Hey, folks—

I wanted to spend today responding to CC’s Pitch Workshop submission for her one-hour TV dramedy, Sarah Weekly.

First of all—thanks again to CC for submitting to this!  Whether you’re pitching Steven Spielberg, a low-level TV exec, or just looking for critical feedback, it’s never easy putting your ideas out there in the world to be judged, so I applaud you—and everyone else who has participated in the Pitch Workshop—for sticking your neck out.  (The Pitch Workshop is also one of my favorite parts of this blog, so double-thanks to all of you… as well as future submitters!)

Second of all, thanks to everyone who has given CC feedback.  I’m sure she appreciates it, and I love seeing chatter and activity in Script Notes’ comment section.

It looks like you’ve gotten some terrific feedback and lots of positive responses, CC, so I hope it’s been helpful!  

For those of you who haven’t read the original post, here’s CC’s idea…

Logline: "Sarah Weekly" is a light-hearted drama that follows 30-year-old Sarah Neel as she tries to navigate a path to a new life with her weekly horoscope as her guide.
 
Synopsis: The morning of her 30th birthday Sarah Sofia Neel had a nice life: nice boyfriend, nice job, nice apartment. By noon, all that's left is her 30th birthday. When Sarah finds a weekly horoscope that seems to have warned of her life's recent upheaval, she wonders what else her horoscope might be able to reveal. With some weekly insight into what's ahead, Sarah tries to build a new life more fulfilling than the one she had before. Along the way, she learns that life has a reason for everything -- and everyone -- it puts in your path.

So, here are my thoughts and suggestions to add to the pile…

WHAT I LIKE:
As everyone else has pointed out, I think you’re tapping into some really fertile narrative and emotional territory.  Chick-lit TV is incredibly popular right now, from the original godmother of Sex and the City to hit broadcst shows like Samantha WhoGrey’s Anatomy and to failed shows like Cashmere Mafia and Lipstick Jungle… and even Showtime’s Secret Diary of a Call Girl.  And as Matt points out in his comment to your submission, last February ABC Family acquired Sophie, CBC’s show about a young talent agent.  So I think you’re playing in a rich, lucrative sandbox.

You also have a fun hook in Sarah’s weekly horoscopes… they’re kind of your version of Meredith’s thematic voice-over that bookends each episode of Grey’s Anatomy.  So you’re off to a good start!


WHAT I THINK YOU SHOULD WORK ON:
Obviously, CC, as the comments to your submission indicate, people are responding to the “horoscope framework” of your show idea, both the chick-lit territory and the narrative device of the weekly horoscopes.  But to be honest, I think your series, or at least your pitch, is still missing the one thing it really needs to get sold, and that is…

Who the hell is Sarah Sofia Neel?

That’s the one thing producers and executives really want and need to know… and it’s the bedrock of your entire series.  After all, no one is going to tune in to see a weekly horoscope… the horoscopes are merely a device, a gimmick (albeit a good one), to introduce each episode’s theme or story.  People are going to tune in because they relate to, root for, invest in, and—quite literally—fall in love with Sarah Neel.  (…in the same way that no one tunes into Grey’s Anatomy to hear Meredith’s thematic bookends and learn her “lesson of the week”; they tune in because they understand and relate to Meredith Grey.  Her desires, passions, fears and frustrations mirror the emotional experiences of her viewers.  In other words: in Meredith, viewers see some kind of representation of themselves… and if she’s not exactly the same person as all her viewers, she’s someone they hate… or would like to be… or fear becoming.  She is, somehow, an extension of some part of her viewers’ emotional lives.  Thus, you would never pitch Grey’s Anatomy by focusing on her voice-over and the beginning and end of each show; you’d focus on truly bringing to life the character of Meredith Grey.)

So while all the little tidbits of Sarah’s backstory (losing her boyfriend, job, and apartment) are interesting, and they certainly help usher us into Sarah’s story, your most important task in this pitch is to let us get to know Sarah as intimately as possible in the short time you have.

