I’ll be honest–these days it sometimes seems like I can’t turn my head without seeing an advertisement for a new reboot or revival of an old franchise. Often, these reboots are of something that played an important role in my childhood or adolescence, and seem cringingly designed to play on my sense of nostalgia. From live-action remakes of Disney movies to newly diverse CW reboots of 90’s television, it can seem like the only new movies and TV shows getting made these days…are old movies and TV shows.
As a writer, this sometimes strikes me as short-sighted. After all, there are so many amazingly talented authors, screenwriters, and playwrights out there writing original, creative, and often groundbreaking content that would be perfect for the big or little screen. But at the same time…sometimes these reboots really nail bringing an old storyline to a new audience. So with no further ado, here are my favorite reboots/revivals/returns from the last few years.
A Star Is Born
I know, I know, me and everyone else in the Academy. For me, though, this was really a high bar as far as comparison goes. I’m a big old movie buff, which means I’ve seen (and enjoyed, in different ways) both the 1937 and 1954 versions by the same name, starring Janet Gaynor and Judy Garland, respectively. (I have not seen the 1976 version with Barbra Streisand). I thought Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga’s rock-opera reimagining of the familiar story was poignant, inventive, and incredibly well acted.
Full disclosure, I’ve never actually watched an episode of the original early-naughts version of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. However, even without a comparison, I think 2018’s reboot of the franchise is nearly impossible to argue against. The newly minted Fab Five are just about everything this world needs: a group of queer, diverse, empathetic, thoughtful, kind, and playful men who bring joy, change, and self-worth to people’s lives. If anyone who works in TV is reading this…more of this, please!
Mad Max: Fury Road
Mel Gibson, Shmel Gibson. I’d rather partake in this heart-pounding, feminist reimagining of a parched post-apocalyptic world, headed up by a prosthetic-wearing, shaved-head sporting, monster-truck driving Imperator Furiosa (played with aplomb by Charlize Theron). Bonus points: every still this movie looks like it could be a poster.
Roswell, New Mexico
Oh, I had my doubts, not least of all because the original show wasn’t very good (sorry!). But with the 2019 reboot, Liz is a scientist, the daughter of undocumented immigrants, and Max is–well, Max is very attractive. All joking aside, while the reboot is not without flaws, it does a much more thorough job of placing an alien invasion storyline amid the real-world xenophobia of modern America.
From the moment they announced an all-female reboot of this beloved classic, I knew I was all in. And I was not disappointed. Featuring some of the funniest ladies in comedy–Kristin Wiig, Kate McKinnon, Melissa McCarthy, and Leslie Jones–and the welcome eye candy of Thor himself (sorry, can’t think of him any other way) this reboot did not disappoint. Ghosts, occultists…I can’t really say more without giving spoilers. Just trust me, hilarity ensues.
And that’s just a few of the reboots/returns/revivals, past and present. What are your faves, or ones you’re looking forward to? Personally, I’m really excited about Disney’s reboot of Mulan, and Amazon’s Lord of the Rings TV series!
When I saw that the Fourth of July fell on a Thursday this
year, I knew that we wouldn’t get a lot of blog traffic, but I also didn’t want
us to just skip the week in case there were people still surfing the web,
looking for some distractions.
But what to post? It didn’t seem like the kind of day to post writing advice and I’ve been in a bit of a reading slump so I don’t have any recommendations but, then, I thought of it. This is a writing-based blog so, how about a story set on the fourth?
The last week of June in 2008 my husband and I had been
living in our new home for a little over a month. I’d grown up a cat person,
mostly because that’s the best kind of pet to have in apartments. But my
husband was always, always a dog person. And he’d been missing having a dog.
But now we had a house to rent instead of an apartment and houses can have
dogs. It was time to look for a pup.
One morning we decided to go to the shelter, just to look mind you. Just to look.
And there he was. Adorable. Floppy-eared, brown-eyed, sweet-faced. Waiting for us.
