Script Notes by Chad Gervich - Guest Perspectives

Meet Rick Qualliotine, Co-EP

Chad — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 06:22:18 GMT

I’m writing this while sitting in the office of our Co-Executive Producer, Rick Qualliotine—the only person at The Wanda Sykes Show who has actually PAINTED HIS OFFICE… making this easiest the coolest office in the place (one wall is a bright warm orange-yellow).

Rick started his career in theater, producing plays and stage shows, before moving on to television, where he has helped get shows like The Showbiz Show with David Spade, HGTV Summer Showdown, and now The Wanda Sykes Show, up on their feet.

So I’m asking Rick…

What are the biggest challenges when getting a new show up on its feet?

Here’s what Rick says, in his own words...

1) NOT MENTALLY IMPLODING WHILE YOU WAIT FOR YOUR DEAL TO CLOSE. Getting to the point where you actually start making something is a grueling, pressure-filled, and sometimes a financially difficult time. Even if you’ve pitched and sold something, sometimes it will take a long while for there to be any money. So frequently you’re waiting and waiting for a deal to close… and waiting for production to start… and waiting for any money to start coming. So just getting to the point where you’re actually making something can be very stressful and difficult.

2) You’d be amazed how frequently it turns out that what you’ve sold isn’t what the buyer wants. So going back and forth trying to figure out what the show is, depending on the genre, can be very challenging. What people frequently forget is that when they say “I sold my show, I sold my project,” that really means someone else owns it. So when you start telling them what the show is and that’s not what they want it to be, there’s a very difficult back-and-forth… and what the show is and who’s gonna star in it and who’s gonna write it. After you’ve sold it, it’s somebody else’s. They need you to execute it, but it’s theirs.

3) Staying on top of all the different pieces as it starts to move really fast. It’s a huge elaborate, collaborative process. I always go back to this David Mamet quote, which I’ll paraphrase: “Producing a play or directing a film is like running a marathon. Launching a television series is like running until your heart explodes.”

When you make a TV show, you’re usually looking at making 13 or 22 episodes. Just doing the math, that’s either 7½ -11 or 13-22 hours of material that you have to imagine, write, perform, and edit. It takes years to do that for a feature film, to produce that much material. And we generally have about 30 weeks. So that requires a huge team and lots of people writing simultaneously. You must overlap your writing, your production, and post. So as soon as those things start to overlap, you have to—as a showrunner—move in and out of those essential pieces. That’s why, in television, directors take an episode or a couple episodes; then, the next week it moves on to the next director, whereas producers and writers stay on and generate all the material. So if you’re a showrunner, you must have someone sitting in the [writers] room who you trust. You have to have someone on the stage who you trust. You have to have someone editing who you trust. But you also have to be able to interface with all those people simultaneously, while dealing with the network, and all the usual challenges of managing people.

Melissa Scrivner: From Writers Assistant to TV Writers Room (Courtesy of HWAS)

Chad — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 22:57:42 GMT

Hey, TV writers--

The good folks over at the Hollywood Writers Office Assistants Social (HWAS) have put up another great interview, this time with a good friend of mine... Melissa Scrivner, who was a writer last year on NBC's tragically under-appreciated cop show, Life. For those of you fighting to get into a writers room, it's an interesting read... Melissa talks openly about how she got into the room... what she learned... how to play your cards.

Click HERE to take a look!

READER QUESTION/GUEST PERSPECTIVE: How Do I Break Into Children's Animated TV?

Chad — Fri, 22 May 2009 20:47:13 GMT

Hey, folks--

A few weeks ago, I was teaching a TV spec-writing class, and I recently received an email from a student asking if breaking into children's shows worked the same as breaking into primetime... did you still need specs, original material, etc.?

I've never worked in children's programming... so I asked my good friend Melody Fox, who has written and produced for Stuart Little, Teen Titans, Rugrats, and Dragon Tales (as well as adult shows like Flash Gordon, South Beach, and Skin).

Here's what she said...

"I started my career in animation and have a couple dozen credits. And yes, people usually write a spec animated script or two when breaking in. I only wrote one. Then after that, I used my writer's drafts of my produced eps as samples. Animation writers will often have a sitcom spec too, (or a Simpsons or Family Guy, which are animated sitcoms) and the showrunners will read that as well. I had a comedy feature.

"In my experience, getting in is all about contacts. Many animation writers don't have agents. You get work through contacts and referrals, and recommendations. But the good news is, YOU DON'T HAVE TO HAVE AN AGENT, you can make inquiry calls on your own and no one would think it odd or unprofessional. After a while, you get work off your reputation. There are a couple lit agencies that specialize in animated & children's.

"Most animated shows do not have staffs. Disney and Nickelodeon sometimes have small staffs, like three people. Most work is freelance. If you do a freelance ep for a show that has an order of 26 and they like your work, they will come back to you with more assignments. They want writers who can deliver.

"The showrunner who hires the writers in animation is called the Story Editor. The story editor may also be a producer on the show, but not necessarily. Production in animation has to do with the boards that are drawn, etc. and have specialized producers.

"If the student is in L.A. I highly recommend he/she take the UCLA Extension animation writing class. Not only will there great instruction, there are always guest speakers and that's how the writer can start making contacts. I took the class when I already had several credits and it was still useful and one of the guest speakers hired me to do 2 freelance eps. At least 3 other people in the class went on to get assignments, so the peers in the class are also great professional contacts.

"There's a book written by animation veteran Jeffrey Scott called How to Write for Animation. it's on Amazon and also at Bookstar on Ventura Blvd. (in Los Angeles). I haven't read it myself, but he has a huge number of animation credits.

"Also, [most of] this info only applies to children's TV animation. Feature animation is a whole different ball game, and more artist-driven. Also, [this info] does not apply to animated sitcoms (Simpsons, Family Guy, American Dad, etc.) Those are sitcoms that just happen to be animated. They are WGA and have writing staffs and writers rooms and are staffed like primetime shows.

"One more thing... I hope I didn't make it sound EASY to get into. It's professional TV writing and it's very competitive. It's enormously fun, so of course it's going to be competitive.

"Here's the downside... it does not pay anything close to what live-action union shows pay. There's no residuals. It's either non-union or covered by the animators union called The Screen Cartoonists Guild -- if it's a guild show then you CAN earn medical insurance."

GUEST PERSPECTIVE: Ellen Besen, Animator - Part Three

Chad — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 08:35:10 GMT

Today we wrap up our chat with Canadian animator and author Ellen Besen, who’s been explaining the ropes of animation and offering advice on breaking into the industry…

ME: ELLEN, IMAGINE YOU HAVE STAR STUDENT WHO HAS JUST GRADUATED, HAS A TERRIFIC PORTFOLIO, AND IS ABOUT TO LEAVE BUBBLE OF SCHOOL. WHAT ARE THE FIRST, OR MOST IMPORTANT, THINGS YOU WOULD TELL HIM TO DO UPON STARTING LIFE IN THE REAL WORLD OF ANIMATION?

ELLEN: The first thing I would say is: where is your initial skill? Are you stronger in character design? Stronger in animation? People think when they say “I’ll do anything,” it’s helpful for recruiters; it’s actually harder work for recruiters, so be aware of where your initial skills are. Go in and say, “I’d like to start out in the layout department,” or “I’d like to start out in storyboarding.”

It’s also helpful to know where you think you want to go. Are you aiming to be a director? A lead character animator on a Disney film? Those paths will be different.

Have a super-solid portfolio. Show off your best abilities to create artwork, showing your ability to design characters, your ability to do layouts, a little bit of everything you can do.

[Have the right] attitude. Make it really clear you’re ready to get in there. I can’t over-emphasize how important the team-player aspect is. A lot of writing in animation is done by group, and you have to check your ego at the door. You can not worK in this field if you have a lot of ego issues; there’s just no tolerance for it. If you have five people around a table… one person [has] an idea, one person criticizes it, the next person tops it, and that brings around the next idea. Anybody who gets upset about that is going to have a hard time functioning in the field. It’s good to be a little detached from the work. It’s not about you personally—very important.

The next thing is, if you know where you want to aim for, know the studio you’re going to go for. Know their work, because there are different styles and attitudes. What Disney wants is different than what an anime studio wants. So being aware of differences in the kind of style you’re aiming for, and the kind of product they’re aiming for, is helpful.

It sounds vague, but that really is what it comes down to: you can draw, you’ve been to school so you have the outline of how animation works, you have that attitude where you go in and can be part of a team and take direction. That’s the starting point.

It’s that [whole] package studios are looking for. They need people. Every studio head is criss-crossing the world looking for pockets of talent.

SO, LET’S SAY I HAVE ALL THOSE QUALITIES… AND I’VE JUST STEPPED OFF A PLANE IN LOS ANGELES. HOW DO I EVEN BEGIN MEETING PEOPLE WHO CAN HIRE ME? DO I JUST SHOW UP AT STUDIOS AND HAND THEM MY RESUME?

If you’re in that raw position, the better bet is to be in touch with one of the major animation festivals. If you’re in North America, for example, the Ottawa International Animation Festival (OIAF), which is a yearly event [each fall], goes back to 1976 and is the major North American animation festival and one of the major festivals in the world.

I’m gonna put a plug in now for another festival I’m involved with: the Kalamazoo Animation Festival International (KAFI).

The big festivals, of which those are two good models, actively invite studios to send recruiters, and studios come expecting to meet people. There will be actual formal activities set up where you can sign up to meet the various studios. In many ways, that’s your best way to make contacts.

Get your portfolio together. Make it look beautiful. Students have a terrible tendency to leave in stuff they did in first year. Strip that down, so it’s [only the best stuff]. Same thing with your resume. I had a really top student who was showing us his resume, and he won an award in the third grade and still had it on his resume! It was really sweet, but we had to explain… make sure you’ve taken that stuff out!

[Also,] if your school has any kind of co-op program, see if you can get an animation apprenticeship. It’s the kind of thing that’s do-able, and if you go to a smaller studio, they may be very happy to have a second pair of hands there. It’s a small field, and very inter-connected, so the sooner you make personal contacts and build relationships, the faster you’ll get work.

Which is, again, why I suggest going to animation festivals. Animation festivals are very low-key; they’re much more low-key than live-action festivals. People are very approachable; there are very few people who are stars like John Lasseter, Matt Groening. Most people are very regular folks in terms of attitude, so… chat up people. Begin to make friendships. That’s the best way to work your way in.

I’m going to say something that sounds really obvious, but it’s a mistake a lot of students make. They sign up [for recruiting events], but then they wait to be courted or they don’t show up on time. Again, it’s a grunt [business], and recruiters are on you in that sense. You have to be on time and highly respectful. [In the real world], you’re working too hard and deadlines are tight; if you can’t demonstrate you’re able to get in there and meet those needs, you’re not gonna make it. They just don’t have time for it. So on one hand, they’re strict about that stuff, on the other hand: remarkably accessible.

Most studios [also] have a website, [so] go to their employment [page]. You’re [probably] going to hear back, because they do need people. But if you’re in schools, most schools will do recruiting for you, and the good schools have studio connections.

[Also,] the big animation website is Animation World Network (AWN). It’s the premiere site in the world for premiere animation information. You can find all the festivals, all the available schools. It’s the professional site of sites, so I highly recommend that.

YOU LIVE IN CANADA. YET FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE, THE CAPITAL OF FILM AND TV IS HOLLYWOOD (AT LEAST FOR NOW). SO FOR ANIMATORS WHO DON’T LIVE IN HOLLYWOOD, IS IT POSSIBLE TO HAVE A CAREER OUTSIDE OF L.A.? HOW CAN SOMEONE OUTSIDE OF CALIFORNIA BUILD AN ANIMATION CAREER?

There are a lot more smaller centers of animation than there used to be, so the first thing is to look in the phone book or go on the Internet and see if you have animation in your area. Toronto has a large-size area. In Canada, you also have one in Montreal. You have one in Vancouver. The same thing will be true throughout the States; you may find you have studios in town. If you want to stay local, your first thing is to approach local studios.

The other thing is—and this may take longer for you to build up, but it’s still part of it—a lot of work in animation—and this isn’t a recent, it’s been going on for years—is done in parts. So in Toronto, for example, there are a lot of studios that are subcontractors. They’ll work on Hollywood features, doing a piece of it in Toronto. I suspect that happens all over the States as well, so seek out studios that work for Disney or big studios, and do it locally as well.

I’ve known storyboard artists who are based outside of Toronto. I knew someone who for many years was based in the British Virgin Islands. [Storyboards are] relatively easily transmittable stuff, so you’ll get stuff shipped to you. So if you’ve built up enough of a freelance ability, you can work from home. You have to be fast, you have to be well organized, but it’s a significant part of the field nowadays.

The guy who did the illustrations for [Animation Unleashed: 100 Principles Every Animator, Comic Book Writers, Filmmakers, Video Artist, and Game Developer Should Know], for example, is very individually motivated. He’s had a career for ten years doing animated inserts for other people’s stuff. He does opening sequences and animated bits for live-action shows. They prepare the script [and soundtrack] for him… then he, at home, creates the entire visual and sends it back and they insert it into the bigger production.

Part of why this is possible is because this is where the digital part is fantastic. What used to be an incredibly expensive process of having to send stuff to camera services and labs and editing and then back to the lab… what used to be half of your budget—one half was labor, the other half was outside services… now, is [much more affordable]. It doesn’t matter if you’re Mac or PC, you can get applications to get all that stuff very inexpensively. You can get professional quality quite affordably.

I know a number of people whose careers are based on doing exactly that, doing small jobs of various sorts. Again, the key to establishing yourself is to take a piece and finish it. Get it up on the Internet. Your short piece is your calling card. There are tons of sites that have online festivals where they get watched by other animators. AWN is a great source for that information. Enter various animation festivals, actual festivals. Word will get around. It’s a very accepting field; it doesn’t close doors on new talent. So if you’re organized and don’t want to go the studio route, it’s the smaller side of the field for people who do well at it, it can be a great thing.

Then, of course, there’s all the other oddball applications of animation: forensic animation, medical applications. Anything where people need imagery, animation is the tool. So look around for those oddball applications… go to museums, people who are teaching, medical schools. It’s very specialized and you have to bring a different kind of skill to it, but in fact, the technical end of animation is thriving quite well.

THANKS SO MUCH FOR TAKING THE TIME TO CHAT, ELLEN! THIS HAS BEEN SUPER-HELPFUL AND INFORMATIVE. BEST OF LUCK WITH YOUR WORK AND THE BOOK, AND I HOPE TO TALK TO YOU SOON!

GUEST PERSPECTIVE: Ellen Besen, Animator - Part Two

Chad — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 02:44:31 GMT

Hey, screenwriters—

We’ve been chatting with Ellen Besen, an accomplished animator and author of the great new book, Animation Unleashed: 100 Principles Every Animator, Comic Book Writers, Filmmakers, Video Artist, and Game Developer Should Know.

Last time, we talked about creative principles of animation. Today, we’ll learn the rules of breaking into the industry as a young animator…

ME: LET’S TALK ABOUT BREAKING INTO ANIMATION. IF I WANTED WRITE FOR TV OR FILM, I’D WRITE A SCRIPT. IF I WANTED TO BE A DIRECTOR, I’D DIRECT A SHORT. AS AN ANIMATOR, WHAT PRACTICAL TOOLS DO I NEED TO BREAK INTO THE INDUSTRY? JUST SAMPLE DRAWINGS? ANYTHING ELSE?

ELLEN: Certainly, if you want to be an animated script-writer, you come up with sample scripts. Fortunately—even more so in some ways than live action—the festival circuit; if you can put a film together, it’s an open door to enter, regardless of whether you’re a first-timer or have been animating for forty years.

The field is in flux in some ways; there was a fairly long stage before the full advent of the Internet where if you wanted to be in the industry, you had to get into a school. It’s very hard now to get a full-scale industry job. If you want to be a Disney animator [or anything commercial], it’s very hard now without getting into a decent school. The key, of course, is to know a decent school from a fly-by-night school.

Animation is a grunt business in that there is no getting away from having to work very hard. I’m saying this because there are quite a few schools that cater to the person who says, “If I can just get my hands on the equipment, I can fool around, figure it out, and put something together.” The person like that is never going to do well. You have to be willing to take direction. It’s an attitude.

I’ve done workshops that are a mix of actors and animators. [With the] actors you had to coach everything, and be careful… they’re delicate in how they feel about stuff. But with animators, you can be blunt, dump it on the table. It’s never meant personally… it’s about the work. That’s the first thing. You have to have the right attitude, love the field, be willing to work incredibly hard.

It still doesn’t hurt to know how to draw, even if you’re working digitally. In another generation, that may change, but at this point, knowledge of the feeling of pencil on paper, and being able to translate from the real, three-dimensional world into a two-dimensional drawing [is important]. There’s some primary learning that happens in there. The ability to do good quality life drawing… how the body looks, how it functions, not just for structure, but how structure translates into movement… those are all foundational skills people still find helpful and [employers] are still looking for.

So get into life drawing classes… not just drawing from photographs. That’s a different skill altogether because the photograph does the translation for you, which is why it’s so much easier to copy. You have to build up the ability to see the three-dimensional and how it translates onto a piece of paper.

The studying of action [and] learning the nature of good character design are important skills. I see a lot of bad design these days—overly busy.

You have to understand, for example, that when you’re… designing an illustration or a comic book, that frame you’re drawing is the final piece and how you are arranging it on the page is the final thing. That’s why comic book artists can do such wonderful things with their page layouts… in terms of how they ask readers to trace their thoughts around the page and follow the story. In animation, you have very little choice. It WILL be one frame replacing another on the screen; it’s the nature of the medium. So you have to build things for movement. You have to build things for that one frame they’ll see at any given moment. If you can’t make that leap into that understanding, you’ll get very confused when you try to figure what you should be doing in preparation. So the way characters are designed directly affects how they moved.

When they first were doing TV specials with the Peanuts characters… they were initially trying to make them like three-dimensional characters. When their head would turn from right to left, they tried to give it full rotation like a real head, with three-quarter angles… and it looked awful, freakish. The animators realized if you treated the head like a ball, with full three dimensions, you lost the sense of the characters; they changed too much. You couldn’t do a three-quarter angle on a character’s face; it didn’t look like a character anymore. There was something key to the nature of this environment that wouldn’t allow it to go there. So they had treat [the Peanuts’ heads] like coins, so they were flat. They could go from the front view, to the profile, to the front view and the head would flip around… and that actually looked like the characters. That was a design element; they worked better as if they were made of paper… if they were thin, rather than a three-dimensional character. So [you have to have] awareness of designing the character, knowing how they’d have to perform in the story, and knowing what kind of feeling you want.

Do you want realism, a Disney style of classical feeling? Or do you want something that deliberately looks abstract?

Did you ever see The Simpsons special where they suddenly threw them into the three-dimensional world? It was hilarious. It was one of their early ones from ‘93, ‘94, something like that. A couple guys who had worked on the CG part of it came to the Ottawa Animation Festival a couple years later and showed footage; they said it was really, really hard to make Homer three-dimensional. The characters didn’t translate that easily. He’s a crazy looking character anyway, but in three dimensions he was hideous.

Well, those are design problems you must anticipate in how you design the character. Learning to have that awareness is critical. Everything affects your final outcome, down to that final detail.

Animators tend to be extreme detail people with that kind of analysis. It’s a great place for disassociated people. You’re an actor who has to be able to act something spontaneously, then step back into someone who watches the action, then break it down into it’s tiniest component parts and anticipate all the problems. Then the artist kicks in to take that analysis and recreate it as drawings of what might not even be a human; your character [might be] an animal or a chair. So you have to translate the performance onto this other object! Great animators have three or four skills going on—it’s amazing to me.

I ALWAYS TELL PEOPLE THAT THE BEST WAY TO BEGIN A CAREER IN ENTERTAINMENT—AND YOU TOUCHED ON THIS-- IS TO START AT THE BOTTOM AND WORK YOUR WAY UP. HOW DO YOU DO THAT IN ANIMATION? HOW DO YOU TAKE THE FIRST STEPS IN AN ANIMATION CAREER?

You can come up through the production line, which is where most people are going to get work. It’s hard work, but if you love it, you love it… and it’s more stable than it used to be. It can be up and down, but the advent of specialty stations has been wonderful for animation.