And by “get to know,” I do NOT mean telling us her hometown or her favorite food or the name of her cat or what she has for breakfast on Saturday mornings.  

What I mean is… you need to give your pitch’s audience a crystal-clear sense of how this woman sees the world.  Is Sarah a starry-eyed optimist, who—even when her job, her home, and her boyfriend are ripped away—forges ahead undaunted?  Is she a broody cynic who believes the world is a dark, dangerous place where each day is simply a battle for survival?  Does she view life as a game, a vicious race to some undetermined finish line… and the prize goes only to those who aren’t afraid to do whatever it takes to win?  

Maybe Sarah sees herself as a victim, an unwitting mark in some cruel cosmic joke, and she must learn to grow a spine and take charge of her own destiny.  Or perhaps she views life as a cutthroat war… a war in which she has always been a cunning and ruthless warrior… and the loss of her job/apartment/boyfriend is a wake up call that tells her she needs to find some heart and compassion.  Or she’s always been a devout atheist who believes solely in free will… until—just after she loses all that’s important to her—she stumbles across these uncannily accurate horoscopes… and must suddenly re-evaluate and re-strategize her life.

I’m not saying any of these suggestions is right for you, Sarah, or the show… I’m just saying that whomever this character is, you need to know it and articulate it to us, your audience.  And this isn’t simply a matter of listing adjectives or boiling her down to a few short sentences; it’s a matter of understanding her at the deepest level.

Think of people who are close to you in your life: your parents, your sister, your husband or boyfriend, you best buddy, your college roommate, etc.  If I were to ask you to think of any of them in certain situations, you would probably know IMMEDIATELY how they would behave.  How would your mother act if you asked her to loan you $10,000?  How does your sister behave on a first date?  Who’s the first person your husband/boyfriend would call if you told him you’d cheated on him?  What would your best friend say if she met her favorite rock star?  Where would your roommate go immediately after learning she was failing out of school?

I’m guessing most of these answers were gut reactions—you know these people so well the answers barely need thinking about.  This isn’t because you know all their favorite bands or least favorite movies… it’s because you know how they see the world.  You know that your mom views the world as an obstacle course of deadly dangers… and her job is simply to protect those she loves.  You know that your husband or boyfriend views the world as a constant party… and his job is to never grow up and have as much fun as possible.  You know your best girlfriend views the world as a façade… a gigantic illusion where common people falsely believe they have purpose and free will, when—in reality—we’re all just pawns of the rich and powerful.

TV characters work the same way.  The Office’s Michael Scott views his Dunder Mifflin branch as his family and he’s the father... even though he's totally unaware that he's a manchild who lacks the maturity to actually lead.  Prison Break’s Michael Scofield views the world, or society, as a chessboard on which there are clearly two sides—good and evil—and society’s rules can be twisted, bent, or broken as long as it’s done in the name of good (the lines he’ll never cross, however, are betraying those close to him: Lincoln, Sucre, Sara, etc.).

This is how well you need to know Sarah Neel.  Now, I’m guessing you know some of this—and maybe more than you think—you simply haven’t articulated it in the pitch.  But based on the framework of your series, here are some personal, emotional, and thematic areas I’d explore to help find some insight into who Sarah Neel is…

•  OTHER PEOPLE IN SARAH’S LIFE.  Characters are defined not only by who they are as individuals—by how they, as individuals, see the world—but also by their relationships with other people.  Who are the most important people in Sarah Neel’s life… and how does she relate to them?  Her brother, an arrogant womanizer whom she views as lazy child?  Her mom, a mid-fifties wannabe actress who has always acted more like a girlfriend than a genuine parent?  Her father, a money-grubbing workaholic who views children as annoying (but necessary) appendages?  Her old boss, who sees every employee—female OR male—as a potential sexual conquest?