We were kind of stunned because it’s not often that you find an actual puppy at the shelter; they’re usually snatched up as soon as they’re available. But we knew, this was our puppy and we had to meet him.
When we got to meet him, he flopped on his back and gave us
his belly and climbed into our laps, desperate to lick our faces, as if to say,
“Finally! Finally you found me! I’ve been waiting for you!” Obviously, we were
But Brody—as we would name him later—wasn’t available for
adoption yet. We had to leave him, with tiny cracks in our hearts, and come
back for him and hope that no one else would show up wanting to adopt him that
morning because then we would have to submit to a random drawing and leave it
up to The Fates. And they can be a trio of bitches if they want to be.
When the adoption day came there were a few people waiting
to get inside to be the first come in first serve and we were more than a
little anxious. I started asking around to see what pup people were there for.
“The black one,” a bespectacled girl answered.
“Yeah, the black one, us too,” a man cut in, drawing a glare from the girl. “I think we’re all here for the same dog.” He gestured to the other people waiting.
My heart sank. We were going to have to do a drawing.
When the doors opened I rushed to the counter with Brody’s
ID number memorized.
“Anyone else for A773790?” the guy behind the counter called
out. My stomach twisted as I waited for the others to say something. But then:
Turning, I furrowed my brow at the bespectacled girl,
wondering why she wasn’t saying anything.
“Oh,” she said, understanding dawning on her. “You’re not
here for the pug? The black pug?”
“No,” I said and my husband smiled. No one else was there
On June 30, 2008, we took him home.
The thing with puppies though is you can’t take them out until they’ve had all their shots. So when the Fourth of July rolled around we knew we couldn’t take our new puppy out to the parade or the fair downtown*. But we still wanted to go.
We’d decided to crate-train Brody but I still had
reservations about leaving him in a crate for any real amount of time when we
weren’t home; I only wanted to crate train him so if we needed to put him in
the crate for emergencies we could. I never intended to put him in a crate when
we weren’t home. That’s what house breaking and training is for. But five days
after coming home, he wasn’t house broken, so we couldn’t let him roam.
I decided to put his crate against the doorway leading into
the kitchen, with the door facing into the kitchen so he would be able to have the
whole kitchen to himself with a bed, pee pad, food and water, and the crate if
he chose while we went out for just two hours to enjoy a little bit of the
holiday. It was a big crate, too big for him at the time, because we knew he’d
be over 50 pounds when he grew up we bought a crate for a 50 pound dog but at
least I knew he couldn’t move it and get out of the kitchen.
Brody barked a little when we put him in the kitchen and
didn’t stay with him, but he wagged his tail and set to sniffing every nook and
cranny once he accepted we weren’t going to move the crate so he could follow
Off we went to enjoy the fair downtown.
I don’t even think we made it a full two hours. I was worried
about leaving Brody alone for too long in his new home after living at the
When we got home and opened the door, we heard Brody yapping
excitedly from the kitchen and his whip of a tail thumping on the linoleum
But something was amiss.
There were things scattered on the floor in the living room.
A ball of yarn from the back room was unspooled and strewn
across the floor. Papers were scattered. A lone shoe had made it out of a
Someone had been in our home.
Our front door is mostly glass so we spun to inspect the
panes, but they were all intact.
“You had to unlock the door to open it, right?” I asked my
“Yeah,” he answered in a low tone, eyeing the doorway into
the hallway. “Wait here.”
I watched as he went to make sure the back of the house was
safe before I went to check on Brody—so relieved they hadn’t stolen him.
I could see him sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, goofy puppy smile on his face, and his tail still wagging. His crate was exactly as we’d left it: pressed against the wall and blocking the doorway so he couldn’t get out. It wasn’t shoved so I knew, I knew, Brody hadn’t gotten out. After all, he was still in the kitchen.
“All clear!” John called out to me from the back of the
“Okay,” I replied as I scooped up the unspooled yarn. I
stared at the tangle of thread, wondering how it had made it from my knitting bag
in the back bedroom to the living room floor.
