Writing about professional wrestling

I’ve always enjoyed professional wrestling (to my mother’s ongoing bafflement) and I like writing about it. I’m a casual fan. Every so often I’ll get together with friends to watch a big event, and a few times a year I’ll head out to the Halifax Forum, the Spryfield Lions rink or the Alderney Landing theatre to watch a show live. It’s fun to see the big names when they come to town — I don’t think I’ll ever forget the heavy, brooding, magnetic presence of Roman Reigns in the ring — but I particularly enjoy going to the local shows, where most of the performers have day jobs and wrestling is a true passion.

Maddison Miles has been a mainstay at those local shows for years. I was about to say decades, but Miles is only 19. She started coming to wrestling as a child, decked out in a cape, and eventually stepped into the ring herself. After five years on the local circuit, she’s gone to England to pursue her dreams there.

I wrote about Miles for the November issue of Halifax Magazine. It’s one of my favourite pieces from the past year, and one of the magazine’s most-read 2019 stories.

Wrestling is fake, of course, in the sense that the outcomes of matches are pre-determined. But there is nothing fake about Maddison Miles leaping off the top rope and landing on several opponents outside the ring. Or a wrestler hoisting an opponent over her head before slamming him to the mat — usually a piece of plywood with a pretty paltry amount of cushioning over it.

Because wrestling is “fake” wrestling fans have a reputation for being suckers, or just not too bright. But that’s a gross misunderstanding. The outcome of Avengers movies is pre-determined too, but the millions of people who enjoy them are not idiots. Fans know what they like — to cheer the good guys, boo the bad guys, and enjoy the theatrics and athleticism. In wrestling parlance, Miles sells. She makes it look real. That’s her selling in the photo at the top of this post. A couple of summers ago I saw local wrestler Markus Burke pick a pre-teen out of the audience and use him as a battering ram to hit former WWE star Jack Swagger in the gut. Swagger staggered around. “He really sold for the kid,’” a friend said after the match. (The kid had a huge grin on his face after Burke dropped him by his seat again.)

Miles goes for the pin.

I’ve written about wrestling before. My 2016 Walrus piece on local wrestler Troy Merrick, aka The American Patriot, was a National Magazine Award finalist. And I wrote about how wrestlers can touch us after the death of Chris Pallies, aka King Kong Bundy.

Bundy had a brief period in the spotlight during the 1980s, as a bad guy (heel, in wrestling parlance) feuding with the then stratospherically popular Hulk Hogan. Obituaries variously describe him as being 61 or 63 years old when he died.

My reaction to Bundy’s death got me thinking about the emotional connections people feel to professional wrestlers. Three years ago, I was researching a radio documentary and magazine feature on professional wrestling. Whenever I mentioned these projects in conversation, I was struck by how many people would fondly recall watching wrestling as children — either live or on TV — and how often they had one particular wrestler they were taken with: Leo Burke, the Cuban Assassin, the Ultimate Warrior. Stewart Young, my producer at CBC Radio, told me the most intensity he had ever felt at Maple Leaf Gardens came not during a Leafs game, but when he went to a wrestling show and watched Hulk Hogan work the crowd like a master.

What strikes me about the wrestlers and fans I’ve interviewed is their level of knowledge, dedication and commitment. Fans will travel across the province for a show. Wrestlers will study the psychology of crowds to learn how to work them. When I was interviewing Miles for Halifax Magazine, I mentioned a moment in one of her matches and told her it seemed very emotional. She didn’t say anything. Then I thought right, she knows how to sell. “Or maybe it just seemed that way because you’re good at getting us to feel what you want us to,” I said. When I was interviewing Markus Burke, we got to talking about Jake “The Snake” Roberts, and he said, “Jake Roberts: his mind was the best part of his wrestling. He just knew how to tell a story. You thought it was real whatever he did.”

Miles relaxes after the show.