The other way you go is totally as an individual, independent filmmaker with their own style. As long as you can make the thing move, there are a million ways to make the stuff work. There’s no limit on how many designs, as long as you come up with something that integrates properly. The nature of [“Animation Unleashed” is that the principles can be applied to any style of animation, it doesn’t matter what technique you’re using. If you can get a coherent piece together, make a film. Animation, especially with digital stuff, is so cheap now. You can get an application and do the whole thing from beginning to end, and if it’s good enough, if it looks good on the screen, put it on the Internet or send it to a festival. You can break in that way as well… and go to a commercial career.

The main thing is: get into a school, get your portfolio, and gather those commercial skills. [Or] if you feel you don’t fit—if you don’t like to follow those rules, if you hate being a team player, if you hate hearing blunt instruction on how to do things—then it’s not the field for you.

[Or if you have a genuinely] quirky drawing style, point of view... make a film. If you need to take courses to understand how to make a film, do that. If you can throw it together out of your own abilities, do that, too. But make a statement and get it out there.

Either of those routes, depending on your talents, can get you into the field these days.

IN THE WORLD OF TELEVISION, THERE’S A VERY SPECIFIC, STEP-BY-STEP PROCESS TO BECOMING A WRITER. YOU BEGIN AS A P.A., MAKING COPIES… THEN YOU BECOME THE P.A. FOR A WRITING STAFF... THEN A WRITER’S ASSISTANT… THEN, HOPEFULLY, AN ACTUAL WRITER ON THE STAFF.

HOW DOES THAT PATH WORK IN ANIMATION? IMAGINE I’VE JUST GRADUATED FROM ANIMATION SCHOOL AND STEPPED INTO THE REAL WORLD. WHAT’S MY FIRST JOB… AND THE NEXT STEPS AFTER THAT?

Basically, we’re talking about the person who wants to go into commercial production, probably at a studio, big or small. The first thing: you’ve got a great portfolio. You’ve used your time in school to get a great reel. You can show you can animate. You have a great portfolio that shows a variety of other skills you can do.

There are two different [pieces of knowledge] that are useful to have. One is where your initial skills are, an awareness of where they fit with the industry; and the other is where you WANT to be. Sometimes those things are quite different.

In the old days it was easy. You could go in and be a cell painter. Many people started as cell painters and got the animators to look over their shoulders. [Then, they would take] home a few drawings, become the animators’ assistant, et cetera. It’s tougher these days.

One thing people have to realize is—for better or worse—quite a lot of animation is done overseas.

More has come home with digital stuff, which has been good… but… there was a long period—certainly through the 80’s and much of the 90’s (pre-digital)—where what was happening with a lot of TV work and feature work [was they] would do all the pre-production here, but actual animating, coloring, shooting, even final background work was done in places like Korea, India, China. There are actually giant factory-like studios in the Far East and various countries where they churn this stuff out. [They] can do a three-week turnaround on a half-hour film, which is otherwise unthinkable. That’s allowed certain things to happen, but for many years it meant you couldn’t really animate here; you’d do pre- or post-production, but you couldn’t actually do production. Digital has shifted that and a lot of people are getting to animate again, which is a good thing, but… it may go overseas again.

So if you’re a CG animator here, you can actually be animating. But a lot of the work is pre-production, so the kinds of jobs that are possible are: you could start as an assistant animator, which means you’re working down the line, maybe directly with an animator. It might be with more of a breakdown team, depending on the level of animation you’re doing. You could be working as a colorist. You could be in the layout department, helping to design elements, or doing cleanup of someone else’s designs. You could be in production, working with whoever is managing the whole project, filing, keeping track of numbers. Or you are working in a smaller studio, assisting with flash animation.

[Also very important:] storyboarding. Storyboarding is an art and there’s always a shortage of people who can do it. If you’re a person who can lay down ideas… storyboard in animation is much more structured than in live action. It is literally the whole structure of the film; it’s every shot, every action in that shot, any indication to what the key sounds will be, editing decisions, camera moves. In real, full-scale animation storyboards, everything is indicated, everything is pre-planned. They may make changes as they go along, but this is a starting point. You look for a very tight shooting ratio at the other end, so basically you’ve pre-edited the film to a large extent. And people who can churn out small accurate drawings, getting the camera angle right, are very valuable.

TO BE CONTINUED…

GUEST PERSPECTIVE: Ellen Besen, Animator - Part One

Chad — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 19:20:29 GMT

Hey, folks—

We have a special guest with us for a couple days, animator and National Film Board of Canada director Ellen Besen, author of the recently released Animation Unleashed: 100 Principles Every Animator, Comic Book Writers, Filmmakers, Video Artist, and Game Developer Should Know. I had read Ellen’s book and loved it… and thought it would be interesting to learn more.

I know very little about animation, and Ellen was incredibly generous in hopping on the phone with me and chatting about how animation works (both creatively and practically), how to break in, how digital technology is changing the medium, etc. It has been a great conversation and a terrific addendum to her book (which I highly recommend even for non-animation writers—it’s a great tool for thinking differently about story and characters).

So without further adieu, let’s dive in. Today, we’ll chat with Ellen about her career path… and some of the primary creative principles of being a modern animator…

ME: ELLEN, YOU’RE AN ANIMATOR, A TEACHER, AND NOW AN AUTHOR. HOW’D YOU GET TO WHERE YOU ARE TODAY? TELL ME YOUR CAREER PATH, YOUR STORY.

ELLEN: It’s a story that’s not uncommon from my generation, but it’s different from what people are experiencing coming into the field now. Going back to the late ‘60s, early 70s, animation, especially classic animation, was on the cusp of becoming a dying art. All the big Hollywood studios had shifted out of doing short productions. All they were doing was TV work, and Disney for some bizarre reason decided not to train any new people. They were still producing features, but there was no apprenticeship going on. If you tried to ask about producing animation for adults, for older audiences, [people would say,] “no, no-- it’s just for kids.” They had spent so long making it only for kids they had come to believe it was something inherent in the medium.

[Fortunately, there was] a bunch of kids who came up around the same time, retained an interest, and wanted [animation] to be for more than kids… and that coincided with the period where animation schools started showing up. So [once again] you could actually get trained, then go into studio jobs.

I came in having always loved the medium; I was made fun of when I was a kid for liking animation—it was a weird thing to still like cartoons when you were 16, 17 years old. I was [also] coming from a background that had some music and some art and some dance: a whole lot of different pieces that weren’t adding up to anything. One of the beauties of animation is that it takes all those things and uses them in balance, so it was like a prism that took all my bits and pieces and combined them into something that made sense. It was a very exciting thing to fall into.

Many people ended up in animation by falling into it; it wasn’t something you considered or thought about ahead of time because there was so little structure for it. It was exciting because it was a period where we were rebuilding, recreating the art. It was also a period where places like the National Film Board of Canada, which was a major center, was one of the keepers of the flame, and I was lucky enough to work there from 1977 to 1981, and then on and off.

I was actually at Montreal at the Film Board headquarters when they were producing the most amazing stuff in the world, and anyone who had any degree of interest in animation—like the old Warner Brothers directors—would show up. You’d walk through the waiting room and the old Disney animators would be hanging around, having a chat.

Gradually, I went from being a filmmaker to teaching other people how to do it, writing about it, being an organizer. [Then] the whole thing broke thru in the late ‘80’s and early ‘90’s, when suddenly you had The Simpsons, The Little Mermaid. And then, of course, you had CG, which changed the whole world in terms of what animation is. So here I am, now having had twenty years of active filmmaking, and a number of years of supporting people and being a critic and analyzer of animation.

YOUR BOOK, “Animation Unleashed,” IS A PRACTICAL HANDBOOK ABOUT THE CREATIVE PRINCIPLES AND PHILOSOPHIES OF ANIMATION. OF COURSE, THERE ARE LOTS OF BOOKS ON ANIMATION OUT THERE. WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO WRITE THIS BOOK? WHEN YOU LOOKED AT THE WORLD OF ANIMATION AND ANIMATION BOOKS, WHAT WAS MISSING?

After I’d been teaching for a few years and a certain number of students had passed thru my classroom… [so] over the years, I’d seen certain patterns, certain common problems.

First, I noticed certain blocks people would have, quite consistently, in their thinking.

Secondly… animators really weren’t taught film analysis, so we were operating on instinct, but we weren’t learning how to “close-read” the films, or really look at other films to see the techniques that were there. The most important [technique] was having a very strong visually-based analogy underneath the film. If someone arrived at that analogy, not only was it a better film in the end, but it was an easier production process because there was some logical means for decision making. You have to control every element, and everything has to be decided. There’s no given [in animation], so the decision-making process can be excruciating and every decision can throw your story off if you are not super-careful. You need a reason to decide this or that… so certain patterns became obvious.

The other thing that happened was: we started doing intense film analysis classes. I had always liked Disney features, but had never had any real insight into what was going on. Suddenly, in that context, the scales come off your eyes and you see things you never saw before. Suddenly, it was, “Oh my God—look what they’re doing there! Look at this incredible storytelling! This is such astonishing craft!”

I even dare to say that—at a point where live-action was still figuring out a lot of their technique—Disney animators had figured out such a sophisticated style. The level of storytelling, the level of control over every element… they were controlling and working every bit so it added directly to the storytelling in a precise way. So [as] we had more of that kind of analysis, the more we’d see that certain principles were in play [and] specific to animation.

[What excites me now is that] we’re in a world where film is digital, and once you make things digital… they become animation. They suddenly have the same principles; the source material is different. And actually understanding what it means to be able to manipulate something—every pixel in every image in every frame of a piece—is the essence of animated thinking.

THAT’S AN INTERESTING NOTION. SO BASICALLY… EVEN A LIVE-ACTION DIGITAL FILM FOLLOWS THE SAME CREATIVE PRINCIPLES AS AN ANIMATED FILM? OR IS SUBJECT TO THE SAME RULES AS AN ANIMATED FILM?

You have that option. You’re not necessarily going to want to do that with all live-action, but you’re going to want to understand that the potential is there. And there will often be a great mix, now that extras in a scene may be animated instead of actual people. Certain effects will be digital. More films, even if they’re not obviously hybrids, are going to be hybrid films, so understanding that you need certain rules for playing with those tools becomes incredibly important.

All filmmakers now should be studying animation to understand these new tools they’re taking on. It’s an interesting and relatively new area. How do you marry the rules of live-action to these new rules?

A film like Amelie is an incredible example of hybrid filmmaking. You don’t think of it as using animation principles, but it totally does. You can actually break it down on a frame-by-frame level and see how [director Jean-Pierre Jeunet] controls it and makes decisions that are almost invisible when you watch it the first time. But when you go back and do analysis, you see incredible stuff. Jeunet is a guy coming from an animation background and bringing that sensibility to live-action filmmaking.

I had an interesting experience with that film; I was watching it with a guy coming from a theatrical background… and when we came out he said, “I know it looks like a fantasy, a fairy tale, but I’m not sure why.” He was certain it was because of the acting, but the reality was it was everything in that film. Jeunet actually took every frame, all the beautiful shots of Paris, and he scrubbed the film—altered the lights and colors and everything—in order to heighten, or make it the ultimate caricature of Paris. That’s animation: you can alter terrain, as well as characters, special effects… and marry it all for a very specific, controlled kind of effect.

I THINK A LOT OF PEOPLE TODAY—MYSELF INCLUDED—STILL THINK OF ANIMATION IN TERMS OF OLD-SCHOOL, TRADITIONAL FORMS LIKE Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs OR EVEN The Incredibles. BUT THE WHOLE WORLD HAS EXPLODED OPEN… THERE’S BIG BUSINESS NOW IN COMICS, GRAPHIC NOVELS, VIDEO GAMES. HOW IS DRAWING FOR TV OR MOVIES—CREATIVELY, STYLISTICALLY, AND PHILOSOPHICALLY—DIFFERENT THAN DRAWING FOR A COMIC STRIP OR A GRAPHIC NOVEL OR A VIDEO GAME?

Video games come into the same territory as animation; once you insert movement into the process, it changes everything. That’s an important thing to realize. I’ve had students who come from a comic book background and have had the hardest time making the leap into animation; they can’t fathom why it’s different.

The key with animation is that every drawing is only a tiny piece of the greater whole, and what you are looking for is the combined effect, which is often quite different than any little piece. For examples, when you are drawing a background, a background isn’t just a landscape, it’s a place where action can happen. You have to actually build and affect what will happen with the action by what you do in the background.

There’s a beautiful section in Spirited Away, by [writer/director Hayao Miyazaki] where Chihiro, this girl who is being led into adolescence, is being led into this crazy fantasy park. It looks like she’s walking through a park—you just kind of look at it superficially—but if you really look, there are buildings pressing into the frame, blocking her ability to go backwards. She can only walk in one direction, and there are stone paths and all sorts of enticing things… which basically means she has to go a certain way. She can’t go another way. You think she’s operating on free will… but Miyazaki has made it so there’s no other way for her to go. There’s your background. It’s a location for action. You have to decide what actually needs to happen there, what supports the plot, what supports the theme, and build those things into the background.

[Here’s another] anecdote of sitting in on a live-action shoot of a script I helped develop It was supposed to be a hybrid, but a major piece was live-action, and they were doing a critical scene that happened in an alleyway. They had three or four alleys to choose from, and they were talking about the benefits of one alley versus another. I turned to my partner, the other animator on the team, and we realized that in animation this discussion would be completely different. [They were talking about] how long the alley should be, and they were trying to adjust the action to fit the alleys they had. This is one of the key obstacles young animators get into. They draw a certain alley, then try to stuff the action into it. They forget you can make the alley whatever length you need it to be. If you need it longer, you can stretch it. If you need to add a hidden passageway, put it in there.

It seems simple, but remembering you have that power is one of the critical principles. You can alter every element and make all the pieces fit together, not just adjust one thing against the other, like we would in the real world.

Also, very important, is that movement is created by this series of tiny positions… but have you ever actually taken a piece of great animation and watched it frame-by-frame? You’d be amazed at what the individual frames look like! The distortion of them... you almost can’t believe it, because when you run it, it looks like a fluid piece. But crazy stuff is happening in there: extra arms and legs, extra eyeballs, bodies are squishing and stretching—very bizarre looking things.

Understanding that piece of artwork—not only for the moment it’s the frozen moment in a piece of action, but that it must exist in relationship to what comes before and after, that it exists in the total flow of where the action is going—completely changes the nature of the drawing. You don’t [usually] see the individual drawing, you only see the flow, and it’s almost between drawings that the movement happens.

It’s actually a physical thing that happens. It’s the relationship of how your eyes work into your brain—a little thing called persistence of vision—that you play with in animation; you actually play with the gap and our willingness to assume there’s action there, even though there isn’t. Live-action does that in a mechanical way; your mind recreates action. In animation, you’re creating action that doesn’t exist under any other circumstances; it only exists in your brain. It’s a weird thing, but it’s important to understand: it’s all raw creation.

TO BE CONTINUED…

GUEST PERSPECTIVE: Tyler Perry's House of Shame

Chad — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 22:10:19 GMT

Hey, everyone--

A few days ago, I posted a piece about screenwriter Tyler Perry and the four writers he fired for attempting to organize his hit TBS show, House of Payne, according to Writers Guild standards.

This weekend, the WGA hosted a protest at the grand opening of Tyler Perry Studios, in Atlanta. Although I wasn't able to go, a fellow writer and WGA member, Vince, was on hand and sent me this report...

I flew from LA to Atlanta this weekend to support the four writers who were unjustly axed from Tyler Perry's "House of Payne" for the crime of trying to secure decent working conditions -- on a show that has already earned Perry's company about $300 million dollars in license and syndication fees!   I got into Atlanta Saturday afternoon, just in time to join the picket gathering outside the Tyler Perry Studios in southwest Atlanta, where Perry was hosting a black tie gala to celebrate the opening of his new movie lot. Obviously, our goal was to send a message about Tyler Perry's abysmal labor practices to the Hollywood royalty he'd invited to the black tie affair.

With picket signs emblazoned with the slogan "Tyler Perry's House of Shame" in hand, we set up our picket line across the street and a few yards down the road from the studio gate (which, unfortunately, was as close as the local constabulatory would allow us to get to the studio.)   As it turned out, that didn't matter.   Despite our less than perfect proximity to the lot's entrance, we made sure we were seen--and heard--by every guest in every limo that made that sharp right turn into the studio gates.   As loud as we were, I'm fairly confident we were the talk of the celebs and well wishers who gathered on the red carpet a few yards just inside the gates.

Fortunately, at least some members of the local press were willing to venture across the street to see what all the hubbub was about. The Atlanta Journal-Constitution included a couple of scathing quotes from the picketers' side of the street in their coverage of the Perry gala the next morning. We also spoke to a New York Times stringer, as well as a reporter from the local alternative weekly.   But the best coverage of the day came from the local CBS affiliate, who filmed us for a piece they ran the next morning.   According to one of our people, who happened to have the TV on when that piece was broadcast the next morning, the local news anchor teased the story by announcing, "Coming up next: Tyler Perry throws a big party at his new studio...but all is not well outside the gates. Stay tuned."   If nothing else, we definitely prevented the local media from settling for the kind of fawning coverage Tyler must have been hoped for.

Even more effective than the Saturday night event outside the studio was the picket we organized the following morning in front of Tyler Perry's mansion, where the mogul was hosting a Sunday Morning gospel brunch. Unlike the night before, this time we managed to set up our line directly across the street from the millionaire's front gate, in full view of every limo and town car that pulled into the mogul's gated driveway.

Beyond the positive press we were able to generate for the cause, I think the weekend offered a well needed morale boost for the four fired writers. They had to be heartened by the near unanimous support we got from every one of the few community people who managed to get through the police line to our picket line on Saturday night.    Once they heard the woeful story of our writers' unceremonious firing four days earlier, most of these locals were more than happy to grab a sign and march right along with us.   One outspoken local was a beautician who insisted that her two teenaged sons join our picket as well. Another, an older woman and self described Tyler fanatic, insisted that she was "shocked in awe" to discover how poorly Tyler treated his workers. Before she left, she vowed to post a message on the Tyler Perry fan website demanding that the star explain himself. Equally gratifying was the local, and very vocal, Atlanta SAG member who took it on herself to lead most of our pointed chants.   We were also joined by a local, and very vocal, Atlanta SAG member, as well as a handful of folks who worked below the line on some of Perry's other shows.   One supporter who sometimes worked as prop man actually turned down a chance to work at the party that night in order to stand with us outside the gates.

All in all, it was clearly a worthwhile event, and provided a righteous kick-off to what I hope is a very short campaign to convince Tyler Perry to do right by his writers!

Thanks to Vince for the front-lines report... and to all the writers and friends-of-writers who showed up to help Perry's staff fight for fair wages, residuals, and health and pension plans!

Click HERE to sign the WGA's letter of support... and to join the Guild's fight against Tyler Perry and unfair labor practices and to help fired writers Kellie Griffin, Christopher Moore, Teri Brown-Jackson, and Lamont Ferrell!

READER QUESTION/GUEST PERSPECTIVE: Is It Possible to Balance Single Parenthood and a Writing Career?

Chad — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 19:57:08 GMT

Hey, folks—

Today’s reader question comes from E. Daniels, who asks:

“Is it possible for writers to balance a career and family? With all the talk of being trapped in a room for 14 hours, I'm wondering if it's even possible to be a single parent and make a living as a TV writer, particularly given that most people move away from their families/support systems to start their career in Los Angeles. Thoughts?”

Well, E. Daniels… I’ll be honest: I’m not a single parent, so I didn’t feel fully qualified to answer this question myself. Which is why I tracked down someone who did… my friend Jennifer Vally, one of the other writers here on Reality Binge. Jen has written on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, The Late Late Show with Craig Kilbourn, Reality Remix, Street Smarts, and many more shows for both broadcast and cable networks… AND she’s raised two daughters.

Jen was really gracious in letting me pick her brain for a while. So without further adieu, here’s Jennifer Vally…

CHAD: How did you begin working as a TV writer? How did you get to where you are now? Tell me about your path?
JENNIFER: I started as an actress in plays in high school… in San Diego… and college. I went to junior college in Orange College, and my second year I was hired by a professional theater group and I did summer stock. From there, I decided I wanted to move to L.A. and find my fame and fortune.

