I’ve waited a bit to post what follows, since it’s still thinking in progress. But, hey, that’s what a blog is, right? So here goes anyways:

All panels circled around issues of monetization in one way or another. Back during the strike, I was frustrated by the degree to which Disney and others suggested that new media were good only for promotion, and that they were barren when it came to revenue generation. This seemed a bad faith bargaining position, to say the least. But at the DMS, new media was again and again talked of as a site for promotion, for brand management, of the shows, yes, but even moreso of Disney, ABC, and ESPN, following a directive from on-high (Bob Iger, Disney’s CEO) that these core brands are what’s being sold. Thus, while I’m not ready to completely drop the bad faith notion, I do see things differently now. I think what we have is a profound shift in business logic, which results in a profound shift in languages used too. Let me explain, and in the process I hope to challenge that new logic somewhat:

If the brands are what Disney thinks it is selling, not the shows per se, then it’s meaningless to make distinctions between new media and those shows. If the “old” job of the network or media conglomeration was to attract viewers to advertisers by producing great shows, then those shows deserved special treatment, and we could easily make distinctions between shows and promotion. But if the “new” model is to regard all elements of the corporation as engaged in the same process of selling the Disney, ABC, and ESPN brands, then everything is promotional. Your station identification snippets exist on the same level as your shows. And so if you’re Disney, and you don’t pay royalties to those who make the station idents, it must seem unreasonable and annoying to have to pay those other “promo” makers, the writers, directors, and actors.

While there’s something to this logic, there’s also something wrong with it. The former first. As you may have gotten by now if you read this blog, I’m a big believer in the creativity in and importance of all sorts of paratexts. I think that designing a good trailer is a creative act. Ditto with movie posters. Even hype campaigns. If it’s done well, it contributes to the text. It doesn’t just sell the text – it makes the text. So I’m sympathetic to the notion that we should or could start to break down the conceptual wall that exists between promotion and creativity, realizing that often the former is an involved part of the latter.

However, precisely because I’m arguing that good paratexts don’t just sell the text, they make it, rather than remove the semblance of creativity from writers, directors, and actors, I’m more comfortable with making creativity a larger umbrella that also covers good trailer makers, good poster designers, etc. In other words, while Iger’s philosophy risks leading naturally to the notion that “creatives” get rolled in with “promotion,” mine is that “promotion” could be rolled in with “creatives.”

There’s a key problem here, though. Above, I wrote of good paratexts. “Bad” paratexts are just promotion. Paratexts can contribute to a text, but they can also contribute nothing. But this can be extended to the shows themselves, if we regard them, as Iger’s philosophy suggests, as promos for the brand. Good shows do contribute to the brand, and sparkle with their creativity. Bad ones don’t: they just sap money and labor, with no good return on investment (for industry dollars or viewer watching hours). Of course, different viewers will disagree on what is good and what is bad, but since I’m not using specifics here (I’m avoiding referring to Cavemen or Big Shots, in other words), that’s by the by. What I’m getting at instead is that it is only good, creative shows and only good, creative paratexts that will help or sell the brand. Reworded, as much as it may seem this way to some observers, it isn’t promotion that helps or sells the brand, it’s creativity. I can open my window right now and yell to all of Sunnyside, Queens that they should watch a certain show, but that doesn’t sell the brand. Only creativity will.

I said I wouldn’t talk specifics, but to break that rule and return to the Digital Media Summit, the panel that examined Lost as a case study was telling. Carlton Cuse noted the challenge to get good content into marketing, and many of their examples suggested that they have succeeded. Lost’s ARGs, evocative promotions, and so forth all impressed the room of largely non-Lost-watchers. Both Lost AND its paratexts sell the ABC brand, since both are good (and if you disagree that they’re good, well that doesn’t hurt my point, since that only shows that they don’t help your notion of the brand).

Going back to the WGA and negotiations in an economy where promotion and creativity are merging moreso than before, good paratexts (frequently produced by non-unionized workers) profoundly challenge the line between the supposed “creatives” and the supposed promotional side of the business. This allows the industry to conflate the two, and see the differential treatment as silly, thereby justifying (in their eyes) lowering creators to the level of promotion. Bad texts similarly (or even especially?) inspire the conflation, since a good paratext/“promo” can do more for the brand than can a bad text. But only good stuff, only creativity, will truly help the brand, and hence it needs to be compensated as such. And only royalties do this, since otherwise you are paying the producers of shows that contribute nothing to your brand the same as you are paying those of the shows that help your brand.

