Reader,

I've been obsessively watching K-dramas for the past two years.

It all started with Extraordinary Attorney Woo, a delightful series about an autistic woman who finds success as a courtroom lawyer. What captivated me about that show? A host of things:

• Its plot was improbable
• It was silly, unafraid to play for laughs and introduce whimsical elements like singing whales that only the titular attorney can see
• It also took itself seriously at all the wrong parts, indulging in emotional displays that most Americans would consider embarrassing and uncalled for

I loved every minute of it. It allowed me to both indulge my earnest romanticism and giggle. Honestly, I couldn't have asked for more.

But I did. And boy, have the K-dramas delivered.

As with any genre, not every show has hit the mark. There have been a few duds. However, on the whole, I've found the world of K-dramas to be a breath of fresh air. Especially when compared to all the "serious" television I'm supposed to be paying attention to.

And since I'm a writer and storyteller, I've naturally been wondering, why? What makes them so different from their North American counterparts? Why would I rather spend time in Reply 1988 or When Life Gives You Tangerines than in the gritty worlds on display from HBO, Hulu, and the like?

Well, I'm ready to stop wondering. Starting May 15, I'm going to be writing my way through one of my favorite K-dramas. It's one I've already watched twice and whose soundtrack has been a faithful companion for the past year.

Why am I telling you? Because I figure that some of you might want to join me. I'm still working out the format for this journey, but I'd love to have some fellow journeyers. Or at least people who are curious to learn more about the craft of storytelling from an unconventional source.

If you're interested, hit reply and say so.

If not, you still need to keep your stick on the ice.

Frank.