I didn’t find my fame and fortune right away, but I was very ambitious. I always produced stuff, got myself on stage. I joined a comedy sketch improv group and we got to be pretty famous. We opened for Garry Shandling; we went around the country. And then I got tired of writing by committee so I started doing stand-up. And from stand-up, people started asking me to write jokes. One of my very good friends who would ask me to write jokes got a job writing on The Keenan Ivory Wayans Show, and that was all I needed. I was like, “if he can get it, I can get the job.” So I got a job working on that show.

Around that time, I was reading in the paper about the Oxygen network, and I said, “Boy, this is something I should really check: a network for women.” Because even as I was working, I would be the only woman writing [on staff], or one of two, or one of a few. So when I heard about the Oxygen network, I got very excited. I literally did all the networking myself; I had no agent. I just found out they were going to do twelve shows [and] called down to Sunset Gower, [where] I heard they were setting up production offices. I hounded them and sent my stuff and they hired me to write for the show. I was the only female writer, writing for a show called I’VE GOT A SECRET for two years… I wrote 112 episodes all by myself. From there, it just evolved and I got jobs working on different shows.

Where in that timeline did you have your children?
I actually started doing stand-up when I was six months pregnant with my youngest one. The day I had my child I was performing at The Laugh Factory. I got offstage, my water broke, and I went to the hospital and had Hannah—the same exact night I performed.

It was tough because I was single. I don’t have any immediate family in the area. My parents are from overseas, my mother lives in San Diego, I have no relatives. So I had to do everything on my own, [like] find sitters. In the beginning, I had to take my kids with me to comedy clubs and have other comics watch my kids while I did my set.

How was that lifestyle for your kids? Did they like it? Did they understand what you were doing?
They couldn’t come to a lot of the gigs… because they’re in clubs; you have to be twenty-one. But [one time, I was performing at a sober house and took my oldest daughter]. And I was telling some jokes and she got up and ran out of the room, in the middle of my set, crying! Afterwards, I went after her and she was like, “I had no idea this is what you did! You talk about me!” I hadn’t even said anything about them! I’d said that I had kids and she was mortified and ran away screaming! It was horrible. But then, when I started getting jobs on TV… then they were excited about it.

You've been working steadily as a TV writer for many years, so you have good traction and many contacts. But starting out as a TV writer is a much different ballgame than continuing to work once your career is moving. What are the biggest challenges, both personal and professional, faced by a single parent just trying to break in?
My advice to someone would be: CREATE YOUR OWN OPPORTUNITIES. So many times people come to this town and give themselves deadlines. People say, “I’m giving this six months, and I if I don’t make it, or if I don’t get a job in six months, I’m leaving.” Well, you might as well just leave, because you are setting yourself up for failure. Nothing is going to happen that quickly. It’s all perseverance, working hard.

But how can people do this? If someone moves to town with almost no contacts, how can they "create their own opportunities?"
Years ago, I started this cable access show. This is a way someone new to town could [do something]. For thirty-five dollars, they’ll teach you how to edit and do all this stuff, and there are many cable access networks in the city. You can use their facilities to tape whatever you want for two hours, with a crew, for forty bucks. It’s professional quality stuff, so I did a show called Chick TV, and from that show I won two grants: a grant from the NEA, [and another] from private foundations, because it was a comedy show featuring women. You just create your own opportunities.

There are writers groups all over L.A. I get emails from friends of mine who are starting up writers groups all the time; someone writes a screenplay, or even just a page, and they’ll go with other writers and read each other’s work. Or have actors say them out loud. So even if you’re not working, you can still get your words read by other people… and see if you’re gong on the right track.

Also… UCLA and all these places have extension courses where you can take screenwriting classes and other things. I’ve never done that, but people say they like it.

If you’re coming from out of town, I’d [also] suggest getting a job anywhere in show business. I’ve worked on a lot of productions where even the simple P.A. moves up to another position. So if you’re new and don’t know anybody, take a job anywhere at a production company. Even if it’s just answering the phones, be nice, show them you’re creative, slip your head in; after you know the place, slip them a few jokes, some samples. They’ll take a look at it because they know you and they know your work ethic.

Production assistant jobs are pretty low-paying gigs. Is it possible to be a P.A. and support your family or raise children?
You’ll have to come out with some money saved because P.A.’s don’t make much money and work longer hours. But that’s the best way for someone with absolutely no contacts or experience to get their foot in the door.

Is it possible to work as a full-time P.A., with a part-time job on the side? Could you work as a P.A. during the week, but also work at a restaurant, or a movie theater, or as a secretary?
You might be able to. [A girl in my office now] was our very own example. She’d work on the weekends as a nanny and a P.A. during the week.

As you said, P.A.'s-- or any low-level entertainment positions-- often work brutally long hours for very little pay. How does this impact your ability to be a good parent? Can you still be a good mom or dad while working as a P.A.?
That’s something you have to really work at. If you have a lunch break, you can run home. When I first started working long hours at Oxygen, I literally had to have a team of handlers. I would take the kids to school in the morning, then I had someone who would pick them up in the afternoon, someone else who would take them to their things, and someone else who would stay with them at night. It’s tough. Your weekends are very precious, and any down-time you have, you come… or you have them brought to the set. You spend as much time [with them] as you can.

The thing about working as a writer—or anything in show business—there are periods of unemployment. [Also,] when you are working, you make enough money that you should learn to manage it [and] save it, so when you aren’t working, you don’t have to stress. That’s when I catch up on all that mommy time.

That brings up a good point: being a TV writer is an incredibly unstable job. Sometimes you work for many months; other times there are long dry spells of unemployment. How do you and your family survive the dry spells... both financially and emotionally?
Keeping busy helps. There are all kinds of freelance writing jobs you can do from home: grant-writing, writing for websites, writing for different organizations. You’re not going to make the same amount of money, but at least you’re still keeping in it.

What’s great about [times of unemployment] is: that’s when you can volunteer at your kids’ school. I was PTA president for six years at my daughter’s middle school. So I was either involved 100% or involved 20%. It gives you a chance to be involved in your kids’ lives when you wouldn’t have the opportunity otherwise. If you were working a nine-to-five job every day of the year, you wouldn’t have those opportunities, so it’s nice to have down-time every once in a while.

What are some other advantages you find working as a TV writer? Some things you feel you've "gained" being a single mom writing for television? Advantages in your personal life you wouldn't find if you had another job?
It gives you enough money to send your kids to the dance lessons, the gymnastic lessons. So when you are working, they’re keeping busy, because you don’t want your kids to slip away or slip through the cracks or get in trouble. Because I hate to say it, but if you have money, you have the resources to give them opportunities you wouldn’t working at a regular job.

And the follow-up question: are there things you feel you've lost, or personal disadvantages from working in television?
I don’t think so, because when my kids see me working, happy, productive, and being able to raise a family, that reflects on the kids. I’m happy, so they’re happy.

How much harder is it to break into TV-writing if you're a single parent?
It’s just another job, so when you’re a mother you learn how to juggle a career and have kids. But I will mention that for a woman, especially when you want to go into comedy, it’s a LOT harder. The truth is: most guys—and I did comedy for years—they don’t think women are funny. That’s the bottom line: “women aren’t funny.” So you just have to break into that boys club. I’ve worked on several shows where I was the only woman… or one of two. So there’s that disadvantage, too. But if you’re talented, people will hire you.

Breaking into TV-writing is always tough, but it's even tough for out-of-towners. What advice would you give a single parent who lives out of town, but is considering moving to L.A., to help him/her make the transition? What can he/she do before moving to L.A. to help the move-- and the professional transition-- go more smoothly?
If you haven’t done any writing in your hometown, I’d suggest you do as much of that as you can before you come out here. I’m sure there are plenty of opportunities in any city to be in a theater group and write a play, or local news, or the local entertainment show. It’s hard to break in here unless you have a little bit of experience or are willing to take the time. [Especially] if you’re coming out with NO experience, stay in your hometown a bit longer, get SOME experience, even if it’s just sitting at home writing a screenplay [or] spec script, then send it to people in Los Angeles before you make the move. Get some advice, see if it’s the right move for you.

We always hear that in order to have a TV-writing career, you must live in Los Angeles. is that true? Does an aspiring TV writer need to live in L.A.?
Not in this day and age. Every major city has the news, the “Good Morning, Mike & Mary,” plays, theater. Start in your town before you come out.

Earlier you suggested people just moving to L.A. should start at the bottom as a P.A. or other low-level position. But if you've spent many years building to a level of success in another industry... as a doctor or lawyer or secretary or fireman... it's tough to begin again. If you've been successful in one career and decide to try your hand at writing, do you really need to begin at the bottom?
Yes. If you have a field you’re already an expert in, find [writing] jobs doing that. There are always writing positions in every job—law offices, doctors. Everyone needs someone writing something for them, so start by writing for the doctors or the lawyers.

If you were advising a single parent just beginning a career as a TV writer, what are the top 3 "do's" you would offer him/her? What are thre three things he/she should be sure to do to balance parenthood and a professional life?
Number one: have good samples of your work, whether it’s a play, a short story, a spec script, a bunch of scripts. Have some samples to show.

[Number two:] do your homework. Find out what kinds of job you want… what your niche is, what your specialty is. Have in mind what you want to do before you set out. I like variety, so that’s what I’ve been going for. I like writing jokes, I like writing sketches.

A friend of mine created a long-running sitcom, and she used to call me, crying about the hours. Literally, she was working 18-20 hour days. That job wouldn’t have worked for me with my kids. As lucrative as it was, I just couldn’t do it. So find what you like and go for it. Do you want to be a sitcom writer? Do you want to work on hour dramas? Do you want to work on a talk show? Watch TV shows you like and see what production companies make those shows. Then arget those specific companies. Do some research and see if there’s a way in.

Number three: don’t expect help from anybody. You have to do it all on your own. Create your own opportunities. Don’t wait for somebody to give you a job. Be proactive. When I was doing that chick TV show, I would put out ads in looking for women, different talent. I’d talk to these women and say, “What do you do to further your career?” “Oh, I wait for my agent to call me.” Well, that’s not how it works. You have to find your own jobs, create your own opportunities. If you want to be a writer, hook up with an actress; write her something and do a one-woman show or a play. Then you can invite people from the industry to see your work.

What are the top 3 "don't's" you would recommend?
You should NOT give yourself a deadline, a timeline, because that’s just setting yourself up for failure.

Don’t come to L.A. to be a writer if you’re doing it just for the money. You’ve heard writers make lots of money and that’s why you do it. You will fail. You have to do it because you love it and that’s what you want to do; you would do it regardless of whether you’re making a lot of money or not.

Don’t be afraid to knock on doors you think will be closed: you never know. Let’s say you love reality shows and would love to work behind the scenes on Survivor. Don’t be afraid to go to Mark Burnett Productions and say, “Can I do something here?” They need P.A.’s every day of the week… and people fall out all the time.

[And lastly,], don’t let anybody squash your dreams. If you have dreams, go for it, but be proactive, that’s my number-one thing. Don’t expect to have anyone really help you. Don’t sit around and wait for someone to give you a job. You have to do it on your own. If you want to be a writer, write every day, even if it’s just writing in a journal.

GUEST PERSPECTIVE: How NOT to Write a Screenplay

Chad — Sat, 23 Aug 2008 16:46:19 GMT

Hey, screenwriters--

I'm excited to present a special guest today... William M. Akers, author of the new screenwriting book, Your Screenplay Sucks! 100 Ways To Make It Great, from Michael Wiese Productions, and... my former screenwriting teacher at Vanderbilt University!

Will was not only a great teacher (and my first screenwriting professor ever), but he's written movies and television for virtually every major network and studio from MGM and Disney to FOX, NBC, and ABC. He's currently writing a movie for Overture Films which is being directed by Jon Amiel. This is his first book... and he's done an incredible job.

Your Screenplay Sucks! is a terrific first outing, not only because it's packed with great info, tips, and insight, but because it has a wonderfully unique approach to working on your script. First of all, it's a great book to read if you've never written a screenplay and want some terrific first-time-out pointers and help. But more importantly and uniquely... this is a great book to read if you've already learned-- or are in the process of learning-- how to do it, and want to make sure your script is as good as it can possibly be.

Basically, Your Screenplay Sucks! is a comprehensive checklist of the 100 things screenwriters almost NEVER do... but should. It pinpoints specific mistakes writers make-- such as "you don't have a killer first page" or "you haven't buried exposition like Jimmy Hoffa" or "you call shots"-- which makes it easy to focus in on specific aspects of your script and punch them up. And because it's in checklist form, you can just go down the list, looking at and improving each aspect until you've whipped your screenplay into shape.

Also, this book doesn't use kid gloves. It doesn't coddle you and give you warm-your-heart artistic advice like "listen to your heart" or "find the hidden writer within." This book is designed to pummel mistakes out of your script until it's better. It has sections like "you didn't run your spellcheck, you moron!" and "you blew your first ten pages! Arggggghhhhh!" and "you think your script is special and rules don't apply." Many of the mistakes are mistakes screenwriters at all levels continue to make. As such, it doesn't pull punches... it ribs you, goads you, and takes your script to task until its better (which, even in and of itself, is a great lesson in writing with "voice").

So do yourself a favor... head to your nearest bookstore, or click HERE to go to Amazon, and grab yourself a copy of Your Screenplay Sucks! But first... check out the interview I did this week with Will... you'll learn a bit more about him, the book, and writing in general...

Will... you have a unique career, because you write and teach… and you do both far from the madding crowds of Hollywood. So let’s begin by learning your path. Tell me how you started writing professionally… and how you got to where you are today.

When I was in the third grade, my teacher would read to us after lunch. My favorite book was The Wolves of Willoughby Chase, an English adventure with wolves, sleighs in the snow, and little girls and a wicked governess who kills their parents for their money. After I got out of USC grad school, I knew I wanted to write, so I looked at things that had been eating at me for a long time, (which make the best subjects for screenplays, btw) and I had never forgotten the book that had been read to me as a child. I ended up optioning it. Nine months later, I had a screenplay. It was produced by Zenith Productions in London. It found a home on the Disney Channel and I was nominated for a CableAce. Actually, that wasn’t my first professional gig. Haven’t thought of this in a while. When I was still at USC, I was sitting outside the chairman’s office telling stories to his assistant and he came out of his office, pointed at me and said, “Are you a writer?” I said, “Sure.” He said, “Come in my office.” He didn’t know my name. Someone had called, a manager for child actors, and wanted USC’s best writing student to write a screenplay for one of his clients. The chairman told him he had just the writer in mind, opened his door, and saw me. I got paid $1,500 dollars. Needless to say, the movie never got made. I love the idea that this manager thought the chairman went through some involved search to get to me, their “best writing student” and he didn’t even know my name. Easiest way I ever got a job.

After the first job, I had to get the next one. I’ve always had an agent in Los Angeles, and if you live out of town, it helps. But, you can’t sit around waiting for your agent to land you a job. You have to go out and beat the bushes. I’ve sold pitches, sold spec scripts, and been hired on assignment. Every year is different. Some years, I haven’t worked at all. It helps to have no credit card debt and as small a house note as possible! Even when I’m not getting paid to write, I’m still writing spec material. I tend to write every day, so after a while, that’s a lot of pages. It’s been a hodgepodge of trying to get work, and failing, and wasting time, and being lucky, and writing and writing and writing. Sometimes it works and most times it doesn’t. The key is that you have to enjoy it even when it’s not working.

Right now, I’m rewriting a spec I sold. Done eleven drafts for the producers in nearly two years. The script is about the fall of Saigon. Jon Amiel is directing it, and, under his aegis, the script has only gotten better. “Development paradise” is not a phrase you often hear, but it applies to this one. I just sold a pitch about a cop in London, based on a true story, and am waiting for the contracts to be negotiated before I start work. So there is a bit of activity here and there...

You’ve written and sold numerous screenplays, and now you’ve published a book about screenwriting. One of the things that makes this book unique is its approach and tone. It’s not a how-to book for beginners trying their first screenplay; it’s an in-your-face pummeling for people who have written a few scripts and want to whip them into shape. It doesn’t pull punches or wear kiddie gloves; it’s a brutally honest assessment of the 100 biggest mistakes you see in beginners’ screenplays. So what compelled you, when you already have a successful screenwriting career, to write this book? And how did you decide on its unique voice and checklist format?

First of all, Your Screenplay Sucks! is aimed at both beginning and more experienced writers. There’s a lot in there about generating an idea and how to develop characters and especially what I call “physical writing” -- how to write a clean sentence that actually tells the reader what you think it means... That’s useful to a writer just starting her first script, and you don’t often see it covered in books. As for experienced writers, I’ve heard from people who’ve been selling material for twenty years who said the book reminded them of stuff they had forgotten they were supposed to be doing. Anybody who is contemplating starting a script, or rewriting one, can benefit. So much for the commercial plug.

As to where it came from, I wrote it in self defense. I’ve been critiquing screenplays for a long time, and I found that beginning writers all make the same mistakes. Over and over and over and over. So, I thought to create a checklist so the writer could do all this boilerplate stuff I had to tell every client about, and then send me their script so I could hammer them on structure and character instead of “don’t have character names that rhyme,” “take out thes and thats,” “make your prose crystal clear,” and “beware of research...” The book’s voice is my voice. I dictated the first draft of the book, so it’s a breezy read and, for a screenwriting book, pretty funny.

How did the process of writing a book differ from the process of writing a screenplay? What surprised you about the differences in writing a book?

I wrote a table of contents and a few chapters, sent it to the publisher, and they said “Go for it.” Once I knew it was going to be published, it was a complete blast to write. Like writing a movie, I suppose, where you know the producer has a put deal. Not that that’s ever happened to me... I basically wrote it for myself and had fun. I put in there whatever the hell I thought would be helpful, and that’s what came out the other end. No development hell. I rewrote it a lot, but what’s there is what I wanted. A lot easier than writing a screenplay, that’s for sure. What surprised me is how much fun I had writing it.

Now that you’ve finished the book and returned to screenwriting, how has going through the book-writing process helped your screenwriting chops and process? Or has it?

Interesting question. Act III of the book is about selling your screenplay and dealing with producers and Hollywood, and I have found myself trying to take my own advice. Weird, huh? All the painstaking work I did on the rewriting section of the book has helped my first drafts. There is so much in the book about being clear and concise, that writing it rubbed off on my own work.

You’ve done what few people are able to do… maintain a successful screenwriting career while living far from the heart of Los Angeles. How do you do this? What advice do you have for screenwriters and aspirants who don’t live—or can’t get to—Los Angeles?

Horrible question. Do you actually want the truth? It’s a bitch-willy to write and not live in L.A.. I lived there three years as a grad student in film school. Then three more years getting my career going. I’m still dining off those six years of living in Los Angeles full time. For six more years after that, I kept an apartment in West Hollywood and commuted regularly until my sharp-fanged, drooling landlord figured out a way to throw me out. So, I did put in my time in L.A. Living someplace else, lobbing scripts at Los Angeles, hoping someone will notice is, if you want my opinion, a fool’s paradise. You don’t want to confuse hope with denial. You can win a contest and get discovered, but that’s not easy. Every agent I’ve ever had came because a friend held a gun to their head, handed them a script and said, “Read this. This guy walks on water.” I never had a single query letter answered. Not one.

Okay, so much for the depressing part... Now for the advice. Figure out a way to get to Los Angeles, regularly. Find people who live there who you can meet. Facebook. Network. Lie. Use the internet. Use the Creative Directory. Talk to 18 year old kids about how to do it. Take a marketing person to lunch and squeeze them dry for free. Get out there somehow. Or, get your material out there.

Of course, the single best (and essential) thing you can do is to write a great screenplay. Not a good one, either, mind you. There’re lots of them all over. In gutters. Being used to clean windshields at gas stations. L.A. is lousy with good scripts. Any jackass can write a good screenplay. But, keep in mind, they’re not interested in good scripts, only great ones. So write a great one. If it takes you three years, so be it. If your script is great, people will pass your material on to someone they know because it makes them look good. Great material will open doors.

Remember, that if you ever do meet someone “real” who is in a position to pass your script on to someone else, your script has to be bulletproof. You will only get one read. If it’s not fantastic, they will never read anything from you again. You have to make it perfect. Hence the crying need for writers to buy my book or hire me to crit their script before it’s too late!

You teach college students, so you’re often working with young writers just starting to experiment with screenwriting and storytelling. What are the top three mistakes you see beginning writers make?