A loud clatter interrupted my thoughts and I spun toward it.
Brody’s front paws were on top of his crate, claws gripping
the metal frame as he pulled desperately, his back paws pedaling in the air,
looking for something to push against.
“Wha—” My voice died as I watched my three-month-old puppy
pull and wiggle and claw himself up and on top of his crate until he was able
to sit on it, still smiling but obviously desperate to say hello to me. His
tail banged against the metal grate as he waiting for me to recover.
“John,” I said, then, louder, “John get out here you have to
“What? What?” John ran into the dining room to see me still
standing there, holding the yarn, staring. He turned to follow my stare to see
Brody sitting proudly on the top of the crate.
Brody got to his feet and picked his way to the edge of the
crate before jumping to the floor and raced over to us, so happy that we were
John bent to pick him up, holding the bundle of fur against
his chest to stare him in the eye before turning to look at me.
“So,” I said, pausing. “He climbed up there, jumped down,
then went through the house, having a great time and then…”
“Climbed back over to get back into the kitchen before we
came home so he wouldn’t get caught,” John finished.
And that is how we knew, from the very first week, that
Brody was too smart for his own good.
Brody is still clever with a big personality and has been immortalized in my Ash & Ruin Trilogy as the inspiration for Blue. I mean, a dog like that could only be fiction, right?
*Fun side note: Turned out the bespectacled girl and her roommate won the drawing for the black pug. How do I know? Because we ran into her on the 5th, at the vet, where they were having their tiny puppy treated for heatstroke because they couldn’t resist taking him to the very same fair we made sure not to take Brody to. Yes, the puppy is fine, but that’s a lesson learned, right?
…or, the virtue of leaving clues that are visible to the average reader but not ham-handed, neon-bright arrows.
I’m going to start with a small qualifier: I have neither read A Game of Thrones/A Song of Fire & Ice, nor have I watched the HBO series. I am, however, a sentient human being with access to the internet, so I know the last episode – in which the Mother of Dragons went postal – created something of a stir. Or a shitstorm. Or therabouts.
I know this in part because Chuck Wendig made a tweet thread in which he argues that character should come before plot – accusing implying that GRRM &/or the series creators may have overlooked this small detail.
You can read his thread HERE, and you should. He knows his stuff. Also, he deconstructs the episode – and the series – HERE. (And if you’re really into it, fashion bloggers Tom & Lorenzo also have a detailed review you can find HERE.)
The big concern with the Game of Thrones episode seemed to be that Daenerys Targaryen behaved in a way that was inconsistent with her character. Maybe or maybe not – I did see at least one tweet prior to the episode suggesting that the Mother of Dragons might end up being the Big Bad, which tells me there must have been at least a couple hints along the way.
Hints that the vast majority of the television-watching public apparently didn’t notice.
Sunday night, while the rest of humanity was glued to HBO, I started a mystery by a new-to-me author. It was a pretty standard trope: Big City Woman is dragged back to her small-town home for Reasons, where she Learns Things, Figures Out Whodunnit, possibly Falls In Love, and then decides to Stay Forevermore.
Sadly, I bailed on it by about 30 pages in, because:
I didn’t connect with the main character. At all.
Which turned on my editing brain, so that every time her eyes wandered around the room, I lost a little more patience. (Her gaze wandered. Her eyes stayed in her head. Thanks.)
As a result of my lack of connection and super-editor, the clues to the character’s arc were glaringly obvious.
The main character was the only one in the family who had the time to take care of the problem in the Small Town, even though it meant leaving her job in the middle of a project and pissing off her boss. Because apparently a woman’s work is never too important to interrupt.
Whoops. That’s another blog post.
Anywhoodle, her stated goal was to return to her uber-exciting life in the Big City, but from just about the moment she arrived, she had Feelings. Right there in her internal dialogue, she noticed a strange connection to the place, one she could not understand. “Why do I feel this way?” she’d ask herself.
