems that my readers are diversifying: "only" about fifty percent of them reach me through "Bradley Whitford" these days. I mean, I even had "Lauren Graham": see, not West Wing related. At all. Even though I am plotting some crossover fan fic where Rory goes to work for Josh Lyman, and Lorelai was in fact Josh's first kiss. I think they would've made a great couple. For a time, obviously.

Anyway, moving on from the West Wing, I've had some interesting keywords this week. I particularly loved "Claire the inevitable". Kind of like "Jude the Obscure", I thought. Or "Ivan the Terrible".

I also had "Reasons not to move to Belgium", which seems a little harsh. But sometimes a little bit fair too. In the nicest possible way. For example, when it snows, the country does not come to a grinding halt: you still have to go to work. And you don't get a free phone with you mobile contract. You will never get your head round the politics here. And, oh heartbreak, you will not be able to watch the Good Guys, featuring Brad and his moustache. All of which may or may not be a small price to pay for all the chocolate, and stuff. Depends on your point of view.

To the person who asked "why when I go to church it makes me cry", I want to send a hug. And to say that sometimes that happens when God is touching your heart. And that although it's often uncomfortable, and usually painful, having Him touch your heart is the most beautiful thing that can happen to you, and the most transforming. In a good way. Hang in there.

I'm bemused that the person who typed in "Actuapress mag Obama" got sent to my page about the reasons for Inevitable. I'm a good person to come to for Actuapress mag (Have I mentioned that I'm writing an article for them about The Good Guys? Have I mentioned how excited I am about it?No? Wonder what happened there. Will proceed to remedy that immediately.). I'm also a good person to come to for Obama, not because of my knowledge but because of my enthusiasm. (As, in fact, with so many things. I am, after all, a feeler type on the Myers Briggs scale.) But it's odd that this should lead to my blogpost about my novel, because how does Google know Obama gets a mention or two in my novel? Spooky.

"Reasons why the West Wing women blog". Intriguing. Am I a West Wing woman? I don't think that much blogging goes on on the show itself. (Before you all jump to the comments section -yes, I know there is some.) Why do I blog? Well, many reasons. Actually, quite a good topic for another day, too. But did they mean why do we blog about the West Wing? Many, many reasons. Perhaps mostly to keep the dream alive...

"Now is my time". I like this, and I like that it led to my blog. Perhaps it's a sign.

Though mainly a sign that I should go to bed. Thursdays start early...

Keywords, blogs, and yes, Bradley Whitford...

Time was 90% of people found my blog through two keywords, "Bradley Whitford" and "Janel Moloney". Shocking, I know. I don't know what happened there.

I'm happy to report that my readers have now diversified. Not only do I get references to, respectively, moustaches and pregnancies, I also get wider references to the West Wing and even, occasionally, to entirely different things.

On the moustache (and for the person who asked "why does Bradley Whitford look different"), briefly: yes, he has one, no, I don't like it, but yes, I understand his artistic choice of the accessory. I just hope he was joking in a recent interview when he said he was going to keep it.

On the pregnancy: Janel and her film composer husband now have a beautiful baby boy. This makes me smile for several reasons.

One, that I'm sure she is happy, and that's only fair after she spent so many years of my life bringing me joy. Although, I don't think she did it just for me, but when I eventually meet her I will verify that. Meeting a certain Other Famous Actress recently has made me realise I don't want to meet Janel unless she's going to be nice to me and allow me to gush at least a little about how much I love her, but that's another story.

Two, we have even more in common than I thought. "Is that possible?" I hear you cry, what with my blondeness, slimness, legginess and incredible talent for the perfoming arts. Ahem.

Aside from all those things which we do not share, there is one thing: when asked what she hoped for in season 5 of the West Wing: "Any chance to make out with Brad Whitford, that would be great". Incidentally, she reports that he is a great kisser. Well, yes.

Anyway, I digress. But we do have this in common: I once almost-dated a wannabe film composer. Okay, so I didn't marry him, and I think he's ended up working for a bank, but when I say almost-dated I mean that I was madly in love with him (I think it was mutual) and probably would have married him had circumstances been right, and he is a gifted musician who may still make it one day.