They don’t have a breathtakingly original, wildly creative, non-derivative idea. They put the backstory in the first act. They don’t take the time to pare down the scene description and dialogue to the bare stark-white bones. They have character names that rhyme or start with the same letter. Their bad guy is poorly constructed. They don’t separate out the characters’s voices. They didn’t throw out the first twenty pages. They don’t have a clue how the motion picture or television business operates. They are arrogant and think the rules don’t apply. They argue when you give them notes. They don’t keep the reader in mind when they are writing. Those’re probably the top three mistakes.

Your Screenplay Sucks! details 100 mistakes you see aspiring screenwriters make in their projects. But what are the biggest mistakes you’ve made… both in your actual writing and your career… and what have you learned from them?

Biggest mistake I ever made was when a producer wanted to make a script of mine and I told him... “No.” The script was autobiographical and I wanted to direct it myself. Idiot. The instant I said I was attached to direct, the script died and that was that. The producer had the financing and everything in place to make the movie and I, moron that I was, didn’t let him make my movie. I still own the script. It sits on a shelf, sneering at me.

In my writing, there is not a writing mistake I have not made. Repeatedly. I’ve done everything wrong there is to do, but not in the draft I handed in. I tried to correct the mistakes before I showed the material to anybody in the business.

Another gigantic mistake I’ve made is to allow my heart to rule my head when it comes to choosing material. The longer I take to decide what to write, the better off I am. Just because I think it’s a great idea and is something that will easily sell, doesn’t mean it will sell. I have an eclectic personality, and that is doom when it comes to choosing material. No one is a master of all genres, and you need to pick the one or two you’re good at and stick with them. I’ve never written the same thing twice, and that’s a hindrance. Better to find a groove and stay in it.

Screenwriting is a collaborative art form; screenwriters must know how to work and get along with directors, producers, designers, actors, etc. Having given screenwriters the 100 mistakes made when writing a script… what are the top three mistakes screenwriters often make during the rest of the production process, when dealing with all the other people and parts of making a movie?

It’s tricky to deal with a producer and their notes. You want to do the notes that will help the script while tactfully forgetting the ones that are destructive. Bear in mind that no one, at least I tell myself this, no one is trying to destroy your screenplay, but sometimes people who don’t have a great story sense will give you a note that sounds like a good idea to them, but, if executed, will eventually cause the entire house of cards that is the story, to collapse.

You have to listen, to everybody, and figure out how to deal with what they say they want. Sometimes it’s not what they really mean, because they don’t know what they really mean. That makes it tougher.

Being arrogant is death. You are not in charge and your goal is to get your story told... not rigorously protect the material from people you may see as Visigoths. Producers loathe writers who guard every word like it’s sacrosanct. Don’t fight for every phrase like it’s Omaha Beach. They’re just trying to help you make your movie. A movie in a theater that you wrote, that got changed some, is far more valuable and interesting to your career than a screenplay that is 100% unaltered... but that never got made...! They are paying you to execute the notes, so don’t be a brat.

I just had dinner with a guy who had investors for a project and $20 million to fund it. They flew in a private jet to meet the writers and tell them the changes they wanted done so they could pull the trigger. The writers refused to change anything. The investors got on their plane and flew away. And the writers still... control... their material! Whaddya bet their wives aren’t too happy with them?

A simple thing about notes is to write it all down, when you’re in the meeting. Don’t trust memory. Write it down, then decide later what you’re going to do and not do. If you take killer notes, at least you’ll come out of the meeting knowing precisely what was discussed. I take my laptop to every meeting, so I walk away knowing what was said. Then I have a checklist to go through.

You have a unique career, because half your career is dedicated to teaching young writers to write. And as you say in the dedication of your book, you’ve learned a ton from your students. So… what have you learned from your students? What has teaching taught you that makes you a better writer?

By correcting their mistakes, I am reminded not to make those mistakes in my writing. Their enthusiasm for what they are doing is always contagious, so their fire for the work constantly fuels my own. I’ve written screenplays with my students, too, and that’s a great way to learn. Plus, it’s fun to hang out with people younger than I am. They have different world views and opinions and listen to better music.

A Few Moments with Diablo Cody

Chad — Sat, 05 Jul 2008 18:59:31 GMT

Hey, guys--

Happy Fourth of July weekend! I wanted to point you all to my interview with Diablo Cody, the Academy-Award-winning screenwriter of Juno, which appears in this month's issue of Writers Digest. Diablo was one of the most fun interviews I've done, and she's got some terrific insights into screenwriting... take a look HERE!

In the mean time, have a great weekend!...

Chad

READER QUESTION/GUEST PERSPECTIVE: How Do I Break Into Clip Shows?

Chad — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 23:43:34 GMT

Hey, screenwriters--

Today's question comes from loyal reader Valerie, who writes...

"Hi Chad!... I am interested in creating clip shows and would love to hear your valuable insight on these types of programs (ie. where/how to license footage, how to sell them (Pods or Network), general production tips, etc...)."

(For those of you who aren't familiar with clip shows, they're TV shows that rely on clips of other shows, a la E!'s The Soup, VH1's Best Week Ever, etc.)

Well, Valerie-- to answer your question, I've brought in a special guest. Here to give you the low-down on clip shows-- how they work, how to write for them, and how to break in-- is K.P. Anderson, the executive producer of what is undoubtedly the funniest clip show on television... The Soup. K.P. is not only a successful stand-up comedian whose appeared on Comedy Central's Premium Blend, he's written and produced for great shows like Politically Incorrect, Mohr Sports, The Wayne Brady Show, and Last Comic Standing. You can visit him on MySpace and check out his comedy schedule at www.myspace.com/kpandersonlive.

But in the mean time, here's K.P. to tell you everything you want to know about clip shows...

CHAD: The Soup, like many other half-hour TV shows, airs once a week. But unlike half-hour sitcoms like The Office or Samantha Who?, The Soup is dependent on that week’s pop culture happenings, so it can’t be written or produced far ahead of time. What’s your process for putting together an episode of The Soup? Walk me through your process, beginning with putting together an episode and ending with airing Friday night.

K.P.: Monday we sit around and wait for shit to happen…usually by Wednesday, some shit happens…

Monday, we take a look at the week ahead and start to come up with ideas for bigger pieces that can be built around TV events or movie openings or a pop-culture story that won’t go away. So it’s a day to plan out commercial parodies, fake movie trailers and the like. Joel McHale as Rainbow Brite was born on a Monday. We also start to watch shows from the following weekend, look at the news and begin writing monologue jokes.

Tuesday we put the bigger pieces in to production by getting network approvals, ordering any costumes or sets and tracking down footage to support them. We also continue looking at the headlines to see who is going to rehab, who is getting arrested and who is marrying Pam Anderson. (It’s like jury duty for guys who itch.) Also on Tuesday we have our first of two clip meetings where myself, our other EP, Edward Boyd and [host] Joel [McHale] if he’s available look at the clips the staff has collected thus far. Once we pick the clips, we head back to the offices to write introductions and jokes or sketches coming out of them. On Tuesday night, I usually take the collected works of the staff home with me and put together a rough scripted rundown of the show for us to see what we have and where we have holes heading in to Wednesday.

Wednesday is when the show really starts to come together. One more round of monologue and another clip meeting, then we shoot any footage we need of Joel or others for any of the pre-produced pieces, we also shoot our “Condensed Soup On Yahoo” promotion and then the writers jam out the rest of the wraps for the clips while the production staff gets busy editing clips preparing pictures and all of our supporting footage and editing the pre-produced pieces. Meanwhile, I collect and edit the final wraps and shoot out the second draft of the script, which goes to the network and all of our necessary legal and standards and practices people. After that, the producers keep working on getting everything prepared, the writers get a breather and I watch whatever we’re covering for the “Let’s Take Some E!” segment. Around 9:30 Wednesday night, Edward and I make the rounds to watch the edited clips and the pre-produced pieces and discuss what’s working and what isn’t. Then we call it a night while some of the producers stay on to finish up the pre-show prep.

Thursday morning, we get together with Joel, view any clips that came in overnight on Wednesday and punch up the script. (Joel is very key here. He thinks very much like a writer and has become incredibly proficient at knowing his own voice. He’s really great in the room which is not something that can be said for all hosts.) Then we take a break from each other while the network and legal notes trickle in. We adjust the script to accommodate those and around 6:00, we head down to a green room in the bowels of E!, where Joel rehearses off the teleprompter and we lightly punch it up one more time. At 8:00 we head to the stage and shoot the show. It takes about 2 hours. Sometimes stuff doesn’t go as planned and we huddle up and come up with a new way to go and keep moving. When we’re done we go home and repair our marriages, or just drink.

Friday we get together for a couple of hours. We talk about the previous show and how well we pulled it off. Make adjustments for the next week and then lightly go over the week to come and start cooking up ideas. Then we flip each other off and go our separate ways. Not really. Friday night the show airs and usually over the weekend we wind up e-mailing or calling each other to talk about how things played again. We have a pretty close staff and we’ve been together for a long time (3+ years without anyone leaving), so we must either really like each other or no one else will talk to us.

This is the longest answer you’re getting out of me. If I have to go in to this much detail again, I quit.

How do you get the clips you use? Do you have to license them? Are they free since they’ve already been on TV? Does clip availability affect what bits and jokes you end up doing?

We get the clips an abundance of ways. We have a staff of 15 people who all have DVR’s and watch them relentlessly. We also have a new computer program that allows us to program in shows and watch them directly on our PC’s.   It’s cool, but it’s top secret. We might be part of a government experiment like thalodomide and not know it. We also pull stuff off the web sometimes.

There are a bunch of “Fair Use” laws surrounding how we air them. It’s complicated and if I tried to explain it, I’d screw it up. Sorry.

Yes, I suppose clip availability affects the bits and jokes we wind up doing in that of a clip isn’t available, we tend to not do a joke about it. (Did that come off a-hole-ish? It’s who I am. You asked…)

Imagine someone wants to sell and produce their own clip show like The Soup. What are the creative elements that make a clip show unique and sellable? I.e.—does it need a host attached? Just a writer/producer with a strong vision? A list of sample jokes? A sizzle reel? What should every good clip show have, or do, in order to make it different… and attractive to buyers?

Now why would I tell anyone that? You got the production schedule for free. The rest will cost you.

Actually, there are a lot of clip shows out there. I’d take the question beyond what sells a clip show and if you want to sell something think about what makes any pitch sing. Every network is different in their perceived needs, so you want to tailor your product to fit the customer. All of the things you asked about above are basically important elements at some level to someone. Tough question to answer. Might be a good time to mention I didn’t create or sell The Soup. I came on to run it in the second season after the “What The? Awards.” And a few (I don’t recall how many. More than 3, less than 20) episodes of The Soup.

And the follow-up question… what should a clip show never do? What creative elements are inappropriate in a clip show and would make it unsellable?

Sucking is bad. Sucking and being overly expensive. Comedy shows need time to build an audience. If you burden yourself with too much overhead it lessens the amount of time a network can tolerate your crappy ratings. The audiences become very loyal if you can hook them, so just try to stay on the air while you’re working out the kinks and growing your base.

Once our hypothetical producer has developed her clip show creatively, what’s the best way to go about selling it? Should she partner with a producer or production company? Should she go right to a network? And how does she know what are the best place to pitch her clip show?

I don’t mean to be a jerk, really, this is an honest answer to a common question. If you have to ask, you aren’t ready to be in charge. Networks buy from either people they’ve already worked with or people they are trying to steal from other networks. It takes no experience to come up with a good idea for a show, but it takes an awful lot to run one and the networks have very short lists of people they will allow to run shows.   (Until The Soup I was not one of those people.   I got very lucky to meet with network and studio heads who were willing to give me a chance.) Find yourself one of those people and then go to the network. And don’t ask. You used up all your good will with me with that first question.

To figure out where to pitch it, look at what type of programming in which an individual network engages and then either add them or cross them off the list. If you have a show that you think could work at both Spike and Lifetime, odds are you aren’t thinking it through. And don’t pitch where it’s not wanted. Not even “just for practice”. You may one day have an idea you want to bring back to that place and they will remember how you wasted their time. (And no, they won’t remember the good pitch they almost bought.)

As a writer and producer on what is definitely TV’s best and funniest clip show, what rules or tips have you picked up in production that you’d pass along to a freshman producer? If someone came to you saying, “KP, I’m about to start production on my first-ever clip show, what should I keep in mind, practically speaking, as I dive into production,” what are the 3 most important tips or rules you would give them?

1.    Make sure a hypothetical person buys you a drink before you start answering her questions.

2.    Be malleable. Listen when your buyers talk. You might know funny better than they do, but they know their audience or at least their company’s perception of their audience better than you. Don’t be unfunny just to get along, but be willing to scrap something over which you can’t agree and go a different way that is still funny.

3.    Talent speaks. If it doesn’t feel right coming out of your host’s voice, change it. No matter how brilliant you think it was. The host has to feel good about the whole show. One sentence is not worth throwing off his or her groove.

4.    (Because I was a jerk again with the first one) Don’t hire people who you like but really don’t think can contribute to the show. Hire people you like whose contributions you think will make your show better than you could do on your own. If you can’t find those people, you are over-estimating yourself and your idea. It’s a clip show. It’s already a collaboration.

For all the aspiring writers out there who would love to write on The Soup, how do you hire your writers? What kinds of samples do you look to read? What do you look for in those samples? And once you like someone’s writing and meet with them in person, what qualities do you look for that aren’t on the page?

I’d say write samples that make you laugh and sound like the host of the show could and would be excited to tell them. That’s a little ethereal, but if you look at your written material and think about great comedic hosts, you’ll be able to identify who would and wouldn’t deliver them best. Oh, and don’t send in the bible. Send the best stuff you have for that show. If you can’t edit yourself then someone would have to edit you and that someone is busy and would like to see his four year-old daughter before she’s five.

As to what I look for in a prospective hire off the page, I’m not really one to size up the cut of anyone’s jib. Funny is funny and talent is usually a bit weird, so pesky things like hygiene and hustle can really get in the way of good hiring decisions. I just plug my nose and hope they show up on the day I invited them to swing by.

And lastly… it’s very hard—if not impossible—for a total newbie to just create a TV show idea and set it up with a network or production company. I always tell aspirants the best way to sell a show is to get a job in television (usually at the bottom as a P.A. or assistant) and work your way up the ladder until you have enough experience and connections to sell a show. So if someone wants to create and sell clip shows like The Soup, what’s the best way to break in? Or, to a total newbie who wants to be in your shoes, what career-path advice would you offer someone who wants to steal your job?

So you tell people the same thing I told you. Great. Could have mentioned that four questions ago and saved me from looking like an a-hole…anyway…like I said, I didn’t create or sell The Soup, so there’s that.

Also, I’d encourage you not to try to follow my path. Not because it’s bad, it’s great, but that’s my life. My life might suck to you. I’m only being a little flippant. As writers and producers, we aren’t exactly deep-sea fisherman, but our careers are more like lifestyle choices than most people. So in order to stay in the game without burning out, you have to make sure you feel rewarded and challenged by your career in a very deep sense. We work long hours and take it very personally when our products don’t work.    When we aren’t working (and even when we are), we have to smile and network and create on our own and it occupies a much bigger portion of our time than the people with whom we went to high school who now have goofy things like trophies for softball and parents who still talk to them.   So you have to love your career like it’s your hobby. Your career will define you to a great deal, just make sure to get over yourself long enough to have someone to thank if you ever get a non-softball related trophy.

Having said that, here’s the basics as I see it. Seek out projects you love. Find your way out of projects you don’t without burning bridges. (Here we are not in my footsteps any longer.) Write every day. Don’t be afraid to turn in. Take criticism. Be reliable. Seek to learn without being annoying. (In other words, shut up and listen once in a while.) Work at a level above the job you have (eventually someone will notice and give you that job). Get over yourself. Have respect for other people around you. Don’t undermine people. Everything in this business is collaborative and if you get a reputation for backstabbing or undermining, all cliché’s about this town aside, you are done…or working on Tyra.   (Why would I say that?)

There you go, hypothetical producer. I hope I answered all of your questions. It would complete my bucket list.

-- KP

Thanks a million, K.P. And for the rest of you, here are some clips of The Soup for your viewing pleasure...

THE HILLS RETURNS

VAJAPOCALPYSE

RAINBOW BRITE: THE MOVIE

GUEST PERSPECTIVE: Charlie Stickney... Writing For Animation

Chad — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 23:31:54 GMT

Hey, screenwriters--

One area of entertainment I've never worked in-- but often get questions about-- is animation. And with all the booming animated projects out there-- Family Guy, The Simpsons, Drawn Together, The Incredibles, The Triplets of Belleville, etc.-- I decided to spend a few minutes with my friend Charlie Stickney, a screenwriter, artist, and producer here in L.A.

Charlie spent several years developing shows for Mike Young Productions, a successful production company specializing in children's animation like Growing Up Creepie, Pet Alien, and Dive Olly Dive! Charlie wrote and produced Horrible Histories, where he was also the voice director and directed voice talent like Billy West, Cree Summer, Jess Harnell, Steven Rea, and Billy Idol. He also developed Voom HD's Cosmic Quantum Ray, Junk TV at MTV, and the Irish series Dumped for Telegael Media. Charlie recently set up screenplays at Revolution Studios and Abu Media, and in what little spare time he has, Charlie works on his popular webcomic, Vince Germain.

Charlie has forgotten more about animation than I could ever hope to know, but he gave me a great intro lesson to the world of animation, how it works, and how to break in...

Charlie—I’m gonna be honest: I know virtually nothing about how animation is developed, sold, or produced. So my first question is: if you want to write animation, do you also need to be an animator? Can you write animation if you’re not also an artist?

The short answer is no, you don’t need to be able to draw, or animate to have the ability to write a kick-ass animation script. However, having a good visual sensibility (camera placement, movement, composition, etc.) is a huge asset in animation writing.
Whereas in a teleplay (and to some extent the screenplay) “directing” of the camera is frowned upon, in the animation script, the “calling of the shots” is often required.

Here’s an example from a show I worked on.

INT. HIGH SECURITY AREA - ON THREE CELLS

SMARTY-PANTS stands in a large cell sleeping (SFX: SNORING) - on a
floating cot. A SALAMANDER scurries across the floor in front
of the cell.

                            MAMA SMARTY-PANTS (O.S.)
                      (proudly)
                Yes, Little Smarty-pants! My precious
                little genius!

PAN TO MAMA SMARTY-PANTS AND ARTIE AMOEBA. Mama is incarcerated in
a high-security hamster cage (with running wheel), and Artie is in
a small Plexiglass cube with a small lock on the top. As they talk,
one of the Salamanders “investigates” Artie’s prison.

                            ARTIE
                        (pretends to be bored)
                In case you hadn’t noticed, your baby
                genius boy is in jail! What kind of
                genius gets caught?

ANGLE FAVORING MAMA as she angrily grabs her bars and glares at Artie.

                            MAMA SMARTY-PANTS
                He invented the greatest, most dangerous
                machine in the universe -- THE STRING-O-
                MATIC!!!

CLOSE ON ARTIE IN F.G. - MAMA SMARTY-PANTS IN B.G. Artie turns his
back to Mama Smarty-pants, smiles -- he’s manipulating Mama.

                            ARTIE
                         (sarcastic)
                Oooh, String-O-Matic -- that’s a scary
                name... like “custard,” or “puppy.”

ZOOM IN ON MAMA’S ANGRY FACE as she describes the String-O-Matic.

                            MAMA SMARTY-PANTS
                Like an angry spore knows anything.
                The String-O-Matic is a work of evil art.

As you can see, calling the shots ultimately means there’s a lot more work for the writer to do. Page counts for a 22 minute animated show can run as long as 35 pages. On the flip side, it gives the writer much more control in the visual pacing and look of the episode (a selling point for the writer who aspires to direct).

It must be noted that there are many exceptions to this rule. Some animation directors don’t like the script to impinge on their artistic freedom. Others don’t have the time to prep the storyboard artist on how they should visually break down the script, and will send the script back for revisions if the action is “under-called.”   Some shows start with a storyboard first and then hire writers to fill in dialogue to supplement the gags that the artists have already come up with.

A good rule of thumb is to always ask the showrunner before you go to script, to what extent they want the shots called. If you’re writing on spec, I would suggest trying to get an actual shooting script of the show that you want to write for so you can confirm the format. If you can’t get a sample, call all the shots. You can always take them out afterwards.

