Script Notes by Chad Gervich - Writing Advice

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.

Two and a Half Men: Giving Characters Tangible Wants & Conflicts

Chad — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 02:25:19 GMT

I often talk in my TV-writing classes about the importance of giving characters TANGIBLE wants, obstacles, conflicts, etc. In other words, we sometimes give our characters internal objectives and obstacles-- like the desire to find love, absolve guilt, give forgiveness, be at peace, etc.-- but it's important to find physical, tangible, or visual ways of dramatizing these internal conflicts.

For example, in Almost Famous, William's external "want" is to publish an article in Rolling Stone, but his deeper "emotional" want is to be seen and validated as an adult.

Sometimes, like in Almost Famous, our characters' external wants are organic to the very premise of the story; other times, we have to dream something up in order to bring the story to life.

A great example of this was last Monday's season premiere of Two and a Half Men, where they did a nice job of doing exactly that: taking Charlie's internal conflict and finding a fun way of "externalizing" it.

Basically, Charlie is engaged to his fiance, Chelsea, when a long-lost love, the gorgeous Mia, returns and asks his help recording an album. Charlie obliges, but soon finds himself falling for Mia. Although he loves Chelsea, he's conflicted about his feelings for Mia.

Now, this could've easily turned into a hard-to-dramatize internal conflict, with Charlie spending the episode just pulling out his hair and wringing his hands-- which wouldn't be very dramatic or comedic, and wouldn't speak much to his internal conflict. But writers Chuck Lorre, Mark Roberts, and Lee Aronsohn did something remarkably simple and effective: they gave Charlie a severe case of constipation.

Then, just to connect all the dots, they wrote a scene between Charlie and his therapist, where the therapist points out that Charlie's constipation began three days ago... just when Mia resurfaced in Charlie's life.

Now, constipation had practically NOTHING to do with the rest of the story; it wasn't a medical story, the writers didn't explore any physiological causes of the constipation, Charlie never went to the doctor. It's a totally-- and almost obviously-- artificial device... but it WORKS. By tying Charlie's constipation directly to his internal struggle, we knew exactly what it meant... and Charlie spent the rest of the episode moaning, waddling, limping, groaning, and struggling to get through his day while battling this constant constipation. What he's really battling, of course, is his horrible internal decision... but the writers didn't have to keep pounding that, because they'd found a much funnier, more dramatic, more tangible and visual way of conveying his internal conflict.

Anyway, if you haven't seen the episode-- click HERE to watch it online.

And if you get nothing out of it, you'll at least get this... THE LATEST TV APPEARANCE BY EDDIE VAN HALEN. If that's not a reason to watch this episode... or at least this clip... ad nauseum, I don't know what is. (Seriously, I've watched this clip over and over... and it's probably the only thing that'll keep me alive till the-- supposedly-- new Van Halen album/tour comes out next year...)

SHARLA'S QUESTION: Are web scripts useful writing samples?

Chad — Sun, 03 May 2009 01:16:49 GMT

Hey, folks—

Today’s reader question comes from Sharla. First of all, I have to say—Sharla, MAJOR THANKS for your super-nice comments on Small Screen, Big Picture! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it… and I’m glad you found it helpful!

As for your question… here it is:

“I’ve been hearing everywhere that original work is now basically an essential part of any aspiring writer’s repertoire. As I start to work on my next project, I’m wondering, would a season of a web series be a valuable writing sample to have? I’m very interested in scripted web shows, and I had an idea for a series – I think the story would probably take ten to fifteen 4 minute episodes to tell. I don’t (yet) have the resources or knowledge to produce the show myself, but I’m wondering if this collection of short scripts could serve as a good sample of original work. Of course, I’d like to work my way up to where I could actually make the series and get it out on the internet, but for now, I’m wondering how this material might work solely as a writing sample.”

This is a really interesting question, but I think the answer is: while an original TV sample (i.e. an original pilot) or a screenplay is usually optimal, YEAH—original web scripts could work… ESPECIALLY IN COMEDY.

Most shortform Internet comedy is basically some kind of sketch, and those kinds of pieces are very usable in television… not only for genuine sketch shows, but for late-night stuff like Conan, The Tonight Show, Jimmy Kimmel, etc. They can also be helpful to get jobs writing for “alternative comedy” projects, which may include things like The Soup and Best Week Ever, or even stuff like South Park and Adult Swim.

If you idea is more dramatic, then it may be tougher… drama doesn’t tend to be as successful online, and I’m not sure how shortform drama would read on the page. Having said that… I’ve seen people use essays, short stories, plays, even lists of jokes as original material. If it’s strong writing, it can be used.

What’s most important is that a reader can look at your material and get a sense of who you are as a writer… your unique voice and vision, what you’ll bring to a TV writers room. Often, the best way to do that is with something intended for the same medium: television. But if you have a powerful short story, or a very moving play, or a brilliantly written web series… use it!!

I hope that helps, Sharla—please don’t hesitate to email if you have more questions!

READER QUESTION: E. Daniels and Peggy's Questions - Good TV-Writing Resources

Chad — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 06:30:05 GMT

Today’s reader question—which is long overdue—comes from E. Daniels. In fact, today’s reader question is DOUBLY long overdue, because I recently found a handful of emails you guys sent over the past year that, somehow, I never answered.

So first of all: I apologize to everyone who emailed me and never got an answer. I try to answer every email I get… but occasionally some fall through the cracks. I also try to answer most emails in a timely manner… but again, some fall through the cracks. Sometimes they fall through the cracks because I just get so many emails I fall behind. I also try to space out similar posts and answers (i.e., I don’t like to post two book reviews or movie reviews back-to-back), so questions occasionally get pushed around so much they never get posted. And sometimes, honestly, I just get overwhelmed and forget.

But I try not to… so I apologize for all times previously, and in the future, when your emails get delayed or forgotten or disappeared. It’s not intentional, I promise… and I’m always trying to be better!

So today’s question comes from E. Daniels… and from Peggy, who emailed me last year… and I’m tying their questions together.

E. Daniels’ asks:

“Do you have any book recommendations for people writing their first (non-procedural drama) pilot? It seems like writing a TV pilot is completely different from writing a spec of an existing show, a feature, etc. And yet, those other formats have books dedicated to them, and the most I can find on pilot writing is a couple of chapters squeezed in between sections on breaking in and working on staff. I'm looking more for a book on writing, specifically. Any ideas?”

And Peggy asks:

“I love Law & Order: SVU, and I am working on a script. Any suggestions for me?”

Now, to be fair, these are fairly different questions… writing a pilot is a VERY different process from writing an episodic spec script. However, both are also incredibly complex processes about which entire books have been written… which is basically to say, Peggy, that rather than just give you some random “suggestions,” I’d like to steer you toward some helpful resources and broad techniques… which will also help E. Daniels.

So, E. Daniels…

Here are some TV-writing books that I find helpful and interesting (or have had recommended to me) that deal with the pilot-writing process…

• Writing the TV Drama Series: How to Succeed as a Professional Writer in TV, by Pamela Douglas
• The TV Writer's Workbook: A Creative Approach To Television Scripts , by Ellen Sandler
• Write to TV: Out of Your Head and onto the Screen, by Martie Cook
• Small Screen, Big Picture, by yours truly (I promise—I’m not just throwing it in here to promote my own book. The truth is, this book isn’t much about the actual writing process… it talks about the business/practical side of television—and how that affects the creative side of developing pilots. In other words, this book may not tell you how to write a pilot, but it may help you understand some of what networks and studios—as businesses—are looking for in pilots they buy and acquire. And as such, it'll hopefully help you understand what to do, not do, etc.-- basically, how to design a pilot that is-- in theory-- sellable.)

But I think the best thing to study when writing a pilot… IS OTHER PILOTS. (And likewise, Peggy, the best things to study when writing a spec are episodes of the show you’re writing. Which I’m sure you already know, but I think the key is actually HOW you study them…)

A cool piece of advice:

Just as you can set your Tivo to search for shows or movies with your favorite actors and directors, you can also set your Tivo to search for the word “pilot,” and it’ll record any pilots that come on TV… not just pilots of new shows, but RERUN pilots as well. So it’ll often capture everything from brand new pilots to pilots for shows like E.R. and I LOVE LUCY.

Now, like I said, the key is HOW you study your pilots or episodes. I have a very specific process I like to use…

STEP #1) I watch each episode with the timecode on, writing down every beat, or new piece of narrative information, as it happens. (Or better yet, get the scripts and analyze the beats on each page.) In other words, every time something happens that pushes the story forward, I write it down, with the exact timecode when it happens. My pen almost never stops moving. I often find there’s a relevant new piece of information almost every 30 seconds.

So—in very broad strokes—a section of “beats” might look like this (I’m making these beats up):

14:27 – Chandler brings home Sabrina, a girl he wants to date
14:50 – Chandler introduces Sabrina to Joey, Joey acts weird around her
15: 21 – Chandler goes into the bathroom
15:35 – Joey asks Sabrina what she’s doing here, Sabrina tells him to leave
15:52 – Learn Joey and Sabrina hooked up two days ago
16:19 – Chandler returns, ready to take Sabrina to the movies
17:00 – Chandler invites Joey to join them at the movies
17:12 – Joey says no
17:30 – Chandler begs Joey to come, explaining that if his best friend doesn’t like his girlfriend, he can’t date her

You get it.

STEP #2) I identify how each beat functions in the show. For instance (I change the character’s name to “A-Character” to help distance myself from the actual characters)…

14:27 – Chandler brings home Sabrina, a girl he wants to date – LEARN A-CHARACTER’S WANT
14:50 – Chandler introduces Sabrina to Joey, Joey acts weird around her – A-CHARACTER INTRODUCES HIS “WANT/PRIZE” W/ THE B-CHARACTER, MOST IMPORTANT IN HIS LIFE – INTRODUCE MAIN CONFLICT
15: 21 – Chandler goes into the bathroom – A-CHARACTER LEAVES HIS WANT/PRIZE WITH IMPORTANT PERSON
15:35 – Joey asks Sabrina what she’s doing here, Sabrina tells him to leave – ILLUMINATE CONFLICT BETWEEN B-CHAR & WANT/PRIZE
15:52 – Learn Joey and Sabrina hooked up two days ago – HISTORY/EXPOSITION OF B-CHAR AND WANT/PRIZE
16:19 – Chandler returns, ready to take Sabrina to the movies – A-CHAR TAKES ACTION TO OBTAIN WANT
17:00 – Chandler invites Joey to join them at the movies – A-CHAR UNKNOWINGLY STOKES CONFLICT
17:12 – Joey says no – OBSTACLE TO A-CHAR’S ACTION
17:30 – Chandler begs Joey to come, explaining that if his best friend doesn’t like his girlfriend, he can’t date her – RAISE STAKES FOR A-CHAR

STEP #3) I remove the specific beats of the show, leaving me with just the “beat definitions.” Like this…

14:27 – LEARN A-CHARACTER’S WANT
14:50 – A-CHARACTER INTRODUCES HIS “WANT/PRIZE” W/ THE B-CHARACTER, MOST IMPORTANT IN HIS LIFE – INTRODUCE MAIN CONFLICT
15: 21 – A-CHARACTER LEAVES HIS WANT/PRIZE WITH IMPORTANT PERSON
15:35 – ILLUMINATE CONFLICT BETWEEN B-CHAR & WANT/PRIZE
15:52 – HISTORY/EXPOSITION OF B-CHAR AND WANT/PRIZE
16:19 – A-CHAR TAKES ACTION TO OBTAIN WANT
17:00 – A-CHAR UNKNOWINGLY STOKES CONFLICT
17:12 – OBSTACLE TO A-CHAR’S ACTION
17:30 – RAISE STAKES FOR A-CHAR

You now have a step-by-step outline, a map, to structuring a work-able story in the style/tone of a show similar to yours… so you can simply lay your own story beats right on top of the structure. Like this…

14:27 – LEARN A-CHARACTER’S WANT – Jason wants to convince Mr. Stony to buy his business proposal
14:50 – A-CHARACTER INTRODUCES HIS “WANT/PRIZE” W/ THE B-CHARACTER, MOST IMPORTANT IN HIS LIFE – INTRODUCE MAIN CONFLICT – Jason introduces Mr. Stony to his business partner, Tommy
15: 21 – A-CHARACTER LEAVES HIS WANT/PRIZE WITH IMPORTANT PERSON – Jason gets called away to take a phone call
15:35 – ILLUMINATE CONFLICT BETWEEN B-CHAR & WANT/PRIZE – Tommy and Mr. Stony begin discussing sports
15:52 – HISTORY/EXPOSITION OF B-CHAR AND WANT/PRIZE – Mr. Stony is a die-hard Red Sox fan… and Tommy is a die-hard Yankees fan
16:19 – A-CHAR TAKES ACTION TO OBTAIN WANT – Jason returns, ready to discuss his proposal
17:00 – A-CHAR UNKNOWINGLY STOKES CONFLICT – Jason asks Tommy to stick around for the discussion
17:12 – OBSTACLE TO A-CHAR’S ACTION – Mr. Stony tries to leave to avoid being in the room with Tommy
17:30 – RAISE STAKES FOR A-CHAR – Mr. Stony says he’ll call Jason later to discuss the proposal, but he must make a decision by tonight (ticking clock)

Now— I am NOT saying this new story is a GOOD story. (I literally just scribbled down these beats over 45 seconds as an example.) But the point is… once you have a workable template, it becomes VERY easy to lay down beats and structure your story.

Of course, like with any map, you are allowed to deviate from the path to explore other routes. If you have a great brainstorm or a flash of genius—by all means: follow it. The map is simply meant to illuminate how other successful stories have worked; it’s giving you a blueprint for the house—your job is to paint the walls, buy furniture, hang art, etc.

So E. Daniels—why this isn’t exactly the question you asked, I hope those book suggestions help, but I also think the best research is to really deconstruct pilot episodes of shows that work similarly (narratively and thematically) to yours.