One of the great things about the local scene is the proximity between wrestlers and fans. The performers are at their own merch tables at intermission and after the show. They smile and take pictures with kids. They don’t feel like they have to stay in character once the show is over. Here is Miles, smiling as the crowd cheers, moments away from taking the mike to thank them for all their support.

Halifax Examiner Morning File: Secrecy is a feature, not a bug

I have a semi-regular gig writing the Morning File for the Halifax Examiner website. The Morning File is a roundup of local news, sprinkled with commentary, opinion, and sometimes just interesting stuff you’ve noticed.

In today’s installment, I point to articles on fisheries mismanagement, gender parity on public boards, the ongoing saga of the fight to release details of the Yarmouth ferry management contract, and, uh, liqueur made with Chicken Bones candy. I also discuss John Ralston Saul’s views on secrecy, from his 1992 book Voltaire’s Bastards, and examine the issue of seniors being over-prescribed antipsychotics.

One of the things I truly appreciate about writing for the Examiner is how hands-off editor Tim Bousquet is. He hires people he trusts and just lets us do our thing.

You can read today’s Morning File here.

Come ferment with me: talks and workshops

To celebrate the launch of my book, Adventures in Bubbles and Brine, I’m giving a bunch of talks and fermentation workshops in November. You can find a full list of events on my Facebook page.

One thing that really struck my while I was writing the book was the enthusiasm of people who make and enjoy fermented foods and drinks. They get excited by the process and are eager to share what they learn with others. For example, Zoe Kasdan, of Zoe’s Kimchi, sells her own brand of kimchi (a traditional Korean fermented cabbage condiment) but also gives workshops on making it at home. Mercedes Brian of Pickled Pink not only sells kombucha, she’ll also let you have a reasonably priced starter kit so you can make your own. Jessica Best of Birdies Bread Co happily gives out sourdough to customers who ask. When I interviewed her for the book, she said:

Every now and then people come in and we give starter to those who are dabbling at home. It’s one of those good karma things. Someone wants your starter, you give them a bit. Spread your starter love around the world.

I love that attitude.

So I’m spreading some of the love too, thanks to wonderful partners like Halifax Public Libraries and Main & Station Nonesuch.

Come join me as I tell stories about the history of fermented foods and drinks in Nova Scotia (there are some amazing stories!) and demonstrate how you can easily get started at home making ferments like kimchi, sauerkraut, yogurt, and kombucha, Here’s the current list of workshops.

• Alderney Gate Public Library, Nov 12, 7:00-8:30 PM (Talk and sauerkraut demo)

• Halifax Central Library, Nov 13, 6:30-8:00 PM (Kombucha workshop)

• Bedford Public Library, Nov 16, 2:30-4:00 PM (Talk and demo)

• Keshen Goodman Library, Nov 20, 6:30-8:45 PM (Talk and demo)

• Main & Station Nonesuch, Parrsboro, Nov 30., 1:00-3 PM (Book launch/signing, talk and demo)

Hope you can make it to one of them!

Snowden speaks at Dal (on video)

Last week, Edward Snowden gave a talk to a packed room of 650 people at Dalhousie University. Snowden wasn’t there, of course. He spoke through a video link, apparently from somewhere in Moscow.

I wrote about the event for Dal News, and you can read the story here. Snowden, of course, became famous, or infamous, in 2013 after he copied and leaked thousands of documents detailing the extent of global surveillance being carried out by the US and its allies, including Canada.

The talk was a benefit for the so-called “Snowden refugees” — a group I had not heard of. These are the people, refugees from the Philippines and Sri Lanka, seeking asylum in Hong Kong, who hid Snowden when he feared being abducted and tortured. Snowden’s lawyer, Robert Tibbo, is hoping Canada will offer them asylum. (Canada has taken in two of the group, a mother and daughter.)

Snowden is a fascinating character, no matter what you think of him. I was quite taken with his speaking style: intense and focused. He also seemed genuinely uncomfortable and even embarrassed at the standing ovation he got at the end. One of the things that struck me most about Snowden’s talk was his optimism about the future. He feels that now that we recognize the extent of the problem of government and corporate surveillance capitalism, we can work to change it. If you’ve got a bit of time, it’s worth watching the video of the talk above. (Or just read my story.)