      

Need new narrative television content, but not sure where you’re going to get it if, come January, the strike is still on and the tap runs dry?  You might try your local comic book shop-where you can find illustrated versions of such shows including Battlestar Galactica, 24, Heroes, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Star Trek, and CSI.  So I thought I’d offer a strike survival guide and introduce Extratextual readers to a couple of these tie-in titles–perhaps soon the only place where new “television” is being written, though not without its own set of constraints. 

First, of course, I should apologize for my long and untimely absence, which itself may have seemed like a writers’ strike of sorts.  I’ve always been a lurker at heart, and I should learn to lurk less on my own blog, but mostly I’ve just been swamped with other things.  All good reason for our collective approach here, so we never go too long without updates, even when some of us drop off the face of the planet.  

Anyways, on to the point of this entry: comic books based on licensed television properties.  As in the video game realm, licensed comics in general are usually considered an inferior breed: the result of greedy attempts to cash in on a concept that’s successful in another media market.  Connoisseurs of the “graphic novel” form certainly wouldn’t be caught dead reading them.  But I’m no high brow connoisseur.  In general, I still Make Mine Marvel.  Moreover, I like my TV franchises fine, thank you, and I’ll follow those properties to the licensed realm if that is where the currents of commercial creativity take them.  I long ago learned to stop caring about what the guy at the comic book shop thinks of my tastes.  And despite our tendency to value transmedia objects like Lost or The Matrix that bear the mark of a strong, unifying authorial presence across multiple platforms, I find it fascinating to see how more marginal, tentative, and unprivileged creative personnel negotiate the constraints of a license.  Limited in what they are allowed to do creatively, authors of licensed comic books must often find niches within the narrative to explore that don’t step on the toes of what the heavy hitters are reserving for their own use in film or on television.  I suppose it’s like fan fiction-but with corporate rules that present their own set of creative challenges and drive their own range of creative responses. 

Still, it’s no fun to pay $2.99 to $3.99 per issue to find out that a comic book has squandered the license or somehow treated it in a dissatisfying way.  So for anyone interested in exploring this field, here’s a quick analysis of how two comic titles-both with new issues as of last Wednesday-have negotiated the creation of new “television” narratives, and the questions of authorship that entails: 

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Season 8 (Dark Horse) – This title has recently become a darling of the popular media’s attempts to discuss comic books and comic book creation.  While Dark Horse held the license long before launching this new series, this title is significant due to the direct participation of Buffy creator Joss Whedon.  Although Whedon did have some involvement in those previous comic efforts, his role was largely that of an authority figure with the power to approve or deny directions that other licensed writers proposed.  Whedon held executive power over the creative decisions of others while reserving a great deal of creative power for himself.  Licensed authors had to find moments within an existing chronology to fit their narrative contributions, but only the primary author had privilege to expand that universe to any significant degree-notably in Fray, a 2001 comic mini-series written by Whedon that extended the vampire slayer mythology into the distant future.  Similarly, Whedon now serves as “executive producer” for the new comics series, personally charting the story arc for a “season” that builds from the conclusion of the television series. 

Having Whedon in command gives Dark Horse creative license (literally) to explore and most importantly expand Buffy to a greater degree than most television comics are allowed.  And don’t get me wrong-I like having Whedon in that privileged role.  Based on his star power he was able to assemble an A-list roster of writers and artists to help bring his vision to life (including Brian K. Vaughn, a veteran of both comics and Lost).  Plus, Whedon brings a unique storytelling style quite reminiscent of television to both Buffy and his work writing Astonishing X-Men (indeed, the last issue of the latter arguably expanded the repertoire of comics narration by openly lifting a narrational technique from a seventh season episode of Buffy).  I can’t quite capture it in words, but the dialogue hooks and intercutting between different scenes in his comic panels just screams television to me.  Yet in some ways, the success of this title irks me-it suggests that Buffy can only be good if Whedon writes it, codifying the idea that only an auteur can make worthwhile contributions to an ongoing franchise.  Still, if you’re looking for a TV comic of “good taste”, this one’s for you. 