Think about the other people who populate Sarah Neel’s world.  They’ll not only be essential parts of the series; they’ll be essential parts of the pitch.  Think about how each of them sees the world in their own unique way.  How does Sarah feel about each particular person.  How do their world-views clash?  How does Sarah NEED each of these people… and vice versa?  How is Sarah vulnerable in a unique way around each of these characters?  What would Sarah tell each person that she wouldn’t tell any of the others?

•  THE HOROSCOPES.  While the horoscopes are indeed a strong hook, they also raise certain inescapable questions about how you (the storyteller) and Sarah view life, free will, destiny, etc.  It’s not enough just to say that Sarah gets “weekly insight” from her horoscope.  How does she view these weekly insights… and what does her feeling about the horoscopes say about her larger world-view?  For instance, is Sarah a snarky non-believer in all things metaphysical… until the horoscopes start proving themselves true?  Is she a dogmatic believer who blindly follows each horoscope’s advice… thus constantly finding herself in awkward and hilarious misadventures?  Or is she a pragmatic skeptic who believes the horoscopes aren’t divine advice, but the brainchild of a kindred spirit… and if she can meet the man writing them, she’ll find her soulmate?

Whatever you decide, I think you’ll find that Sarah Neel’s attitude toward the horoscopes—and all the issues surrounding horoscopes: fate, pre-determination, karma, etc.—reveal a lot about who Sarah is and she sees the larger picture of her world.

•  WHERE DO YOU WANT SARAH TO END UP?  What’s her personal/emotional journey?  And while she may not (in fact, almost definitely WILL not, if your show makes it on the air) actually end up where you initially envision her, thinking about where you’d like her to go often helps illuminate the central questions and issues of her life.  For instance, if you know you’d like her to go from homeless, jobless, and partner-less to having her own husband, a sexy husband, and an enormous mansion, you can start to realize the emotional and narrative steps it’ll take to get her there.  But those steps and lessons are different than if you want Sarah to wind up remaining single (but realizing she can survive on her own), struggling in her career (yet enjoying the challenges), and in a tiny one-bedroom house (which she bought with her own meager savings).  And THOSE emotional steps are different than if you want Sarah to start off with a successful career, a knock-out boyfriend, and a killer townhouse… then lose it all and wind up alone, penniless, and sleeping in a gutter.

When you’re actually pitching this to producers or executives, you probably won’t tell them where you think Sarah’s journey (and the series) will end—in fact, having your series pitch that choreographed can hurt your chances of selling it—but it WILL help you zero in on the core pillars of who Sarah is… and, therefore, how she sees the world around her.


Anyway, CC, I hope this is helpful feedback.  As your other readers have clearly pointed out, you are off to a great start… you’ve created a terrific device to get in and out of your stories… you have the seeds of a vibrant character and a wonderful world… and I think you’re well on yor way to fleshing out a terrific hit series!

As for the rest of you (and CC, too)—thanks for all your feedback… and please CLICK HERE and offer some supportive criticism for our latest entry in the Script Notes Pitch Workshop: Wendy’s sitcom pitch for Three-Two-One.

Talk to you all soon!

Chad

Hey, everyone—

Some sad news (“sad” being relative, so bear with me)… Reality Binge, the Fox Reality Channel sketch/clip/variety show I’d be writing on for the past 8 months, was canceled this week.  We’ll finish out our final two episodes, and the finale will air on Thursday, December 18.  

So first of all… THANK YOU to all of you who watched, laughed, sent emails and posts to the Binge blog, and did everything else you could to help support us.  The folks in the office may not know your faces or even your names, but believe me… your support is appreciated more than you can know.

