Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 1 - January 23, 2026
Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 38 - April 17, 2026
The road
ahead had seemed so promising. After casting my blogging line in and out of the
online stream, like some sort of cyber fisherman, I’d finally snagged the
attention of the home improvement networks in October 2013. Next, we’d managed
to record and submit introductory videos I sent up to New York, leading to a
film crew visit to create a test reel. Despite my unwillingness to say, “My
name is Trent, and I’m addicted to rehab,” the network people had been excited,
resulting in a green light from Kathleen Finch, President of HGTV. Even better,
this award of a series synced with a three-month schedule that coincided with
one of our tri-county region’s biggest weekends of the year.
I’d
apparently delivered on camera and off, and I had been hovering. But a hundred or
so days in, late into February 2014, and this opportunity for a TV series being
described by others as my show, began to fizzle out. Promised phone
calls didn’t happen. Planned meetings failed to materialize without adequate explanations.
Start dates, original and revised, were blown past without expected concern.
Within
this bizarre wait, I developed my personal, privately held theory that the man
in Minneapolis, the point person leading any efforts, would soon be replaced. In
my imaginations, either he’d be moving to greener pastures or torpedoed out of
the picture in lieu of another producer who wanted the assignment, had the
time, and/or both. That’s when I started to throttle down and coast as I hung
on for what I anticipated would be someone new, a top-down move with a new
designee assigned by the network that I admired so much.
As I
focused on my prep, my wife had done all she could while still making sure the
kids had a special Christmas. And as we moved through January then deeper into
February, Diann and I stopped telling our people, “They’re coming.” Instead,
we’d just shrug our shoulders sheepishly while saying, “We just don’t know
what’s going on,” which was the truest thing we could say to people likely beginning
to take us for falsehood spinners or morons on some sort of ride to the
cleaners.
During
this three month wait, we’d told people I was going to be working with HGTV and
DIY, and when that didn’t happen, I felt stuck. I’m not sure of the big
difference between embarrassment and humiliation, but I think we were getting
rained on by steady drops of each. It wasn’t bragging, I hadn’t wanted to tell
anyone. But we had to. We had to do our part to get set.
By most
accounts of people on the inside, my family and I were being treated poorly. I realize
that many would have pulled themselves out of consideration, but I felt waiting
had become my best option. Some might see this as foolish and ignorant. Others
will feel it was wise and mature. I’m not sure who’s right. I’m inclined to
think both camps have valid takes.
But then, a
spark was followed by the flicker of flames. On March 6th, 2014, I
received an email from another production company vaguely referencing their own
knowledge of what I was in a holding pattern about. It was a chance to talk, to
bail on HGTV/DIY. Although I was rightly curious about what this second
producer had to say, I really had a good feeling about the home improvement networks’
programming director. I didn’t know her background or upbringing, but getting
acquainted over the phone, she reminded me of Midwestern friends, maybe even neighborhood
parents or moms here at the kid’s schools. I felt I could trust her, something rare
for me in general. Plus, as a home renovator, these coupled channels felt worth
waiting for more than any others.
My
reputation, along with my wife’s, was knotted up within this fading prospect. And
significantly, although they’d lost some of their sparkle during this period, being
on HGTV was important. Holding on to hopes, I wanted and needed to see this play
out, feeling that for a week or two at least, I should hold steady with the
Scripps channels as my first best option until they officially quit on me.
I checked
in with producers hoping to gauge the likelihood of them actually showing up. And
to my surprise, they had Heavens to Betsy answers. They were unexpectedly certain,
more than they’d been over the last three months. There was a starting date
they seemed confident about. Actual names were shared of the team members and
their respective roles.
Almost immediately,
these named folks began emailing me individually, requesting pictures and scope
descriptions while describing episode breakdowns for me.
Then along
with this improved attitude, and the feeling of excitement buzzing through my
cell phone and inbox, I was given more good news. Four episodes didn’t seem
like it would be enough and the producers were putting forth a fresh proposal
to extend the series to six. I was taken aback, sharing my amazement with the
lead executive disclosing this great news. “But you haven’t even seen the property,
or inside the house,” I said.
“We don’t
need to,” he answered with his usual tone of admirable confidence, “We’ve seen
the footage.” Meaning, they’d seen what was recorded for the test reel and he
was certain that knowledge was all he needed to make his pitch.
I had so
much to learn about television. To me, an in-person review of the site, and
walkthrough of the property, seeing and feeling and taking it all in, was inequivalent
to looking at pictures on a screen or watching video. But this was the
production company who produced Rehab Addict. He knew a lot more than I
did. He seemed rock solid about his, our chances, of persuading network
decision makers to invest more in my house and show so who was I to cast doubt?
I knew the answer. I was a nobody who’d been waiting for over three months. I felt
I’d no choice but to take what they were willing to give me. And six episodes as
opposed to four was better, so it looked like my patience was
about to payoff.
I responded
to the production executive with genuine gratitude, a simple, “Thanks. That
sounds awesome.”
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