Battlestar Galactica (Dynamite Entertainment) – If Buffy is the classy exception in the licensed comics world, BSG comics represent the economic excesses and unruly over-production of licensing.  Dynamite Entertainment, the current comic licensee for the NBC-Universal-owned BSG property, can by no means be accused of failing to fully leverage its investment, publishing not just one title, but an entire sub-franchise of titles.  In addition to one ongoing series based on the original 1970s series, and one based on the contemporary reimagining, Dynamite has offered Battlestar Galactica: Season Zero (an ongoing prequel to the first season of the reimagined series), Battlestar Galactica: Zarek (a mini-series based on the history of a secondary character), Battlestar Galactica: Origins (a series that delves into the more distant backstories of the reimagined characters), and Battlestar Galactica: Pegasus (a one-shot featuring Admiral Cain’s crew prior to the Cylon attack).  Compared to Marvel or DC Comics, Dynamite is small potatoes, and BSG represents a substantial portion of its monthly output.  Further, its non-BSG offerings include several comics based on the Red Sonja and Lone Ranger licenses.  Ultimately, Dynamite’s bread and butter is the licensed comic, and it makes no bones about churning out as much product it can based on valuable television properties.  In that sense, the BSG comics are pretty insidious, and indeed, the stories that result from this economic arrangement can be pretty unimpressive-either contradictory given the television mythology (Admirals Adama and Cain knew the Cylons were on the offensive prior to the mini-series?) or sometimes downright silly (Zak Adama returns to life as a Cylon replicant?). 

Yet, there’s something about these often mediocre comics and their use of television narrative that impresses me more than Buffy Season 8 does.  Simply put, Joss Whedon can do anything he wants with that comic.  But BSG comic writers like Greg Pak and Brandon Jerwa have to play by a specific set of constraints, so when they do accomplish something satisfying, its feels like more of an accomplishment, more of a creative feat.  Eventually, anything they create with the license arrives on the desk of BSG executive producer Ron Moore to make sure that it doesn’t harm his own television-centric creative interests in the property.  Moreover, because the serial mythology of BSG is constantly evolving on television (at least until the strike started, and work on the final episodes’ scripts ceased), licensed comic writers have had to remain flexible to work with a constantly changing mythology they could not control.  Most often this means working in the past, rather than exploring the future still uncharted by television, exploring the time between seasons and using prequels to develop new spins on the mythology.  Most compelling to me has been the way in which these comics have reintegrated the 1970s Cylon designs into the storyworld of the new series as earlier models of the reimagined Centurians and Raiders-eventually culminating in a multi-issue conflict between the old men-in-silver-suit Centurians and their more sleek, modern CGI descendants.  It may be a more constrained, rule-driven form of authorship, but there’s an underdog quality to the work being done here that I can’t help but respect.  And in terms of expanding and unifying the historically bifurcated BSG property as a franchise, it is these licensed comics that first found a narratively significant way to bring together the imagery and iconography of both the old and the new. 

Licensing and licensees raise a number of important questions in regards to authorship that may seem peripheral to television narrative proper.  But until the strike ends, these realms may be one of a very few arenas in which a form of television authorship continues-and I’ll continue to take what I can get. 

1. Put on lots of reality shows. This would seem the obvious way to get lots of new shows without needing writers per se. Ever wanted to be in a reality show? Wander around Southern California on November 2nd and you might find a lot of casting going on. Or turn on the TV at 8pm on a weeknight in January and you may see Knitting with the Stars.

Pros: Because of the elongation of time that most reality shows introduce, turning two weeks of real time into three or four months of show, reality shows could be produced at relative speed. There are also a large number of shows already in the books, so the networks wouldn’t even need new concepts. If some of these catch on, they might even help the nets build up audiences for shows that they might want to use as summer fillers after the WGA’s back.

Cons: If, as Jason Mittell writes, television genres follow a cycle of innovation–imitation–saturation, a fair argument could be offered that we’re well into the saturation phase for reality shows, with many longtime favorites experiencing dips in ratings. Thus the industry might want to tread carefully: my suspicion is that three hours a night on all networks of endless reality shows could be the final spin cycle of saturation that finishes a lot of those shows off. Running that many shows could also test America’s supply of loud, annoying, and objectionable human beings.