Secondly, I thought I’d take today and write about the experience of being canceled… what it’s like on the inside… because it’s a somewhat unique-- and simultaneously NOT unique-- experience (for anyone who's ever been laid off) that I think is interesting to those on the outside.  (Or at least, I remember before I’d worked in TV, I’d always wonder what it was like when a show was canceled.  How did they tell the writers?  What was the mood in the office?  Why were the network executives such idiots and assholes… or were they?  All that stuff…)

We learned the news at about 2:45 Tuesday afternoon.  Tuesdays are big days at the Reality Binge writers’ offices, because they’re the day the entire script comes together so it can be shot in the studio on Wednesday.  Every Tuesday at 2:00 is our “table read,” where all the writers, producers, and network executives gather in the conference room to hear the host, Eric Toms, read through the script.  We also read/rehearse/present to the network any skits, pre-taped bits, or clips for that week’s show.  Thus, the network executives often use the time before the table read to give us any important updates or information.

We had heard rumors the previous day (Monday), that we’d be learning the next afternoon whether or not Reality Binge would be picked up for a third “cycle,” or season.  Fox Reality Channel had been picking us up in 13-episode commitments, and this particular season was due to end on Thursday, December 18.  Several weeks earlier, as we were producing our first season and hoping for a second, they gave us the second-season nod about a month before the cycle ended.  So this time around, we were expecting to learn our fate by Thanksgiving.

In television, where even the highest-paid writers and producers are freelancers, hopping from one show to the next, getting a pick-up is a big deal… it’s learning whether or not you’ll have income for the next 3 months, 6 months, 12 months… however long the pick-up lasts.  If you don’t get picked up, everyone—even the top-of-the-food-chain writers, producers, and showrunners—must hit the streets in search of a new job.  

So as the network deadline for picking up a show draws closer, everyone on the staff begins to gossip and speculate.  Every tidbit of information becomes grist for the mill:

“We had terrible ratings last night—they’re gonna cancel us…”  “No way—we were up against the debates; they couldn’t have expected much…”

“We had a Verizon commercial!  That’s high profile—they gotta pick us up!”

“Last night’s ratings were low, but I heard we did great in the target demo… I bet we get the pick-up tomorrow…”

“A friend knows an assistant to the network president.  Apparently, we’re his favorite show, so the ratings don’t matter…”

“The network’s nervous… someone posted something on a blog saying we’re too much like The Soup… and our ratings were down…”

“Our ratings are low, but they have American Idol coming up and want to use us to promote it.  There’s no way they’d cancel us right before American Idol…”

Everyone becomes an armchair analyst and a wannabe programming exec.  But nobody really knows anything.

The week before Thanksgiving was incredibly tense because we were SURE we were gonna hear before the holiday.  In fact, many people thought we’d hear two or three weeks earlier… but we didn’t.  So almost every moment that we weren’t writing was spent speculating and guessing what was going on behind the network curtain.  We’d have conversations in the parking lot at 2 a.m. attempting to decipher any hint, clue, or rumor we could get our hands on.  

It’s easy to think—when you don’t hear the news you’re waiting for—that it means bad news.  (“If they were gonna pick us up, they’d have told us by now…”)  The truth is: while not knowing may not be GOOD news—after all, hit shows like CSI aren’t sweating when they don’t get their pick-up right away—silence very often means nothing.  It could mean the network wants to pick up the show but is discussing changes.  It could mean they’re figuring out their next season schedule.  In our case, it seemed to mean they hadn’t yet made a decision and wanted to continue seeing how the show performed.

For the most part, the Reality Binge writers and production staff seemed to be optimistic… “How could they NOT pick us up?  Everyone at the network loves the show."  "It’s so inexpensive!"  "It’s a great promotional vehicle for their other series."  "They have nothing else like it on their air.  And they need SOME kind of show like this.  They’d be crazy NOT to pick it up.”  We also felt we were just hitting our stride creatively, really figuring out how to do funny, creative stuff with the resources at our disposal.  Picking us up was a no-brainer… right?  

But when we didn’t hear… and we didn’t hear… and we didn’t hear… our palms started to sweat.