The other is that had I been a boy, I would have had the same name as Janel's son. Well, my mum told me that once, but then she's also told me I narrowly avoided being called Scarlet, and it turns out it wasn't really that narrow after all. Still, I'm sticking to my story, though I don't really see where the conversation could go after "I was nearly called that".

So, there you go. That's that story. You heard it here first, except probably not.

Sticking with the Brad theme for now, I think my favourite recent keyword was "Is Bradley Whitfield a Democrat?" I assume they mean him, and since they don't really know his name all that well, they can be forgiven for not knowing that the question is actually a far classier and more original version of "Is the sky blue?" or "Is the Pope a Catholic?". One which I may, in fact, start using, if nothing else because the sky is hardly ever blue where I live.

It also makes my little heart glad that people are typing in "Josh Malina Bradley Whitford" and, most excitingly, "Brad Whitford Josh Malina twitter comments", because I invented that particular genre of tweeting. Yes, the first time I ever had a tweet from Josh Malina (which had my jumping up and down with glee) was in response to one of mine. "Bradley Whitford," he said, "Is a hateful man whose career is receding faster than his hairline." Ouch, but very funny. People have been baiting him no end since, and I think it's distressing in the extreme that Brad is not on twitter to defend himself and fight back.

Anyway. There's plenty more where all that came from - like "email address for Janel Moloney" - oh, to have that information, which I would most certainly not broadcast. But I feel flattered that my blog was where Google thought people should come for that information.

It's late, though, so you'll have to wait - on the edge of your seats, no doubt.

Another thing that made me smile...

I have a whole new level of respect for Bradley Whitford. 

Yes, yes, I know - you didn't think it was possible.  Neither did I. But I went on a tour of Juilliard yesterday (was it yesterday? I won't even attempt that kind of mathematical time zone gymnastics - I've slept once-ish, since, so it must be yesterday) and - wow.  

For a start,  750 - 1,000 people apply, and they only take about 20 each year. 

Then, once they're there, they work them unbelievably hard: six days a week, 8 am till 11 pm (apart from Wednesday and Saturday evenings - woop).  And they're not let anywhere near an audience till their fourth year.  

Just after we sat in the theatre where the seniors perform, we walked down a corridor lined with framed black and white photographs of performances past.  Shame I don't know what year Brad was here, I thought, because he might be somewhere on these walls.  And then, I don't know why, but I turned my head slightly to the left and the photograph I was facing caught my eye; I read the label, just in case, and yes - it was him: unrecognisable in his youth and wispy moustache.  

I couldn't help feeling it was another of those just-for-me moments, like finding Hillary Clinton's Living History in a box of free books in front of a house in a Georgetown house.  It made me smile.  

"Inevitable", by Claire Lyman - what's it about?

What's it about? I usually get asked when I apologise for my recent lack of social engagement with the excuse that "I'm writing a book, and I'm living eating sleeping breathing nothing else at the moment." So, for those of you who've wondered...



Catherine is bored. It’s not that she doesn’t love her books and her West Wing DVD collection, and the passion and excitement they stir in her. But she’d like something to happen in her real life for a change.

In search of adventure, or at the very least some existential angst she can use to finally do some of that writing she’s always secretly wished she had the heartbreaking past to fuel, she moves back to her native Belgium.

Yes, Belgium. Things happen there too, you know, as she discovers when she begins teaching French to Brad, an American diplomat, who, looking as he does like Bradley Whitford circa 1999 and minus the disproportionately controversial moustache, is not hard to fall in love with.

All well and good, but Brad’s ambiguous friendship with the beautiful Lucy (think Janel Moloney), back home in the US, seems to be getting in the way of the perfect Pride and Prejudice ending she’d like for her autobiography.

If heartbreak is the price for adventure, is it worth it? Should she fight for Brad? Should she settle for his best friend, who just happens to be another attractive American? Or should she retreat back into the world of fiction, living vicariously and free from gut-wrenching pain?

Come with her and help her decide...