Because it says in the blurb that you’re going to have a change of heart, sweetie, and you’ll want to stick around.
Leaving aside the (potentially sexist) set-up, to me these “what an odd emotion” moments were clunky, too-obvious road signs to her character’s development. I think it would have worked better if she’d had a chance to earn that sense of connection rather than just stumbling into it like a slap-happy princess in some insta-love romance.
And honestly, maybe she did. I mean, I did quit at only 30 pages. But hey, I’m over 50 and there are too many books left for me to read to waste time getting annoyed.
Although the stories are very different, I think the essential problem is the same. Daenerys’s behavior took a wild left turn from her established character, and the mystery character’s “odd feelings” didn’t relate to anything intrinsic to her personality. In the one case, the clues were too subtle, and the other, too blatant.
Seems like we should be able to split the difference somehow.
I wish I could say I knew how to avoid either mama bear or papa bear details. I’m researching Victorian London with an eye to writing a mystery, so I’ve done a lot of thinking about how to leave baby-bear style clues – hints that give readers just enough to keep going, but don’t beat them over the head.
The best advice I can come up with is that character trumps plot, and to be ready for a shitty first draft and lots of editing. To that end, I’m brainstorming characters’ goals and motivations and secrets and wounds and all the good stuff that will (hopefully) help me construct a story that’s character driven, and not the other way around.
The RITAs are the romance genre’s version of the Oscars. They’re sponsored by the Romance Writers of America (RWA), and if you write romance, getting a RITA nomination is a Very Big Deal. When the awards were announced last year, there was a huge uproar because the majority – the large majority – of the nominees were white.
In years past, authors of color have been nominated and a couple have won RITAs, but no black author has ever won a RITA award.
I finished last year’s post by encouraging everyone to read outside their comfort zone, to buy books by authors of color, and to listen to what authors of color have to say about how they’ve been treated and how they want to be treated.
And then a weird, but not entirely surprising, thing happened.
I mean, I wrote that post with the best of intentions, and in fact I followed my own recommendations, picking up books I might not otherwise have read. The ‘listening’ part didn’t happen, though. Not because I didn’t care, but because…I don’t know…the opportunity didn’t present itself?
Yeah, that’s kinda lame.
See, for the last year and a few months I’ve been treasurer of the Rainbow Romance Writer (RRW), the LGBTQIA chapter of the RWA. Last year when the RITA nominations caused such a stir, it was brought to the attention of the RRW board that authors of color view our chapter as unwelcoming. At the time, we put out a statement vowing to change.
Which makes my inaction that much worse, because I could have worked for an opportunity, and I didn’t.
Did I mention that when the RITA nominations were announced this year, they were just as white as in years past? The biggest difference has been the fall-out: authors of color spoke more forcefully, on twitter and on various RWA forums, calling out the Nice White Ladies whose subtle, unexamined racism perpetuates the system.
I am a Nice White Lady.
I care about the usual range of liberal causes, and I want to live in a world where racism isn’t a thing, where we can all let go of that particular piece of baggage.
It’s a nice idea, but we’re nowhere close to that yet.
In the days since the announcement of this year’s RITA nominations, I’ve kept pretty quiet, preferring to read the twitter threads and Facebook posts and show my support through re-tweets and likes. Which is fine, but it’s also a demonstration of the thing I can’t ever let go of.
My own privilege.
Here’s the thing. Once the social media dust settled last year, I was able to put aside these issues and focus on other things. The authors of color I know – even those I consider friends – don’t have that luxury.
This was brought home to me with particular eloquence in this essay on privilege by NBA player Kyle Korver. (HERE‘s the link to his essay.) More than anything else, this paragraph resonated with me, and prompted me to write this post:
What I’m realizing is, no matter how passionately I commit to being an ally, and no matter how unwavering my support is for NBA and WNBA players of color….. I’m still in this conversation from the privileged perspective of opting in to it. Which of course means that on the flip side, I could just as easily opt out of it. Every day, I’m given that choice — I’m granted that privilege — based on the color of my skin.