Then, last Monday, we heard rumors that the network would give us their decision the next day.  At 2:00, everyone gathered in the conference room for the table read—Eric (the host), the writers, producers, lawyers, network execs.  I don’t know if things were quieter, more taut, this week because we were all waiting for the announcement… or if it just seemed that way.  Usually, the moments before the table read are light, energetic, even a bit frenetic—there’s an excitement around watching the show come together.  But this time, there was a definite elephant in the room.  People were talking in hushed tones… there were no jokes or good-natured insults being thrown about… no ribbing or laughing.  It was like everyone was in a courtroom moments before learning the sentence of a close friend; would he be set free… or put to death?

And then the table read began.  No mention of the pick-up… no yes or no… not even acknowledgement that we were all waiting.  It just… started.  Again, I don’t know if the table read actually WAS different—less jovial, fewer out-loud laughs, a hesitancy about really enjoying the comedy—or if it just felt that way… but when it ended, and everyone dispersed to head back to their desks, there was a definite sense of, “Did that just happen?  Weren’t we supposed to LEARN something?  Did we just totally ignore the gigantic elephant in the room?”

But as the writers gathered in the writers room, our showrunner hurried in behind us.

“Hey, guys,” he whispered.  “Bad news: I didn’t want to say this before the meeting, but we’re getting canceled today.”

“How do you know?” we asked.

“Someone leaked it on a blog this morning.  It says ‘Fox Reality canceling Reality Binge… the LA offices will find out this afternoon.’  And the president of the network is on his way over here right now.”

“Well, it’s a blog,” I said.  “It could be totally wrong.  Who knows where that came from.”

“The president of the network is on his way.  He’ll be here at 3:30.”

He was right… network presidents generally don’t travel from Santa Monica to North Hollywood—an hour-long drive—to deliver good news about third season pick-ups.

Those few moments—and, I guess, the few hours—after learning the truth are a weird mixture of emotions: sadness, anger, worry, futility.  A million things race through your mind… “How could they do this?  We were just getting good!”  “Great—was all of this for nothing?”  “How will I afford Christmas presents?”  “Where should I start hunting for another job?”  “How will I tell my family?”  

For me, I sometimes think the mish-mash of emotions winds up leaving you feeling… ultimately… almost nothing at all.  It’s like the color white… I remember learning how white light is actually an amalgamation of all the other colors combined… which is odd, because all the colors combine to make NO color.  That’s how this feels.  A million emotions combine to leave you feeling almost nothing… just kind of empty, untethered.

It’s only later, over the next few hours and days, that real clarity hits you, washing over you like waves…

There’s the wave of: “The network is a bunch of idiots.  They never gave this show a chance… they squashed what made it good… they never promoted or marketed it the way they should’ve.”  I don’t care what show it is… EVERY CANCELED SHOW IN THE HISTORY OF TELEVISION HAS THIS CONVERSATION… ABOUT 15,000 TIMES.  Arrested Development, Jericho, Kath & Kim, Reality Binge.  There’s usually some truth in it… but sometimes—many times—shows simply fail.  It’s not the show’s fault.  It’s not the network’s fault.  It just failed.

There’s the wave of: “I have to tell my friends and family we failed.  We weren’t good enough.”

There’s the wave of: “Shit—I should’ve started job-hunting already.  What if I never get another gig?”

There’s the wave of: “Maybe I should just quit writing and get a ‘real job’… so I don’t have to go through this again.”

There’s the wave of: “We’re the best show on television… screw this network!... let’s just sell the show somewhere else!”  Almost every producer, when his or her show gets canceled, talks about selling the show somewhere else.  Sometimes it actually happens—like when Scrubs was canceled by NBC this year, then ABC Studios resold it to ABC—but these cases are few and far between.

And of course, all of these waves are washing over you while you still have to plow forward and finish your season’s remaining episodes.  (Sometimes shows are canceled and shut down immediately.  In Reality Binge’s case, we’re finishing the last episodes of this cycle.)