And Peggy—my best advice for your Law & Order: SVU spec is to analyze as many episodes as you possibly can. You’ll begin to notice patterns in how they reveal information, build acts, etc. And this will be more helpful to your spec than any book or tidbits of advice.

Anyway, I hope this helps… and sorry it took so long to get to your questions! And for the rest of you out there… please keep writing! I have some questions in the cue, which I promise to get to ASAP, and we have lots more great things coming up!

Talk to you all soon…

Chad

READER QUESTION: How Do I Spec a Serialized Show like "Damages?"

Chad — Sat, 07 Feb 2009 19:01:07 GMT

Today’s reader question comes from Chuck, who asks…

“I love 'Damages', the show. How would you spec a show like Damages when the entire season is one long arc - like one long movie? Same as '24.' Is that possible?”

Well, Chuck, the short (and unfortunate) answer is: I probably wouldn’t spec a “Damages”... because of the very problems you’re stumbling upon. It’s nearly impossible, for a multitude of reasons…

1) Highly serialized shows—like “Damages,” “24,” “Lost,” etc.—have constantly evolving plots and characters, so it’s very tough to write a spec that has any kind of shelf-life. By the time you’ve finished it, the stories and people have often changed so much that your script—even if it’s only a few weeks old—already feels outdated.

2) Because highly serialized shows rarely tell standalone stories (episodes that have their own satisfying beginning, middle, and end), writing a spec of that show is almost counter-productive. After all, your job is to capture the tone and pace of the show… but also to show off your storytelling chops… but it’s tough to write a script that does both when the very nature of the show you’re speccing is antithetical to standalone storytelling. In other words, you might right a terrific standalone spec of “Damages,” but you run the risk of having just written a brilliant story… that doesn’t feel like the show.

3) Most serialized shows aren’t gigantic hits, and—even with those that are—many people aren’t up to speed on exactly where the show is each week. Which means there’s a limited audience of people who can actually read or “get” your spec. And even for genuine “Damages” fans, they may not be up to speed on exactly where the show is… which makes it hard for them to fully understand or appreciate your spec. (I.e., I like “Damages,” but I tend to record a bunch of episodes, then watch them all at once… so as of right now, I’m not really caught up on this season.)

Having said all this, a couple pseudo-caveats…

I always say that if you’re incredibly, desperately passionate about something… you have to write it. So if you have an awesome idea for a “Damages” story chewing its way out of you… WRITE IT! If it’s brilliant, someone will read it and appreciate it. And even if it’s not brilliant… or even if no one ever reads or appreciates it… you’ll have the fun of telling and exorcising that story—which, at the very least, will be a terrific exercise and make you a stronger writer.

Also, people occasionally write what I call “novelty specs,” or specs that less about mimicking a show and more about playing with the form of the program itself. I talked about “novelty specs” a couple weeks ago, when I talked about the spec “Taxi” and “Two of a Kind” scripts I had read, in my response to Erica’s spec-writing question.

There’s always the possibility of writing a “novelty spec” of “Damages.” For instance, you could write a spec that imagines what Ellen’s life would be like if David, her fiance, had never been murdered. Or you could write your own “season three opener,” with a gripping teaser—several months in the future—that then flashes back six months.

I’m not necessarily recommending this route. As I said to Erica, writing a novelty spec is a risky endeavor that can backfire and make you look foolish. But if you’re passionate about a particular show, and can execute an interesting novelty story well, it can make a fun and intriguing sample script.

Hope that helps, Chuck… and if you—or anyone else reading—has other questions, please feel free to email me at WDScriptNotes@FWPubs.com… or simply post them in the comments section below!

Joss Whedon's Writing Tips

Chad — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 23:14:34 GMT

Special thanks to Brian Klems for finding this awesome piece with Joss Whedon's top ten writing rules (compliments of Catherine Bray, 4Talent magazine, and Danny Stack). I found this super-helpful... especially the first one, which-- quite honestly-- is a HUGE problem of mine.

Anyway, happy MLK Day, and click HERE enjoy some sage advice from Joss!

Breaking into Television: My Interview with Alex Epstein

Chad — Sun, 28 Dec 2008 21:37:41 GMT

Hey, folks--

Just wanted to point you to an interview I recently did with Alex Epstein, TV writer and author of Crafty TV Writing: Thinking Inside the Box and Crafty Screenwriting: Writing Movies That Get Made. Alex writes the "Complications Ensue" blog, which-- if you're not already reading it-- is a terrific blog about TV and film writing.

Anyway, Alex has just posted the first of a four-part interview in which we discuss everything from how to get your scripts into the hands of producers to common mistakes made by aspiring writers to how to pitch reality shows.

Click HERE to check out the interview... and I hope you enjoy!

Chad

UPDATE (12/29/08): Part Two has now been posted! Click HERE to take a read!

UPDATE (12/30/08): Part Three has now been posted! Click HERE to take a read!

UPDATE (12/31/08): Part Four has now been posted! Click HERE to take a read!

READER QUESTION: How Do I Write Fight Scenes?

Chad — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 00:11:22 GMT

Today’s reader question comes from Mel, who posted this in response to my review of Quantum of Solace, the new James Bond movie. Mel writes…

“I… have been thinking about fight scenes. How are they written? How do people make them jump off the page and come to life?”

Well, Mel, at the risk of giving you a “non-answer,” I’m not sure there’s any one way—or any one set of rules or guidelines—to writing successful fight scenes… just as there’s no one way to tell a great story or write a moving poem or choreograph a beautiful waltz. Different writers have different styles, voices, and approaches, and each writer’s unique skill-set infuses the way he or she writes fight scenes.

I would say this, however…

It is essential that a well-written fight scene capture the speed, violence, motion, pacing, and energy of the fight itself. I’ve read scripts where the stage directions of fight scenes are stark and straightforward, like this…

Roger levels his knife at Ned’s throat.

                              ROGER
                  You son of a bitch…

He lunges. Ned blocks. Roger stabs again. Ned ducks… Roger fakes to the left… then grab’s Ned’s arm and hurls him into the icy water.

Others are more descriptive, using the fight’s emotional intensity to bring to life its choreography…

There, looming in the doorway, stands Gilbert… his hulking frame silhouetted in the sickly moonlight.

                             CINDY
                  Where's my baby?...

And as three months of hate and rage gurgle out of her throat, Cindy launches herself forward… a lioness… her gaunt skeleton smashing into Gilbert’s bloated torso. She claws… bites… scratches… every point of contact a searing memory of what this monster did to her daughter.

                             GILBERT
                  Wait... I'll tell you...

He tries to toss her aside, but it’s no use. Gilbert’s fists are liquid… his pleas futile… Cindy is nothing but a seething burst of vengeance.

For someone struggling with writing fight scenes, I’d first suggest studying the scripts of fight scenes you really admire… as well as some recent and seminal action/fighting movies, like the Jason Bourne movies, The Transporter movies, James Bond, The Matrix, etc. Here are some links to movies with great action and fight scenes (courtesy of the Internet Movie Script Database)…

The Bourne Ultimatum, by Tony Gilroy, George Nolfi, and Scott Z. Burns
Highlander, by Gregory Widen
Alien, by Walter Hill and David Giler
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, by Wang Hui Ling, James Schamus, and Tsai Kuo Jung

As for me, here are some hints and tips I like to use when writing my own action and fight scenes…

• AVOID ADVERBS AND ADJECTIVES. You want your fight scene to read as fast and energetically as the actual fight… and adverbs and adjectives are descriptive words that slow down the action. Thus, try to use the most kinetic verbs possible.

Instead of:

Jack runs speedily across the stage, leaping into the air and bringing his elbow down painfully into Lance’s shoulder…

Why not:

Jack races across the stage… lunges… and smashes into Lance’s shoulder…

• USE SENTENCE FRAGMENTS. Full sentences can sometimes seem long and “formal,” rather than reflecting the quick and frantic pace of a fight.

Instead of:

Claude punches, his fist arcing through the air toward Raymond’s face. Raymond ducks and returns the blow. Blood spurts from Claude’s cheek. Claude howls, sending his skull headbutting into Raymond’s already battered nose…

Why not:

Claude punches. Raymond ducks… swings… connects. Blood sprays. Claude howls… reels… and smashes his skull into Raymond’s nose.

• DON’T BE AFRAID OF USING SOUND EFFECTS LIKE A COMIC BOOK. Comic books often plant fun action words like “Bam” and “Smash” and “Crunch” in their frames. While overdoing this can be cheesy, using it sparingly can work to great effect. For instance…

Instead of:

Grace inches through the mine shaft, her eyes searching the darkness for movement. Nothing. Suddenly, the yeti leaps out of a crevice, shrieking as it claws at Grace’s throat…

Why not:

Grace creeps into the shaft. All is still. She inches closer… stops… was that a noise? She waits. Nothing. Takes another step and—

WHAM! The yeti’s claws CRUNCH into Grace’s spine. Fangs tear into her flesh… claws slice at her belly… and as the yeti’s jaws close on Grace’s throat—

THWAP! Her axe finds its mark.

• DON’T FORGET DIALOGUE. There’s rarely much speech in great action scenes, but without dialogue to break up stage directions, even the fastest, most action-packed fights can appear dense and overwhelming on the page. And no matter how brilliant your fight scene may actually be, if it’s not fun and fast to read, it’ll never make it to the screen. So I like to sprinkle in dialogue—even if it’s just grunts and moans—to make the scene easier on the eye. Like this…

Instead of:

Katherine’s sword clatters to the floor. She dives… but not before Conrad’s blade plunges into her leg. She howls in agony… writhes… and kicks. Her boot crunches into Conrad’s gut. He reels… she wrenches his dagger from her thigh… lunges… and drives the knife into his neck. Conrad screams. His fingers claw at Katherine’s face, bloody spittle spraying from his lips. Katherine drives the knife deeper. And slowly… slowly… Conrad crumples onto the cold bricks.

Why not:

Katherine’s sword clatters to the floor. She dives as--

                              KATHERINE
                  Aangh!

Conrad’s dagger plunges into her leg. Katherine whirls and--

BAM! Her boot crunches into Conrad’s gut.

                              KATHERINE
                       (Yanking out the knife)
                  I warned you…

CRUNCH! The blade smashes into Conrad’s neck. Blood sprays from his lips.

                              CONRAD
                  No… please…

                              KATHERINE
                  Sorry, Dad… I can’t hear you…

She twists the knife deeper and… THUD. Conrad’s lifeless body hits the bricks.

I’ll be honest, Mel… fight scenes—while they often seem fast and visceral—are often one of the toughest things to write. They not only have to be incredibly economical in their conveyance of action, but they have to deliver the emotional goods as well. When I’m writing a fight scene or action scene, it usually takes many drafts—nine, ten, sometimes more—before I feel good about it. But I try to keep these hints and tricks in mind… and I’ll often refer back to fight scenes from other writers, scripts, and movies I admire to use as a guide.

I hope this is helpful… good luck… and feel free to post more questions in the comments sections… or email them to WDScriptNotes@FWPubs.com.

And now, for your viewing pleasure, here's the awesome Bourne Ultimatum spoof that Matt Damon and Guillermo did last year on Jimmy Kimmel Live!...

Matt Damon & Guillermo on Jimmy Kimmel Live

TV Writing Interview: Part III... Take a Listen

Chad — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 00:17:31 GMT

Hey, everyone--

Here's the third part of the 3-part podcast interview I did with Judith Parker Harris and the Alive! Authors Network. Take a listen... we talk about the politics and logistics of being a TV writer, frequent mistakes aspiring writers make, and how to break in and launch a successful career.

Click HERE to check it out!

(And here's Part I and Part II...)

And coming up, we've got some great reader questions... book reviews... and more pitch workshop entries!

Best Book Recommendation EVER!

Chad — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 22:00:31 GMT

Hey, everyone--

I'm super-psyched to announce that my new (and first) book, Small Screen, Big Picture: A Writer's Guide to the TV Business (which officially comes out November 25), is now available for pre-order on Amazon, Borders, and Barnes & Noble!

The book is a user-friendly "business guide" for aspiring TV writers. It explains the differences between networks, studios, and production companies... how TV series make money... the new show development and production process... and how all this affects the creative process. It then talks about what happens in a writers room... how to break in and get your first writing job... and how to survive once you're there.

It also features interviews with almost 200 working TV professionals... network and studio executives from almost every network and studio (NBC, ABC, FOX, the CW, TNT, Comedy Central, E!, you name it)... showrunners, writers, and producers from all your favorite shows (Lost, Psych, Dexter, Life, Army Wives, Alias, Prison Break, Buffy, 24... and more)... and agents from Hollywood's top TV agencies (UTA, ICM, APA, Gersh, etc.).

Now, granted, I’m biased, but if you’re an aspiring TV writer… or even just love television and learning how it works… I think/hope this is a really helpful, important book. Most books focus on the creative aspects of being a TV writer: how to write comedy, how to structure a pilot, how to pitch a show, etc. Small Screen, Big Picture looks at these things… but from a business perspective: what executives really want, how to design a show that will be profitable for its studio, what agents need to get you work, etc.

So please… take a look… and lemme know what you think!

TV Writing Interview: Part II... Take a Listen!

Chad — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 00:23:02 GMT

Hey, everyone--

A couple weeks ago, the Alive! Authors Network posted the first part of Breaking In and Breaking Through the TV Business, Judith Parker Harris's 3-part interview with me about TV writing... how to get your foot in the door, get noticed, and excel in the world of television.

Well, Judith has now posted Part II... so please CLICK HERE take a listen to the next installment, and lemme know what you think!

In the mean time, have a great weekend... enjoy your extra hour... and Part III will be up soon!

Chatting About TV Writing... Take a Listen!

Chad — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 05:47:10 GMT

Hey, everyone--

Just wanted to invite you all to listen to a recent podcast interview I did on the Alive! Authors Network... all about TV writing and the TV industry.

This is the first of a 3-part interview I did, called Breaking In and Breaking Through the TV Business, with podcast host Judith Parker Harris. We talk about finding your own voice, common mistakes, ageism in Hollywood, how to deal with criticism, show business myths and misnomers... and more!

