Redshirts

was afraid of him doing.
    AW
    Which is what?
    DENISE
    Having agency. Doing things that even if they were disastrous in the long run for the character, was still doing something.
    AW
    Trust me, agency is not a problem with my characters.
    DENISE
    I didn’t say it was. But my characters were also doing something else. They were rebelling against something.
    AW
    What?
    DENISE
    My own bad writing. I wouldn’t do for my characters what they needed for me to do—be courageous enough in my writing to make them interesting. So they did it themselves. And by they, I mean me, or some part of my writing brain that I wasn’t willing to connect with before. Maybe that’s something you need to do too.
    AW
    Wait. Did you just call me a bad writer?
    DENISE
    I didn’t call you a bad writer.
    AW
    Good.
    DENISE
    But I’ve watched your show. Most of the scripts are pretty terrible.
    AW
    (throws up hands)
    Oh, come on .
    DENISE
    (continuing)
    And they’re terrible for no good reason!
    AW
    (leaning forward)
    Do you write scripts? Do you know how hard it is to work on a weekly deadline for a television show?
    DENISE
    No, but you do. Let me ask you: Do you really think you’re making a good effort? Remember, I’m reading your blog. I’ve read you make excuses for the quality of your output, even when you pat yourself on the back for the speed you crank it out.
    AW
    This doesn’t have anything to do with why I’m blocked.
    DENISE
    Doesn’t it? I was blocked because I knew I was writing badly, and I didn’t have the courage to fix it. You know you’re writing badly, but you give yourself an excuse for it. Maybe that block is telling you the excuse isn’t working anymore.
    AW
    I’m not blocked because I’m writing badly, goddamn it! I’m blocked because I don’t want anyone else to die!
    DENISE
    (nods)
    I believe that’s your new excuse, yes.
    AW
    (standing up again)
    I thought I was wasting my time before. Now I know. Thanks ever so much. I’ll be sure not to use your name when I write this up on the blog.
    DENISE
    If you actually do put it on your blog, use my name. And then ask your readers if what I’ve said makes sense. You said you wanted their help. I want to see if you’re really interested in that help.
    ANON-A-WRITER WALKS OUT.
    And that’s how I completely wasted my evening tonight, listening to a woman who I thought might actually be helpful to me explain how I’m a bad writer—oh, wait, not a bad writer, just doing bad writing . Because there’s a distinction with a difference.
    And no, I’ve never said my writing for the show was bad. I said it’s not Shakespeare. I said it’s not Emmy-winning good. That’s not the same as bad . I think I’m honest enough about myself that I would admit to bad writing. But you don’t stay on a writing staff for years if you can’t write, or if all you write is bad shit. Believe it or not, there is a minimum level of competence you have to have. I have an M.F.A. in film from USC, people. They don’t just give those away. I wish they did. I wouldn’t have had student loans for six years until I caught my first break. But they don’t.
    My point is, fuck you, Denise Hogan. I’m not your cheap entertainment in L.A. I came to you with a real problem and your solution is to crap all over me and my work. Thanks so much for that. One day I look forward to returning the favor.
    In the meantime, enjoy the Internet knowing how you “helped” me today. I’m sure they’re going to love it.
    AW
    *   *   *
    So, that was a reporter from Gawker on my cell phone. She told me that they figured out I was Anon-a-Writer based on what I’ve been writing here, like how my show was on basic cable, it was an hour-long show, it’s been on for several seasons, it’s a show where a lot of people get killed, and that I’m a USC alum who got his first regular gig in the business six years after graduating.
    And also because once I named Denise Hogan, they went on Facebook and did an image search on her name and found a picture of her dated today, at a coffee shop in Burbank, sitting with a guy who looks like me. The picture was taken by a fan of hers with her iPhone. She didn’t come up to talk to Denise because she was too nervous. But not too nervous, apparently, that she couldn’t upload the damn picture to a social network with half the population of the entire wired world on it.
    So that’s the story and Gawker’s going to be posting it in, like, twenty minutes. The