Martha Stewart: You Know You Love Her. (It's OK, You Can Tell Me.)

A new television show can be like a new restaurant. As fun as it is to be at the big premiere, sometimes it’s better to wait a while as it settles in and finds its rhythm. I thought this might be the case with Martha Stewart’s new daytime show, “Martha” (hmm, she’s down to her first name…Oprah better watch her back).

What’s surprising about Martha is that, even with all her experience, she is not a natural in front of the camera. Her first show, Martha Stewart Living, premiered in 1993, and, by 1997, she also had shows on the Food Network and the Home and Garden channel. What always struck me as odd about these shows was how uncomfortable she seemed. Her speech was stilted, her physicality awkward (even now, she doesn’t know what to do with her hands when there isn’t a decoupaged tea cozy in them) and, most importantly, she appeared to hate talking to, you know, people – a major handicap for daytime television.

So imagine my surprise when I turn on my TV and find Martha entering her enormous studio stage with 90’s teenage duo Kris Kross’ rap anthem “Jump” blaring over her white, female, middle-aged audience. Then, without warning, she leaps between two teenage girls holding jump ropes and proceeds to double-dutch. The show’s been on for barely over a week and here is Ms. Ice-Cold-Business-Queen genuinely enjoying herself. What the hell happened to her over there at Camp Cupcake?

At first glance, it was hard to tell what direction this show would go in. During the premiere week, she made numerous references about her time in prison and even joked about her newly detached ankle monitor. I was impressed with her ability to laugh at her own situation (the whole scandal was ridiculous to begin with). But then again, there she was, on the premiere show, teaching Marcia Cross of “Desperate Housewives” how to fold t-shirts. Yawn. However, later in the week, as they now show in every single commercial, even P. Diddy – or, sorry, is it just Diddy now? – stopped by to teach her how to rap (even better: watching him water her plants in the studio greenhouse). Who is this new Martha Stewart? Is she finally learning how to combine her strict, school-marm side with her next-door-neighbor-in-a-comfy-sweater side?

I found my answer in the aforementioned episode, where she coolly maneuvered between her playful entrance and a challenging yet lightweight interview with strikingly ADD-afflicted guests, Ben Vereen and Liza Minnelli. If they had had their way, their five-minute cooking segment would’ve turned into a half-hour song-and-dance advertisement for their upcoming Broadway hurricane charity show. So, luckily for us, Martha knew exactly when to keep her guests, and her show, on track. That segment, however, revealed the inconsistent results of forcing celebrities into uncomfortable how-to demonstrations. If Martha is going to have such legendary icons as Mr. Vereen and Ms. Minnelli on her show, why waste their time making them stand around while she boils crawfish?

My questions about Martha’s new, looser personality were slightly sated when I noticed who was producing her show: Mark Burnett, the man behind “Survivor” and both versions of “The Apprentice.” Maybe he hired the right people to bring it out of her. I can picture him and his crack PR team telling her, “No, seriously, Martha, trust us. Jumping rope to a dated rap song will make you look really fun. Here’s the catch: you have to smile.” Perhaps that’s not fair – maybe she really has changed, just like everyone has speculated.

Whatever it is – Burnett’s magic touch, Martha’s newfound amiability - it hasn’t worked for her other show (if ratings are to tell us anything). While the business setting of her “Apprentice” might appear to play to her strengths, the low ratings for the show’s debut might imply that people don’t want to see the business side of Martha without the domestic side to balance it out. Watching her criticize and fire people might make her reputation as an unrelatable, machine-like billionaire all too real. Or perhaps it just meant that people wanted to see the second-season premiere of “Lost” instead.

Either way, the real deal is her daytime show. You never know what’s going to happen. One day she might be teaching 50 Cent how to crochet, the next she might be breakdancing.

Writing + Publishing = Sweaty Palms

The following was published at www.writers-on-line.com as "The Permanence of Publishing":

I wonder if all writers are actually control freaks. That’s one of the aspects of writing I enjoy the most: the control. Unlike using words orally, writing allows the author to rewrite a line as many times as it takes to make the point. However, it is due to how the writing caters to the needs of the author that the author can become a slave to the needs of the writing.