Click HERE to go to the podcast...

Take a listen and lemme know what you think... the next two segments will be available over the next few weeks!

PITCH WORKSHOP/READER QUESTION: The Importance of Loglines

Chad — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 06:42:17 GMT

Hey, everyone—

Just wanted to give a quick follow-up to Tuesday’s episode of the Script Notes Pitch Workshop… and an answer to a question asked by Scott, the author of Tuesday’s Pitch Workshop entries. Scott writes:

“Wow, thank you so much for all your help. You are completely right, I know what the story is about but I have not explained that. I think i just found it so hard to distill my ideas into one or two sentences that I end up just writing generic lines.

Should I expand them a bit beyond two sentences? Or should I focus more on keeping it short but packing more information in? I could write a paragraph which would be a lot simpler and easier to read, but I dont want to write too much.”

Scott… I’m so glad you asked, because I get this question a lot: some version of “I can’t distill my story idea into just one sentence,” or “My story is too complicated to be condensed into a single line.”

It’s a common challenge… every writer goes through it… but here’s my answer… (and I’m gonna sound like an asshole when I say this, so I’m just gonna say it)…

If you can’t distill your story into a single sentence, you don’t yet know what your story IS.

Now, I know what you’re thinking… “Of course, I know what my story is… it’s my story… how would you know if I know it or not?!” But bare with me…

There’s not a story in the world that can’t be boiled down to one sentence. The Iliad, Citizen Kane, A Rose For Emily, The Office, Freddy Vs. Jason, Dragnet… every tale in the history of the world can be told in a single line. Take a look…

• Kim, a twentysomething recovering drug addict, must confront the ghosts of her family’s past when she returns home from rehab the week of her sister’s wedding. (Rachel Getting Married)

• Liz, a thirtysomething TV writer, attempts to maintain her artistic integrity, vision, and sense of self as she produces a sketch show under the aegis of a massive commercial corporation. (30 Rock)

• When terrorists kidnap the president and take over the White House, Mitch Rapp—a level-headed, tough-as-nails secret agent—must single-handedly do what the ineffectual U.S. government can not: infiltrate the White House, rescue the president, and defeat the terrorists. (Transfer of Power)

Now, these loglines aren’t necessarily perfect, but I do think they sift out each story’s essence: the story’s main character, what that character wants, obstacles in her path, and a sense of how the story works emotionally.

So being able to write a logline isn’t just developing a sales tool, a succinct blip to quickly communicate your story… it’s an exercise to help YOU understand the basic nut of your story, it’s primary narrative and emotional engine.

THIS is the most important purpose of the logline… to laser-focus you on the core of your story. Which is why I say: if you can’t tell your story in a single logline, you don’t yet know what that core is.

Perhaps you’re trying to tell too many stories at once… perhaps you don’t fully understand your main character… but until you can articulate your story in one tight sentence, you still have some developing and pre-writing to do.

Anyway, Scott… I hope this helps (without sound too asshole-y)… and please keep reading and posting! Coming up in the next few days, we have more Pitch Workshop entries, new movie reviews, some great new websites, and more!

Chad

PITCH WORKSHOP: ENTRY 4

Chad — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 15:25:56 GMT

Hey, everyone—

Today’s submission to the Script Notes Pitch Workshop comes from Scott, who submits loglines for two feature ideas. So before we dive in… Scott—thank you so much for sending these! The Pitch Workshop is one of my favorite parts of doing this blog, and I always wish people would use it more. So A) I really appreciate you submitting, and B) I hope this feedback—and the feedback you get from other readers—is helpful as you develop these ideas!

Having said that, let’s get started! Here are Scott’s loglines…

1) THE SPITCHCOCKS, a feature comedy, is about four friends who form a famous rock band who implode in the most spectacular way. Now they must reunite for the biggest gig of their life.

2) THE DEVIL'S MONEY, a feature crime drama, is about corrupt Mexican police forces who battle during the search for a kidnapped teenager.

Now, normally, I like to look at different ideas separately, but today I want to look at these together, because I think they both have very similar strengths and weaknesses.

STRENGTHS:
One of the best things about both ideas is their strong sense of the “kind of movie” they want to be. While each is just a logline with few details, I get a definite feel for each film… it’s like I can see snippets of each movie or their trailers… and I also get the sense that Scott, the writer, see much more of the canvas on which these stories are painted. And that’s a great place for Scott to start from.

WEAKNESSES:
Firstly, Scott-- while both these ideas have great “backdrops,” I’m not sure what the actual STORIES are. Story comes from a main character (or characters) having an incredibly strong WANT that forces him to take ACTION… and that action places him in conflict with OBSTACLES he must conquer or navigate. And unfortunately, neither logline details a main character(s), what he/she wants, specific courses of action, or any tangible obstacles the hero might encounter.

Secondly—or maybe hand in hand—the loglines—while good at conveying a “sense of spirit”—are written in such broad generics (“the most spectacular way,” “the biggest gig of their life”) that while I believe YOU have a strong sense of these worlds, it’s tough for me to share in it. I see MY version of “most spectacular way” and “biggest gig of their life,” but I’m not really sure if my own imagination’s versions are accurate to your vision and story. And your job, as a writer, is to communicate your own specific vision, not necessarily entice me with what MY vision could be.

So...

SUGGESTIONS TO STRENGTHEN THESE:

1) IDENTIFY YOUR MAIN CHARACTERS. Does The Spitchcocks revolve around Larry, the band’s former lead singer, who wants to help his bandmates heal their animosity so they can reunite for one last enormous gig? Is it about the drummer, Razor, who wants the band to play a charity concert to raise money for his baby’s life-saving surgery? Or is it a straight-up ensemble piece… in which you identify the main characters as a unit? For instance, are they now mid-forties, middle class suburban parents who must suddenly juggle day-jobs and parenting as they attempt to get in shape for a new tour? Or are they poor late-twenties singles who broke up after a violent falling out? Are they Midwestern bumpkins who somehow succeeded as a rap band—The Tractor Pulls—in the big city? Or are they former hair metal rockers now out of place in a hip-hop world?

Paint a picture of these guys so we can not only see them visually, but we “see” them emotionally and understand how the world looks to them.

The same goes for The Devil’s Money. Does this story follow one particular cop, like Eric, a righteous cop trying to find a missing child amidst a city run by corruption? Does it follow Charlie, the kidnapped kid’s father, desperately trying to work with corrupt officials to rescue his son? Or is it an ensemble piece about District Battalion 89, the most corrupt police force in Mexico City, that must pull together to save this one particular kid?

Whether the story follows one person or a group, giving them a name and a few words of description will help us connect to them.

2) WHAT DOES THIS MAIN CHARACTER WANT? I hinted at this above—and specifying his want will also help flesh out your main character—but let us know exactly what your protagonist wants… both “tangibly” and “emotionally.” Perhaps Norman, your main character in The Spitchcocks, wants to reunite his band so he can win the heart of his true love… a girl who used to be the world’s biggest Spitchcocks fan. That may not be the story you want to tell, but it DOES give a sense of what Norman wants “tangibly”—A) a girl, and B) to reunite the band—and it lets us know what he wants “emotionally”… true love. We understand how this onjective will drive Norman to action… and, because it has an emotional engine (we all understand the desire for true love), it allows us to invest emotionally in Norman’s quest.

Similarly, in The Devil’s Money, does your main character simply want to find the missing kid? Or is your main character Carlos, a police chief who wants to rid his force of corruption… and their newest case—the missing kid—is the one he’s determined to use to rid his force of evil? Or is your main character Jules, the kid who’s been kidnapped, and he desperately wants to be rescued… but learns the corrupt police force itself is behind his capture?

Whatever you decide for each story, knowing—and articulating—your characters’ wants is the engine that drives the narrative. Put it up front, big and bold, in both your logline and your actual script. Without it, the rest of your script is much less effective; but let your audience understand and relate to your hero’s want, and you’ve already taken a huge step toward constructing a successful story.

3) SPECIFY THE EXACT ACTIONS YOUR MAIN CHARACTER(S) MUST TAKE TO ACCOMPLISH HIS/HER WANT. The Spitchcocks, for instance, is about a band reuniting… so what tangible actions must be taken for this to succeed? Do the band members live in different countries, so Hank, the frontman, but physically travel the globe in order to gather them all? Is the lead singer in jail for pot possession… so your lead character—Toby, the bassist—must break him out and get him to the gig before he’s re-arrested?

In The Devil’s Money, you mention that corrupt cops are searching for a kidnapped kid… and there’s also a war between cops. While I’m not sure which is your “A-story,” I think this will clear up when you pinpoint your main character’s want. If the objective is to find the kid, what actions does this entail? Do they have five internal suspects the main cop, Pepe, must interview, opening a world of corruption and scandal in Pepe’s own department? Or must Pepe and his partner, Ricky, search for the missing child in Mexico’s dangerous and seedy underworld, which is more (or less) corrupt than the police force itself?

4) WHAT IS YOUR HERO’S MAIN OBSTACLE? Like identifying your characters’ wants and actions, we also need to know exactly what is preventing your main character(s) from succeeding. Why can’t The Spitchcocks simply reunite? Even if they now live on different continents, why can’t they just hop on a plane and get back together? What is preventing their actions from accomplishing their goal? Did the Spitchcocks break up over soapy and unresolved sexual/romantic tensions? Do they have different artistic visions that constantly cause them to fight? Does one of them have amnesia that has wiped his memory of all the songs?

Likewise, how does a battle between corrupt cops interfere with them finding a missing kid? Are the cops lazy and refuse to work? Is this the child of an enemy faction’s chief, so the other cops refuse to look for him/her? Do they not want to find this child because he possesses valuable information that could reveal and punish certain corrupt cops?

Whatever you decide, your obstacle needs to be large and dramatic enough that we immediately understand how it will impede our hero’s journey. Like your character’s want, the best obstacles aren’t just “tangible” obstacles, they’re also are also “emotional” obstacles, forcing the character to confront something in his/her relationships with other people.

For example, the reuniting Spitchcocks could be faced with the obstacle that they all live on different continents. This is, obviously, a huge challenge to their reunion. But it’s a STRONGER challenge if they live on those different continents because ten years ago, when they were together as a band, the lead singer, Jorge, married the drummer, Carrie, and had an affair with the bassist, Vince.

Lastly, Scott…

5) AVOID WRITING IN GENERICS LIKE “MOST SPECTACULAR WAY” AND “BIGGEST GIG OF THEIR LIFE.” Although loglines must use words sparingly, they must also be the right words to communicate your story accurately and with detail. “Biggest gig of their life” may mean one thing to one reader… and an entirely different thing to another reader. And what’s most important is that your reader understands what those moments mean to YOU.

Having said that, it doesn’t matter exactly what the Spitchcocks’ “biggest gig” is… or how “spectacularly” the Spitchcocks implode… as long as it’s the biggest “EMOTIONAL” gig of their life and the most “EMOTIONALLY” spectacular implosion they could have.

For example, you could argue that the “biggest gig of their life” is that they’ve been invited to open for U2 for ONE NIGHT ONLY (the normal opener is out sick), and if it goes well, it could re-launch their career. This could obviously be “the biggest gig of their life.”

OR… “the biggest gig of their life” could be this: the lead singer Barry’s daughter is dying, and Barry doesn’t have the money for her surgery… so he reunites the band for a charity concert to raise $500,000 and save his child’s life. This could also be the “biggest gig of his life.” And—frankly—it may even be “bigger,” because the stakes are higher.

OR… perhaps The Spitchcocks is a wonky sci-fi comedy, and the band has been kidnapped by an alien race that tells them: “You have 24 hours to put together a concert of entirely new material… or we’ll destroy the planet Earth.” Silly, I know—but with the right tone it could work… and THAT is certainly the “biggest gig of their life.”

What this basically boils down to, Scott, is your story’s STAKES (what your characters stand to lose if they fail in their quests)… and deciding/understanding what they are. Once you know that, those are the specifics to plug into the vague holes left by “most spectacular way” and “biggest gig of their life.”

Anyway, Scott, I hope this is helpful! Feel free to play, shape, mold, rework, tweak, polish… and resubmit.

In the mean time, if other readers have loglines or summaries for the Script Notes Pitch Workshop, feel free to post them here, or shoot me an email at WDScriptNotes@FWPubs.com.

In the mean time, keep reading… we have some great posts coming up. We’ll have more Pitch Workshop submissions… we’ll talk about how to protect your work… we'll help the American Idol writers earn fair pay, residuals, and health benefits… we'll have book reviews… and much, much more!

WEBSITE OF THE DAY: Amanda the Aspiring TV Writer

Chad — Thu, 18 Sep 2008 00:58:31 GMT

Props to my friend Charlie for turning me on to this site, but I wanted to let you all know about a pretty great blog... from Amanda the Aspiring TV Writer.

I don't know Amanda personally, but if you're interested in television writing... or how to break in... this is a terrific site. Here's the scoop... Amanda is a young woman, here in L.A., trying to make it as a television writer. So she's doing what many people do when they're trying to get their foot in the door: working at an agency, which is one of the best-- if not THE best-- way to get your start in Hollywood (especially in TV).

So Amanda uses her blog not only to give writing advice, but also to advise people on how to get their start, how to navigate the world of agencies, etc. She even posts interesting events and writer-centric activities around town. But perhaps most interestingly, Amanda captures what it's like to be twentysomething and trying to make it in television. She writes about everything from the culture within an agency... to why she loves TV... to how to network and find jobs. It's half memoir, half advice-column, half behind-the-curtain-glimpse at Hollywood. (And yes-- that's three halves. I am HORRIBLE at math.)

Anyway, check it out... it's a different (and, I think, fresher and perhaps more honest) look at writing-- or trying to write-- in Hollywood then you get at blogs of more established writers.