So… what’s it take to sell a new animated TV series? For example, if I want to sell a new “traditional” series, I put together a pitch that details the world of the show, the characters, and some samples stories or episodes. But animation has a whole other component: the animation. So if someone’s pitching an animated project, do they need to already have drawings of the world and its characters? Or could having completed visuals hurt the project, since a studio or network may want voice in that development? Does a writer pitching an animated show need to have an artist attached to the project?

Having designs aren’t necessary. Having a great idea is.

Equally important is pitching the right project to the right studio at the right time.
If the studios like your idea, they have the numbers for hundreds of artists on speed dial.

That’s not to say that having some hip designs won’t help sell the project. If the designs are finished, and the scripts are done, the studio has to sink far less money into development to get an idea of what the series would actually be like.

HOWEVER, for a couple of reasons, I would proceed with caution if you want to include drawings with your pitch.

Firstly, many studios like to be involved in the development process. Others have a style (see Klasky-Csupo) that they don’t like to deviate from. If they think you are too locked into a style of drawing they don’t think fits in with what they want to do, they might pass on your project.

Secondly, your pitch is only as good as it’s worst part. If the drawings aren’t up to par with the writing, you’re only hurting yourself. If the designs appear amateurish, your writing will appear amateurish.

Thirdly, unless you are a professional animator/work in the field of animation, you are unlikely to have good perspective on what qualifies as a professional quality drawing/design for animation. The Captain Jetpack drawing that your friend the aspiring artist did, that to you looks like it came straight from a comic book, may be impossible to animate on a television budget. Or worse yet, to the discriminating (read: snobby) eyes of the studio’s artistic director, Captain Jetpack’s design might be simply deemed not to be any good at all.

So if you have a partner who you objectively know “rocks the house” as an artist, then collaborate away. Otherwise, stick with what you know, i.e., the script.

If you’re developing an animated project, how do you approach it differently because it’s animated? In other words, do you develop characters differently when they’re animated? Do you tell different kinds of stories? Does the animation free you, or inhibit you, as a storyteller?

Animation definitely frees you as a storyteller. Budget isn’t the same concern. It costs the same to have someone draw a house on Mars as it does one in Los Angeles. But I think you’re right when you say that it might, or should dictate the kinds of stories you tell.

When developing an animated property, I think a good question to ask yourself, is if this particular project is best served by animation. If one looks at the best animated films --Toy Story, Finding Nemo, Ratatouile, Monster’s Inc. – we see a group of subjects, toys, fish, monsters, rats, etc. that would be incredibly expensive to try to do as live action films. In fact, trying to make any of those universes seem realistic, might border on impossible. Yet, when animated we get lost in them. A world that’s completely inaccessible becomes second nature to us.

So when developing your show, think what about it needs to be animated. Use that as additional inspiration in shaping where you go with it. What do you want to show the world that only animation can truly make come alive? If you can’t find that need, then maybe your project would be better off as a live action program.

While I routinely get killed for saying this, King of the Hill always strikes me as a program that could have best been served as a sitcom. As funny as it is, it’s still a little flat. Imagine any episode of that show filmed with John Goodman as Hank, Ryan Stiles as Dale, Katey Sagal as Peggy, Neil Patrick Harris as Boomhauer… heck, let Brittany Murphy, who does the voice of Luanne, play her in real life. You’re telling me she couldn’t nail white trash?... please.

The truth is for all the advances in CGI (Computer Generated Images), the human figure/actor encompasses a world of nuance that animation isn’t even close to recreating. (Especially when it’s as flat as King of the Hill) Let actors do what they do best -- act. Let animation do what it does best --create new worlds and new ways of telling stories that we’ve never seen before.

Once a new animated series enters development, how does the process proceed? Walk me through the evolution of a series from the moment it’s pitched to the moment it debuts on TV… and how the writer is involved.

Unlike in television where the writer/creator is often the driving force behind everything, in animation the writer is more akin to the screenwriter; a piece of a large puzzle. Again, this is contingent on who the writer is, what they’ve done before, who the producing partners are, etc. So with all those variables, perhaps it’s best if I just walk you through the standard animation development process.

Once a studio has decided to develop a project, they will quickly hire a director/art director. This person will work on developing the look and the animation style of the show while the writer is fleshing out the series bible. (Note: The “series bible” is a guide to the world and the characters of the show, not a religious manifesto) These things are often done in concert with one another, as the style of the animation can often determine the scope of the stories and the world. (What’s easy to do in 2D cell animation isn’t the same as what’s easy to do in 3D CGI)

A quick example: Squash and Stretch animation, where the characters are, well, squashed and stretched by boulders and various taffy-pulling machines gone wild, is difficult to animate with a computer. If you had a show that required a lot of physical squash and stretch gags, (SpongeBob SquarePants) it might be best to develop it as a hand drawn cell animation show. Whereas Robot Wars the Final Battle definitely would be best served as CGI.

Once the bible has been finalized (both in terms of look and written content) the studio will then proceed to hire writers. This process is different than in television where it’s typical to hire a staff of writers to break down and script the episodes of the series.

Animation writing is more of an open call audition/pitch process. The studio will call the agencies and tell them that they are going to be giving out writing assignments on a new/new season of a show. The interested writers will then show up for a big group meeting where the producer/showrunner will tell all the assembled writers what the new series is about, what kind of stories they are looking for, and how many scripts they are planning to buy. Each writer is then given a series bible and sent home. The writers are then required to put together pitches for episodes that they would like to write. If the showrunner likes the idea, they get the job and the chance to write the script they pitched… if the showrunner doesn’t like it; it’s back to the drawing board. From a writer’s POV this is an incredibly unfair process, as you often have to pitch 3-5 one-page story ideas just to land a single writing job. (Or worse, you write up 5 ideas on spec and none of them get bought) But since animation writing isn’t covered by the WGA, *sigh* the studios are able to set their own terms.

(A quick addendum – there are a few exceptions to the writing process that I’m describing. Most notably, FOX's primetime animation programming (The Simpsons, King of the Hill, American Dad, etc.) is covered by the WGA. These shows run writer’s rooms more akin to that of other primetime live-action sitcoms.)

Once a script is finished, it is sent to the art department, so they can design all the secondary characters and locations that are in the episode. (The primary characters and locations have already been designed and were in the bible.) Writers often need to ask what locations they can use/create before beginning a script, as each new element will need to be designed for animation. Think of it like a television show. On Desperate Housewives they have standing sets (their houses) already built for each of the main characters. When an episode takes place outside those pre-existing parameters, a new set has to be built, which takes time and money. Studios don’t like to spend money, and hate wasting time (which costs money). So if you want to be hired again, really be sure to ask your showrunner what the parameters are before you begin scripting (If they want the shots called, how many locations/characters you can create/ what the deadline is, etc.)

The next step is to record the episode. This is a stage where the animation writer actually has a little input. The writer is often invited to the recording session to provide clarity, intent, and on the spot rewrites for the voice actors. This is not to say they get to direct the voice recording. That’s the aptly named Voice Director’s job. But if an actor is butchering a joke, it’s entirely acceptable for the writer to politely mention it to the voice director, so they can coax out a better performance.

For the writer, the recording session is usually the end of the line. As we are focusing on animation writing, I’ll just quickly gloss over the remaining steps of production.

After the script is recorded it’s edited for time. (The actually running time of the episode – 12 minutes, 22 minutes, etc.) It’s then sent to the director and the storyboard artists who break it down into visual beats. The animators are then given the finished storyboard and voice recording to work from. They animate (with computers or pencils), shoot/scan it, and send it to an editor who puts it together. A post-production mix later, the episode’s ready for primetime.

For those writers who are interested in animation, but may know little about its processes or production, where can they start learning? Are there good books or magazines they can study?

Off the top of my head I’d say Animation Magazine (http://www.animationmagazine.net/) is a decent source for finding out what’s kinds of shows are being developed/produced.
There are scores of great books on animation. Hit the library. It’s good for that.

How about animation software? Are there some good beginners’ programs that writers can use to start playing and experimenting?

Um… you can get free trial versions of Flash and After Effects from Adobe. These are two of the most used animation and compositing programs. Other than that, search the web. New shareware programs pop up every day.

It seems that right now, with TV channels like Cartoon Network and Internet content exploding, there are more opportunities than ever for aspiring animators and animation writers. After all, an animated short can be produced entirely by one person and posted online… something that can’t be done with a live action film that requires cameras, lights, actors, etc. As media continues to evolve over the next few years, how will we see the world of animation change?

It’s already changed a lot. Ten years ago, 90% of the animation was done by hand. Today it’s a shock when someone pitches a show that’s not designed for the computer.   This trend is mostly driven by cost considerations. It’s far cheaper to do quality animation by computer than it is to something comparable do by hand.

As for how it’s continuing to change, the technology will continue to become cheaper and more accessible. The state of the art effects that you see in Ratatouille, will be free shareware that you can use animate on your computer. So basically anything that you can imagine you will be able to recreate.

Any last words of advice for aspiring animation writers and filmmakers out there?

The important thing to remember is that no matter how good the technology gets, no one will watch it if you aren’t telling a good story with interesting characters. It all comes back to the writer. Tell a good story and people will notice.

Thanks, Charlie!

If you enjoyed Charlie's advice, be sure to check out his web comic, Vince Germain, at www.vincegermain.com!

And now, for your viewing pleasure, here's a quick look at some fun animation projects out there...

THE PROFESSOR BROTHERS: BIBLE HISTORY #1

LIL' BUSH

WALL-E

READER QUESTION: How do I Know What TV Spec to Write?

Chad — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 18:44:01 GMT

Hey, screenwriters—

First of all, thanks for all the emails… I’ve got a nicely full mailbag, and I’ll do my best to get to all your questions over the next few days. In the mean time—keep the emails coming (they make me feel really popular)!

With the WGA strike over and staffing season only a few weeks away, many of the questions seem to be focusing on TV spec-writing. The first comes from loyal reader Pam, who also took one of my mediabistro classes a few months ago. Pam writes…

“I am a spec-writing neophyte. You mentioned in your 2/12 posting those shows which you felt were this year's best bets. My question then is, how exactly is a show deemed ‘spec-able?’ Those that are established? Fan favorites? Critic favorites? You also mentioned a few shows to keep an eye on for the future. Does this mean shows that just finished their first season generally aren't spec-able?

“And what's your take on the debate over writing a show you actually want to submit to? Will the writers scoff at your attempt to write THEIR show? A show with stories they are already familiar telling and characters whose voices they know?”

This is a question many people have, Pam—how do you know what specs are spec-able?

Basically, you want to spec a show that the industry (execs, agents, showrunners, etc.) likes, follows, and respects. But knowing what these shows are isn’t always obvious, and there’s really only one good way to figure it out each year: ask. Talk to agents, execs, showrunners, etc. They can tell you what writers seem to be writing, and—more importantly—what readers (agents, execs, showrunners, etc.) seem to be reading. Very often, shows that seem like they should be spec-able aren’t, and vice versa.

Having said that, here are some rules and hints that can help you figure it out…

• Shows in their first seasons are usually risky specs. This is for three main reasons:

One: there’s no certainty they’ll come back, and if they get canceled, your spec is useless.

Two: first-season shows, even hits, usually need several weeks to find their feet and figure out exactly how they work. They’re playing with stories, testing out characters, etc. An actor who was supposed to play a pivotal role may turn out to be too weak and have his part diminished. Another actor may “break out” and become a show favorite, so writers boost up his character. Certain kinds of stories may turn out to work better than others. Thus, while you may love a certain show right out of the gate, it hasn’t necessarily solidified itself to the point where it has set patterns and rules that make it spec-able.

And lastly: if it’s a new show (again—even a hit), not everyone may be watching it on a regular basis… so you may find that many people simply don’t know the show well enough to appreciate your spec. And if people don’t have the knowledge to read your script, it reduces your chances of impressing a reader enough to get a job.

• Older shows are also risky specs. This is for a couple reasons:

One: the show doesn’t feel sexy, and while you definitely want to spec a show that’s solid enough that everyone understands it, you also want to spec something that feels fresh and exciting and edgy. Law & Order may still be a successful franchise, and a few years ago every procedural writer in the world had a Law & Order spec, but it’s now been replaced by newer, more contemporary-feeling shows like CSI, Dexter, and Criminal Minds.

Two: agents and execs get bored of them. This is possible even with hot specs… last year, for instance, everyone and their mother wrote an Office spec… and while it was certainly last year’s “hot spec,” people got sick of reading them. So speccing an older show simply increases your odds of writing something people are already tired of looking at.

• Don’t spec something too serialized. Shows that are super soapy are tough to spec because their stories and characters change dramatically every week. Try something that has at least some element of “standalone-ness.” Even shows like Grey’s Anatomy, which loves to get wrapped up in its kaleidoscoping love triangles and relationships, does mostly self-contained episodes; each week not only has two or three “patients of the week,” but it’s bookended by Meredith Grey’s thematic voice over. (Having said all this, there always exceptions. I’ve heard that Gossip Girl may turn out to be a pretty hot spec next year… not necessarily this year, but next year… maybe.)

• Monitor reviews in industry publications. If you don’t know execs, agents, or showrunners to ask about current specs to write, you can get a sense of it from reading reviews in trades and magazines frequented by the industry. Obviously: Variety and The Hollywood Reporter. But also The New York Times and The LA Times. Check out the top shows on iTunes. These will help you identify the “watercooler” shows (shows people talk about around the watercooler at work) that may be speccable.

As for Part II of your question, Pam: sending a spec to its own show…

This is usually a bad idea. Many shows won’t even read specs of their own show for legal reasons.

For instance, let’s say you write a spec of 30 Rock in which Liz Lemon adopts a dog. You send it to 30 Rock. But what you don’t know… what you couldn’t possibly know… is that they’re working on a nearly identical story in which Liz Lemon adopts a kitten. A few weeks later, you see this episode on TV and immediately believe they’ve stolen your idea—the story is nearly the same, jokes are the same, story beats are the same. You sue the show. Now everyone’s embroiled in a long and unnecessary legal battle that never should’ve happened. So not reading specs of their own show protects both you and the show itself.

But it’s also not usually smart to send a spec to its own show because—while the staff may not “scoff” at the spec—they certainly feel they understand their show better than anyone out there. And, for the most part, they’re probably right.

For instance, let’s say you send your Liz-adopts-a-puppy spec to 30 Rock. But what you don’t know… what you couldn’t possibly know… is that several months ago they talked about—and even worked on—a Liz-adopts-a-pet episode… and it didn’t work. Maybe it wasn’t funny. Maybe the network hated it. Maybe they just got bored and scrapped the idea. Regardless, you may have written a brilliant spec, but to them it’s an old, tired idea. And trust me—most writing staffs have thought of almost everything you could think of. If a show has 22 episodes a year, and each show tells 3 stories, that’s 66 stories a year. But in order to get 66 good stories, the staff brainstorms well over a hundred stories. So the odds of you impressing them with something completely original—and executing it better than they could—are slim.

You’re better off writing a brilliant spec of a different show, then wowing them with that.

Anyway, hope that helps, Pam...

Keep the questions coming, guys! Talk to you soon…

Chad

GUEST PERSPECTIVES: Stephanie Palmer, Founder (and pitching guru), Good in a Room

Chad — Tue, 04 Mar 2008 19:47:54 GMT

Hey, screenwriters--

One of the toughest parts of being a screenwriter is... well... much of it doesn't involve actual writing. Unlike being a poet or a novelist, much of writing for film and TV involves walking into a room and being social, whether it's pitching a movie to a producer of throwing around jokes in a sitcom writers room. And for many writers, this is one of the toughest parts of the job... after all, we're writers, not salesmen... our job is to write, not schmooze and sell. But sell we must, and pitching is an integral part of the gig.

Fortunately, today's special guest is someone who can help... my friend Stephanie Palmer, one of the industry's foremost experts and coaches on the art and craft of pitching. Stephanie spent several years working in feature development, where she was on the frontlines reading and acquiring books, articles, submissions, and pitches... first at Jerry Bruckheimer Films, where she worked on Con Air, Armageddon, and Enemy of the State... and then as Director of Creative Affairs at MGM Pictures, where she was instrumental in the development of movies like Mad Money, 21, Be Cool, Legally Blonde, Sleepover, A Guy Thing, Good Boy, Agent Cody Banks and Agent Cody Banks 2: Destination London. (She got her start interning on James Cameron's Titanic, which I mention because-- I'm not afraid to admit it-- I love that movie.)

Now Stephanie has her own company, Good In A Room, which coaches professional writers and directors on selling spec scripts, setting up TV shows, landing directing jobs, and securing financing for indie films. Her first book, Good in a Room: How to Sell Yourself and Your Ideas and Win Over Any Audience, comes out next week, and she also serves as an advisor for the American Screenwriting Association, Carnegie Mellon University’s Masters of Entertainment Industry Management Program, and the Producing Program at UCLA.

So I sat down with Stephanie to pick her brain on the ins and outs of pitching. Here's what she had to say...

As a writer, why is it important to be “good in a room?” I mean, writers write. They sit in a room, usually by themselves, and put words on paper. What do they have to do that’s social? When, where, and why do they need to be “good in a room?”

In the past, great writers had the luxury of getting exclusive offers for projects. If they wanted to do it, they were hired. But that is rarely the case today. I have been lucky enough to consult for many Oscar and Emmy award-winning and nominated writers, and these days, even creative professionals in this top tier must meet with producers, network and studio executives to pitch themselves and their ideas.

As you know, meetings happen in a wide variety of places. Writers need to have solid meeting skills for a formal pitch in the executive’s office, the casual meeting over a meal, and the chance encounters at events like a mutual friend’s birthday party. Being good in a room means that you have an overall strategy for how you’re going to be successful and specific tactics for many different situations.

What are the 3 biggest personal hindrances or bumps that keep writers from being good in a room? In other words, having worked with writers from both sides of the table, what are the 3 most common recurring habits do you see that keep them from good in a room? Then, how can writers get around these 3 bumps or hindrances? What are some practical, tangible things writers can do to get around these common habits and bumps?

That’s tough. There are a lot of different kinds of mistakes, and some of them are very subtle. However, if I had to choose the top three mistakes writers make, they would be:

-Thinking that they can “wing it”
-Not practicing their pitch out loud
-Including too much detail

To get around these three issues, I recommend preparing for meetings by researching the people with whom you are meeting. Know what they’ve worked on in the past, what they are currently working on, and how any of these projects relate to your idea.

Then, use a digital audio recorder to practice your pitch out loud. Pay careful attention to your pacing, inflection, and the amount of time it takes you to pitch. You’ll probably notice that sometimes, what looks good on the page doesn’t sound so good when spoken out loud. As a rule, a spoken sentence should contain a maximum of three ideas to ensure that the listener can follow the narrative thread.

Finally, break out the red pen and edit your pitch rigorously. Executives hear a lot of pitches, so focus on the hottest and most compelling aspects of your idea and keep it short. The more you say, the less they hear.

One of the obvious times when it’s important to be good in a room is during a pitch, when a writer is on stage, presenting his TV or movie idea. Forget the quality of the idea itself… what are the most important factors of a successful pitch? What should a writer focus on, and how should he prepare, so he can be as good as possible in the room during that meeting?

This is a tough question because so much of what a writer does to be good in the room happens before he or she walks through the door. Prior to actually delivering the pitch, a writer (ideally) should follow these steps:

1. Identify what you have     (research and get feedback on your work)
2. Craft the pitch         (write, rewrite and practice your verbal pitch)
3. Position yourself        (design your first impression so you “represent” your idea)
4. Pick your targets        (create a list of people who have bought similar material)
5. Choose a vector        (determine the best route to get into the right rooms)
6. Have the meeting        (deliver the pitch at the right time and in the right way)

I know that’s a lot to digest, but my point is that when you say, “ignoring the quality of the idea…,” I don’t think this can be done. In the same way that the script is the DNA of the produced movie, the quality of the idea is the core element of the pitch. That’s why Step #1: Identify what you have, is so important. It is impossible to write a good pitch unless you have done the research on comparative projects and gotten useful feedback on your work. Step #2: Craft the pitch builds on the information you discover in Step #1, Step #3 builds on Step #2 and so forth down the line.

By the time a writer is at Step #6: Have the meeting, a lot of the heavy lifting has been accomplished. This is why even nervous, introverted writers can pitch well. You don’t have to be naturally sociable with a charismatic personality (though it helps) if you know what you have, who wants it, and how to explain to them why they should buy it.

