Three of my favorite shows of all time: Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Puella Magi Madoka Magica. What do these all have in common? Well: they’re damn clever.
And, as I’ve mentioned before, I try to pull off the same sort of clever stuff in my work to the detriment of my actual story. But, this is my counterargument to myself, to that article I wrote. Can you really blame me for idolizing that aspect of media when I keep seeing someone (or rather groups of show staff) pull it off like it was effortless whenever I bother to sit down in front of a television?
I love black comedy. I love dark stories. I am a fan of the twist. The world does not have enough, not nearly enough, quips and one-liners and snarky retorts. If the entire world could talk like it is Watson and Sherlock having an argument with Malcolm Reynolds and Xander Harris, while the David Tenant’s and Matt Smith’s Doctors finish each other sentences and run around in the background, then I would be a happy, bubbly, ecstatic man.
I know I must focus on stories, and structure, and making enjoyable characters. But, once I get a handle on that, in the rewrites, in the revisions, in the final edits, my drive is to chase for an iota of that wit those shows wield.
The best thing I ever write will contain it all. The shockingly dark, take-your-breath-away reveal, delivered after a slew of humor and character moments and more quotable words than the script of the first episode of BBC’s Sherlock.
Well, at least, that’s the goal. And, after all, you can shoot as high as you want. The only person that will mind is that one bird.
And he and I have been on bad terms for a while now.
(As you can see, there’s still a lot of work to do.)