Palin vs. Clinton: The SNL Match-Up

Chad — Sun, 14 Sep 2008 23:39:05 GMT

For those of you haven't seen last night's Saturday Night Live sketch starring Tina Fey as Sarah Palin and Amy Poehler as Hillary Clinton, I'm posting it here. I love this not only because Tina Fey does a DEAD-ON Palin impersonation, but because this is some great political sketch producing.

I love it not only because of Fey's performance and the biting wit, but because the SNL writers do a terrific job of creating a little "relationship" between these women on screen. (For those of you who haven't been to one of my L.A. classes, I'm a HUGE proponent of pounding home that all good storytelling-- regardless of length or purpose-- is about only three things: RELATIONSHIPS, RELATIONSHIPS, RELATIONSHIPS.)

It would've been easy for the writers to simply string together some snarky political one-liners and rely on the strenth of their performers' impersonations (Amy Poehler does a decent job, but not as good as Tina Fey), but instead they took the time to let the fictional Palin/Clinton relationship build.

Both characters in this sketch have strong personal/emotional wants... which they articulate at the beginning of the sketch... but in order to achieve their wants they're forced to team up with the one person most antithetical to their objective. (Well, Hillary is, anyway-- Palin is practically oblivious to the tension in the relationship.) You can almost hear the SNL writers asking themselves "how would these two women feel-- and behave-- if forced to join together for a brief moment on the political stage?" "How would their world-views conflict, and how would these conflicting views affect their behavior?"

Take a look... lemme know what you think...

READER QUESTION: TV Spec-Writing Advice?

Chad — Sun, 31 Aug 2008 16:13:23 GMT

Today’s question comes from Peggy, an aspiring TV writer who lives in Florida. Peggy writes…

“I love Law & Order: SVU, and I am working on a script. Any suggestions for me?”

Well, first of all, Peggy—congratulations on starting your spec! I’m not sure exactly what stage you’re at, but I think simply starting a new script is farther than most aspiring writers ever get; the world is full of “writers” who never actually write… they simply talk about ideas and hang out in Starbucks. So kudos on putting pen to paper and actually starting a project!

You’re also taking the exact right first step in launching a TV career. One of the essential elements of any aspirant’s portfolio is at least a couple “spec scripts,” or sample episodes of shows already on the air. Spec scripts can’t be sold or produced; they’re simply written as samples of your work, calling cards to show off your talent. So when TV shows like “Law & Order: SVU” or “Pushing Daisies” hire their staffs of writers, their showrunners and executive producers vet potential writers by reading their sample specs.

It’s also important to understand that producers rarely read specs of their own shows; most, in fact, NEVER read specs of their own show. This is for a couple reasons:

1) Legal reasons. Showrunners never want to find themselves in a position where they could be accused of stealing a writer’s script or story idea, so they try not to expose themselves to spec scripts of their own series. This may seem over-protective, but the truth is: writers throw about hundreds, maybe thousands, or story areas each year… so it’s quite probable that many of the specs out there are treading on story territories that the writers have actually explored or talked about.

2) Writers on staff live and breathe their shows’ characters and stories, so they know the worlds of their series better than anyone… making it nearly impossible for them to be impressed with an outside writer’s take. This isn’t to say they’re arrogant or close-minded; it just means they’ve played with a gazillion story and character possibilities over the course of writing the series… so not only is it rare for an outside writer to come up with something original (and tonally accurate), but when an outside spec-writer does write something the staff has already discussed, it makes it easy for a showrunner to dismiss the spec (even if it’s fairly well-written). In other words, the bar is set so incredibly high when a showrunner reads a spec of his/her own show, it’s not fair to the showrunner OR the writer. So rather than putting themselves… or you… in that position, most showrunners just don’t read specs of their own series.

Thus, your “Law & Order: SVU” script probably won’t help get you a job at “Law & Order: SVU;” but it could certainly land you a job at “CSI” or “Numb3rs.”

So, moving forward, here are my top three suggestions for writing your spec:

• OUTLINE EPISODES. Watch as many episodes of “Law & Order: SVU” as you possibly can. Or, better yet, read the scripts. (Words often read a bit differently than the play on-screen.) Write down what happens in every scene, and note when it takes place in the story (the time-code or page number). This will give you the beginnings of a reverse-engineered outline. Keep it short and sweet, like this…

2:42 – Detectives discover murdered body.
3:36 – Learn victim is bowling champion.
4:12 – Victim’s diary says he was having an affair with his wife’s sister.
6:00 – Interview wife’s sister; she denies affair.

Then go back through each “beat,” or piece of story information, and identify how it functions, or helps push the story forward. For instance (this time, I’ll do it with page numbers, as if we’re following the actual script, rather than a produced episode from TV)…

Page 2 – Detectives discover murdered body – DISCOVER MYSTERY
Page 3 – Learn victim is bowling champion – IDENTIFY VICTIM
Page 5 – Victim’s diary says he was having an affair with his wife’s sister – IDENTIFY SUSPICIOUS RELATIONSHIP AND SUSPECT #1
Page 7 – Interview wife’s sister; she denies affair – SUSPECT #1 DENIES RELATIONSHIP, COMPLICATES INVESTIGATION

Do this for the entire script, then go back through and remove the details associated with the particular episode you’re using as a model. I.e., using the info above…

Page 2 – Discover mystery
Page 3 – Identify victim
Page 5 – Identify suspicious relationship and suspect #1
Page 7 – Suspect #1 denies relationship with victim, complicates investigation

As you can see, you slowly develop a “reverse outline,” or an exact structural breakdown of a produced episode of “Law & Order!” You can then follow this beat-for-beat, simply laying your own story over the skeleton of the old. You may need to tweak and fudge some beats here and there, but because you’re “borrowing” from a working episode, you should have a solid outline with which to structure your spec!

• SLASH ANY LINE THAT’S NOT ABSOLUTELY 100% NECESSARY. This is one of my favorite rewriting techniques. After writing your first draft, read through your script with a red pen. Slash ANY LINE OR WORD that is not COMPLETELY NECESSARY TO PUSHING THE STORY FORWARD. I don’t care if it’s beautiful description; if it doesn’t propel the story, cut it. I don’t care if it’s hilarious repartee; axe it. I don’t care if it’s a brilliant character moment; trash it. Deep-six anything—and I mean literally ANYTHING—that is not pure story. And expect to lose at least a third of what you’ve written. (First drafts are almost always too long.)

You’ll be left with a pared-down script that is nothing but bare-bones narrative. Which means your script will not only read “leaner,” but it’ll also show you where you have holes that need to be fixed. Some places, you’ll realize, need more dialogue to illustrate what’s happening between two characters. Others need whole new scenes.

This can be a painful process; after pouring your heart and soul into a script, it’s tough to go through and rip it to shreds. But often when we DON’T shave stories down to bare essentials, it’s difficult to tell whether or not they’re working because they’re cluttered with fun dialogue, description, and character moments. And while these can be emotionally moving, they cloud the story itself. So it’s important, after your first draft, to reduce your script to nothing but plot.

• SORT DIALOGUE BY CHARACTER. As you’re watching or reading your “Law & Order: SVU” episodes, write down each character’s EVERY LINE OF DIALOGUE. Yes, that’s right… EVERY ONE. Then sort them according to character: Stabler’s lines, Benson’s lines, Munch’s lines, etc. Once you’re able to isolate and focus on each character’s lines, you’ll notice quirks and consistencies. Does one character always talk in sassy retorts? Does another communicate only in monosyllabic grunts? Is another always being overly negative or positive?

Do the same with your script as you finish each draft; separate your own dialogue by character. Does each person speak in a consistent voice that’s appropriate to his/her character? Do certain lines need to be punched up? Do some characters sound too similar to one another?

Well, Peggy—there ya go… my top three spec-writing suggestions. I’d also recommend picking up Pamela Douglas’s excellent book, Writing the TV Drama Series. This book deals a bit more with creating your own series, but it’s still got some outstanding writing advice, especially for drama writers like yourself. Also, if you spend just a couple moments on Amazon, or at your local bookstore or library, you can certainly find countless other great books on writing TV specs and dramas.

I hope all this is helpful, Peggy. Please lemme know how it goes… and I hope to see you on a staff out here soon!

For the rest of you who may have questions about writing for TV, film, or the Internet… or questions about the business, how to break in, etc… please don’t hesitate to post a comment below or shoot me an email at WDScriptNotes@FWPubs.com.

Have a great Labor Day, everyone!

Chad

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.

READER QUESTION: Why shouldn't I write an "origin pilot?"

Chad — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 02:16:37 GMT

Hey, guys—

First off, I want to give a HUGE THANK YOU to E. Daniels and everyone else who submitted questions to Eric, our host at Reality Binge, for him to answer on his funny blog. You can submit whenever you want, so please… keep ‘em coming!

Secondly, wanted to take a few moments to answer a great question I received the other day.
This question comes from Susan, who took my pilot writing class last week. Susan writes...

“You recommend not writing an ‘origin pilot’ (a la Lost), but writing a pilot that could be episode 100 or episode 1. But aren't pilots where the main character moves to Alaska (Northern Exposure) or gets hit on the head (Samantha Who?) origin pilots? Or do you mean a literal creation of a whole new world type of thing?”

Great question, Susan! To get to that answer, let’s take a quick step back to catch people up…

As I said last week last week, many writers often make the mistake of thinking that a pilot is simply the first episode of a TV series, and your job in writing a pilot is to write the beginnings of a story and characters that make people want to keep watching.

While this is PART of what a pilot is, it’s only partially/somewhat/occasionally accurate.

In truth, a pilot is designed to be a prototype of a typical episode or your series. Yes, it’s introducing your audience to the world of your story (and before your show is on the air, your pilot’s “audience” consists mainly of network execs who decide whether to air your project at all), but it’s also meant to show networks how the show will work in series. Which means your job is not only to launch a story that can sustain itself for years to come, but to illustrate how that series will generate and tell stories whether it’s at episode 10 or episode 500.

Thus, if every episode of your show is a close-ended story in which your main character, a detective, solves an art heist, your pilot needs to show that detective solving an art heist. If every episode of your series shows a group of friends helping each other through wacky dating situations, your pilot needs to show that same group of friends helping each other through funny dating situations.

In other words, while your pilot is—in some way—unlike any other episode of your series (because it’s the beginning of your story), it must also work just like every other episode of your series.

So, now that we understand this, there tend to be two types of TV pilots: origin pilots and "traditional pilots" (to be honest, I’m not sure if non-origin pilots have a special name, so I just call them “traditional” pilots).

Traditional pilots work just like a regular episode of the series. In fact, some—like the Everybody Loves Raymond pilot—are nearly indistinguishable from regular episodes. They spend very little time introducing characters, setting up stories, etc. They just throw readers/audiences right into the world and start the show.

Origin pilots begin at the VERY BEGINNING of the story. Jericho kicked off with a nuclear attack. Grey's Antaomy begins on the day Meredith meets the other interns and McDreamy.

Different pilots work differently. The question is: WHICH IS MORE SELLABLE OR MORE ATTRACTIVE TO NETWORKS AND STUDIOS?

The answer, almost unequivocally, is: “traditional” pilots. Remember, the true job of a pilot is to show audiences—including network buyers—how the episodes works on a regular basis, and traditional pilots do this MUCH BETTER than origin pilots, which have so much “pipe to lay,” or story to set up—that they frequently don’t work like subsequent episodes.

(In fact, sometimes the series’ original pilot never airs… or airs out of order… because the network simply wants to jump right into the meat of the story. Firefly and Cavemen both aired their pilots later in the series. Ed shot a pilot, decided not to use it, then cut it into an quick montage that opened the first episode to set up the story.)

Now, Susan, you ask about pilots like Northern Exposure and Samantha Who?, where Joel moves to Alaska or Sam gets hit on the head and goes into/awakes from her coma.

Many pilots, obviously, are indeed telling the beginning of a story, so they can’t scrap ALL the elements of an origin pilot. After all, they still need to START THEIR STORY (by moving Joel to Alaska or putting Sam in the coma). But they also need to show how the episodes work. Thus, they usually set up their story as quickly as possible, but they also work hard at illustrating how future episodes will play out.

The CSI pilot, for instance, began with a new detective (Holly) joining the CSI team. It was a new day for the CSI gang… they had a new member. (This also allowed the storytellers to introduce the other people, places, and situations organically, since Holly was just meeting them for the first time.) But the rest of the episode then followed the crew as they solved what would become a fairly typical CSI mystery. (And they even killed off Holly, our entrée to the world!)

Similarly, the Grey's Anatomy pilot begins with the interns meeting each other for the first time… but it also has typical close-ended patient stories (Meredith and the girl with seizures, George and the open-heart patient, etc.).

Other pilots don’t bother setting up story at all. The Cosby Show, like Everybody Loves Raymond, just plunged right into its basic family-life storylines.

Your job, Susan, is to decide which type of pilot works best for the story you’re telling. I would never say: "NEVER write an origin pilot." Some shows, like Lost, require more origin set-up than others. Others, like The Cosby Show, can get away with diving right in. You need to write whatever story launches your story the best. HOWEVER...

The most important thing to keep in mind is this: a pilot isn’t designed simply to be the first step in a longer story, it’s designed to be a selling tool that shows network buyers how that series will work on a regular basis.

(Think of yourself as a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman. You want to wow your potential buyers with something flashy, cool, and sexy... but you also need to show them how the vacuum works. If they don't see how the machine will work on a regular basis, it doesn't matter how cool and attractive it is... they won't buy it.)

If you can remember that—even if you’re telling an origin story—you’re well on your way to writing (and selling!) a successful pilot.

I hope that answers your question. And please, everyone, if you have others, don’t hesitate to shoot me an email: WDScriptNotes@FWPubs.com!

Talk to you soon…

Chad

PITCH WORKSHOP: RESURRECTED... AND ENTRY #3

Chad — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 22:52:18 GMT

Hey, everyone—

So, it’s been a while since we’ve visited or talked about the SCRIPT NOTES PITCH WORKSHOP, but I don’t want to let it fall through the cracks. In fact, I’d like to revamp it a bit. Originally, I’d proposed doing it in two or three-week stages: for a certain time period, readers could submit loglines, then we’d do slightly longer summaries, and—finally—a page-long synopsis. The idea was that people could get feedback on their ideas not only from me, but from other readers as well.