Teachers at the final bell

That’s my neighbour Tobias Beale in the photo. He’s a long-time musician and music teacher who has shared his enthusiasm for music with students in Halifax for decades. He also brought regular live music gigs back to St. Margaret’s Bay, where we both live, by purchasing an old church hall and holding concerts there, featuring an amazing array of musicians, from community bands to people who regularly play much, much larger venues.

And now he’s about to retire.

I love this picture. Riding off into the sunset and all that.

A few months ago, Ken Partridge, the editor of Our Children magazine, asked me to write a story about long-time teachers retiring at the end of the year. When you’ve spent years around kids all day long, how do you prepare for that to end? It seemed like an interesting question and I jumped on the assignment.

This is one of those stories that really depends on the people you find to interview, and I lucked out. I was still looking for sources back in late March, when I went to Toronto for a weekend to speak at the annual jack.org summit. On the flight home, I heard a woman in the row behind me talking about how she was retiring at the end of the year, and I turned around and introduced myself. Her name was Theresa George, and she started her career teaching in the Poplar River First Nation, then came back to Nova Scotia, where she has taught at the same school for 31 years. We had a fantastic chat (later, on the phone — not on the plane). I also talked to a school counsellor who says the big problems in schools are the big problems in society: income inequality, unequal access to services, and so on. And I got some interesting perspective from a teacher who absolutely loved her job, retired a year ago, but now says she would never, ever go back.

I liked the way this story turned out. You can read it here.

By the way, Tobias is a very interesting character; I made a radio documentary/podcast about him for CBC that you can listen to here. It follows him as he works with students in the school system and sets up his own jazz band at Paul’s Hall for those who want to play more. One of the graduates of the program is Leith Fleming-Smith, who plays with Matt Mays and was Music Nova Scotia’s Musician of the Year in 2018.

Books and Halifax-based resources for families of people diagnosed with mental illness

Since I wrote about mental illness awareness campaigns for The Globe and Mail, quite a few people have contacted me to ask about resources.

(This post covers resources dealing with psychosis, because they are the ones I am familiar with. I don’t know much about support for mood and eating disorders, or other mental illnesses yet.)

Nearly four years ago, I knew essentially nothing about psychosis. And finding resources wasn’t easy. It’s not that they are hidden—but there are many different groups, and they all have a slightly different focus, and there was no central location to find out about them. When you have a family member experiencing psychosis it tends to throw your world into turmoil and you don’t always have the time, focus, or ability to find out what’s out there.

So I thought it might be helpful to list a few resources for family members: a couple of books and some groups here in Halifax, where I live.

Before getting to them though, I want to point out that recovery can be a long and slow process. (It doesn’t have to be, but it can be.) If you’re the family member of a young person recovering from psychosis, patience is really important. People can remain part of the Nova Scotia Early Psychosis Program—an outpatient clinic—for five years, because, as one staff member told me, “Sometimes we don’t see real change until the fourth year.”

Brains are complicated and they need time to recover. One psychiatrist said to me, "People complain that there is nothing to do on the psych ward, but they don't realize boredom is part of the treatment." (If you are on the psych ward and bored this may be cold comfort, mind you.) So if your family member’s recovery seems slow to you, remember to practice patience.

Resources:

The Nova Scotia Early Psychosis Program is a leader in care for young people. It serves people who meet the following criteria:

• Between the ages of 15-35

• Experiencing a first episode of psychosis

• Have been treated for less than 6 months with an anti-psychotic medication

• Have had active, untreated psychosis for less than one year at the time of referral

The program's website, including contact information, is here.

Educating families is an important part of the NSEPP’s mission, because well-informed family members are better able to support their loved ones and help them in their recovery.

Early Psychosis also offers a very informative family education day once or twice a year (this is a good one for siblings to attend) and also offers a monthly support group for family of people in the program. Contact them for information on all of these.