2. Get serious about news journals like 60 Minutes, Dateline, 20/20, and so forth. Make them two hours long, and give them more money.

Pros: This is a pipedream, but it might be nice if networks actually gave a damn about investigative journalism (even if only by force). January will bring the beginning of the primaries, too, so there will be no shortage of national news. The nets might even be able to siphon some of the big bucks spent on fictional television into getting some decent international news going. Hollywood would likely balk at this suggestion, but if you look at countries that put news on and that do it seriously during primetime, their ratings aren’t horrible, and sometimes they’re high. Maybe people will actually start to like the news, if it’s actually any good.

Cons: Given the kind of news programming that Americans are usually offered, we can surmise that most network heads have little to no respect for their audience’s intelligence. So this seems an unlikely strategy. I also worry that because of this lack of respect, the two hour specials would just be on the history of the bikini, or bio pieces on Britney Spears.continued below the fold…3. Think longterm and try to cultivate audiences for your best serials. Do marathons of shows such as Lost, or Heroes.

Pros: Most people I know who didn’t start watching Lost in season one or the hiatus between seasons one and two, never did. They know that the barrier to entry in terms of narrative information required is too high for them now. So give them the chance. Give your fans a chance to revisit the shows without paying for the DVD, and try to pick up new audiences in the meantime.

Cons: This could eat into DVD sales.

4. Look overseas. As is, summertime often sees networks experimenting with playing Australia’s Next Top Model or so forth. And Hollywood has always ripped off foreign shows, so why not get the real deal instead?

Pros: America’s television trade is so imbalanced in favor of exports, it might be nice to start showing the country what the world has to offer. Should fandoms develop, maybe not the networks themselves, but their cable siblings could continue to play these shows for cheap (thereby also infusing foreign production centers with cash to make yet better shows).

Cons: I could see Hollywood being scared of this Pandora’s Box, knowing that they could ultimately be selling their audience away in the longterm. The American television industry is so fond of perpetuating the myth that the only good television is American television (or involves Rowan Atkinson or John Cleese), and such a strategy might challenge that myth.

5. Documentaries. Get thee a Burns brother and commission a ten-parter. If that’s WGA-covered (as it seems it might be), go to the public broadcasters of the world, and pay them to do it for you.

Pros: Well-financed documentaries are some of the best things on television. Blue Planet. Planet Earth. 7 Up. The Civil War. The networks could do these too. Some of the best ratings on television in England have been for the BBC’s signature documentaries, so this isn’t even a low-ratings solution. Meanwhile, if the doc is on a weighty topic, the network playing it can bask in the light of being socially responsible. Just as reality TV’s birth was partly born through a strike, maybe a birth of great docs in network primetime could be born this time?

Cons: As with option 2, this relies on networks having faith in their viewers to sit and watch, and I’m dubious regarding their capacity for faith.

6. Plain ol’ reruns and movies. 24/7 Law and Order, CSI: Miami, or Full House.

Pros: This is what the nets are familiar with, and I’m sure they’ll trust that this is what we‘re familiar with. Requires little work. Or, for a little innovation, borrow from VH1’s playbook and create list shows. “The Greatest 10 Episodes of [fill in the blank],” “Twenty Shows That Rocked the World,” and so forth.

Cons: But doesn’t this step on your affiliates toes, since they’re the prime market for reruns? Maybe this isn’t a problem for the Owned and Operated affiliates? It also risks hurting potential rerun hits prematurely through overkill.

Of course, a combination of the above could be used, and likely will need to be used. Television needn’t have new fictional programming to live, after all. Time will tell whether the networks can think on their feet, though, or whether creative thinking in television really is a writer’s job. If the networks can’t handle creativity, I fear I’ll need to start stocking up a nuclear bunker-like supply of shows I want to see but haven’t. Maybe I’ll finally have a chance to watch Battlestar Galactica?

The nuclear winter really will begin, though, if come January and the primaries, American television is without The Daily Show. Maybe we could have TDS declared an essential service, and therefore a strike exception?