But only about four people ever submitted ideas, so I’ve been re-thinking the process a bit, and I’d like to give it another try. Here’s what I’m thinking…

• Let’s do away with the two/three-week phases and, instead, make it an ongoing cycle. Whenever you have an idea… email it to me at WDScriptNotes@FWPubs.com, or simply post it as a comment to this post or one of the other workshop submission posts. I’ll then post it as its own blog post so other readers can find it and give you feedback.

• Since we’re not submitting in stages, feel free to submit a logline, paragraph or one-page summary. PLEASE DON’T SUBMIT ANYTHING LONGER THAN ONE DOUBLE-SPACED PAGE! However, submit whatever you think will garner the most helpful feedback.

• Also, I’ve added the Pitch Workshop to the list of CATEGORIES on the left side of the screen so it will always be easy to find. That way, you don’t have to comb through old blog posts to find this post, or other submissions, if you want to submit anything or leave someone feedback. I’ll make sure all submission, past and present, find their way to the Pitch Workshop category.

• All the old etiquette rules still apply… the workshop isn’t here so we can bash each other or our ideas… it’s here so we can all get helpful feedback and constructive criticism on our ideas. So definitely be honest in your feedback, but be polite and respectful!

• Lastly, if you submit an idea, take a moment to give some quick feedback to other readers who have submitted loglines or summaries. You can tell them you love it, or tell them what’s “bumping you” and a quick suggestion to tweak it.

Ultimately, I’d love for the Pitch Workshop to be not only a great forum for swapping ideas and creative suggestions, but a forum for dialogue about story, character, etc. I’ll do my best to respond to as many submissions as possible myself.

So to re-kick start the workshop, I thought I’d take a moment to give some feedback to Tanya, who not only submitted her movie logline last month, she commented on Phillip Sevy and E. Daniel’s submissions as well.

First of all, Tanya—thanks for offering those guys your feedback… I hope they found it helpful! Second of all, sorry it’s taken me a while to get your feedback up here, but—at long last—here you go!...

TANYA’S LOGLINE:

BRB TO THE FUTURE, a feature-length comedy, follows 13-year-old cell phone-obsessed Barbara as she travels 500 years into the future, where chat/text message abbreviations are more than just the latest craze – it’s a spoken language used by every nation in the world.

WHAT I LIKE:
There’s clearly a lot of fun to be had with a futuristic world that has become so technologically dependent that our very language has degenerated into a universal mess of abbreviations. It’s a great way to comment on where we are today and where we’re going. Having said that…

WHAT I THINK NEEDS WORK:
You’ve given us a fantastic detail about the future world, but I’m not sure of two important things…

A) What does the rest of the world looks like, and how is it a reflection of our world today? Your future’s language has clearly changed, in a wonderfully dark and comedic way, but what else has changed in this cautionary tale? Are people so techno-dependent that they have chips embedded in their heads, allowing them to download movies or talk to friends without the aid of computers/telephones? Is everyone a cyborg? Is the planet simply one big sprawling city? The idea that cell phones and texts have eroded our language skills is great… but how else do you envision computers and technology changing humanity—for better or worse? This will be the key to selling (both creatively and commercially) your story: creating a world that articulates where you see us headed… and how it’s a comment on today’s society. (Think about The Matrix, Idiocracy, Clockwork Orange, 1984, etc. These stories are all set in the future—and in some cases, even play with language in similar ways to your BRB TO THE FUTURE, but they concoct a full-bodied world that holds a mirror up to our own.)

B) What’s the actual STORY in BRB TO THE FUTURE? What does Barbara want? I presume she’s trying to get back to her own time…? But in that case, how did she get to the future, and—however she traveled—why can’t she just hop back? (In Back to the Future remember, Marty traveled back in a time traveling car, but the car broke… so he had to fix it before he could return.) And WHY does Barbara want to return to the past? From your initial set-up, it seems she has traveled to a future tailor-made for her… so I’m guessing/assuming she begins to learn the downsides of this blind dependence on cell phones/technology. Perhaps she discovers no one in your techno-dependent future is capable of human connection; babies are made in labs, people live alone in pods, heartfelt discussions are a thing of the past, etc. But as she learns this, does she use her “stronger” interpersonal skills to try and rule this devolved future? Does she despise it and try to leave?

To be fair, I think you probably know the answers to many of these questions and see much more of the movie in your head than has been articulated in your logline. But I would adjust the logline to accommodate more of that vision, rather than just focusing on the one detail of the world’s ravaged language. For instance, while I don’t want to rewrite your logline for you or push you down a story path you don’t like, notice how these revamped loglines give more of a sense of story… without sacrificing the spirit of the world you’ve created…

BRB TO THE FUTURE, a feature-length comedy, follows Barbara, a computer-obsessed 13-year-old, who falls through her science teacher’s time warp and finds herself stranded 500 years in the future, where technology-dependent humans have lost the ability to relate to—or help each other—in any way.

OR…

BRB TO THE FUTURE, a feature-length comedy, follows Barbara, a computer-obsessed teenager, who invents a time machine that takes her to the future, where people are so dependent on machines they’ve lost the ability to communicate… allowing Barbara to take over the world and become an interplanetary dictator.

Again, I’m not saying either of these ideas is good… or right… or the story you want to tell… but they at least give Barbara an engine and arc to carry her through the incredible world you’ve created.

Anyway, Tanya, I hope this helps. Thanks so much—for both submitting your own idea and commenting on the others… and keep reading!

As for the rest of you… let the pitch submissions begin! Just put them in the comments section of this post... or email them to WDScriptNotes@FWPubs.com. I hope to hear from you soon!

Have a good weekend…

Chad

Top 10 Ways To Win Writers Digest's Annual Screenwriting Contest - Part II

Chad — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 00:09:59 GMT

And here's the conclusion to this weekend's post, the TOP 5 WAYS TO WIN WRITERS DIGEST's annual screenwriting contest...

5) STAGE DIRECTIONS – PART II. Do not over-write descriptions in your stage directions. Give the reader only the bare minimum of what he/she needs to know in order to understand your story. Elaborate scenic descriptions, character profiles, or visuals of props and costumes have no place in a screenplay… no matter how colorfully you see these things in your head. If you enjoy writing these elements, put them in a novel or short story.

4) DIALOGUE. Do NOT write long chunks of dialogue. Like with stage directions, try to keep each paragraph of dialogue under 3 lines. Sometimes, obviously, you’ll need more… if someone is ranting or lecturing… but dialogue should be short and snappy. (And real people rarely speak in long chucks; actual dialogue tends to be in quick exchanges.)

3) VOICE-OVER. If you’re going to use voice-over, use it VERY sparingly. Many writers believe V.O. is a crutch used to avoid dramatizing story. I don’t necessarily agree with this—there are many stories that use voice-over to great effect—but it’s often easy for it to BECOME a crutch, to use a character’s voice-over to set the stage, color the world, or give us exposition that isn’t necessary to the story. Some entries began with two, three, or four pages of one character’s V.O., and even without reading it, seeing this is as much of a turnoff as pages of stage description. Treat V.O. like any other piece of dialogue… it should be short and to the point.

2) SOUNDING CONTEMPORARY. Do NOT worry about making characters sound “cool” or “contemporary” at the risk of honesty. In other words, don’t use slang or speech patterns if you don’t use them naturally. There were many entries where writers seemed to be writing about foreign places, people, etc. This is fine—the whole point of storytelling is to transport the reader (and writer!) to new places—but capturing accurate speech patterns is less important than capturing emotional honesty. So if your story is set on the streets of Watts or in the backwoods of Georgia… but you’ve never been to those places… don’t try to recreate your version of street slang or southern drawl. You’ll be much more convincing if you accurately convey how your characters FEEL—even if their speech is totally inaccurate—than if you throw in a bunch of misused colloquialisms.

1) WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW. I know we all hear this a lot, but this does NOT mean you should write something autobiographical… or you shouldn’t set something in a faraway time or place. It means “write what you know EMOTIONALLY,” and be honest about it. If you’re writing about a medieval knight who longs to leave his home and family to see the world, tap into what you dislike about your own home. Listen to fights you have with your family and transcribe them into your script. Many entries were set in interesting places, but they didn’t seem to reflect any emotional reality in the writer’s life; they didn’t ring with the truth of universal emotions. We all experience love, loss, grief, elation, melancholy, wistfulness… and while we all have our own life experiences, the experiences of these emotions are usually identical. The more honestly you can type into your own feelings, the more strongly we connect to your writing and see it as a reflection of our own lives.

Top 10 Ways To Win Writers Digest's Annual Screenwriting Contest - Part I

Chad — Sun, 27 Jul 2008 20:09:18 GMT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chad

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

PITCH WORKSHOP: Entry #2

Chad — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 17:58:49 GMT

Hey, screenwriters—

Thought we’d take another look at one of the entries in the SCRIPT NOTES ONLINE PITCH WORKSHOP. Thanks to all of you who have submitted… and please—keep ‘em coming. I’m happy to hold off on moving to Phase 2 (paragraph descriptions) if more people want to post stuff.

Also, do me a favor—part of the workshop being a success is gaining feedback from readers. So please… check out the four loglines that have been posted, and give some feedback. Especially if you’ve posted an idea—take a few moments and help out your fellow writers!

In the mean time, here’s a quick look at Phillip Sevy’s movie pitch…

“A God-Fearing Man, a feature-length drama, follows Elijah and Karen, a middle-aged married couple, as they struggle to find meaning in their lives after a tragic small-town shooting forces them to question everything they know.”

WHAT I LIKE:
• It reads smoothly… we immediately know what it is (a movie), the title, and the names of the main characters… giving us simple, accessible touchstones to wrap our heads around.

• It’s rooted in a hugely relate-able (and timely) event… a shooting, death, personal loss. In other words, it’s ripe with pathos and humanity.

WHAT I’D WORK ON A BIT:
• Quite simply, I’m not sure what the story is. Elijah and Karen are clearly in a highly-charged emotional situation, but a story isn’t merely people emoting, it’s people wanting something tangible and taking solid actions to achieve it. And with Karen and Elijah, I’m not sure of either of those things. Here’s what I think it needs, Phillip…

A) I think we need to know a bit more about the shooting and how it affects Elijah and Karen personally and directly. Was their daughter killed in the shooting? Was their son the gunman? Did it happen at Karen’s office? Were they witnesses? A small-town shooting affects everyone, sure, but the more direct you can make this event to your main characters’ lives, the better. I won’t care as much about random citizens who live in the town as I will about the family or friends of those directly involved.

B) What do Elijah and Karen want? I know they want to “find meaning,” but this is pretty nebulous and intangible. Truthfully, everyone wants to find meaning in their lives; in a way, that’s what every story is about. As I talked about with E. Daniels’ pitch, these characters need "tangible wants"… specific, tangible things they’re working toward… that also reflect the emotional journey this tragedy has sent them on. Perhaps one of their children was killed in the shooting, so they set out on a road trip to reconnect with their other child. Perhaps their son has been wrongly accused of the shooting… and they want to prove his innocence. Maybe they somehow feel responsible for the shooting (perhaps they run a store that sold the murderer his weapon), so they want to make reparations to the families of everyone killed.

I usually think that every character has two simultaneous, compatible wants—the “tangible want,” or the physical thing they’re striving for, and the “emotional want,” which lies beneath and fuels the tangible want. For instance, in Almost Famous, young Will wants only one thing… TO PUBLISH AN ARTICLE IN ROLLING STONE. This is his tangible want; it’s physical, solid, attainable… he (and the audience) will know precisely when he accomplishes it. And it fuels everything he does. Every action Will takes is a step toward getting his article in Rolling Stone. BUT…

Beneath that want is his “emotional want,” which explains the tangible want. Emotional wants can be up for interpretation, but—in Almost Famous—I think Will wants to be taken seriously as a writer and an adult. And he believes that publishing a story in Rolling Stone will validate him as a grown-up. Of course, his journey teaches him that there’s more to being an adult than simply publishing magazine articles, but it’s these two hand-in-hand desires that drive the story.

You’ve given Elijah and Karen their emotional wants (although I think you can define them a bit more than just “finding meaning”… and this will come as you figure out who they were connected to the shooting), but giving them tangible wants will be a huge help.

C) Let us know what obstacles stand in the path of Elijah and Karen’s tangible wants… and what actions they must take to surmount them. For instance, maybe—like I suggested above—their son was killed in the shooting, so they now want to reconnect with their other child… but she’s been estranged for ten years… and lives across the country. So to reconnect with her, Karen and Elijah must road-trip from California to Florida to find their daughter and mend the relationship. Or maybe Karen and Elijah feel responsible for the shooting because they sold the gunman his rifle… so they want to throw a fundraiser for families of the victims. But Karen and Elijah have been the town misanthropes for years; no on likes them and no one wants their fundraiser, so Elijah and Karen must learn to become social, compassionate people… and go person-by-person, making amends to all the people they’ve hurt over the years.

So putting all this together—and this is not me rewriting your pitch, just creating examples—I’d love to see your logline look something like this…

“A God-Fearing Man, a feature-length drama, follows Elijah and Karen, a middle-aged married couple who has just lost their son in a shooting, as they journey cross-country to surprise their daughter… who’s been estranged for the last ten years.”

OR…

“A God-Fearing Man, a feature-length drama, follows a middle-aged married couple, Elijah and Karen, as they struggle to clear their son of shooting charges… and find he’s not the man they believed he was.”

Anyway, I hope that helps, Phillip. Thanks for posting… and please—everyone!—post some thoughts and comments to all the people who have been putting their ideas out there!

Chad

PITCH WORKSHOP: The First Entry!

Chad — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 02:32:26 GMT

I am pleased to announce that we have our first entry in the Script Notes Pitch Festival! A big round of applause—and a thank you—for going first goes to E. Daniels, who posted the first one-sentence pitch Thursday evening.