But jumping back to Tuesday…

The network president and VP showed up, as promised, at 3:30… when they had a closed-door meeting with the two heads of the production company, Weller-Grossman, which makes the show.  They emerged about twenty minutes later… the execs took off… and the executive producers gathered together the entire staff to break the news.  Each of them made a little speech, talking about what a great job we did… how gracious the network was in saying that they DID love the show—unfortunately, it just wasn’t getting the numbers they needed… etc.

These meetings always feel like funerals… they’re sad and gloomy, everyone already knows the news… but their true functions are to A) cement the truth, let it be said officially, and B) bring everyone together for a moment of cathartic communal mourning.  People sing the praises of each other and the show… how fun it was to work together… how well everyone gelled… etc.

And then, after the meeting, almost immediately… everyone went back to work.  After all, we had a show to shoot in less than 24 hours, and while it didn’t seem to matter much anymore, I think it was nice to know we still had a common purpose for a couple weeks.  Of course, things were different as we filtered back into the writers room… jokes were flying as usual, but there was definitely more gallows humor…  

“Let’s turn in all jokes about drugs and Jesus (the network hates drug references and religion jokes)—what are they gonna do, fire us?...”

“Hey, instead of shooting in the studio, let’s do the exact same show… but have Eric in a bathtub with razor blades…”  

To be fair, the network execs and lawyers have been genuinely contrite over the last few days, telling us repeatedly how much they loved the show… how painful this decision was.  Ultimately, they’ve told us, the show did GREAT online.  We were incredibly successful virally.  Unfortunately, the Internet viewers never seemed to find their way back to television… and while the world is on the verge of real TV/Internet convergence, we’re not there yet… and TV is what matters.

So… we trudge on, finishing the final two episodes in our order, knowing—hoping—we made Reality Binge the best show we could… and we begin the hunt for a new show, the next job.  Some of us have agents, who will help… but whether you have an agent or not, it’s usually up to you to find that next gig.

Every show ends… sometimes after a year, sometimes after five.  And when it’s over, you’re usually back to square one, searching for that next job.  This doesn’t change much whether you’re at the top of the food chain… the bottom… or, like most TV writers, somewhere in the middle.  The upside is: you always know you’re in good company.  Sure, it gets easier to find jobs after you’ve had a few… but I know mid-level and high-level writers and producers who have been out of work for months, even years.  Most of them will find something, hopefully sooner than later.

But as painful as getting canceled—and the constant insecurity—can be, this is the name of the game for everyone working in TV.  Which means those who survive have to be scrappy.  In fact, I’m not sure whether working in TV—or being any kind of freelancer—“makes” you scrappy… or you become a freelancer BECAUSE you’re scrappy.

Either way, it’s not always fun… but it’s the life we choose.

Welcome to television.


REALITY BINGE: "PETER GUNN'S GUIDE TO STYLE"

Hey, writers--

If you live in Atlanta, Georgia (or want to take a road trip), there's gonna be some exciting writerly/political action this weekend.  Here's the scoop...

Earlier this week, four writers were fired from Tyler Perry's hit TV show, House of Payne, which currently airs on TBS.  Why were they fired?  ...Because House of Payne isn't a Writers Guild show, and the writers wanted Perry to organize under the WGA so they could get fair pay, health benefits, and residuals.  You can read the whole story HERE (New York Times).

And for those of you who don't know House of Payne, it's the syndicated series from mini-mogul Tyler Payne, the writer/director of Madea's Family Reunion, The Family That Preys, Daddy's Little Girls, etc.

Not only is it COMPLETELY ILLEGAL to fire employees for trying to organize, but Perry's House of Payne deal is valued between $200-$300 million dollars... which is more than enough to pay his writers standard union writers and benefits.

So here's where things get fun...

