One of the hardest things about writing original television scripts – as opposed to specs, wherein you place your material into someone else’s pre-existing framework – is striking the right balance between creativity and marketability. On the one hand, you want to let your muse run riot, unfettered by the strictures of form, function and even, where applicable, good taste; on the other, being able to sell your completed teleplay is of paramount importance, so commercial considerations can never be permitted to stray too far from your mind.

That’s not to say that specs represent some kind of magical gateway to instantaneous Hollywood success, of course. (Believe me, they don’t.) It does, however, make them quite a lot easier, not to mention significantly more pleasurable, to write… And herein lies the problem.

See, the incentive to create something innovative and unique will always, to a certain extent, be obviated by the desire to succeed via the line of least resistance, especially when attempting to climb the notional ladder in such an intensely competitive industry. When we make it difficult for up-and-coming writers to meld unfettered inspiration with realistic sales prospects, we thereby put the brakes on artistic progress.

In choosing to begin work on a spec, one already knows that the viability of the relevant show’s format is not in question, so a large part of the battle has been rendered moot before one even puts fingers to keyboard; however, this hardly seems like the best way combating the surfeit of atrocious “reality” programs by and for those who favor scripted entertainment, a necessary move if we wish to secure said medium’s survival at a very difficult time.

Then again, perhaps I’m just a cynical old bastard, embittered by years of toil and rejection, whose output is simply no good and who has been forced to publish lengthy, self-justificatory screeds on the World Wide Web in order to rationalize his so-called existence. Anything’s possible!

On a slightly tangential note, the nominations for the 83rd annual Academy Awards were announced this past Tuesday and, as ever, more of the post-game analysis is centered around notable absences than those who were lucky enough to be honored.

In many ways, this is an inevitable consequence of the Internet giving a voice to every douchebag with access to a computer, this one included, but it does make you wonder at what the Academy folks are playing when every year, without fail, there’s a high-profile casualty before the red carpet has even been removed from storage. Are they just professional contrarians, when all is said and done?

The common consensus seems to be that this year’s biggest loser is poor Christopher Nolan, as he once again failed to snag a Best Director nod from the powers that be; I, however, am saving my ire for whomever decided to snub Mila Kunis, whose absence from the Best Supporting Actress shortlist is little more than a travesty.

Lastly, and on a completely unrelated note, could whomever has been sticking pins into a voodoo doll shaped like yours truly please stop? My back is freakin’ killing me.

Thanks in advance.