Just as a quick refresher… we’re in Phase One of our Script Notes Pitch Fest, where you all are invited to post one-sentence (“logline”) pitches of your movies or TV shows here on the blog, then readers and myself will give feedback. The idea is NOT to be judgemental, but to help one another whip our pitches into shape and make them as strong (and sellable) as possible.

So without further adieu, let’s take a look at E. Daniels’ one-sentence pitch. E. Daniels writes…

“Each episode finds our twenty-something heroine vowing that today, unlike all the other days, she will quit her job!!! ...just as soon as they validate her parking.”

This is a great TV series pitch with which to begin our festival, because it’s got some strong things going on, and some things that can use improvement. First, the good things…

WHAT I LIKE A LOT:

• E. Daniels’ pitch taps into a personal, emotional dilemma that millions of people experience every day… the desire to quit a frustrating, unfulfilling a job, but the inability to do so because you’re totally dependent on it. Everyone on the planet has gone through this… the feeling of being trapped in a job or relationship but not being able to quit. This gives E. Daniels’ pitch an important element necessary to virtually any pitch – relatability, or the ability to let audiences relate to the story and character, to see reflections of their own lives.

• E. Daniels has also given the pitch’s main character a “want,” an objective, which is the first step in kicking off any story. Characters with strong wants and objectives are forced to act in order to accomplish those wants, and its that action that creates story. So whether you’re pitching a TV series, a movie, or a novel, it’s imperative to know what your main characters want; only by understanding this will we understand your story’s narrative engine. (Having said this, I have some thoughts on this particular want, which we’ll discuss in a moment.)

SOME THINGS I'D IMPROVE A BIT:

While the pitch definitely has strong relatability, it also lacks the specificity it needs to really bring it to life, to allow us to see the character and her world in our heads. In other words, IT’S TOO VAGUE. Here's what I'd work on...

• Give us some more info about our “twenty-something heroine.” While this is only a one-sentence pitch, it’s still important to bring your character to life as much as possible… in as few words as possible. Give her a name and a few choice adjectives. For instance, rather than “twenty-something heroine,” which is fairly nondescript, say “Tara Stone, an impetuous 26-year-old clothing designer…” or “Free-wheeling 25-year-old Rita Webster, who dreams of being a decorated Air Force pilot…” or whatever info you need to give us. Whoever she is… BRING HER TO LIFE FOR US.

• While I applaud the fact that you gave your heroine (who, for the sake of discussion, I’m going to call “Tara”) a want, I’m not sure you’ve given her the kind of want that can propel a television series. While all stories are driven by a character with a strong want, it’s usually tough to sustain a series when your main character wants only one tangible thing… like Tara’s desire to quit her job.

This kind of singular objective is great for propelling one episode, or a movie, or a novel… but it’s tough to sustain a serialized story—like a TV show—with this. A) It means your main character is driven by the same objective week after week, and it’s tough to keep audiences interested in what is—essentially—the same story (or same story engine) week after week. B) In the world of television, these singular wants feel false and “cheat-y.” After all, if we’re following a woman trying to quit her job week after week, we know she can never ACTUALLY quit her job… because it ends the story. So we’re aware from the beginning that we’re watching something very finite, or we’re going to be strung along on the same repetitious journey for weeks on end.

(A handful of TV shows DO work by giving characters singular, tangible goals. Each episode of 24, for instance, finds Jack racing to stop a calamity and stop a very specific villain. But not only are these shows few and far between, they’re rarely successful. 24 is an anomaly, and most of its copycats have failed miserably. Remember THE KNIGHTS OF PROSPERITY, about a gang of misfit thieves planning to burgle Mick Jagger? How about THIEF? Or HEIST? The robbery theme aside, these shows all centered on characters working towards a single event—which is why they’re often called “event dramas”—and most are miserable failures.)

I’d give Tara some larger “life goals” that can not only drive her through the series as a whole, but generate episodic stories as well. On FRIENDS, Joey wanted to be an actor and Monica wanted to be a chef… both goals that would take years of trying, fighting, and figuring things out. More importantly, the characters on FRIENDS had enormous emotional goals… falling in love, figuring out their places in the world, etc. These emotional goals helped spawn smaller, weekly storylines like going on dates, trying a new job, moving to a new apartment, etc.

I’ll give you some examples that will—hopefully—apply to this particular pitch in a moment, but first, I want to tie this into my next note…

• Give Tara some relationships. (I know I pound this notion a lot, but I stand by it. There’s nary a story on this planet that’s not about one thing: RELATIONSHIPS. RELATIONSHIPS RELATIONSHIP RELATIONSHIPS. Giving your main character relationships is important for many reasons…

A) Characters don’t exist in a void, so we only ever truly get to know them by seeing them interact with other characters. Tara—no matter how compelling you make her—will never be interesting on her own… she will only be interesting in the context of other people.

B) Relationships bring the world to life. We all have different kinds of relationships depending on where we are… are work relationships are different from our family relationships, which are different from our romantic relationships, which are different from our friendships. So when your series is set in a specific world—and yours seems to be set in the world of Tara’s work—you should populate it with those appropriate relationships.

C) All good stories (or for that matter, pieces of art in ANY medium) work because they reflect the lives and experiences of their audiences. So by giving Tara relationships that reflect the real world, we—your audience—are able to see reflections of our own lives in Tara and her life. If she has a tumultuous relationship with her mother, we see aspects of our own relationship with our mom in that… if she has a loving, supportive boyfriend, we see our own romances… if she competes with her brother, we recognize our own sibling rivalries.

D) Lastly, TV shows, especially, are deeply grounded in their relationships. A movie, for instance, can often succeed with weak characters and relationships but a very strong plot. Not so with a television show, which needs to bring audiences back week after week. And while viewers obviously want strong stories, what really attracts them is relationships… returning each week to a world whose characters’ lives reflect their own. When you think of WILL & GRACE, for example, you may remember a few favorite episodes, but what you really home in on is the indissoluble bond between Will and Grace… their love for each other, their disagreements, their support, etc…. and the antics of their friends, Jack and Karen.

This is why the “wants” of most TV characters are concerned not with singular tangible wants, but with their relationships with other people. For example, while Charlie and Alan on TWO AND A HALF MEN want tangible things in each episode—to score with a particular girl, succeed at work, etc.—their overall wants, the wants that propel them through the series, have more to do with being good fathers to Jake, finding female life partners, etc.

Anyway, all of this to say… I’d swap out Tara’s want of quitting her job for something more relationship-based. Maybe something like…

“26-year-old Tara, an impetuous assistant at Moshman Designs, attempts to navigate corporate politics, sniping co-workers, and a micro-managing boss as she struggles to succeed in the cut-throat world of graphic design.”

Or…

“As 24-year-old Tara knows, it’s not easy being the world’s greatest undiscovered opera singer… especially when your boss thinks you’re his girlfriend, your co-workers don’t trust you, and your only friend is the 15-year-old copy boy.”

Or…

“Incorrigible Tara longs to quit her job and start her own dance studio… but quitting your job is never easy, especially when you’re boss is your father.”

(I’m not saying any of those are brilliant, or the story you want to tell, I’m just saying they tap into a bit of the same want and conflict, but they also flesh out the world and give a sense of Tara and her relationships.)

• If possible, give us as much info as you can about what kind of series you’re pitching. Is it a one-hour drama like DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES? A single-camera comedy like EVERYBODY HATES CHRIS? A half-hour multi-cam like RULES OF ENGAGEMENT?

And, if you can, give us a title! You may change it later, but a title helps establish the tone and gives us a bit of a visual image to wrap our heads around.

For example…

“EXPOSED BRIEFS is a single-camera comedy that follows the misadventures of Tara, a young paralegal who dreams of becoming a big-shot lawyer… if she can just convince the alpha-males at her father’s law firm to give her a shot.”

Or…

“INSEAMS, a one-hour dramedy, chronicles Tara, a seamstress in a floundering dress shop, as she juggles a domineering boss, back-biting co-workers, and a freeloading boyfriend as she struggles to quit her job and make it as Chicago’s hottest new clothing designer.”

Anyway, E. Daniels—I hope this is helpful! Again—thanks so much for posting… and for the rest of you, keep the loglines coming. You can post in the comments section below this post, or back in the original entry. And feel free to post your thought on E. Daniels’ pitch as well!

THE SCRIPT NOTES ONLINE PITCH WORKSHOP!

Chad — Sat, 31 May 2008 22:47:26 GMT

Hey, film and TV writers—

I’ve gotten several emails and questions from readers with specific questions about pitching projects they’re working on, asking if there’s some way to use Script Notes to really get down-and-dirty, hands-on advice about shaping their TV and film projects. After all, whether you’re a newbie just penning your first script or a highly paid veteran working on your next Oscar winner, writing for film and TV (especially TV) is a highly collaborative process, and it often helps to talk about or bounce ideas off test audiences.

So I am pleased to announce the kick-off of…

THE 2008 SCRIPT NOTES ONLINE PITCH WORKSHOP…

The online forum where you can test your TV and film pitches and get honest feedback from both myself… and your fellow Script Notes readers.

(And by the way, I can’t take credit for this idea myself. A huge note of thanks to and Madeline SmootBuried in the Slushpile, one of the best writers’ sites out there, for giving me the idea… but more on Madeline in a moment…)

Here’s how the workshop works…

You guys, our Script Notes readers, can post your film and TV pitches in the comments section of this blog. Other readers and I will then comment on and critique them in the comments that follow. I’ll do my best to get to as many of your pitches as possible, giving some feedback on each one, and hopefully you’ll get feedback from other readers as well.

(If you have specific questions to which you need answers (such as, “Are the stakes high enough for my main character?” or “Is my main character’s objective compelling enough?” feel free to post those as well.)

Periodically, I’ll then select some of the pitches to discuss in a more specific way in larger posts—what seems to work, what doesn’t work, etc. As we go, I'll also post some tips or bits of advice on each phase.

We’ll do the workshop in three phases, with each phase lasting about two weeks (depending on how many people post): LOGLINES, SYNOPSIS/ELEVATOR PITCHES, and SUMMARY. Here’s how each phase works…

• A LOGLINE is a one-sentence description of your idea – each of these pitches must be one-sentence long (here's a great discussion of one-sentence pitches on Madeline Smoot's Buried in the Slushpile)

• A SYNOPSIS, or what Madeline calls an “elevator pitch,” is a one-paragraph description of your idea (here are two great entries from Madeline about "elevator pitching": "Fourth Floor Kitchenware, Loungeware, and Perfect Pitches. Going Up." And "Elevator Pitches Cont.")

• A SUMMARY, or slightly longer description, is usually about 3 paragraphs to a page (for this, we'll say 250-400 words)

Every two weeks or so, I’ll open the workshop to the next phase of pitches and ideas. Then, in a few weeks or months, we can start all over again.

Now—before we begin—three important rules…

RULE #1: WHAT KIND OF IDEA ARE YOU PITCHING? Aside from your actual pitch—whether a logline, synopsis, or summary—please be sure to indicate what kind of project you’re pitching: a movie, TV show, etc. The more specific you can be, the better: a feature-length romantic comedy (like 27 Dresses, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, etc), a TV sitcom (like Two and a Half Men, Friends, etc.), a one-hour sci-fi series (Battlestar Galactica, Lost, etc.), a half-hour single-camera workplace comedy (The Office, 30 Rock), etc. The more specific you can be, the better! And if you’re not sure, that’s okay, too!

RULE #2: OFFER FEEDBACK, BUT BE NICE. Obviously, we all want and need critical feedback on our ideas. However, please be friendly and helpful in your criticism; this isn’t a forum to get mean or disrespectful of people’s ideas. It’s fine to dislike someone’s idea or their presentation, but tell them that in a way that’s constructive and helpful rather than snarky or destructive.

RULE #3: IF YOU HAVE CRITICISM, TRY ALSO OFFERING SUGGESTIONS FOR IMPROVEMENTS. This doesn’t just go for the Script Notes workshop, it goes for just about every meeting, pitch, or writers room you’ll ever find yourself in. And trust me—I’ve learned this (and watched other people learn this) the hard way. If you’re going to knock or shoot down someone’s idea, don’t just criticize it… suggest a “fix,” or a way to do it better. This isn’t just being polite, it’s because illustrating another way to do something often helps people realize the idea’s original problem. If you don’t have the perfect fix, offer a “house number,” or bad version of how to improve it. (I’ll often say to fellow writers something like, “It feels like the stakes could be higher. I’m not sure what the exact fix is, but maybe if—and this is NOT the right idea, but just as an example—if there was a ticking clock, like a bomb or a deadline they had to meet, it might heighten the tension and raise the stakes.”)

If you have other questions or thoughts, please feel free to post them below or email me at WDScriptNotes@fwpubs.com.

Otherwise…

LET THE WORKSHOP BEGIN! Feel free to begin posting your logline (one-sentence) ideas!

(And again… a huge special thanks to Madeline Smoot and Buried in the Slushpile. I met Madeline Thursday night when I had dinner with Brian Klems and Chuck Sambuchino from Writers Digest. The annual Book Expo America was here in L.A. last week, and Brian and Chuck hosted Writers Digest’s Books Writers Conference. I hooked up with them for dinner Thursday night and they brought their friends Miriam Hees, who runs Blooming Tree, a small publishing house in Austin, Texas, and Madeline Smoot, an editor at Blooming Tree who writes Buried in the Slushpile, a terrific blog for book-writers. (Writers Digest named it one of this year’s 101 Best Sites for Writers.) I highly recommend checking it out… it’s not geared toward screenwriters, but Madeline gives some terrific advice for all writers in general, and even her book-specific advise applies in many ways to TV and film. She runs a pitch workshop like this at Buried, and it was such a good idea I decided to borrow it.)