If you want to read my article about our family’s experience with the Nova Scotia EPP you can find it here.

Laing House not only offers excellent programming and activities for young people diagnosed with mental illness, it also runs a really helpful monthly support group open to anyone. Both this and the NSEPP group usually have a speaker followed by open discussion. The Laing group runs the first Monday of every month. Info on family support at Laing House is here.

Despite its name, the Schizophrenia Society of Nova Scotia serves a range of people, not only those with a diagnosis of schizophrenia. The group runs programs for people with lived experience, including a weekly support group called From Recovery to Discovery, and a group for people who hear voices. It also runs family education and support programs, and hosts an annual conference in fall. The conference is usually priced very reasonably so families can attend, and includes lectures and panels on a range of topics. I’ve been once and found it helpful. Contact SSNS for more details.

Once a year, Dalhousie hosts the W.O. McCormick Academic Day conference. Although the name makes it sound like it’s just for academics, Academic Day is open to all. Each year’s conference has a theme. Last year’s was—not surprisingly—on cannabis and psychosis. The event is not designed specifically for family members, but you can pick up a lot of useful information.

The 2019 Academic Day is on May 10. Tickets are not yet available, but keep an eye on the website, because they go fast. The event is free, but space is limited.

Finally, I’d like to recommend a couple of books. If you are in Halifax, they are both available at the library (see the links below). They are also easy to find if you want to buy them.

Writer Ann Douglas may be best known for her books on pregnancy and babies, but she is also the author of Parenting Through the Storm, a book about parenting children diagnosed with a mental illness. While she is writing mostly for parents of kids in elementary and high school, I still found the book really helpful—especially her discussion of how to understand recovery.

Another incredibly useful book is I Am Not Sick, I Don't Need Help by Dr. Xavier Amador—a psycholoist who has worked with people with psychosis and whose brother had schizophrenia. Amador shows how to stop arguing with family members over whether or not they are sick or need medication, and how to have better, more productive conversations. I know several people who have used this book effectively, and I’ve gone back to it many times. I want to be clear that Amador is not suggesting any kind of subterfuge or underhanded ways of getting your family member to see things your way. Instead, he proposes a model for conversation he calls LEAP: Listen, Empathize, Agree (even if this means agreeing to disagree), and Partner.

Support is important for people who have experienced psychosis and for those around them. I hope you find the help you need.

Let's Talk

Every year, Canadian telco and media giant Bell Canada runs a campaign called Bell Let’s Talk. It features ads in print, online, on transit, and on TV, urging Canadians to tweet about mental health using their hashtag. The idea is to get people talking about mental health to raise awareness and fight the stigma faced by those with mental illness. Bell also donates 5 cents per tweet to mental health-related causes.

This campaign has long made me feel uncomfortable. Sure, some of the money does go to helpful causes. There’s no denying that. But it presents a very limited view of mental illness. In fact, it rarely, if ever, uses the words “mental illness” preferring “mental health” instead.. A psychiatrist I interviewed, who did not want to be quoted by name on this, told me that Bell Let’s Talk and other awareness campaigns “do nothing for us.” Us being teams like his, dealing with people who fall under the umbrella of psychosis.

I approached the Globe and Mail about running an opinion piece on the failings of anti-stigma and mental health awareness campaigns, and they enthusiastically agreed to run it. You can read the story here.

I am writing a book about new understandings of psychosis, and how they are revolutionizing our approach to mental illness. I come to this subject through my own experience as the father of someone who has been through psychosis—and as someone who has at times dealt with near-crippling depression.

So I will be writing more on this subject in the months ahead.

If you’d like to read more of my writing on mental health and mental illness, here are a few of my stories.

Safety Net (Dal Magazine): Our family’s experience with the Nova Scotia Early Psychosis Clinic.

Mad and Proud (Halifax Magazine): Halifax takes steps towards a mad pride movement.