The WGA is staging a massive protest tomorrow, October 4, at the opening of Perry's new Tyler Perry Studios in Atlanta... and if you're available to go, they need everyone they can get!  This isn't just a fight for the four writers (Kellie Griffin, Christopher Moore, Teri Brown-Jackson, Lamont Ferrell) fired from House of Payne.  This is a fight for writers and aspiring writers everywhere.  (Especially since Tyler Perry bills himself as a "maverick" who bucks the Hollywood system and does thing on his own terms.)  Here's the scoop...

WHAT:    The WGA Protest of Tyler Perry Studios
WHEN:   Saturday, October 4, 2008
             4:00 p.m.
WHERE: Tyler Perry Studios
             2769 Continental Colony Pkwy SW
             Atlanta, GA

If you can't make it but would like to donate money, or frequent flier points, to help fly other writers or WGA members to the protest, please contact Charles Allen at the Writers Guild asap.  You can reach him at 323-782-4565, or email him at callen@wga.org.

You can also CLICK HERE to sign the WGA's letter of support for Kellie Griffin, Christopher Moore, Teri Brown-Jackson, and Lamont Ferrell.

Thanks for your help!

Writers Digest’s annual writing contest is in full swing… fiction, poetry, non-fiction… and, of course, screenwriting.  I’ve been judging the screenwriting division for the past few years, and I always love it—it’s a blast reading and discovering new talent.  And this year is no different, so I’ve been poring over hundreds of scripts, many of which are really good.

Unfortunately, not all scripts can be terrific, and I often notice that the not-so-terrific ones are not-so-terrific for the exact same reasons.  In fact, many of these scripts COULD be terrific, but they fall into certain traps that keep them from being as good as they could/should be.

So I wanted to dedicate a couple blog posts to the WD writers contest… and how to give yourself the best possible chance of winning.  So here’s Part One of…

THE TOP 10 WAYS TO WIN WD’S ANNUAL SCREENWRITING CONTEST - PART I

10)  YOUR SYNOPSIS.  Writers Digest asks you to submit a synopsis along with your script.  Do NOT write a full-page, single-spaced, tiny-font synopsis.  The purpose of the synopsis is to give a QUICK overview of the story; not detail every plot turn.  Thus, your synopsis should be one tight paragraph.  When I see more than that, I rarely read it… and it tells me the writer doesn’t know how to tell his/her story quickly and succinctly.

9)  FORMAT.  Make sure your screenplay is in PROPER SCREENPLAY FORMAT.  I’m always stunned at how many entries aren’t written in standard script format; some are written as plays, some are single-spaced without tabs, others just make up their own format.  Here’s the thing: if your screenplay is NOT in standard format, it’ll be glanced at, but its chances of winning are greatly diminished.  And in a real-life situation, an exec or producer probably won’t read it at all; it’ll just go in the trash.  I know this seems nitpicky and harsh, but in an age where everyone is only moments away from the Internet, a library, or a bookstore, there’s no excuse for not having proper formatting.  (And with software like Final Draft or Movie Magic Screenwriter, the computer formats the script for you.)

8)  YOUR FIRST PAGE – PART I.  Even before I actually begin reading your first page, I’m judging your script.  If your first page consists entirely of stage directions, it looks dense, daunting, and uninviting.  To be honest, I probably won’t even read the whole thing or make it to page two.  This is true in the real world as well; execs and producers are looking for any reason to not turn the page, and a big paragraphs of stage directions are a great one.

7)  YOUR FIRST PAGE – PART II.  Jump into major conflict on your first page.  Do NOT take time to “set the stage.”  Jump into action, dialogue, and conflict at the top of page one.  It’s a gross misnomer that stories need a few pages to establish the main characters or setting.  Not only do we rarely need this info in order to start a story, but it’s more effectively conveyed if it comes through as we watch the action/conflict unfold.  If you begin by “setting the stage,” I promise you: your reader will be bored by page two.