Let’s say a writer is preparing for a pitch meeting. He knows he has a great idea—he’s not worried about that. He’s also very sociable with a great personality. In other words, he’s naturally good in a room—so he’s not worried about that. But… what are the top 3 things that could happen in a pitch meeting that most writers don’t expect? If a writer—even one who’s good in a room—is going to be ambushed by something during a pitch, what are the 3 things it will most likely be (certain questions, interruptions, exec personalities, etc.)

And the follow-up question… how should writers handle those situations? How can they prepare in case one of those things does crop up? And what do they do in the moment?

Great question. Three things that writers tend not to expect are:

-Testing behavior

Executives will sometimes play devil’s advocate and grill a writer past the point of what seems necessary. This is partly because the executive may be expecting to receive a similarly rigorous interrogation if they take your idea to their colleagues and superiors. Also, sometimes executives want to know if a writer can handle themselves. Making a movie is a difficult process, and if you can’t handle some tough, even annoying questions, you’re not someone the executive can count on.

The way to handle this is to always keep your cool. Don’t get provoked, and don’t let the executive’s tone throw you off. Just answer the content of the questions and stay calm.

-Question traps

As an example, executives will often ask, “What are your ideas about casting?” They do this for two reasons. First, whether they care about your casting ideas or not, it doesn’t hurt them to be polite in this way. Second, it’s a subtle trap. If you insist that there’s only one person who can play the lead role, and especially if that one person is a washed-up TV actor or actress who no one has seen in a decade, you’re out of the running.

Here’s how to handle this situation: prepare to mention a couple of well-known stars and well-regarded independent film stars and then turn the question back to the executive, e.g., “I think George Clooney, Ben Affleck, Javier Bardem or Gerard Butler would be great, but I’m open. Who do you think would be right for the part?”

The idea is to stick with what you know: the story. Questions you get about casting, budget, production schedules or anything else that isn’t the story are traps. Your job is to provide an answer that doesn’t look like a dodge, then turn the question back to the executive. All issues related to producing the script are their bailiwick. You can avoid the traps by sticking to your home turf.

-Interruptions

Some writers expect to have the executive’s full attention during the meeting, and feel that any interruption is disrespectful. However, when the buyer’s phone rings, their assistant enters the room, or another type of interruption occurs, this is not a personal slight. This reflects the simple reality that anything that is a speculative project is a lower priority than a project that is actually in progress.

When you’re interrupted, this is the technique I recommend:

1. Give the buyer some space. Stay in the room and remove your attention from the buyer if that’s appropriate. You can busy yourself with your waiting room materials.
2. If appropriate, give the buyer some more space. Offer to step outside the room or even to come back another time.
3. Provide a summary. When the interruption is over, recap what’s happened so far. An effective summary reinforces your message and demonstrates your competence.

Tell me about Good In A Room. How did it start… and what is it?

Okay, Chad—you want the genesis story? Here it is:

During my time as a studio executive at MGM, I had over three thousand pitch meetings where writers, directors, stars and producers would try to persuade me to buy their ideas. Most of the time, ideas are pitched poorly. However, there are some people who succeed all the time.

Over a period of years, I paid attention to what worked and what didn’t. I identified the techniques that were being used in all of the successful meetings—regardless of who was pitching. I also found a considerable number of ways that the person pitching could break the deal, often without knowing it.

A turning point for me was when I met a writer named Mike. He had a high school comedy with a unique angle, but his pitch was a disaster. Ordinarily I would just pass on his project, but I was frustrated with the quality of the movies we were making and I didn’t want to send his great script back to the slush-pile. So I coached Mike on how to perform in each stage of the meeting and told him exactly what to say when my boss asked, “So, what’s your project about?”

Mike pitched his idea beautifully and it sold right there in the room. Afterward, he told me that he’d been staying on his brother’s couch for the last three months and was preparing to move back in with his parents. With this one sale, his career was on an entirely new trajectory. And for me, in a job where so much of my time was spent surviving cutthroat politics and producing mediocre ideas, helping Mike succeed was really gratifying for me. I realized then that I wanted to focus on pitching, not production.

A year later, I left my executive job and started my company, called Good In A Room, to help writers and directors with quality ideas get the attention and financing they deserve.

You have a book coming out—Good In A Room—which not only helps writers become good in a room… it uses Hollywood examples and techniques to help people in other careers, even in corporate America, learn to be good in a room. I think this is incredibly valuable… and (with a wife who works in corporate America) I completely understand many of the things corporate America could learn from the more laid-back, creativity-focused culture of Hollywood. So here’s the question… what can Hollywood, especially writers, learn from corporate America about being good in a room?

The key lesson creative people can take from corporate America is to treat their work like a business. Take notes about who you met and what was talked about, and maintain an ongoing database of your business relationships. Create a development slate for your work and update it frequently with all of your new ideas. Guard your time and manage it well to maximize your productivity.

Finally, follow up. There were so many times that I’d be interested in working with a writer (just not in their current project), and I would ask them to follow up with me in a month and let me know what was going on. Less than one in ten ever did—and they were much more likely to sell their projects or be hired for rewrite work.

This has been great, Stephanie-- thanks so much for taking the time to chat.
Chad, thanks so much for having me on your blog. Best of luck to you and your readers!

GUEST PERSPECTIVE: Brad Wollack, talk show writer/producer

Chad — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 00:31:31 GMT

Hey, screenwriters—

One of the most controversial topics of the last few months has been the issue of writers writing for talk shows. After all, it’s no newsflash that most of the big talk shows came back on the air last month… in the middle of the strike… without their writers. But what was a newsflash (to many people) was that talk shows had writers at all. I mean, they’re “talk shows,” right? People sit around and… well… talk. So what could writers possibly do?

I’ve gotten a bunch of emails and questions about this over the past couple weeks, so I decided to talk to someone who knows this world better than I do: my friend Brad Wollack, a writer/producer for Chelsea Lately, E!’s hit late night talk show hosted by Chelsea Handler. Brad’s also written for The Wayne Brady Show, as well as reality shows like Parental Control and Celebrity Duets. He’s also written for Joan Rivers and Melissa Rivers when they host the red carpets at the Oscars, Grammys, and Golden Globes. (You can also catch Brad as his alter ego, film critic Woody Wittman, on The Hollywoody Show.)

So here to talk about the craft of talk show writing and how to break in… Brad Wollack.

Brad, I’m confused. We keep hearing that talk shows like The Tonight Show and Jimmy Kimmel Live are back on the air without their writers. But talk shows are mostly jokes and interviews. What do talk show writers actually write?
Jokes and the interview questions. Leno’s monologue on a typical night is 10 minutes long. Leno’s a great comic, but he doesn’t come up with 10 minutes of topical jokes every day. It takes a staff to produce volume. You have to produce X amount of jokes just to get stuff that will actually make air. It’s not like you write ten jokes and they’re all good jokes. You need volume… which means you need bodies and minds.

[Also,] Leno, Letterman, Conan—especially Jon Stewart, if you consider that a talk show—do a lot of sketches and bits, and someone’s writing those. And often times writers end up having to direct those little sketches. So writing influences a lot.

I always say when shit hits the fan—this is true on any series—the first person they turn to is the writer. “How do we fix this?” “How do we do that?” “How do we ask this person this question?”

A lot of times they ask you to help producers craft good questions or think of bits to do. I remember when Martha Stewart was on Conan, years ago, and they had her chugging a 40. I wouldn’t be surprised if that idea came out of the writers room that morning. Writers help craft the whole show, guide the whole show, and are a support to the host.

If you can’t tell that stuff has been written, if it seems natural for the host, the writing staff is doing a good job.

What makes writing for a talk show different than writing for a sitcom or drama? Are the processes different? Do talk show writers need different kinds of skills and writing chops?
They’re very different. First of all, the schedules are different. We work on a daily schedule; every day is a new [show]. We don’t work on the same episode for multiple days, we start fresh every single morning. As hard as that is, it’s also nice because you can just be done with it. When you go home at night, you [can say], “Well, we get to try again tomorrow.” …which is exciting, because the volume of material you’re producing in any given week is [enormous].

Talk shows are also very topical, so you’re always creating topical stuff that doesn’t get stale. With sitcoms, there’s a writers room, and they spend weeks working on scripts.

Plus, to do a talk show, especially a Leno or a Letterman, the writers have to be really good at writing jokes. They have to be great joke-writers more than strong structural writers. Can you take any story and list off ten jokes about it… under a time pressure?

We start at 9:45 every morning, and by 1:00 or 1:30, we have the whole show and all the jokes done. That’s a lot. We don’t succeed every day, but I think we succeed more often than we don’t, and the material is sound… but the daily turnaround is definitely a pressure.

Another difference between talk shows and sitcoms: in sitcoms you’re writing for characters, whereas in talk shows you’re writing for a specific voice. [So] you really have to identify with the voice of the host. And [they’ll] argue with you. It’s not like Kramer (from Seinfeld) would come in and say, “I don’t do that! I don’t say that!” But Chelsea will come in and go, “No, I don’t want to say that. I don’t want to do that!” So you have to be specific in what you’re writing, and the voice you’re writing in.

Walk me through a typical day in the life of a talk show writer on Chelsea Lately.
9:25 – Arrive

9:35 – Get into the office (because I park in a faraway place)

9:36 – Walk down the hall, make a lot of noise, say good morning to everyone. Start talking, milling about. Slowly, casual conversation of “what did you do last night” turns into “what did you watch on TV last night? What can we make fun of?”

9:45 – We gather in the conference room and beat out the cold open. Then, we start working on our daily topics. We usually have five of those. Each daily topic is a big entertainment news story. We figure out our angle and five or six jokes that Chelsea can use. Chelsea is very involved in this, which is probably another big difference between a talk show and a sitcom or drama. [On those shows,] actors have no say. Or they might have a say, but they’re not in the writers room, whereas Chelsea is there every day bringing as many, if not more, jokes than everyone else.

11:30 – We break off and do our own thing. Write it up, put it in script form, put it on cards for Chelsea… and she goes to work, memorizing stuff, working on new material, [etc.]. Our job, as writers, is done by 1:30. Everything has to be in for her at 1:45 because we tape at 3:30.

1:45 – Rehearsal

3:30 - Tape

What about bits and sketches shot on location? How are writers involved with those?
A lot is done ahead of time, working out beats for the different jokes and stuff. But a lot [happens] in the field that you couldn’t even anticipate, so a lot of the writing is on the fly: feeding Chelsea lines, working out an angle you didn’t think of previously. Our head writer goes, and we have a dedicated field writer who goes. [Plus,] the writer who wrote the bit goes. So you have three people making sure lines are delivered. It’s very writing intensive, even though it’s not literally sitting down and going, “and then she’ll say this, and this guy says this.”

You’ve also written for a daytime talk show, The Wayne Brady Show. How is writing for a daytime talk show different from writing for a night time talk show… or is it?
You’re going for different audiences. Daytime, historically, is a very female audience: stay-at-home moms, what have you. You can’t be as edgy. You have to be a lot more broad, not so hard-hitting. A lot of times, daytime shows tape the day before… or a couple days before… so they’re not as topical. They’re more generalized, and they don’t go for hard-hitting jokes.

[In] late night, you’re playing to a different audience. The people up at 11 a.m. watching Wayne Brady are very different from people who are up at 11:30 p.m. tuning into Chelsea. We can be a lot edgier, we’re going for a younger audience… an audience that’s typically tuning in to hear our host’s take on issues—especially with our show, since we’re establishing ourselves as the go-to source for cutting the bullshit on entertainment news. People want Chelsea’s harsh opinions.

You must do insane amounts of research—how much do you have to read newspapers, magazines, watch tv, etc?
Especially as a host, you have to be immersed in all of that… and as a writer, too. We follow the news in general, but we’re all assigned different magazines to look at every week, so we can bring that knowledge to the table. You have to be up on pop culture… and smart in general. You have to be able to reference stuff in the past.

Ultimately, we can write whatever we want, and we (the writers) can have a bad day… but Chelsea can never have a bad day. She constantly has to be delivering. So she reads US Weekly, In Touch, all that stuff, voraciously, as well as watching every single TV show… and not only reading all that, but then formulating an opinion. It doesn’t end when you walk out the door.

I’ve recently gotten a lot of emails from aspirants who want to write for talk shows. What’s the best way to become a talk show writer? If you’re an aspiring talk show writer living in Omaha, what’s the best path?
Unfortunately, there is no formula for it. I backed into it because my agents represented Wayne Brady. He was looking for a new writer, I’d been doing stand-up, so I did a submission. And I got the job. But obviously [a writer] in Omaha can’t do that.

If someone wants to put together a packet of material to impress a talk show producer, what do they need? I mean, in scripted TV, you write specs, sample scripts of 30 Rock or CSI or whatever… but in talk, how do you prove you’re a good writer?
If you want to be a talk show writer, pick a show: Conan, Letterman, Leno, [etc.] They’re all different in style and structure, so you have to figure out which to do a sample for.

Let’s say you did Conan. He typically does four topical jokes when he comes out at the top of the show, so you’d want to generate a list of 15-20 topical jokes based on that day or week’s news, to show you can write topically and write monologue jokes.

You also want to generate some sketch ideas, both that [the host] can be in and also ones featuring new characters. Also, do existing sketches they do. What’s your submission of “In the Year 2000?” Or your submission of when he drives his desk through the city? Any of those popular bits. You want to show that you know the show, and you can fit that style.

Then, in terms of what you do with that, you’re free to send it in blindly to the executive producers with a note saying, “Hey, I’m in Omaha, but I’d love to write. What do you think?”

[Of course,] you would probably have a better shot starting with a smaller show. You’re not going to get hired on Letterman if you’ve never had any experience, so you say, “Well, Spike Feresten has a talk show—late night on Saturdays and they’re probably much more available for staffing than Letterman or Leno.”

Hold on—that’s weird. In scripted shows, you would never send a show a spec of itself. I.e., you can’t usually get a producer at Dexter to read a Dexter spec. But it sounds like talk shows work differently… like you submit to Leno a packet of material designed specifically for Leno. Is that right?
Yeah—there’s a big difference. In talk shows, they want to see if you can write in their voice, style, and structure.

So, would you ever submit a packet of spec Leno jokes you wrote to Chelsea Lately? Would you submit Jimmy Kimmel Live sketches to Letterman?
I wouldn’t. Again, it’s a very specific voice you’re writing for. There may be ways to tweak the same joke so it fits each personality, but the way Letterman delivers a joke is very different from the way Leno delivers it, [which is different from] the way Chelsea Handler delivers it.

So your best bet, if you can, is to do various submissions to show you can speak to each of those shows.

It seems like a lot of talk show writers, such as yourself, were stand-ups before they became writers. Is stand-up a good way to hone your chops to become a talk show writer?
Not only does it help hone your chops, it helps you learn how to write jokes and deliver jokes… which is important because part of the writing process is pitching. When you’re in the room each morning, pitching your jokes, you pitch it like you’re on a stage in a comedy show. You have to be able to sell it.

[Stand-up] also introduces you to a lot of people. I know people who have gotten writing jobs based on the fact that they were in comedy clubs and knew this host or that host, or were friendly with one of the writers on Kimmel, who also did stand-up, and he knew of an opening on his staff. So it’s very useful for the networking aspect… and honing your writing and presentation skills.

Any last thoughts?
Make sure you really respect the comedy of the person you’re writing for. If you don’t know or respect the comedy, it’s not going to work out, regardless. When you’re on the same comedy wavelength as the host, it makes going to work every day really fun, because it’s just shooting the shit with your friends.

Check out Brad as Woody Wittman, accosting celebrities like Zac Efron, John Travolta, Buzz Aldrin, Allison Janney, and Queen Latifah on the red carpet...

WOODY WITTMAN ON THE HOLLYWOODY SHOW

Jen Grisanti: Part II - A Follow-Up

Chad — Fri, 01 Feb 2008 17:23:33 GMT

Hey, guys--

After Wednesday's guest perspective from TV exec/producer Jen Grisanti, in which she talks about her new company, Jen Grisanti Consultancy, loyal reader Josh and a couple other people asked if she was a manager. So I talked to Jen, and here's what she had to say...

JEN: "I am not a manager per se. I will independent produce; however, the main thrust of the business is to develop and cultivate the material of writers and directors. With a management company, I would be limited to only work with a small number of clients. With a consultancy, there is no limit and I don't take 10% of their earnings. I will eventually open a management arm of the consultancy, but not in the immediate future."

Hope that helps, everyone!

GUEST PERSPECTIVE: Jen Grisanti - TV Exec & Producer

Chad — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 23:17:59 GMT

Hey, screenwriters--

I'm pleased to introduce a special guest today... TV executive and producer Jennifer Grisanti.

As a Current Exec at Spelling Television for over ten years, Jen has worked with some of the best writers, showrunners, producers and execs in Hollywood... people like Medium creator Glen Gordon Caron, NCIS producer Steve Binder, Numbers producer Ken Sanzel, and countless more writers and execs at every network and studio in Hollywood. She's also helped maintain numerous hit shows such as Beverly Hills 90210, Melrose Place, Charmed, Medium, Numbers, NCIS, The 4400 and Girlfriends. In addition, she has served as a mentor in the CBS Diversity Program, which seeks out and nurtures young writers and directors.

Jen has a reputation as being one of the smartest execs in town. In fact-- and Jen probably doesn't even remember this-- Jen was in one of the first big meetings I ever had. I was a baby writer interviewing to write on the final season of Beverly Hills 90210, and I met with Jen and showrunner John Eisendrath. Unfortunately, they didn't hire me. (The show probably would've lasted longer if they had. KIDDING, JEN!) But it was the beginning of a relationship that allows me to introduce her to all of you today.

And there's even better news: Jen has recently launched Jen Grisanti Consultancy, a consulting firm designed to help talented young writers, producers, and directors break into the industry (www.jengrisanticonsultancy.com). Jen works with writers of all levels, helping to shape their material, hone their pitches, and focus their careers. In other words... she's like having your own personal TV exec.

Today, Jen's here to talk about how she works with writers as an executive... as well as her new company and what it can do for you...

Jen... as a long-time TV executive, a huge part of your job was finding, acquiring, and shepherding new shows and show ideas. In television, unlike in movies, most new shows are bought as pitches and concepts, not fully-written scripts. When you’re in a pitch meeting, listening to a pitch for a new project, what do you—as an executive—need to hear to make you want to buy that show? What do you need to hear in the architecture of the show itself, and what does the writer need to bring to the project?

JEN: As a Current Programs Executive, my feeling is that in the pitch meeting what needs to be heard is something unique and different. Television has gotten to such a strong place in the past few years. The audience has higher expectations because of shows like Mad Men, Damages, Dexter, etc. It is about coming in with something that has an edge and something that it is easy to see where the future stories will come from.

What are the biggest mistakes you tend to see from first-time pilot-writers? In other words, for all the writers out there who may be taking a stab at writing their first pilot, what should they be extra-vigilant about making sure they don’t do?

As a Current Programs Executive, I’d say that the biggest mistake first-time pilot writers make is not having the pilot fully convey what the series will be. It is so important that at the end of that first hour, the viewer wants to come back and knows what they’re coming back to see. My feeling is that character is so important in the pilot phase. Your characters add so much to why the audience will return. Another mistake I think first time pilot writers make is trying to put too much into the pilot.

One of the things that make new TV shows and pilot truly distinct is the “voice,” or point of view, of the writer. And the shows we like best seem to have their own incredibly strong, unique voices… like Desperate Housewives, Weeds, or Everybody Loves Raymond. Yet while we all seem to know what “voice” is… it’s often one of the toughest things for a writer to find and develop within himself. What advice would you give an aspiring TV writer to help him find his own voice? Any tips or exercises?

I would suggest that the writer go out to a coffee place/restaurant and sit and listen to the conversations of the people around them. They should write down what they hear to get a stronger sense of how people talk and what sounds natural.

As far as a “voice” it is about not being afraid to use your own life experiences. I tell writers that when they are going through extremely painful circumstances or humiliating circumstances or joyful circumstances, they need to write it down. Often what they are experiencing in that moment is a universal feeling that others will connect with. Another exercise with regards to “voice” could be to think of all their friends, what differentiates them from their other friends, what characteristics make them unique, etc. I also ask writers to think of a life identifying moment that happened and made them feel like they have something to say. It could be their parents divorce, a time when they were abandoned in some way as a child, an awakening, a death of a family member, etc. It is usually something that happens that gives them something to draw from in their writing. It helps them to become more familiar with what their own “voice” is.

