Or, why I love Grey’s.
That’s Grey’s Anatomy to the uninitiated, who think it’s just another far-fetched medical drama where there’s a lot more steamy sex than saving lives.
OK, so there is lots of sex in Grey’s; sexual tension, sexual escapades, sexual frustration. They do save lives occasionally. They lose some too.
But that isn’t why I love Grey’s. It’s not. Seriously.
I love Grey’s because just when I think I know what’s coming next, the show surprises me. With all the time I’ve spent plotting and writing I can often predict exactly where a storyline in a book or movie or TV show is going, and that’s kind of dull.
Although I've recently been converted to the sensible ways of my outline-queen critique partner, I like to leave a bit of wriggle room. I like the freedom of discovery, and some of the best ideas I’ve had have come unannounced and unanticipated during the writing. I can still surprise myself. That’s why it’s fun.
So, yeah, I like that freshness in my dramas. I like quirky. Unrequited love. Tragedy, life or death decisions, sacrifice, emotional pain. Sly humour. Madcap moments.
So I love Grey’s Anatomy.