No matter how important I think the fight against racism is, I have the ability to put it aside in a way some of my friends don’t. Hell, I was able to take a whole year off, even after hearing that a group I help run is part of the problem.
It’s a sobering thought.
I’m left asking myself how I’m going to make things different this year. It’s easy to throw things down in a blog post and then let them slide because there’s no accountability. I will say I’m lucky, because the same authors who pointed out that our RRW chapter has issues are willing to work with us, to share their ideas so that we can create a more diverse chapter.
I’ll be working with the other RRW board members to move forward on that dialogue. (Can it be a dialogue when one side is mostly listening?) In addition, the RWA has put together a number of resources for encouraging diversity, and while I don’t want to make a bunch of empty promises, I’ll be exploring what’s there.
I may not be able to change the world, but I can work on myself. I can put more effort into recognizing all the ways the game is rigged in my favor, in the hope of finding places I can level the playing field, so that next year’s RITA nominations are a celebration of diversity as well as excellence.
I’m not a whiner. I mean, every now and then I’ll feel a little down, but I generally don’t talk about it, at least on social media. I’d rather set a goal, make a plan, and get on with it.
Whatever it is.
But I’m stuck. All the things I should be doing (taxes/writing/housekeeping/bills/gardening/savingtheworld/etcetcetc) are circling me like a damned bunch of alligators. Instead of picking one thing to focus on, I’m curled up in a metaphysical ball, hoping they’ll all go away.
I just….haven’t done much. Instead of using those resolutions to motivate myself, they’ve been closer to a chain of weights around my neck, dragging me down.
For example, one of my goals was to write something my agent can send out on submission. Toward that end, I came up with an idea for a mystery series set in Victorian London, and I’ve put together a decent stack of books for research.
It’s gonna be cool. A brother and sister team – he’s a physician, she’s an apothecary – solve crimes at the edge of Whitechapel.
However – there’s always a however – rather than doing that research, I’ve spent days to weeks telling myself I’ll never be able to create a believable Victorian setting.
Because that’s a much more productive use of my time. (#sarcasm)
A publisher I’m interested in has a call for holiday novellas, with a deadline of May 1st. I have an idea, I played around with character sheets, and knocked out the skeleton of a plot. I’ve even written the first 1500 or so words.
And…they suck. Well, maybe suck is too strong a word. They’re just…not very good. To borrow a phrase from Marie Kondo, they do not spark joy.
But I really can’t blame the words for my current mood. It’s a combination of things: the current political shitstorm (like, Michael Cohen must have titanium gonads), lack of sleep, worry that writers I consider my peers are leaving me in the dust, stress related to putting 2 kids through college.
You know, the usual grind.
Also, lack of sleep.
Like I said at the beginning of this post, I’m not usually a public crybaby, so to wrap things up, I’m going to list a few things that are going right.
— Irene and I are working on a new novel! — My agent saw an editor looking for stories set in either WW1 or WW2, so she queried my Paris story and the editor requested it! — The damned sun is shining – which might not sound like much, but this is Seattle in February, so…
You may have heard that there are (at least) two major plagiarism scandals going around the publishing world lately. In case not, here’s a quick recap:
An “author” by the name of Cristiane Serruya has been accused of lifting whole pages of text from romance novels by bestselling authors Courtney Milan, Bella Andre, and several others and passing them off as her own fiction. She even went so far as to enter the books in the RITA awards, which are the Oscars of romance. When called on her actions, she blamed a ghostwriter she hired on Fiverr, who conveniently had already closed his/her account. However, she then deleted all of her social media and website. As of this writing, some of her books have been removed from sale, but others are still available. UPDATE – Nora Roberts has some new information on her blog.