Developing a hit show takes huge amounts of trust, respect, and collaboration from writers, producers, and executives. As a current exec, you gave notes to writers and producers working on shows already on the air. But sometimes writers and execs disagree on a note. How do you navigate situations where you and a writer disagree on something in a script or project? What advice would you give budding writers on how to deal with notes they disagree with?

My approach towards giving notes is to have a discussion about the note. My advice to writers with regards to notes is to hear the note first. Often writers when they are new to the note giving process they are too busy defending the note that they don’t hear it. If they take the time to listen, it helps the process. With regards to disagreeing on a note, I think with conversation this can be solved. I am not the type of executive who insisted that my writers take my notes. I simply say I am offering a suggestion from my years of experience of how I view it from reading it and I tell them if you understand what I am saying and you can see a way to solve it, take the note. Since I did take this approach, my notes were often made. I trust the writer to know what is best for the script. The writer should know that executives are not out to change their voice or put their mark on the writer’s material, they are there to make sure that the vision of the writer is clearly communicated on the page or to help guide them to a solution that might help their story to transfer better to the audience.

When it comes to writing pilots, one of the biggest controversies is whether or not baby writers—writers who haven’t yet been staffed—should write spec pilots, pilots that haven’t first been pitched and sold to a studio or network. Some people say studios and networks rarely buy spec pilots, especially from babies, and writing a spec pilot is a waste of time… and a stamp of naiveté. Others say networks and studios have opened up to buying spec pilots, and it’s now totally viable for a newbie to write and sell a pilot. What do you think? Should an aspiring TV writer try their hand at writing and selling their own pilot?

It is much harder for a baby writer to get a pilot sold. However, it is possible. I don’t think it’s wrong for a baby writer to write an original hour. I think it is wise for a new writer to have a spec pilot. So, if the pilot doesn’t sell, the writer still has an original script to send out. Some showrunners will only ready original material. As far as developing a pilot at the baby level, a writer should know that if they do choose to develop at this level, someone will be brought in to run the show and often their vision of the show will be taken over by this new person. If they staff and wait until they are a Producer/Supervising Producer level, then they have a greater chance of developing a pilot in which they could run it and have a greater chance of the finished product being their own. So, it’s all a choice. If the baby writer has a very strong idea and doesn’t matter handing it over, it is a great experience to go through as far as growing as a writer.

The WGA strike is about to enter its fourth—and, hopefully, final—month. Every day, there’s new speculation about how the strike will revamp the TV landscape and development process. Whether it does or not—and to what extent—remains to be seen. As someone who’s been working in TV for many years, how do you think the strike—and its fallout—will change the paths and opportunities for aspiring TV writers trying to break in?

I believe that the strike will have a major impact on television and the way that business is being done and on the number of opportunities that will be available for new writers. I think because the studios have had a chance to see how well reality shows which cost a lot less can perform that there will be fewer pilots picked up and fewer jobs available. Personally, I think for aspiring writers that the key is to have a wide range of material. I also think that writers should be educating themselves with new media opportunities. Since many feel that the business is changing so rapidly, it is important that the writer be open to change and be aware of what material is the best to have to get them work.

Talk to me about Jen Grisanti Consultancy. What do you do, how do you do it, and who are you aiming to help?

I help develop the careers of writers and directors. I utilize my 11 years of experience as a television executive at top studios with incredible mentors and I bring my knowledge to writers and directors to help them get their material where it needs to be to get them work, representation, etc. This includes script consultation, writer coaching sessions, career consultation, representation consultation, etc. My aim is to elevate their scripts and reels so that the writer and director will have confidence going in to meetings knowing that their material is in the best shape possible.

BREAKING INTO PODIOBOOKS: Talking with Mark Yoshimoto Nemcoff

Chad — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 23:18:07 GMT

Hey, screenwriters--

I wanted to talk about something kind of unique today... something I just learned about (and am still learning about) myself: the world of online audio books-- better known as podiobooks. It's very different than screenwriting, but as conventional media merges with the internet, podiobooks are shaping up to be a powerful new form of digital entertainment. These aren't just audiobooks available on the internet... they're an artform unto themselves, and producers writing and making them are doing some extraordinary things. Many not only tell great stories, they incorporate music, sound effects, etc. And the best part is... anyone can do it. Virtually anyone with a computer, an internet connection, and an ounce of imagination can write, produce, and distribute their own podiobook-- for free.

To learn more about this weird new world, I sat down with writer/producer Mark Yoshimoto Nemcoff-- author of podiobooks Shadow Falls and Badlands, host of podcast Pacific Coast Hellway (which Playboy called "the world's most offensively enlightened podcast"), and Director of Content Development for Podshow and Editor-in-Chief of Podshow Press.

Mark, You've had great success in the world of online audio books. But a lot of people have never even heard of online audio books. I mean, sure—we all know you can download My Sister's Keeper from iTunes… but your audio books are something different. Explain to me: what is an online audio book? How does it work? …And how did you get into writing and producing them?

Mark: The podcast novel, podiobook, podcast audiobook is a story generally delivered in a serialized fashion over the course of many episodes in the form of standard mp3 files, which you can subscribe to in iTunes, Google Reader, or your RSS feed catcher of choice. This way when new episodes are released they can be automatically downloaded to be listened to at your convenience. Think of it like audio TiVo, which is appropriate since the podcast novel is very much akin to television. And much in the way that compelling television series like "The Sopranos" or "Lost" will draw you in and then make you yearn for the next episode from week to week, podcast novels deliver the thrills and chills in doses large enough to turn listeners into addicts.

I had been podcasting since mid-2005 and managed to turn it into a lucrative full-time career fairly quickly after I was hired by Podshow, an international media company started by Ron Bloom and ex-MTV VJ Adam Curry. One of the first shows I created for them was "Shadow Falls" which was produced as an all-out audio drama. Full voice cast, cinematic score and sound design, very lush. Big budget. We had a lot of success with it but it took, no lie, about 120 hours of my time to write, produce and edit each episode since in addition to writing I was doing all the post production myself. There was a guy named Scott Sigler who was podcasting his then-unpublished novel "Earthcore" as a serialized audiobook which he alone narrated and was killing in terms of audience size. People were eating up the idea of the serialized novel and when I started listening to it, I got totally hooked. We did six episodes of the first season of "Shadow Falls" and I think "Earthcore" had like 40 episodes so it really hit me that narrated audiobooks could potentially be a much more satisfying way, as a creator, to tell stories in new media.

I had written a screenplay called "Number One with a Bullet" or N1B which was this big summer action movie style story that I had optioned 3 separate times and had gone on a big roller coaster ride with several different producers and directors who were all trying to get it made. One day it occurred to me that if I ever sold the script I'd also be selling the copyright to the story and it's characters and I figured if I turned it into a novel, it would be an intellectual property that would be more difficult to be legally separated from. As an experiment in November 2006, I decided to adapt it and podcast it and almost immediately, it exploded and was doing a huge number of downloads before I'd even gotten halfway through it. Ron and Adam very much wanted me to do another season of Shadow Falls and I agreed but told them only if I could do it as an audiobook, so in February of 2007 I launched a "Shadow Falls "audiobook prequel called "Badlands" while I was doing N1B at the same time. Since then I've gone on to podcast my my college murder thriller "The Doomsday Club", a serial killer thriller "Diary of a Madman", and because I know a lot of my listeners have kids, I just launched an all-ages action, adventure podcast novel "Transistor Rodeo" while I formulate my next twisted, bloody suspense novel for grown ups.

Wait, isn't it against a writer's best interests to give away their work for free like this?

At first I thought that giving away books like this was suicide, but then Sigler went onto get a publishing deal with an indie house. His loyal audience bought his book "Ancestor", the same book they'd been listening to, in droves, and propelled him to #7 overall on Amazon on April 1 of last year. Number 7!. He was only barely behind 2 different versions of "Harry Potter" and 2 versions of "The Secret". This display of the reach of the audience eventually helped land Scott a five book deal with Crown. In addition, another very talented writer, J.C. Hutchins, writer of the mega-popular "7th Son" series hooked up a major deal to release the trilogy with St. Martin's Press.

Now, in this day and age, writers are getting noticed through podcasting and finding monetization for their brand through print sales and sponsorships. When record companies sign bands they look at how many fans that band has, how many MySpace friends, how strongly they can market their brand on the internet. The world of publishing is finally just now starting to realize how well this translates to their business as well.

Talk to me about your own writing process when it comes to online books. From the moment you get an idea to the moment your first installment hits the web… what do you do? How do you proceed?

With "Badlands" I gave myself a month to gather my thoughts and write the first 3 chapters before launch but because I'm usually producing several different shows at once, I fell behind and would literally finish writing a chapter of Badlands and then record it that same day in order to keep on my episode-a-week schedule. Plus, I almost never outline so it was a bit of a scary ride there not knowing exactly what was going to happen until I sat down to write. Scary but exhilarating at the same time. With N1B, I had this completed script but realized half way through that I didn't like the original ending anymore so I added a ton of new material on the fly. My latest horror thriller "Diary of a Madman" came about very quickly and I began podcasting it about two weeks after the concept hit me and was also penning it from week to week with only a thumbnail sketch of the complete arc in mind. With new media, the ability to get your work out there into distribution channels is immediate, so its easy to be presenting your work to an audience in no time.

I try to approach each book with the television series model in mind. Each book is potentially a "season" with its own multi-episodic story arcs within the larger arc of the story, within a much bigger world view of the franchise. This makes it a lot easier to go into the process without an outline because I find the characters always change organically throughout the book. I may know exactly how the season ends but seldom do my initial ideas of how that journey happens stay the same. I'm constantly thinking about it, making little notes that I pray I can find when it comes time every morning to actually write. My process is total chaos, which works for me because of my previous experience as a writer and how strong a believer I am in adhering to the foundation of story structure. I don't reccomend at all writing any book without an outline if you've never done it before.

How is writing an online audio book different from simply writing a novel?

Honestly, it's the same thing. Writing a podcast novel is no different from writing a novel other than the savvy podiobook creators know how to keep the story moving in order to keep the audience glued to their earbuds.

If you approach it like you were writing a TV series, each episode has its own arc within the larger arc and may answer one ongoing question but then ask two more and end on the kind of cliffhanger that leaves your audience gleefully cursing your name for making them wait until the next episode comes out. You can write a podcast novel like any novel, and a lot of podcast authors who have developed strong followings are doing just that. Think of it as finally getting the chance to be your own showrunner. At the end of the day, no matter how you approach it, as long as you create a compelling story with sufficient drama and conflict, the audience will respond and stay with you until the very last word.

One of the biggest strengths of the internet is its interactivity. Do online novels have interactive components? Can readers/listeners interact with the author? How about characters? Can the audience affect the characters or the course of the story?

Ab-so-lutely. Audience feedback is not only welcome but essential. Given the way I write from week to week, chapter to chapter, often by the seat of my pants, I may even have someone send me an e-mail pointing out some little thing that I hadn't thought of that I will then weave into the book. Sometimes you'll get some great fans who will write to you a lot and then when you go and name a small character after them, it blows their minds, which is cool, too. In general what you aspire to is to create a community around yourself as a creator and around each of your books. Sigler's fans call themselves "Junkies". I started calling my N1B fans "Bulletheads" and they wear that badge with honor. I think the reason the fanbase is so rabid and loyal is because they do feel like they are closer to the creator than with any other form of media. I'll do special commentary, either at the end of episodes or in special stand-alone companion episodes and read their e-mails or play their voicemails. I want my audience to be as much a part of the process as they choose. I know of one podcast novel, "The Aurora Hunter" which concludes each episode with a "Choose you own adventure" ending where the audience is asked to vote which path the story will take in the next chapter. As far as I know it's the only one I know of doing that, at the moment.

For some, the podcast of the book is the final product, but my little secret is that I use the podcast as a method of development and discovery for each story. I always end up changing things between when the podcast ends and the print version comes out, polishing stuff, adding extra material and also taking into account any possible audience suggestions or corrections, which also of course gives the fans another reason to want to check out the print version of a story they've already heard. I love my audience and I love it when they write to me or call my toll-free comment line. The social rewards you get from doing podcast audiobooks are tremendous.

If someone reading this piece wanted to write and publish their own online audio book, what are the three best pieces of creative advice you would offer them? (I.e. writing advice—not business/marketing advice).

Structure. Structure. Structure: Okay, that's really only one but proper story structure is the foundation upon which satisfying drama is based upon.

Know your theme: If your story has lots of great action and conflict but no overall theme then all you're providing is stimulation that will grow weary over time. Let me know what your story is about in the general realm of human existence. If you don't know what "theme" is in terms of storytelling then learn it before you write. You'll save yourself a lot of trouble in the long run.

Listen: Go and listen to what I'm doing. Go and listen to what other great writers who are tearing up this medium are doing. Don't listen to Steve Buschemi reading Elmore Leonard to learn what's happening in new media. You have no excuse not to listen because nearly all the podcast novels are free and, like any form of media, many are very good. Every podcast author has a slightly different approach. Some do character voices, some don't. Some use music, some don't. Each one presents an extension of their own creativity. Just know that each of these authors make their work the product of strong desire to present a great story and draw an audience in. If the aim of your writing is to fulfill some kind of therapeutic release of your inner ramblings, you may not find an audience and may end up just talking to yourself, if you're not already.

Even if you don't know how to record/edit your own audio or you're not comfortable doing it in your own voice, don't fret. There's a good chance you might already know someone who is. There are a great many podcasters out there who you could potentially partner with to turn your written word into an audiobook. Leave a message on the Podshow Press messageboard or at Podiobooks.com. I can't stress enough that there have never been more opportunites for writers than there are now. Stop sitting around and wishing you had people who cared about your work because now you can do something about it. For once, the writer is in complete control of finding his or her audience.

What are the best websites for publishing online audio books?

Podiobooks.com is a phenomenal site & community for podcast audiobooks that has been around for more than a couple of years. It's run by a writer named Evo Terra (co-author of "Podcasting for Dummies"), who is extremely passionate about this art form and possibly its biggest advocate.

Because we see massive growth potential in the immediate future, at Podshow, we've launched our print publication division, Podshow Press (www.podshowpress.com) and just put up our beta site where you can find some of the audiobooks on our network. After the phenomenal success of Scott Sigler and J.C. Hutchins we realized there was this exploding audience out there that wanted to own the print version of their favorite podcast novels. Our intention at PSP is to take the best audiobooks that are hosted exclusively on the Podshow Network and bring them to print as a way for authors to monetize their work.

And the follow-up question… if someone reading this wants to write and publish their own online audio book, what are the three best pieces of marketing advice you'd give them? How would you suggest they promote their book and find an audience?

One thing holds true in marketing anything in entertainment: know your audience. If you write science fiction or horror, look for where fans of that kind of work hang out and find ways to join the conversation. Go to messageboards, online groups, etc, and actively take part. Same holds true for finding current authors working in the same genres. Join their online communities and if you ask nicely, those authors will most likely help you promote your book to their fans. Then, create a great promo and send it around to podcasters. Podcasters have audiences who obviously understand the mechanism of new media and most love to play promos in order to help other podcasters out. The audience for podcast audiobooks is rabid and always looking for new ways to get their fix.

Second, and it goes without saying. If you do not have a website for yourself, and/or your book(s), then you need one. In entertainment, your brand needs to be present on the internet in this day and age or you will have a very difficult time in succeeding. It also helps greatly if you are able to build your web presence into one that can be easily found if some potential fan searches for keywords relevant to your product.

Third, and I realize this is completely self-aggrandizing but I've covered a lot of this in much more detail in one of my podcasts, Word Sushi (wordsushi.com). It's a video podcast where I talk about writing with a slant towards taking advantage of this golden age of creativity that new media has created. I shot a multi-part series on how to approach promoting your book during my last trip to Hawaii so even if you don't care what I'm saying, you can still look at the pretty background and the waves crashing on the beach.

The world of online audio books is exploding. Who are some of the big authors out there right now, and where could audiences find their material?

Tee Morris, Mur Lafferty, Scott Sigler, J.C. Hutchins. These folks are rock stars. You can find their stuff at Podiobooks.com.

There are some real up and comers like Seth Harwood and Mike Bennett you can find there as well. Plus we'll be publishing a whole slew of upcoming authors at Podshow Press starting later this year so keep an eye on Podshowpress.com for details and how, as a prospective author, you can help yourself be considered by us.

Also "Number One with a Bullet" comes out in print on Feb 24th with all that bonus material I mentioned and you can find it at any Amazon store worldwide. For details about that or any of my other books and shows check my website at Wordsushi.com.

Any last thoughts?

I've worked in entertainment nearly my whole adult life. Writing and producing my own podcast novels is the single most fun and satisfying thing I've ever done professionally, without a single doubt. Serialization works. After all, it's what helped make Dickens a star.

For a taste of what podiobooks sound like, check out these links to:

A promo for Mark Nemcoff's Transistor Rodeo

The Transistor Rodeo prologue

GUEST PERSPECTIVE: Lincoln Heights' Tracy Grant on... Your First Time in the Writers Room

Chad — Mon, 21 Jan 2008 19:12:47 GMT

Hey, screenwriters--

There's a first time for everything, and for aspiring television writers, few things are more thrilling or memorable than your first job-- that first time in the writers room, that first staff position on an actual TV show.

Of course, that first staff writing gig is often as daunting as it is exciting... the writers room is filled with its own rules of politics and etiquette. Over the next few weeks and months, we'll hear from various TV writers about their experiences in the writers room and their tips for survival.

Today, I'm psyched to bring you a good friend of mine and an amazing writer-- Tracy Grant. Tracy was a member of last year's prestigious Disney Writing Fellowship, then got his first staff writing job on the second season of ABC Family's drama, Lincoln Heights. So, here to talk about his first experience in the TV writers room-- and his advice for succeeding-- is Tracy Grant...

IN HIS OWN WORDS: TRACY GRANT

I can’t even describe the feeling. Giddy? Ecstatic? I don’t know, but driving to the writers’ office and seeing my name on my parking space was memorable. I could have floated into the writers’ room that morning, but I pulled myself together—no way was I going in like a wide-eyed rookie. So when they gave me an order form for our catered lunch, no one knew I didn’t know what it was. I just did what everyone else did until I caught on. TIP #1: ACT LIKE YOU BELONG. This thought guided me through brainstorming in the room, pitching through an episode and meeting privately with my EP (or showrunner), all in the first few days.

When you first start, there are two ways to go: sit back and observe, or jump in. I had no time to sit back and observe, and the showrunner gave me the okay to participate. Obviously it helps to know what you’re talking about, so that your comments have some value. You should also know the situation outside of the room, as there’s invariably a problem to be solved or a disagreement that impacts the workplace, if not the show itself. But how can you know when you’re new? You’re not a mind reader! Which brings us to TIP #2: WHEN IN DOUBT, SHUT THE HELL UP. You can always ask a question privately later, but when you say something dumb, there’s no do over.

As you become more acclimated, you’ll get a feel for the room dynamic, which includes not only the work, but the personalities in the room. If you’re lucky, everyone will get along and the ribbing won’t get to you. But there are always, ALWAYS personality clashes, no matter how lovey-dovey everyone behaves. The writers’ room is collaborative, but remember it’s still a competitive situation—whether it’s for the next script, the next promotion or the next gig. Self-preservation is key, and you do this by doing your job and helping the showrunner however you can. Still, the showrunner isn’t always around, and there are politics among the writers. With that in mind, here’s
TIP #3: CHOOSE YOUR BATTLES, BUT FIGHT WHEN YOU MUST. If you must argue or defend your point, make sure it’s in service to the problem being addressed in the room, or your showrunner’s direction. It’s okay to establish yourself, but make sure it’s as an asset to the show.

These are all tidbits that helped, but by far, the two most important tips go hand-in-hand: #4, BE PREPARED and #5, DO THE WORK. No shortcuts. Take care of business here and everything else will take care of itself. Oh, and don’t forget to have fun.

