What I Do. Like, for a Living.

For the most part, I consider myself a rather tolerant person. Except when it comes to one thing: television. Oh, how I loathe nearly all TV programs, and don’t even get me started on commercials.

I feel badly for anyone who wants to just zone out and watch their favorite guilty pleasure reality show when I am around, as I transform into an arrogant, naggy old lady — pointing out incongruent plot lines, scoffing at bad dialogue and demanding answers to questions like, “Why are they recapping what happened before the commercial break?! It was three minutes ago!” and “Why are the commercials always so loud?!”

That is why it is totally absurd that one of my freelance writing gigs is watching television, and then writing about it. What is even more absurd is that I’m watching three of the worst shows on prime time TV this year:



V —  a science fiction drama with absolutely atrocious special effects and ghastly acting about malicious aliens. Bonus ridiculousness: it is supposed to be a commentary on the “evil” Obama administration;

Criminal Minds —  a crime procedural that focuses on the particularly revolting men and women who commit extremely violent (and often sexual) crimes;

and its new spin-off,

Criminal Minds Suspect Behavior —  it seems there is no end to the many ways beautiful half-naked women can be heinously violated and murdered.

(That last one is especially painful to watch, because one of my favorite people, Janeane Garofalo, stars in it.)

Janeane Garofalo?? Why??

The worst part of this gig is, I'm not even good at it. Granted, it’s hard to make bad TV writing not sound stupid when you’re condensing an hour show into a 400-word summary. For example, here is a snippet of the very first episode of Criminal Minds I covered. It was a very, very poorly done Natural Born Killers rip-off, in which a young couple (Sid and Ray) went on a murder and mayhem spree in the South. This was the “big reveal” and climax:



Impatient, Ray called back to ask about the car. Derek revealed that Sid killed Amy. Ray doesn’t believe him at first, but due to Sid’s strange behavior when he asks, realized it’s true. She tried to change the subject by asking him to make love to her. He begins choking her as foreplay, but accidentally kills her. Upset, Ray lets the hostage come out of the store. Derek pushed her to safety as Ray drove out of the station. The team shoot at the car repeatedly until it crashes. Ray is shot in the head and killed.


So, when I say I’m a professional freelance writer, don’t think of me as some glamorous Carrie Bradshaw type, staying out late, sleeping in, running off to lunch with my friends and then lazily making my way home in the late afternoon sun, ruminating on men and expensive shoes.

Nope. I am on my couch after working my day job, in my pajamas at 5 o’clock and decidedly not at happy hour with my friends. I am shouting at the TV and waking up the dog with my declarations of disgust with the viewing public for watching these shows often enough to keep them on television.

(Dear disgusting public: please continue your filthy habit because it’s keeping me in freelance work that pays pretty well. Thanks.)

In all seriousness, I am pretty grateful for the work, and the friend who offered it to me. She got married a couple years ago, and she often refers to the extra money from the gig as “wedding funds.” So I sit in my flannel pants and watch bad TV, rolling my eyes but also thinking, “This terrible show just paid for my wedding shoes, woo hoo!”

And I think Carrie Bradshaw would be proud.