Jill Abramson, former executive editor of the New York Times, has been accused of plagiarizing passages from her book Merchants of Truth: The Business of News and the Fight for Facts. She, however, is not denying it. She blames a mistake with the footnotes in a galley copy (an early review version of the book), which she has corrected in the final version.
To me, the most frightening of the two is clearly the second. I’ll get to why in a minute. The first one is stupidity, plain and simple. It’s not that hard to avoid plagiarizing fiction. (Hint: write your own stuff.) But let’s for a moment assume Ms. Serruya is innocent and the blame lies with the anonymous ghostwriter.
Who hires a ghost writer on Fivver? If you are going to do it (and I personally think it a stupid and expensive move, especially for someone whose name alone doesn’t have the power to sell books), there are plenty of reputable agencies out there who can put you in touch with ghostwriters. Or ask around the writing community. Many authors either have or currently do ghostwrite.
Even if she did, did she not quality-check the book? You would think, given that these are HUGE names in the romance industry, that she would have read at least a few of their books before “writing” her own and could recognize their style or turns of phrase. Or at least that her spidey sense would have told her something wasn’t right.
If you are innocent, a proper reaction would be to apologize, remove the offending works from sale, and publicly admit the error (on your website, social media, newsletter list, etc.) and tell people how you are going to fix it and/or avoid in the future. That is crisis communications 101. A public letter of apology to the defrauded authors along with remuneration would be nice as well. What you do not do is turn tail and run by deleting your online presence. Even if you are scared and trying to avoid trolls, all it does is make you look guilty.
No, just no. Write your own work, dammit!
But I highly doubt she is innocent. Her reactions, especially deleting her online presence, follow the pattern established by scammers long ago. Chances are good she will pop up under another name and do it all again. But she may not get away with it since one of the authors she victimized is Courtney Milan, a former lawyer who clerked for the Supreme Court. Because Ms. Serruya was an RWA member and entered the RITAs, they have payment information on file for her. Assuming she didn’t use a false identity there, this gives Ms. Milan the possibility of pursuing legal action. And I hope she does. Watch this space.
Non-fiction Holds Greater Risk The second example is my own personal nightmare as a non-fiction writer and a worry that plagues me pretty often. Obviously, when you write non-fiction, truth and attribution are everything. But did you know that even Big Five publishing houses don’t employ fact-checkers for their non-fiction books? That both floored and scared the living daylights out of me when I found out through this Vox article:
“So how do publishers generally handle it if factual errors creep into a book? Basically, the same way they handle plagiarism: They make it the author’s problem…So the facts are all up to the author. And different authors handle that liability differently. Some might want to hire a freelance fact-checker, but that can get expensive: Vulture cites flat prices of between $5,000 and $25,000.”
I have a terrible fear of accidentally plagiarizing someone else’s work. And it’s easier to accidentally do than you might think. According to the University of Arizona,
“There are basically three kinds of plagiarism:
(1) Using another person’s exact words without including quotation marks *and* citation. If you use someone else’s exact words, then you must cite the original source (either in a footnote or in a citation in the text), and you must enclose the words in quotation marks or else set them off from the rest of the text by indenting them from the other text.
(2) Using another person’s words, but changing some of them, or rearranging them. This is plagiarism even if the source is cited.
(3) Summarizing or paraphrasing another person’s words without citation. If you use what someone else has written, but you describe it or summarize it in your own words, then you don’t need to enclose it in quotation marks, but you still must provide a citation to the original source, either in a footnote or directly in the text.
Note that it’s not enough to simply include a reference to the original source in your bibliography; “citation” of the original source means citing it where it appears in the text.”
(Note that I attributed this quote in the text and also used quotation marks, so it is clear this is not my own thought. The italics were an extra step I took to the same end.)
I tend to over-footnote my non-fiction works as a preventive measure. When I research, I am very careful to put quote marks around my notes if they are word-for-word quotations so I know that when I go back to actually write the book. And even if I restate an idea in my own words, I still footnote the source because it wasn’t my original idea.