Mama vs. the Maid

Chad — Tue, 13 May 2008 15:36:33 GMT

Hey, screenwriters—

Saw two movies this last week—Made of Honor and Baby Mama—that I thought made an interesting comparison of romantic comedies. Neither is particularly brilliant, but I think Baby Mama succeeds more as a romantic comedy, or relationship comedy, and I wanted to look at why.

Although there are plenty of things to pick apart in each one, I want to focus on the primary difference—the one thing which makes Baby Mama succeed in a way that Made of Honor never does. And that’s this…

Unlike in Baby Mama, we never fully believe that our main characters in Made of Honor truly, desperately need each other.

In other words, Made of Honor fails to illustrate how much Tom (Patrick Dempsey) and Hannah (Michelle Monaghan) need/love each other in the same way Baby Mama does with Kate (Tina Fey) and Angie (Amy Poehler). Take a look…

At the beginning of Made of Honor, Tom and Hannah have supposedly been best friends for ten years. Tom is a perpetual bachelor, bedding every woman he meets; Hannah is just another single woman pushing thirty. But when Hannah’s job sends her to Europe for six weeks, Tom misses her in a way he’s never thought about… and suddenly realizes he’s in love with his best friend. Hannah, of course, is busy meeting the dashing Kevin McKidd (Colin McMurray), and when she returns with a ring on her finger, Tom realizes he must win back his best friend. But like I said, here’s the problem…

We never believe Tom really loves her... because the movie never shows us this.

Sure, we see Tom and Hannah spend time together, but we never see how much they NEED each other. Tom brings her coffee in the morning, they browse antique shops, and they go to brunch every Sunday. Yet while this is all sweet and good-natured, it doesn’t signify a super-strong BOND. In fact, a weekly brunch hardly signifies a once-in-a-lifetime relationship. I have friends I see or talk to once a week… but I also have friends I see or talk to EVERY DAY.

Not to mention: Tom’s willing to sleep his way around town until Hannah heads to Scotland… then he suddenly wakes up and he decides he loves her—which is kinda hard to swallow after the story has already established he's an impulsive playboy. Especially when he announces to his buddies: “I don’t know… I think there might be more to my relationship with Hannah than just friends,” which is quite possibly history’s most UNCONVINCING declaration of love ever.

I wish the movie had shown us a scene of them relying on each other when the chips were down. I.e., have Hannah call Tom just after her heart has been broken, and Tom races to her... maybe he even ditches a gorgeous date to go console her. Have Tom’s career be on the line and he has 24 hours to put together a job-saving proposal or presentation… and Hannah cancels all her plans to help him. Basically—show us these two characters need, want, and care for each other more than anything else on the planet.

Baby Mama does this simply and beautifully. First of all, it sets up how badly and desperately Kate wants to have a child. We see her pining after babies, trying to meet husbands, hoping to get pregnant. Ultimately, of course, she learns she’s infertile and decides to hire a surrogate mother: Angie, the world’s most inappropriate mom. But there’s one perfect little scene that sets up their entire relationship…

Kate and Angie are standing on Kate’s balcony, having just finished the interview where they’ll decide whether or not Angie is going to carry Kate’s baby. And Kate says to her (I’m paraphrasing because I don’t really remember): “I really want this. And I think you’re great. I hope you choose me, because I need you, and I think you’re wonderful, and I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life.” And Angie says: “I think you’re wonderful, too. And I think I’d be really good at this, and doing this for you would make me feel important and valued, and that’s something I don’t have anywhere else in my life.”

So even though it’s simple, direct, and on-the-nose, Baby Mama does what Made of Honor doesn’t… it bonds those characters inextricably. They NEED each other more than anything else on the planet. Thus, we’re willing to buy all the hijinx and complications throughout the rest of the story because we’re so invested in Kate and Angie’s relationship.

So I guess the takeaway lesson is this: in a romantic comedy, the ROMANCE must come before the COMEDY. If we don’t buy the romance—or the relationship between our leads—we’ll never care enough to laugh with the comedy. And I think if you look back at some of the great romantic/relationship comedies—When Harry Met Sally, Annie Hall, you name it—the movies always put the spotlight on the relationship, and let the comedy bubble up behind or around it.

READER QUESTION: How Are TV Writers Paid?

Chad — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 01:00:31 GMT

Hey, screenwriters—

Today’s question comes from Dan, who comments at the end of Friday’s post in reference to something I had written about writing on TV shows. I had written…

“You might be hired [on a TV show] for 10 weeks… or 6 months… or even just one episode. It varies from show to show (not to get too technical, but the amount of time you’re hired for usually depends on how many episodes the show expects you to work on).”

And Dan asks…

“I understand TV writers get paid per episode they write (usually 2 a season, no?). Do they also get paid week-to-week for time spent in the writer's room breaking stories and punching up the other writer's drafts?”

Well, Dan, you are exactly right… kind of. How TV writers get paid is a pretty complicated arrangement, but here goes…

First of all, when it comes to getting paid, TV writers are divided into two categories: staff writers, or entry-level, bottom-rung writers… and everyone else above them. Let’s look first at everyone else above them…

WRITERS ABOVE STAFF-WRITER LEVEL

First of all, most TV writers’ compensation is regulated by the Writers Guild of America, which establishes minimum payments that a writer must be paid. These minimums go up each year. Right now, for instance, the minimum payment for writing one episode of a half-hour TV show on a broadcast network (ABC, CBS, NBC, FOX) is $21,585. The minimum for an hour-long show is $31,748.

When a TV writer is hired onto a show’s staff, he/she is contracted to work on a certain number of episodes. But he/she is also contracted for a certain number of week (usually 6, 14, or 20), so the studio can’t bind you to 6 episodes of some show, then drag them out over two years.

Thus, the WGA also establishes minimum weekly payments. Right now, for example, the weekly minimum for 6-week hire is $3,817, and the minimum decreases if the writer is hired for more weeks. So the weekly minimum for a 14-week hire is $3,548. The weekly minimum for 20 weeks is $3,272. So the more work a writer is guaranteed, the less the studio pays.

HOWEVER… even though a writer is contracted to work on a specific number of episodes over a certain number of weeks, his weekly average can never sink below the WGA’s weekly minimum. In other words, he can’t be given a 14-week contract to write one episode of a half-hour sitcom, at the minimum rate of $21,585, because that would make his weekly payment only $1,542… far below the WGA’s 14-week minimum of $3,548/week.

(Which is why, when writers/agents/execs negotiate a writers salary, they often speak in terms of what the writer makes per week.)

Still with me? Good. And if you’re not—don’t worry. I’m pretty confused myself right now. Which is we’re writers, not accountants. But hold on, because things are about to get even MORE tricky…

You know all that “writing” a writer is contracted to do?... IT DOESN’T INCLUDE WRITING AN ACTUAL SCRIPT. This is because most mid to upper-level writers are considered “writer-producers,” and their base salary is considered payment for OTHER writing-related duties… beating out stories, fleshing out characters, rewriting other scripts, etc.

So when a salaried writer does write an actual script, he gets paid an additional “script fee” ON TOP of his weekly salary. In other words, let’s say you get staffed on How I Met Your Mother at $5,000/week for 20 weeks. That’s $100,000. BUT… when you write your first script, you get paid another $21,585 (at least; remember—it’s only the WGA’s minimum). Which means if you write two scripts over the course of the season, your total take-home pay for the 20 weeks is $143,170 ($100,000 + $21,585 + $21,585). (Of course, you’ll have to pay your agent, your lawyer, taxes, etc.)

Got all that? Good. Now let’s look at…

HOW STAFF WRITERS GET PAID

Unlike everyone else on the writing staff, “staff writers,” the writing staff’s lowest level writers, are not considered “writer-producers.” They are pure writers. This results in two main differences in their payment plans:

1) Staff writers are not guaranteed a certain number of episodes, so they’re only paid a weekly salary, which is usually the WGA’s week-to-week payment. So if a staff writer is hired for 14 weeks on How I Met Your Mother, he’s probably paid nothing more than the WGA minimum of $3,548/week… for a total of $49,672.

2) Staff writers do not get paid script fees on top of their weekly salaries. So if that same staff writer is hired to write on How I Met Your Mother, at $3,548/week for 14 weeks, and he writes two episodes on his own… HE DOESN’T MAKE ANOTHER DIME. An upper level writer, however, would’ve made an additional $43,170 in “script fees,” because script-writing is considered to be in addition to his salaried “writer-producer” duties; but with staff writers, their salaries go against their script fees.

(A staff writer would, however, get paid extra money if he wrote three episodes… because the combined script fees for three half-hour episodes would be $64,755, which comes out to $4,625/week. And since a writer with a 14-week contract must make at least $3,548/week, he’d probably get another $15,083 so he’s making the mandated minimum. However, staff writers almost NEVER write three episodes… or even two. Many don’t even write one.)

Having said all this, it’s almost important to know that most writers are rarely guaranteed a certain numbers scripts they’ll actually get to write. So when a contract has a “13 episode guarantee,” that simply means the studio promises to pay the writer his their weekly salary equivalent to 13 produced episodes. It doesn’t guarantee he’ll get to write thirteen… or even one. I’ve known shows where a sinly writer wrote five or six episodes… or more. I’ve also known shows where specific writers—usually lower-level newbies—didn’t write a single episode.

Anyway, Dan—I hope this helps. But if it hasn’t… if it’s left you more confused than you were before… then, well, welcome to Hollywood.

If anyone else has questions they’d like me to confuse them about, feel free to write me at WDScriptNotes@FWPubs.com.

Until next time…

Chad

READER QUESTION: From 9th Grade to Hollywood...

Chad — Sat, 19 Apr 2008 01:47:39 GMT

Today's question(s) comed from Corey Nolter, a 9th grader who's an aspiring screenwriter working on a research paper about his future career. Corey asks a ton of questions, so I'm just gonna dive in. Corey-- I hope these answers help... lemme know how the paper turns out... and I expect a thank you in your Oscar speech! Here ya go...

Hi, my name is Corey Nolter and i am a 9th grade student trying to finsih a research paper for school. The research paper is about the feature career I want for my future. I would like to be just what you are a Screen Writer or someone who works in that area, However i was just wondering if you could answer these questions.

1. Do you enjoy your career? Do you ever think you have chosen the wrong path? Explain.

I love my career… and EVERY DAY I wonder if I’ve chosen the wrong path. I know this sounds crazy… so I’ll explain. First of all, I never question that I was born to write. I love writing, and I’ve wanted to be a professional writer for as long as I can remember. But this is a hard—and by “hard,” I mean “nearly impossible”—profession to have any kind of real stability in.

In almost every profession in the world, you have a salaried position that gives you a regular paycheck… and, hopefully, benefits, vacation time, etc. For screenwriters and TV writers, that almost never happens. And by “almost never,” I mean “never.”

Screenwriters and TV writers are freelance employees. Whether you’re the lowliest staff writer on a TV show or the highest-paid screenwriter in Hollywood, YOU’RE A FREELANCER. Which means you’re never ENTIRELY sure where your next paycheck will come from, and you almost never have a job that gives you benefits, retirement packages, or vacation time. (Most professional screenwriters get benefits through the Writers Guild, the labor union representing professional TV and film writers. As for vacation time, well… you go on vacation between jobs.)

Now, there ARE certain jobs that provide a semblance of stability. TV shows, for instance, are written by staffs of writers, and each person on that staff is hired for a certain amount of time. You might be hired for 10 weeks… or 6 months… or even just one episode. It varies from show to show (not to get too technical, but the amount of time you’re hired for usually depends on how many episodes the show expects you to work on).

But even these TV jobs are temporary. You may get contracted to write for 10 weeks… and then not be asked back at the end. Or you may get contracted for 10 weeks… and the show gets canceled after only two weeks.

So whether you’re a lowly staff writer on a TV show or Hollywood’s highest paid screenwriter, the life of a writer is one of agonizing uncertainty… especially if you have a spouse, kids, your own home. After all, it’s hard to support people who are depending on you when your future is always murky.

Of course, the more successful you are, the more work you are able to get… but that doesn’t necessarily make your job more stable. Marc Cherry, a veteran TV writer, spent years as a highly-paid TV writer, writing on shows like The Golden Girls, before suddenly hitting a dry spell and not being able to get a job for several years. Then, in 2003, he created Desperate Housewives and became one of television’s hottest writers. But for many years before that, he couldn’t get a job.

I have a friend who’s a producer on Lost, and he always tells aspiring film and TV writers: “If there’s anything else in the world you want to do… anything else that interests you… go do it. Unless this is the ONLY thing you care about… DON’T DO THIS.”

I think that’s a good thought—not just as a gauge of how hard this industry, but of what it takes, mentally and emotionally, to survive within it. The odds against success are incredibly high… and even when you find success, you can’t take it for granted.

So, Corey, in answer to your question: I do enjoy my career… because I love TV, movies, storytelling, and the written word. But very few days go by that I don’t wonder if life would be better if I was an insurance agent or a fireman or a librarian or a professor. If I didn’t have to fall asleep sweating every night because I have no idea if I’d be making any money in a week, or a month, or a year. If I knew I could give my wife everything she wants.

The problem is this: I don’t think I’d be very good at any of those things. Sure… I guess I could LEARN to be a librarian or an insurance agent or a professor (although trust me—I’m the LAST person you want to be a fireman)… but I think I’d be pretty poor at most of those jobs. So… for better or worse, I’m here in. Writing TV and articles and books and this blog… and praying—literally praying—that I can do this long enough to actually say I made a life at it.

2.How many years of education does it take for you to become a writer?

I guess the blunt answer to this is: NONE. That’s not to say writers aren’t highly educated, intelligent people… or that there aren’t some top-notch colleges, conservatories, and grad schools out there. I got my MFA from UCLA. But to be honest… I don’t think any education prepares you for being a writer better than just LIVING.

Now, this does NOT mean you can just drift along and expect to get writing jobs. Writing is hard work that takes years and years of practice, growing, trial and error—both in and out of school.