GUEST PERSPECTIVE: Footsoldiers on the Frontlines

Chad — Mon, 26 Nov 2007 19:02:53 GMT

Over the last three weeks, we've seen a lot of familiar (and famous) faces walking the picket lines and supporting the writers: Sandra Oh, Steve Carell, Alyson Hannigan, Paul Haggis, Jesse Jackson, Katherine Heigl, Alicia Keyes, Greg Daniels, Tina Fey. And while it's great to see the A-listers out there fighting the good fight, the truth is: most of the people on the frontlines aren't top-shelf writers, producers, and showrunners. Many are normal, middle-class writers fighting to put food on their families' tables. But even more are struggling writers who don't work regularly, who live paycheck to paycheck, and for whom losing even one of two months of work can be disastrous to a hopeful career.

These are the people we rarely hear from. Their lives aren't glamourous. They don't live in million-dollar houses or condos (most don't own homes at all). Their agents aren't calling every twenty minutes. They're still pounding the pavement, hoping for a break. And while the outcome streak may not affect them immediately, they're still there-- side by side with the big-guns-- fighting for the rights of writers everywhere.

Today's guest perspective comes from screenwriter Charlie Stickney. You probably haven't heard of him... yet... but when the strike's over, and you get that next residual check, you can give him a bit of thanks...

GUEST PERSEPCTIVE: "NED SAYS NO"

Heart racing, the alarm jolted me awake. Five A.M. W-why? What would possess me to set the alarm for… oh right, time to go walk the line. I threw on my good jeans – only one hole in the knee – and stumbled down to my wife’s 87 Nissan (my car doesn’t run anymore, but that’s a sad story best left for a guest blog on Car Talk) and motored over to Fox. I grabbed a picket sign and started marching. The crisp 58 degrees made me shiver, my LA acclimated skin betraying my New England roots. One of my fellow marchers muttered out loud the question that I’m sure was going through all of our collective heads - Why are we putting ourselves through all this? For me, the answer is simple, I’m a screenwriter, a WGA member and I’m on strike.

Oh the strike, it’s quickly becoming a four letter word around town. The AMPTP would have you view the (insert favorite explicit adjective) strike as a battle between the billionaires and the millionaires. Why? Public relations. Because it’s hard for most people to have sympathy for someone fighting to be able to afford a summer home in the Hamptons, or make sure that their 10 year-old can get unlimited texting on his 8 gig iphone. The baseball strike of '94 made it abundantly clear, no one likes to hear rich people whining regardless of how just their struggles are.

Well, I’m a working writer and as it turns out, no matter how much my wife wishes it were the case, I’m not rich. I’m not a billionaire, I’m not a millionaire, or even *sigh* a thousandaire. Not through lack of trying mind you, but regardless of what you’ve seen WRITTEN (subtle, no?) in the movies, it’s not always that easy.

I wrote a feature that was set up with an independent film company in Europe. They convinced my manager that they had the money to go into production in about a month… that was two years ago. Unfortunately for me the commencement of payment coincides with, surprise, surprise, the commencement of shooting.

I worked in children’s programming where I created an animated series that’s been and still is shown all over the world. But unlike regular television where this would have netted me a small fortune, most daytime animation isn’t covered by the Writers Guild, thus doesn’t pay any of those magic residuals everyone’s fighting for.

I even worked with one of the struck AMPTP companies. A script I wrote was optioned and developed by Sony through Revolution Studios. Then Revolution hired another writer to develop it further. And then another. By the time the final draft was turned in, the script was unrecognizable, unproducible, and Revolution was spiraling out of business.

The truth is it’s really, REALLY tough to make it as a writer in Hollywood.

It’s also just as true that I haven’t had healthcare in two years… that I’ve made less than $10,000 writing in the past eighteen months... and that I have had to take time off of my part time job just to walk the line.

I want this strike to be over as much as anyone. A month before the strike I met with an A-list director, in a meeting set up by an A-list producer with the intention of the two of them packaging a script I wrote and taking it one of the studios for an A-list deal with an A-sized budget. While not a lock, in the biz this is about as sure as a thing gets. But it was all put on hold until the strike resolves. And if the strike goes on for too long, who knows if the director or producer will still be interested in the project, or when I’ll ever get a chance like this again. Still I feel the same now as when I voted for the strike, we need to see this through.

And the truth is seeing it through is tough. I’m a writer without a nest-egg. I have a part time job that barely pays the bills. And these residuals that I’m fighting for, I may never get even if we win the strike. See most screenwriters make the bulk of their living doing uncredited rewrites of other people’s scripts for studios. Getting your own script made is the dream, but that rarely happens. And unless you get credited on a script that’s produced you don’t qualify for dime-one in residuals.

So why am I out here walking the line? Why am I not sitting at home working on a spec that I can hopefully sell once the strike resolves? Why am I not letting the “millionaire” TV writers who stand to benefit most directly from the strike do the heavy lifting? Well, because of people like Ned.

Let’s go back to 6AM this morning, when I was shivering and doubting myself. A tow truck with a gray BMW SUV perched on the back pulled up to the Fox’s delivery gate. A hand-lettered slogan on the side of the cab read “Ned Never Says No.” Turns out “never” meant except for that morning. See the driver (I’m gonna call him Ned) wouldn’t cross the line. He parked his truck on Pico and sat in the turning lane for over two hours. Inside the lot I’m sure some executive was fuming that his BMW wasn’t delivered on time. Perhaps he called the company that Ned worked for and demanded Ned get fired. Maybe Ned lost his job later that afternoon. (I hope not) I’ll never know… the only thing I’m sure of is that Ned understands unions. He understands how important solidarity is and what it means not to cross the line. He knows that when we show a united front, that even the giant corporations behind the studios get nervous.

The truth is while Ned isn’t going to be affected by the outcome of the strike, he put his job on the line for it. And while I may or may not ever make money from internet downloads, they definitely won’t help Ned put his kids through college. The only real question that I should have been pondering pre-sunrise was if Ned and the many teamsters like him are willing to stand up for us, how can we not stand up for ourselves?

So over this Thanksgiving weekend, I am grateful that the sides have agreed to meet again. I’m hopeful that we will be able to come to some quick accord and that everyone can get back to work. But mostly I’m thankful for Ned who’s shown me that we’re all in this fight together. And if Ned’s willing to say no, how could any of us ever say yes.

Charlie can be found most mornings walking the line. He hopes that when (yes, when) this resolves, the writers don’t forget all the teamsters who have stood with us. And, if they ever need our help, that we remember solidarity over the solitary life of a writer.

GUEST PERSPECTIVE: An Agent Speaks Out

Chad — Tue, 20 Nov 2007 17:09:14 GMT

Hundreds of people have been affected by the strike... cameramen, grips, gaffers, assistants. But rarely weighing in on the strike and how it affects them are the agents and agencies: the slick, Armani-wearing salespeople charged with peddling writers' work to the networks and studios.

Agents are in a stickier situation than most... even more than writers and executives, their livelihoods depend on schmoozing and maintaining relationships with both artists and buyers. Thus, taking either side bites the hand that feeds them.

But agencies do feel the fallout. Which is why CAA agent Bryan Lourd has been instrumental in helping producers and writers get negotiations back on track. And William Morris and APA have been sending pizza, drinks, and donuts to the picket line. And Innovative was forced to lay off ten assistants last week and promises more to come (you know, because it's assistants-- not agents-- whose bloated salaries are keeping the company from skating through the strike). (Okay, that last sentence wasn't fair. The Innovative agents don't want to "skate" through the strike... they simply want to survive without reducing their own salaries or giving up the leases on their BMW's. And that would require them to take-- I don't know-- 20% salary cuts so the assistants who support them could keep their jobs. You know... like the UTA agents did so their assistants wouldn't have to starve.)

It's rare to get a glimpse into the agency world, especially at such a volatile, tenuous time. But here with today's guest perspective is one of Hollywood's top literary agents-- who, at their request, shall remain totally anonymous-- to give us a peek behind the Armani curtain...

IN AN AGENT'S OWN WORDS...

It’s very rare in a business that requires you to have ADD, because you’re expected to do ten things at once, that you find yourself with nothing to do. Let me rephrase that – it’s not that I have “nothing to do” so much as that I am not allowed to do anything.

I am a literary agent in the middle of a Writer’s Strike.

At first this seemed novel – I get a break from the exhaustion of going 100mph and my clients can go hold a picket sign for a couple of days to get their much-deserved internet revenue, etc. The first week of the strike didn’t even seem so bad. I could visit clients and potential clients while they could network with showrunners and other writers. Well, we’re now in to day 16 and the bubble hath burst.

Nobody thought this would be quick and easy, but I don’t think most people realized the slow torture we would all endure. After all, we’re not coal miners, or even the teamsters. We’re not a people who are used to hard labor, or even used to having to stand all day long. Writers sometimes stand on set carrying scripts. Now they’re walking back and forth in front of studio gates all day lugging picket signs. They’re not even very loud. It’s a victory if a car honks and bothers someone. This business was not designed for picketing people.

Agents – well, we’re even worse. We’re bred to look polished and busy and sit in plush leather chairs and talk for a living.

An analogy for the TMZ-loving set: Imagine you’re a young pop starlet/actress and all you want is a line of coke. But paparazzi are everywhere and you know that little baggie is sitting there but you just can’t do it. That’s what it’s like being a literary agent during a strike. My phone is sitting right in front of me and I’m not allowed to talk business with any executives. I can give script notes to clients (or rather, I can give them guidance on their thoughts), but I cannot make calls to people I’ve spent my entire career forging relationships with. So, what does that mean for a literary agent? BOREDOM.

What am I supposed to do now that I can’t do what I was hired to do? For some people this must sound great – get paid to do nothing. It was great for a day or two, but this is my livelihood. I live and breathe to be an agent. I enjoy helping my clients set up projects and get jobs. I now wake up in the morning to do nothing… and I hate every minute of it.

Let me walk you through my day so you can get a feel for the mundane…

7 a.m. – Alarm goes off. Hit snooze.

7:10 – Alarm goes off again. Check my Blackberry – the only email is from the spam filter informing me that I can resize my penis. Rethink what I am rushing into the office for and reset the alarm to go off at 8:30.

8:30 – Alarm goes off again. Hit snooze again… 3 more times.

9:00 – Finally get out of bed. Call the office “Any calls?” “Your mother and then your doctor calling to confirm your colonoscopy.”

10:00 – Debate leaving house. Is there something on TiVo I can catch before I go? The Real World. Guilt settles in and I get into the car.

10:30 – Arrive at office. Smile at valet who surely sees my sadness.

10:36 – Walk into office. Read trades… "Look at that, a full-page ad for a scab looking for work." Congratulations, IndieWriter2007@gmail.com, I’m giving you a free plug in hopes the denizens of Hollywood fill your inbox with emails bitching you out. Don’t help the studios let this go on longer!

11:00 – Call some clients because I miss them… a little. “You guys meeting good people out on the lines? Maybe tomorrow you should hit up Sony… they like you over there. Stay strong!”

12:00 p.m. – Think about what I should have for lunch for 20 minutes. It’s easy to get in everywhere since no executives are eating out. I feel bad for waiters losing money over this also.

12:20 – Check Chad Gervich’s blog.

12:40 – Check Nikki Finke’s blog.

1:00 – Leave for lunch and debate about how long the strike will go on.

2:15 – Head back into office. “Any calls?” “Your mom again. She wants to know what time you are coming over for Thanksgiving dinner.” Bang my head against desk for a few minutes.

2:18 – Start online Scrabble game and begin writing this blog. Having multiple things to do at once makes me feel better.

4:20 – The phone rings!!! Yes!!! Someone stopped toking up long enough to call!!! "Hey, uh… is there going to be a script for me to direct for that next episode of that show?" "No. Sorry. They’ll get you in as soon as they come back though."

4:22 - Bang my head on desk again for a few minutes.

4:30 – Realize I am so far ahead in Scrabble that I might as well stop playing. Debate going home. I know a bunch of studio executives have been seeing movies during the day. Maybe I should thang out in a dark theater so we can bond over having nothing to do.

5:00 – Stare at clock…

5:02 – Stare at phone…

5:02 ½ - Stare at clock…

5:03 – Stare at phone…

As an agent you’re one of the busiest people in Hollywood. You’re the center of a wheel and everything is going through you. What you don’t realize is how dependent your livelihood is on other people. I desperately want the phone to ring. I need the phone to ring. I need the validation of my job to know I am doing something worthwhile. To know I am not wasting my life away.

This is what I love, it’s what I live for. To sit and have no control over a situation and only hope that the people who are, or will be, talking to each other are doing everything they can to get us working again.

And then it hits me... this is what it must feel like to be a writer.

Exclusive John Truby Interview!

Chad — Mon, 19 Nov 2007 17:05:57 GMT

Hey, everyone--

Last week, fellow Writers Digest blogger Maria Schneider interviewed legendary screenwriting teacher/theorist/software designer John Truby, best known for designing Blockbuster screenwriting software. Truby has also written for film and television, and his first book, The Anatomy of Story: 22 Steps to Becoming a Master Storyteller, was released last month by Faber and Faber.

Click here to check out Maria's terrific interview...

And click here for John's list of 10 Great Story Mistakes...

GUEST PERSPECTIVE: Strike Fallout... An Assistant Speaks Out

Chad — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 17:28:09 GMT

The writers strike affects more than just writers and studios; it affects everyone from Hollywood's executives and corporate employees to directors and actors. But perhaps no one feels its effect more powerfully than Hollywood's crew people and assistants... the people at the bottom of the industry hierarchy struggling to eke out a living as they climb the ladder toward achieving their dreams. And as studios-- the same studios who can't cough up 2.5% of their backend to pay the workers making their products-- slash jobs and shut down shows, it's not the striking writers who feel this most potently... it's the assistants and crew people who suddenly find themselves out on the streets with no job or income.

So as Script Notes continues to bring you unique voices and perspectives on all things writing-related, here's KATE BURNS, a (former) writers' production assistant on CBS's Shark, who-- along with the rest of the show's assistants and crew-- is spending today packing her desk...

IN HER OWN WORDS: SHARK WRITERS PA KATE BURNS...

Until this afternoon, I was the writers’ production assistant on “Shark,” the James Woods show on CBS. It was a great job for an aspiring tv writer like myself: lots of hands on experience, lots of down time for working on my own stuff, and lots of chances to build relationships with the writers on the show.

Last Sunday night when the WGA went on strike, my job, as well as the jobs of the script coordinator and writers assistants on staff, was put in immediate jeopardy. I’ve known for weeks now that this strike was a distinct possibility and I’ve honed my answer to those who asked me what I planned to do should this eventuality arise to a fine point (“professional dominatrixing. fully clothed on my part. no penetration, but great tips.”) I fully support the writers, and I’ve been intellectually prepared to get behind them for a while now.

The thing is, the reality of strike is harsher and its consequences far more immediate and severe than I think any of us assistants, and certainly any of the writers, fully understood. Since Monday, our suite of writers’ offices has been strangely silent. No writers puttering around, taking their shoes off as they muddle through a stickier story point, making fun of each other for any reason at all. All week, I huddled in the back office with the other writers’ assistants, joking nervously that if production couldn’t see us, they couldn’t fire us.

Since we’ve been expecting it, and since we all want to be writers, we took the certainty of our layoffs in stride. Not that we’re not scared, and not that we want a strike- no one in their right mind actually wanted a strike- but we’ve accepted our lot as cheerfully as possible. When the call came from HR today relieving us of our duties, it was almost a relief- we didn’t have to continue crossing the picket lines each day, only to awkwardly field questions from anyone who realized that we were still at work.

Unfortunately, writers and their assistants are not the only ones who are going to be affected by the strike. The production office and crew are all counting down the days until they too will be jobless- by Thanksgiving, for most of them- and they’re not as cheerfully resigned as we are. I don’t have a family to support or a mortgage to pay, and as an upwardly mobile writers’ assistant, I stand to benefit from an improved WGA contract.

But for many production assistants, coordinators, and other crew people, the work stoppage caused by the strike is going to be a crippling blow. It comes just in time for the holidays, potentially with no end in sight. There were a few lower level production people who I spoke with who, like most of the assistants I know, live paycheck to paycheck, and are fuming mad that the WGA and AMPTP couldn’t at least have tried harder to negotiate a compromise. If the strike is drawn out indefinitely, depriving more and more people of their livelihoods, I’m worried that this resentment will grow and calcify.

I believe fully in the WGA’s demands and the writers’ rights to fair payments. I will be out picketing with them tomorrow, as I have been every day since the strike began. But for the sake of my fellow assistants, of the crew of “Shark” and every other show that’s affected, for the sake of the messengers and the deli at which I used to buy bagels every morning, I fervently hope that the WGA can AMPTP can return to the negotiating table as soon as possible, and resolve this dispute in a way that’s fair not only to the writers, but also to the people who depend on them to make their living.

A Guest Perspective: Notes From the Picket Line

Chad — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 08:32:44 GMT

The writers strike is in full swing here in Los Angeles, with hordes of picketers outside every studio and network in town, fighting for rights of screenwriters across the country. All over Hollywood, TV shows like The New Adventures of Old Christine, Back To You, 'Til Death, and Rules of Engagement have been shut down. I'll continue to give you updates and different perspectives as the days-- and probably weeks-- go on, but you can get a great play-by-play at Nikki Finke's Hollywood Deadline Daily.

In the mean time, Script Notes has a special treat today... our first exclusive guest perspective!

Comedy writer LESLEY WAKE WEBSTER has written on Kitchen Confidential, What I Like About You, and That 80's Show. She's currently a writer-producer on ABC's Notes From the Underbelly, and she hit the picket lines Monday afternoon. It's a unique experience out on the frontlines, so Lesley took some time to tell Script Notes what it's like in the heat of the strike...

NOTES FROM THE PICKET LINE
By Lesley Wake Webster

Monday, November 5, 1 PM: I showed up at Warner Brothers Studios to join the WGA picket line. Everywhere I looked, there were writers in red t-shirts holding signs of protest; it was an amazing display of solidarity. As we marched and chanted, I had the privilege to talk to writers of incredibly diverse backgrounds. I chatted with staff writers who’d just joined the guild, with showrunners who couldn’t stop worrying about their employees and with veterans who vividly remembered the 1988 strike. From these conversations, one thing became crystal clear: we have good reason to be united. Though the Writer’s Guild has over twelve thousand members, there are really only five people in the picket line, and you meet them over and over again.

1. The Class Clown
• Picket line personality: Boisterous and friendly. Dances, waves to passing cars and convinces everyone to go to El Torito for margaritas afterwards.
• Most likely to have been kicked out of high school, dropped out of college or booed off a stage.
• Became a writer after trying to make a living by acting, bartending and/or selling childhood toys on Ebay.
• Can’t believe how much fun this is. Striking is even less work than writing!

2. The Good Girl
• Picket line personality: Cheerful and polite. Participates in chants, recycles everyone’s water bottles and makes sure that no one enters the crosswalk after the blinking orange hand appears.
• Most likely to have been class valedictorian, editor of the yearbook or a member of “Up With People.”
• Became a writer after receiving a Hello Kitty diary on her eighth birthday. After years of secretly journaling, the Good Girl shocked her parents and herself by quitting a perfectly respectable job in public relations to write for TV and film.
• Can’t believe she’s actually participating in a social protest. Oh my!

3. The Sullen Outsider
• Picket line personality: Aloof and slouchy.
• Most likely to love Russian novels and have been forbidden to watch TV as a child.
• Became a writer because it is the most important work in the world.
• Can’t believe how shallow most TV shows and films are. Perhaps this strike will clear out the dead wood and create a hunger for serious, important work like his two-hundred page screenplay, Death in the Time of Genocide.

4. The Fat Guy with a Beard
• Picket line personality: jovial and determined. For someone who spends most of his time sitting in front of a computer, he’s got surprising physical stamina.
• Most likely to be insanely wealthy and have created your favorite movie or TV show.
• Became a writer after a childhood spent indiscriminately watching TV. Can quote entire episodes of The Twilight Zone and Gilligan’s Island.
• Can’t believe that the AMPTP thinks it can break the WGA. As surely as rock beats scissors, the fat guys with beards will beat the fat guys in suits.

5. The Eager Beaver
• Picket line personality: Enthusiastic to a fault. Wants to meet everyone else in the picket line and know what they’ve worked on.
• Most likely to be a Dungeon Master and/or a virgin.
• Became a writer because, unlike in P.E., no one tried to give him a wedgie in creative writing class.
• Can’t believe he just saw Joss Whedon!

Lesley Wake Webster is a Good Girl and a writer on Notes from the Underbelly.