Laughing in the Face of Mental Illness (Halifax Magazine): Standup comics who also live with mental illness and who draw on their experiences for laughs. (One opens his set with, “I’m a paranoid schizophrenic… Why are you here?”)

"An almost schizophrenic nature"

This morning, I turned on The Current on CBC Radio to hear guest Peter MacKay, the former Canadian Minister of Foreign Affairs, talking about Donald Trump's post-G7 attacks on Justin Trudeau. MacKay made some good points about Canada-US relations, and included some context on past enmity between presidents and prime ministers. I was impressed.

Then, asked to explain Trump's behaviour, MacKay said this:

I don't think there is any explaining it. This is a product of his combative personality. He prides himself on driving a hard bargain... This is not something you can analyze and come up with any clear answer. There seems to be an almost schizophrenic nature when it comes to what he says one minute and what he says the next.

There was no negative intention behind that turn of phrase. It just slid out naturally. Just like comedian Gad Elmaleh probably meant no harm during the stand-up bit in his Netflix special when he made a joke about being able to get multiple reference signatures from a relative because he has schizophrenia.

But hearing that sentence from Peter MacKay, I felt deflated. Discouraged. It is (or should have been) common knowledge for decades that people with schizophrenia don't have multiple personalities. And calling atrocious behaviour by the President of the United States -- or anyone else "schizophrenic" is not helpful. (As an aside, if you want to feel even more deflated do an image search for "schizophrenia." It's not pretty.)

I am writing a hybrid memoir (part memoir, part literary journalism) about family and mental illness, and one of the things I've thought about is whether there is any other illness that carries as much of a burden as schizophrenia. I know very few people who openly talk about having schizophrenia. Some hide their mental illness altogether, for fear of the consequences of friends or co-workers finding out about it. Some use "psychosis" as a more general term to describe their diagnosis. Strictly speaking, psychosis represents a set of symptoms, not a disorder in itself, but it has come to be used as a blanket term covering some forms of schizophrenia and other psychotic disorders. Some have talked publicly about their diagnosis, but then went back into the closet because of the treatment they received. 

I have heard of psychiatrists who sidestep the issue of diagnosis altogether, especially in the early months of treatment, because it's not relevant to their patients' recovery. And when they do use the word "schizophrenia" it can have a negative impact on their patients. It's a heavy word. Loaded. An incurable illness. For many years, even medical professionals had very little hope people with schizophrenia could lead happy, fulfilling lives.. 

That's changed, now that we have a new understanding of schizophrenia, new medications for treatment, and an understanding of how crucial early intervention and relapse prevention can be. 

But much of society still has to catch up.

In Japan, psychiatrists no longer use schizophrenia as a diagnosis. Instead, they call it "Togo Shitcho Sho" or "integration disorder,." This paper outlines reasons for the change, but notes that one of the most important was

 the deep-rooted negative image of schizophrenia, in part related to the long-term inhumane treatment of most people with the disorder in the past.

Since the change, back in 2002, 

86% of [psychiatrists] found the new term easier to inform patients of the diagnosis as well as to explain the concept of the disorder. Eighty-two percent of them found the new term more suitable to obtain consent to treatment from patients, useful to improve treatment compliance, effective to reduce stigma, and promising for achievement of social integration.

That's the power of changing a word - and it points to why we need to stop tossing out "schizophrenic" to make jokes or to casually describe unstable behaviour.

If you want to learn more, the American Psychiatric Association has a good, concise explanation of schizophrenia here.

Madness and Pride

Sign at the 2017 Halifax Mad Hatter Tea Party

I have a feature in the April 2017 issue of Halifax Magazine on the nascent Mad Pride movement in Halifax. You can read it here. 

 As you can imagine, the label of "mental illness" is a complicated one. I have known people for whom a diagnosis of mental illness comes as a relief -- finally, they have a framework that helps them understand themselves and their experiences. Other people may reject that label altogether. And some embrace it.