Yet, mistakes still happen. It is very difficult to keep perfect track of footnotes when you are revising and moving things around. Editing changes can make an Ibid. (the footnote way of saying “same source as in the previous footnote”) no longer valid. I’ve learned not to put in any Ibids until I’m sure I’m on the final version or at least to the point where I won’t be moving anything. That way, the source and page number will always stay with the sentence.
I have to say, I sympathize with Ms. Abramson’s statement that she didn’t cite some sources (either in the text or footnotes) because she “was trying to write a seamless narrative, and to keep breaking it up with ‘according to’ qualifiers would have been extremely clunky.” (Source: Vox) We all want to write a gripping story and footnotes can be distracting for the reader, but they are necessary. In thinking about my experience in reading more non-fiction books than I can count for my research, I rarely notice the footnotes unless I read something I want to know more about and then drop my gaze down to read them or turn to the back of the chapter/book if they are end notes (which I personally think are a PITA for both the author and the reader, but I digress). And in most cases “according to” or some variation thereof instills a sense of trust in the author and her research when I hear/read it.
I’m sure there are more ways plagiarism can occur (besides deliberately) but these are the things that spring to mind for me. You would think that Ms. Abramson would know better given she was one of the most powerful journalists in the country and teaches other journalists, but she is only human. (Assuming, of course, that she didn’t do it on purpose. If she did, I am ashamed of her and she should be punished.)
What are the takeaways for writers? 1) Don’t plagiarize on purpose. (Duh!) 2) Be very, very careful with your notes when researching. 3) Take your time with your writing and triple check it. 4) Check over your footnotes one more time when you’re done editing 5) Pray.
A book came highly recommended – a lovely romance, with intelligent characters and a grown-up perspective. The set-up was fantastic; the dialogue was hysterical. The hero, however, wasn’t a surgeon. I mean, the author said he was a surgeon, but he had two weekends off in a row.
Not a surgeon.
I almost bailed on the book at 50%, because I had such since problems with the way the author messed around with the rules of healthcare, both clinical (nope, kids don’t get to eat if their surgery is delayed) and social/cultural (don’t get me started). Despite that, I stuck with the book, and by the time the couple found their happily-ever-after, I sincerely had a tear in my eye…
…in part because in the scenes right before they kissed and made up, the “surgeon” was so unhappy he acted like a jerk to his patients and coworkers. That part was believable.
Seriously though, not all surgeons are jerks, but when they’re not in the OR, they generally spend most of their life with their nose in a book….or, more accurately, a medical journal or a laptop. If you’re going to convince me that they’re also charming and funny and have great social skills, you better get every other detail right: things like their training, hospital culture, and the reality of working only 60 hours on a good week.
And that’s where I want to help! My perspective may be somewhat skewed – I’ve worked primarily in academic medical centers where the physicians rotate between clinical work, research, and teaching – but for a long time now, I’ve wanted to pull together a talk to help authors navigate the world of medicine. Which is a LOT to cover, so let’s get started.
First stop: hospitals. So, you want to have your mind blown? Think about this: people get admitted to hospitals because they need nursing care, not medical care. If all you need is a doctor, you can be seen in a clinic. (More about nurses later.)
The other thing to know? Hospitals are incredibly expensive. They can’t afford to admit someone “to run a few tests”, and they’ll discharge you as soon as possible. Like, when my 80-some year old mother-in-law fractured her hip, she was sent back to her adult family home two days (TWO DAYS) post-op. (I was horrified, but everything went okay.)
Obviously I don’t have space to list every diagnosis that’ll get your character a hospital bed, but if your plot goes there, make sure the patient has something they couldn’t take care of at home, and expect them to be discharged before anyone is really ready for it. (WebMD is a good reference for clinical questions and concerns.)
Also, leaving hospitals AMA – against medical advice – is a thing, and can be a dramatic plot device. Just know that in the real world, insurance companies generally won’t cover a stay when the patient leaves AMA, so if your police detective or otherwise employed and insured main character is contemplating that move, there are real-world consequences.