6)  STAGE DIRECTIONS – PART I. Do NOT write huge paragraphs of stage description.  I try to never write stage directions over 3 lines long.  If I need more, I’ll OCCASIONALLY go to 4 lines… but never more.  If you still need more, break it up into different paragraphs.  But few things turn readers off more than seeing massive chunks of stage direction.  (And the truth is: you DON’T need more than 3 lines.  The job of stage directions is to give us only info and action we MUST know to follow the story; don’t waste your readers’ time with detailed descriptions of people, places, clothing, etc.)

Stay tuned for the next five tips... have a good weekend!

Chad

Today’s reader question comes in response to my animation interview with Charlie Stickney last week.  BuffyFan47 asks an interesting question…

“I'd like to hear Charlie's and your advice on how an animation writer can protect themselves since - as you noted - they are not covered by the WGA. With tie-in merchandising worth potential billions (see the aforementioned Mr. Squarepants) how does one make sure that someone else doesn't make gazillions off their idea while they get cut out of the process and don't make a dime?”

Well, BuffyFan47, as you asked—Charlie and I put our heads together and basically had the same response.

“There are two types of shows one would write for,” says Charlie. “Pre-existing, and something you've created.  If you're writing for a pre-existing show, you're not going to get anything in terms of a merchandising deal.”

In other words, if you get hired to write for Spongebob Squarepants, you’re not going to share in any of the show’s merchandising money, even though you're writing stories and dialogue for the same characters they're selling as toys, lunchpails, and T-shirts.

“Nickelodeon owns Spongebob [in partnership with Spongebob creator Stephen Hillenburg, which we’ll discuss in a moment],” Charlie explains.  “And when you write for them, on one of their shows, you write on a work-for-hire basis.  Which means --  everything you create belongs to them.  It doesn't matter if the show's covered by the WGA, or if you have the biggest agent, etc.  When you write for someone else, you're writing for someone else.  The best you can hope for is to get the biggest check possible for the work that you do.  (This is where having those WGA minimums would help.)”

However, if you create and sell your own show—like Stephen Hillenburg did with Spongebob Squarepants—it’s a whole different ballgame.

When you sell a TV show to a TV network or studio-- whether it's animated or live-action-- you truly sell them the idea.  In other words, you relinquish most of your writes and they own the majority of the idea, usually including all merchandising rights.  However… they’ll often let you participate in ownership of the idea, offering you a limited number of percentage points in the idea (every show ha 100 percentage points).

I.e.  Let’s say you create a show called Wally’s Wacky Fun World, which you sell to NickToons, the company that makes Spongebob.  NickToons will own the idea outright, but they may give you 5 of the show’s 100 percentage points… entitling you to 5% of the show’s backend profit.  This includes all monies from syndication, movie deals, merchandising, etc.

The number of points offered a show’s creator varies from show to show, depending on the clout of the creator, how savvy his agent or lawyer is, what duties he’ll be rendering on the show (is he gonna stick around and run the show himself, or just pass it off to another producer?), etc.  If a big star or another important producer is attached to the project—or comes aboard—he or she may also get some backend points.  The network or studio tries to keep as many points as possible, and they rarely give away more than 30.

This holds true for live-action shows as well, although live-action shows don’t usually have as many ancillary products as cartoons.  A few shows—usually sci-fi hits like Buffy, Alias, or Heroes—may have toys, comic books, novelizations, etc., but most don’t.  (I’ve never seen anyone carrying around a Gil Grissom doll.)

Whether in the process of selling an animated project or a live-action series, “it's up to the writer to look out for themselves,” says Charlie.  “Which means… if a studio or production company wants to option, buy or develop your idea, you need to have a lawyer or an agent look over your contracts.  If you don't have one, this is the perfect time to get one.  Coming to an agent with a deal in hand that they can commission is one of the surefire ways to get represented.”