In my Halifax Magazine story on the Mad Hatter Tea Party, I have a few quotes from Anna Quon, who describes herself as a "mixed-race middle-aged Mad Woman." She is the author of several novels and books of poetry, and also creates beautiful visual art. (She often donates the proceeds from her artwork to the Schizophrenia Society of Nova Scotia.)

She told me:

"Originally I had a lot of internalized stigma -- self-stigma -- and I didn’t want to talk about the fact that I'd been hospitalized and had problems with depression and some psychosis. And I didn’t want my dad to tell people who he thought might help me because they’d been through a similar situation. Even though I came from a family that was supportive, I had internalized stigma just by growing up in this world that has so much stigma about mental health.

"It was a personal journey to actually acknowledge who I am. I don’t have to hide it or pretend do be “normal” or pretend to be something that I’m not. I feel comfortable with it so I’m willing to be out there about being mad to a certain extent."

Think about the standard recovery narrative: your life falls apart, you are hospitalized, get diagnosed, get treatment, then start getting better. There are a few setbacks along the way, but eventually you are able to carry on with your life in a healthy, satisfying way.

Many people's lives line up with this narrative. But many don't. And while some people reject the notion of mental illness, others embrace it as a fundamental part of who they are.

Anna said she wouldn't have a career without her mental illness. After being hospitalized, and unable to find work, she started writing for the Dartmouth-based Ability Network. Then, she got a Canada Council grant "to do a memoir of madness in poetry -- so some of my art and work came about because of my mental health challenges." Not in spite of them.

Last summer, a family member asked if my partner and I wanted to go with him to the Mad Hatter Tea Party on the Halifax Common. It was an event organized by the Schizophrenia Society of Nova Scotia, and was inspired by the global Mad Pride movement. I had no idea what to expect. I certainly didn't think I'd be writing about it. I was just planning to enjoy a sunny afternoon on the Common.

The most striking thing about the Mad Hatter Tea Party is that it was FUN. Sure, there was a broader political purpose, but it was also just flat-out fun: crazy (yes, crazy) hat-making,  gentle yoga classes, music, food, face-painting, and a general atmosphere of celebration. "Are you here to cover this?" Anna asked, when she saw me there. (We had previously met a couple of times.)  "No," I said. "I'm just here for the event." 

Of course, I did wind up writing about it -- and about the underpinnings of mad pride, and why it has taken so long to come to Halifax. There's another tea party planned for next summer, and I'm hoping I'll be able to be there again.

Mental health and workers

I spent part of the last couple of months writing material for Mental Health at Work a new website launched by the Canadian Labour Congress. It has general information about mental health, talks about how to get help if you or a loved one needs it, and has more specific information on accommodating employees with mental illness and getting help at work. There are also sections on what we should be lobbying for to make mental health-care better.

I'm proud of the work I did on this site, and I'm happy the CLC is recognizing the importance of mental health for workers. Most mental illness is episodic and easily accommodated. Most people with mental illness can work productively in satisfying jobs. The right kinds of support should not be too much to ask for.

Halifax Street Art

Halifax does not like street art. There is almost nowhere for young graffiti artists to paint legally, and the police sometimes visit business owners and non-profits who hire graffiti artists to paint murals -- warning of the dangers of graffiti culture. 

You can read more about the state of street art in Halifax -- and what other cities are doing -- in "Paint the town", my story in the April issue of Halifax Magazine.

Elan Mastai Q&A

Writer Elan Mastai is getting a lot of attention for his debut time-travel novel All Our Wrong Todays. 

Back in 2013, when he was an up-and-coming screenwriter, I interviewed Mastai for Canadian Screenwriter magazine. Some people are fun to interview, and he was one of them. We talked about not waiting for your big break, writing to your voice instead of suppressing it to be more marketable, and his role in Uwe Boll's Alone in the Dark -- considered by many to be one of the worst films ever made. (When I asked him about it, he said, "Oh, you know about that,")

Here's the full Elan Mastai Q&A:

Elan Mastai finds his voice

by Philip Moscovitch

Toronto-based feature film writer Elan Mastai has worked his way from cable-access sketch comedy and a six-week screenwriting course to booking studio assignments in Hollywood. His screenplay for The F Word made the Black List of Hollywood's best unproduced scripts – and has gone on to be made into a film directed by Michael Dowse, and starring Daniel Radcliffe and Zoe Kazan. Along the way, he's learned the importance of authentic voice and genuine collaboration.