As I implied earlier, hospitals are run by nurses, and nurses come in a variety of types. Nurse techs or nurse assistants have completed a certificate program and can assist with basic patient care tasks. They’re often nursing students trying to get some real-world experience before they take their boards.
Licensed practical nurses (LPNs) have completed a one-year program and passed a certification test. They function in much the same way registered nurses do, with some minor variations in the tasks they’re allowed to perform.
Registered nurses (RNs) are the backbone of the place. They’ve completed either a two or four-year program and passed their State Board exam. They also often have additional training &/or certification in a specialty area, and they are required to keep current on their continuing education credits to maintain their licenses.
Nurse practitioners are registered nurses who have completed either a masters degree program or a doctor of nursing practice degree. An NP is a specialist – I’m licensed as an NNP, or neonatal nurse practitioner, which means I take care of preterm or sick infants. We work from a medical model, which means we do many of the things physicians do. Generally NPs have a couple years clinical experience in their specialty area, so we bring bedside nursing assessment skills to our medical decision-making.
Word to the wise: don’t confuse nurse practitioners and licensed practical nurses. I read a book where the NP was passing out patient meds, which…no. NPs write the orders, LPNs pass out the meds. Got it? Good.
There are a number of other people who are directly involved in patient care. Respiratory therapists (RTs) focus on the patient’s cardiopulmonary health by directly assessing the patient’s breathing and by managing the medication and equipment required to support them. Like with nursing, RTs complete a two- or four-year program and must pass a certification test.
Social workers provide invaluable support for patients and their families, connecting them with necessary resources while they’re in the hospital and after discharge. (So no, your surgeon hero doesn’t need to drag his new girlfriend into a patient’s room where she can instantly connect with the family and identify their needs. Find another way to prove she’s a decent human being. Ahem.)
Physical therapists, occupational therapists, and speech therapists all provide key support to a patient’s recovery, as do nutritionists and pharmacists. In the interest of space, I’m not going to specify the range of academic preparation and certification required to function in these roles, but every professional involved in patient care contributes a unique and valuable perspective.
Other random thoughts...
Not all hospitals have residents. Most academic or teaching centers (the ones with interns and residents) are associated with universities, though some private hospitals run selected residency programs.
Most (all?) hospitals have adopted computer based charting. THERE ARE NO PAPER CHARTS AT THE PATIENTS’ BEDSIDE. Also, HIPAA – the national law around patient privacy – is a thing. It affects who can be at the patient’s bedside, and how patient information can be communicated.
So if your characters want to brainstorm in the elevator, make sure they don’t drop names or other identifying patient information.
Hospital administrators exist in their own world – and it’s usually pretty classy. Most, but not all, have been involved in patient care in one way or another, but the higher they get on the ladder, the less clinical work they’re responsible for. In addition to the RN or MD on their resume, they’ll usually have an MBA or MHA (master of hospital administration).
Since I started by bitching about doctors, I’ll close the circle with them. To become a doctor, a person must complete a bachelors degree (4 years), score well on the MCAT (sort of like the SAT but HARDER), and complete three years of medical school. By the end of their second year of medical school, most have decided on which area they want for residency.
First year residents are called interns, and residency programs are usually three or four years long. After residency, some will continue their training by applying to a fellowship program. These are in specialty areas; for example, pediatricians have completed a 3-year pediatric residency program, but pediatric cardiologists did a 3(?) year fellowship in cardiology after residency.
Do the math. Four years of undergrad + three years of medical school + ~ three years of residency, at a minimum. That means most new physicians are around 30 years old, older if they did a fellowship. Some programs – surgery or neurosurgery, for example – take substantially longer.
I do love my day job, and I could probably keep going, but I’m going to stop here. If you have questions, leave them in the comments, and thank you for reading along. There’s no reason for fictional malpractice!!