I can recall times when my right hand merely arched between the “Backspace” and arrow keys as I ruminated over the use of “the” as opposed to “a,” “a” as opposed to “the.” Nope, wait, let’s go back to “the” again. Fine, that’s good. Now, if I skip to where I left off I can…wait, let’s go back and try “a” again and this time I’ll read it out loud. Hmmm, maybe I should have my roommate read it first with “the” and then with “a.”

This attention to detail is acknowledging the fear inherent in the possibility of publication. I know that sounds strange. Shouldn’t publication be accompanied by happiness, even celebration? But that’s not always the case for those of us who would be patiently described as “neurotic.”

Sure, writers can control the fate of every little comma and semicolon, but once it’s published, the writer has no choice but to step back and let his baby go out into the real world. Much in the same way a parent must learn to let their child go out to survive in the real world and hope they prepared the child for what they will face, a writer can only hope that he did everything he could to service the story and fulfill its potential.

This may be why I have submitted only a select few pieces for publication. I feel that most of my stories are in various stages of adolescence. Some are pre-teens, their potential just coming into awareness, their scattered ideas become tighter, more focused. Some are full-fledged teenagers, wanting so much to be on their own, to be left alone, to be treated as the adults they so long to be yet aren’t quite. One or two are close to graduation, and, therefore, close to possibly moving out and moving on to the real world. A world full of criticism, both positive and negative, that may crack the protective bubble I have prepared for them. I can only hope that when the time comes for me to send my babies out, they will be the full-grown, fully-developed products I always wanted them to be.

The possibility of publication can influence the writer on a deeper level as well. In his essay “Why We Do the Things We Do,” Larry Smith refers to “that reward we all know where good writing confirms our deepest sense of self.” This pushes to something deeper than just the mere satisfaction one feels after writing something that doesn’t, you know, suck. It provokes a sense of accomplishment that one could find if pursuing almost anything of any worth. I suspect parents feel something similar when they see their own handiwork in the development and behavior of their children.

When Smith refers to “our deeper sense of self,” he refers to a psychological consequence of the permanence of writing; if you are published, there is a chance that if that piece of writing is treated properly, it could last for a long time, be passed among many people, and initiate many conversations. That’s the deeper sense of self that can be fulfilled by writing: when the author knows that no one else in the world could write what he wrote; that it is his singularity as a person and a writer - his experiences, his perspective, his resources – that came together to produce a work that no one else could duplicate short of plagiarism. And if the writing is good, a reciprocal effort takes place where the writing therefore justifies his experiences, his perspective, and his resources. The writer and the writing both serve each other. And maybe, just maybe, the writer can have a small hand in controlling his future.

So, You Want To Be a Blogger

Well, no, not really. I can't say I want to be a blogger. In fact, I was kind of against the whole idea. I mean, I just don't think it should be that easy for any ol' Joe Schmoe to tell himself he's a writer because he has a blog. It gives people a sense of importance that, quite frankly, they just haven't earned. Not to mention how self-indulgent it is. Let's face it, as much as we long for connection in this cold, strange world, how many people think thoughts that actually appeal to those outside their narrow group of friends and family? Not many, and I don't necessarily feel that I'm an exception.

But here's the deal. I love to write and do so almost every day.

Hence, the blog.

Plus, despite my aforementioned protests, it is kind of fun. Instant gratification, if you will - seeing your work on a web page, even if you posted it there yourself.

So, since all I do is consume pop culture and other sites pertaining to pop culture (Entertainment Weekly, Slate, etc.), I thought I may as well do something myself. I'm not going to gossip about celebrities or post pictures of celebrities wearing ugly clothes...there's way too much of that stuff out there, already. This isn't about celebrities. This is about art, and all the different forms it takes on, however strange and unexpected. So I hope you enjoy reading about it as much as I enjoy writing about it.