How did you wind up writing your first feature while you were still a student?

I got that job purely on moxie. I ran into a woman I knew who was an assistant to one of the producers at Keystone, and she got me a pitch meeting. They were looking for ideas for a sequel to MVP, which was a movie about a chimp who plays hockey. My only goal was to not humiliate myself – but as it happened, I got hired to write an outline, and then the screenplay. The whole process from pitching to having the movie greenlit was five weeks, which gave me a totally distorted idea of how movie-making works.

You also wrote Alone in the Dark, directed by the notorious Uwe Boll.

That movie wound up being so radically different from what I expected – and I realized that fundamentally the director and I wanted to make a completely different movie. I wish it had turned out to not be so ridiculous, but it was a great experience for me – it was a huge step moving forward as a writer. I came out of it feeling emboldened about my own creative process and the importance of trusting my instincts.

Was that the catalyst for you working on more collaborative projects like The Samaritan, which is nominated for a Canadian Screenwriting award?

After Alone in the Dark, I thought, instead of just selling my script, what if I start the process with a director? The Samaritan came out of a conversation with David Weaver. We got together and started shooting ideas around. In the first draft, I think I was trying to see what David's vision was and trying to execute that. But we ended up with a script that wasn't 100 per cent working. And then I said, instead of each of us trying to suppress our writerly voices to have a compromise, let's both go into it guns blazing, pull the story back and forth, and see what we get out of it. That's when it really came to life because it had a real personality to it.

How did you get involved with The F Word?

A producer friend of mine, Marc Stephenson, thought I'd like the play, and we went to see it. I loved the premise and I loved the characters. It was a simple setup and I thought it was relatable and universal. It felt like I could maintain the integrity of the story and the vision of the playwrights [TJ Dawe and Mike Rinaldi], but also make it my own.

By this time, I'd figured out I need to be writing towards my voice, instead of trying to suppress it in order to somehow make something more marketable. It became the first movie I'd written that I felt truly sounded like me. It had my voice and point of view and sense of humour – and I thought this would make it harder to get it made. But it turned out to be the opposite. What sold it was that it was unique.

You've said elsewhere that writers shouldn't wait for their big break to magically appear. Can you elaborate?

I'd say my “big break” was the attention I got in LA for The F Word, but it was the years of less-than-glamorous writing and rewriting before those doors opened that allowed to me take proper advantage when it unexpectedly happened.

The worst situation is if you get the break and you're not ready. You haven't been writing and writing and writing, and figuring out your strengths and weaknesses. You haven't filled up your toolkit as a writer. If you haven't done that, then you'll screw it up – and that's even worse. You'll be paralyzed. If you're ready for it, then you can really take your career to the next level.

By the time The F Word started circulating, I'd written 15 screenplays and had three made, even if they were smaller movies. I'd been through the process, so I was ready. I was green for Hollywood but I wasn't green for the movie business.

Radio Documentary: Chasing the Dragon

Troy Merrick is a quiet, soft-spoken guy from Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia. But at work, he's a raging right-winger who goes by the name of The American Patriot. He works as a professional wrestler -- something he's wanted to do since he was a young teen.

But wrestling is a tough business. As he nears 30, Troy wonders how long he can keep it up -- how much more abuse his body can take, how badly the steroids have affected him, and if it's worth all the pain for the cheering of the fans.

My radio documentary about Troy is called Chasing the Dragon, and it aired on CBC Radio's Atlantic Voice.

I also wrote about Troy for The Walrus magazine. 

Coming Soon...

I'm not much for blogging. If you want to keep up day-to-day, please follow me on Twitter @PhilMoscovitch.

That said, I will likely post here about what I've got in the pipeline here.