What it DOES mean, however, is that writers—first and foremost—write about people. And life. And the world around them. So your first job, as a budding author, is to get out in the world and study it. Read everything you can: books, screenplays, biographies, graphic novels, song lyrics, magazine articles, poems. Observe people around you… study relationships in your own life and how people connect to and communicate with each other. Keep a journal. Travel. Take interesting jobs. Talk to strangers.

I know this sounds like hokey motivational-speaker stuff, but it’s not. As a writer, your job is to tell stories or create images that reflect the world and its people. So the more you ABSORB the world and its people, the better writer you become. Look at the world’s great wordsmiths and storytellers… Ernest Hemingway, Woody Allen, Aimee Mann, Carl Sandburg, H.P. Lovecraft, Kurt Cobain, Virginia Woolf… whatever genre or medium they work in, they move us because we read their words and say, “Wow… I’ve felt like that.” Or, “Yeah, I’ve felt like the people in this story.” Or—when it’s REALLY magical—“Oh my God… this writer ‘GETS’ me!”

So the short answer to your question, Corey, is: yes, a writer needs a lot of real education: both book-learnin’ and life experience. But where you GET that education depends on how you learn best. Maybe you learn best in the structured curriculum of a top-notch school or university. Perhaps you learn best hopping trains and seeing the world. Maybe you learn best by getting a real job, living in the real world, and spending your nights reading books and writing your own stuff. Everyone’s different… but the tools and skills needed for being a writer aren’t.

3. After College is it tough to get noticed in your area of work?

Extremely. Competition is incredibly, ridiculously high in the field of film and TV writing. After all, there aren’t that many movies or TV shows each year, but there are MILLIONS of people (in L.A. alone, not to mention scattered about the country) vying to sell a film script or get a job on a television show’s writing staff.

To make things even harder, jobs aren’t always given out simply on the basis of talent. Landing a job is a combination of being skilled enough to get the job, having experience working in the industry, and knowing the right people (most jobs are gotten by knowing friends or associates doing the hiring).

This doesn’t mean it’s impossible… or that there are thousands of hugely talented writers walking around looking for work.

Personally, I’m a big believer that cream rises to the top and most truly talented, focused writers get where they want to go. Although to be honest, I don't know if there's any real truth in that... or if I just convince myself of it because-- well-- if you don't believe that, it's hard to remind yourself why you keep trying. Either way, I guess what I DON'T believe is that the world (or even Hollywood) is full of incredibly talented writers who just can’t get their break. Most people who aren’t working aren’t working for a reason. Maybe they’re not good enough yet. Maybe they haven’t networked enough. Maybe they don’t understand the business well enough. Maybe they don’t live in L.A. (like it or not, it’s almost impossible to be a working film or television writer anywhere but Los Angeles).

Having said that, I DO think that there are many ways of making a living as a professional writer and storyteller. Write plays and stage them yourself. Write amazing profiles or features for magazines and newspapers. Publish a blog. Do stand-up comedy.

I say all this not to discourage anyone from pursuing screenwriting or TV writing, but to say that "getting noticed" is often something out of your control... and there are many ways to scratch your writing/storytelling itch besides making TV shows and movies. Not to mention... if you write a great stage play or a powerful short story/article, you may grab the attention of Hollywood anyway. And it often seems that people only "get noticed" once they stop worrying about "getting noticed."

I guess the ultimate truth is: while OBVIOUSLY your goal is to be a working screenwriter, able to use your writing to support yourself, your lifestyle, and your family, you need to be pursuing screenwriting because you LOVE writing, and you LOVE storytelling, and you LOVE pairing together words and images and actions... not because you're dazzled by the lights of Hollywood or visions of dates with starlets or hopes of hanging out with Brad Pitt. Which, sadly, is why many people come out here-- writers, actors, directors, you name it. Yet at the end of the day, those that succeed in getting noticed are the writers and artists who work and sweat themselves to the bone... spending every waking minute perfecting their craft, immersing themselves in the industry, making and nurturing business relationships, etc. ...so when they finally DO get their break, they're prepared-- creatively, mentally, emotionally, professionally-- to seize the opportunity and make the most of it.

Of course, there ARE certain things that almost definitely need to happen-- certain stars that do need to align-- in order to have a shot at getting noticed as a screenwriter:

• You need to be living in L.A.

• You need to have strong writing samples that prove you're a talented writer

• You need to have a good network of professional contacts (which usually means living in L.A. for many months or years)

• You need to have experience writing so an employer knows what you’re capable of

• You have to be the right writer for the right project at the right time… or have the right project/script/pitch to sell at the right time (i.e., you may be the world’s greatest romantic comedy writer, but if an employer is looking for an action writer, they’re not going to hire you—no matter how good you are)

• You need to be in the right place at the right time when someone is hiring (i.e. it’s easy to lose out on a job to someone else simply because… frankly… they happened to be there when the space needed to be filled)

4. After getting noticed is your work environment tough or enjoyable? Like hows the staff,crew,project,ect.

Like all jobs, I find this TOTALLY depends on the people you’re working with. You might get a job on your favorite television show ever… but if you dislike the people you’re working with, you’ll be miserable every day of your life. On the other hand, you could take a job on a film, series, or project that seems horrible… but if you connect with and love the people around you, it’ll be a blast.

5.Is their any on the job training involved?

TONS. In fact—kind of going back to your education question—I’d say the best (maybe ONLY) way to learn how to live, work, and survive in Hollywood is simply to dive in and start DOING IT. Hollywood has a very different work culture than almost any other industry, and no matter how many classes you take or books you read, you won’t understand it till you’re in it.

Understanding Hollywood’s culture—and how to navigate it—is especially important for writers… because unlike costume designers or propmakers or makeup artists, we don’t produce something “physical.” Sure, there’s a script, but we’re basically sellers of storied and ideas, which are ephemeral, emotional, even psychological. So while half of our job is being able write, to put words down on paper and move people, the other half is being able to socialize… to pitch ideas, collaborate, take criticism, offer criticism, etc.

And while it sounds like much of this is simply innate and understanding how to be a nice, polite person (which is true), it also involves immersing yourself in Hollywood to learn the industry’s vocabulary and communication techniques. I.e., how do you break a baby? When should you beat a joke? Who’s the second second? How do you take the note behind the note?

On one hand, this is all industry jargon that’s easy to pick up; on the other hand, these are all skills or bits of knowledge that aren’t really available until you’re on the job. Which is why I always recommend people begin their Hollywood career at the bottom, working as a production assistant, doing grunt work on the set of a film or TV show where they can observe the processes and practices around them.

You can click here to check out an earlier post about getting a job as a P.A. (production assistant).

6. When writing does your company or advisor, give you any special equipment?

Not really—primarily because, as writers, our number one piece of equipment is in our heads! If you’re working on a TV show, your company will often give you an office, desk, and computer… although most writers I know use their own computers. Also on a TV show, the writers will all work together in one room called the “Writers Room,” which is equipped with a large table, chairs, and several dry-erase boards on which to write ideas and stories.

7. How long is a usual shift? and is their overtime?

This depends on the job. In movies, most writers don’t go into an office… ever. They write from home, or their own office, so they set their own schedules.

On a TV show, however, there IS an office. Most writers start their days around 10 a.m., but the end of the day is different for each show. Most TV writing staffs wrap up around 6:00 or 7:00. A small handful have been known to have solid eight-hour days (Everybody Loves Raymond was famous for this.) But many TV writing staffs work incredibly long hours, sometimes until midnight or later. Many sitcoms, for instance, shoot an entire episode in one night… beginning around 5 p.m. and ending anywhere between 10 p.m. and 3 a.m.

And unfortunately, no—there’s usually no overtime. TV writers are contracted to write a certain number of episodes. If they finish those episodes ahead of their deadlines, great (although this never happens); if they need more time, fine… but they don’t get paid extra.

Movie writers are paid per project; they get paid when their script is delivered to the employer on deadline, regardless of how many actual hours they pour into it.

8. Do you and others follow by any schedual or routine to get the writing done in time?

Well, as I said above, movie writers are on their own to get their work done… although their employer may build certain “touchstones” into a project’s schedule. In other words, if you get hired to write a horror movie that is due on July 1st, the company that hires you may want character descriptions by April 25th, a sketchy outline by May 1, a more detailed outline by May 7, a first draft of the script by June 1, a second draft by June 20, and a final draft by July 1 (that’s a SUPER tight schedule… but as an example, you get it).

How the writer budgets his or her time in there is up to them, but I think most writers like to have their own specific routine, whether it’s writing late at night or getting up early, running 5 miles, eating breakfast, and then writing at Starbucks. But most writers find that having a specific routine helps train their writing muscles to work.

In television, however, where writers come in to an actual office, work together, and have tighter deadlines (because they need to shoot an episode each week), it’s a much more structured process. As a team, writing staffs work begin thinking about what “larger” stories and themes their TV show wants to tell… stories that span many episodes and weeks. I.e. on The Office, the Jim and Pam saga has spanned years. Desperate Housewives tells a new mystery each season, and that mystery plays out over several months.

The writing staff then brainstorms what individual story events, or “beats,” need to happen in order to bring these larger stories to life. (I.e., if your TV show is telling a season long story, or “arc,” about a girl named JESSIE deciding to leave her fiance, we need to see several things: Jessie and her fiance together, Jessie being unhappy with her fiance, Jessie deciding to leave her fiance, Jessie deciding how to break up with her fiance, Jessie preparing for the break-up, Jessie actually breaking up with her fiance, Jessie in the aftermath of the break-up, etc.)

The writing staff then spreads these events over the course of a season, where each becomes the basis for—or even just a part of—its own episode. Each episode is then outlined by the staff, then assigned to an individual writer to write. Once the script is written, the writing staff often rewrites the script together, in the Writers Room, all at the same time.

Because TV shows must get an episode on the air each week, they are often under very strict deadlines to have outlines, scripts, and “shooting drafts” finished by specific deadlines. So if the writing staff’s process is too slow, they’ll quickly feel the heat and pressure of being off schedule… and that slows down everyone else from the costume designers to the directors to the set-builders.

9. Is it nice to see a piece of your work transfer into televison, books, or magazines?

Yes!! It’s awesome!! I am by no means Hollywood’s most successful writer or producer, but I’m proud of the work I’ve done… and even though I’ve written articles and produced TV episodes, it’s still a thrill to see my name on screen or my byline in print. It’s a little bit of validation telling you that this thing you love, this thing you set out to do, this dream you cling to because you’re afraid there’s NOTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD you’re capable of doing… isn’t just a hoax. And believe me… most of the time, you’re pretty sure it’s just a hoax. So seeing your name in print or on-screen is an INCREDIBLE feeling!

10.What is the average salary range for this position?

Salaries vary from job to job, and a writer’s salary on one job may be different from his or her salary on the next job. It’s the writer’s job (or his agent or lawyer’s job) to negotiate his payment each time he gets hired… and, hopefully, to get an increase from the last job. An entry-level writer probably gets paid only the minimum payment and may make $60,000-$70,000 per year. Mid-level writers can make $200,000 per year. And experienced showrunners, or head writers, can make well over a million dollars a year. But it's hard to give a specific average salary because so much depends on the show, the network, the level, and the experience of each particular writer.

The Writers Guild, however, does mandate certain minimum payments. The minimum for writing a single one-hour drama episode of television (like CSI or Law & Order), for instance, is $31,748. For a half-hour (My Name Is Earl, Two and a Half Men), it’s $21,585. Movies have a similar structure. You can download the Writers Guild’s “Schedule of Minimums,” which details minimum payments for many kinds of film and TV writing HERE.

Anyway, I hope all this helps, Corey! Good luck with the paper… and definitely write back and lemme know how it goes!

Chad

WHAT NOT TO WRITE: Vantage Point

Chad — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 01:12:00 GMT

Hey, screenwriters—

I just want to say this up front: my wife made me go.

Okay, that's a lie.

She definitely wanted to go more than I did, but the truth is: I kinda wanted to see it. At least, I had wanted to see it… before it got nothing but horrible reviews. In fact, the best thing I heard about it was from a friend who saw it and said, “I dunno… there are probably worse ways to spend two hours.”

I’m talking about Vantage Point, the Pete Travis movie which came out a couple weeks ago and was universally panned. And rightly so. The movie’s pretty horrible, although to be fair, it’s an interesting premise that you really want to work. Unfortunately, it just doesn’t.

Basically, Vantage Point is the story of an attempted presidential assassination-- and the investigation of who’s behind it-- as seen from multiple perspectives, a la Rashomon. So it replays the same events multiple times, each from a different character’s point of view… illuminating a bit more of the story and a few more clues each time.

I won’t go into all things that are wrong with the movie because it’s a LOT… the least of which is Forest Whitaker’s ridiculous overacting. The guy practically narrates everything he does on screen. If his phone rings, he says to himself, “My phone’s ringing… need to see who it is…” If he spots someone mysterious through his video camera, he says... “Hm… that’s weird… I wonder if he should be there…”

However... I did think Vantage Point was a perfect example of one of the biggest mistakes to avoid when writing a mystery movie, which—at its heart—this is. Here’s the problem…

The posters, billboards, and marketing campaign for the movie were all based around the question/tagline: “Can you solve the puzzle?” (Check out the trailer below.) Which, sure, is simply a marketing tool.

Except that it’s not "simply a marketing tool"…

…because “can you solve the puzzle?” suggests that what makes this movie fun, like any mystery, is that YOU—the viewer or reader—are trying to solve the mystery along with the story’s heroes or detectives (in this case, Secret Service Agent Thomas Barnes).

And it’s right. That’s exactly what should make this movie fun.

We love mysteries, whether it’s Sherlock Holmes or CSI, because we enjoy participating in the puzzle-solving. Which means the storyteller has one very important job: to lay out clues that track logically from one to the next, so when everything adds up in the end, we—the audience—have that amazing “aha!” moment that all great mysteries have. That “oh-my-God-I-should’ve-seen-that!” moment. Or the “oh-of-course-it-all-makes-sense!” moment.

This doesn’t mean we should be able to solve the mystery before the hero. It simply means that we need to be able to feel like we could, and that when the solution is finally unveiled, we can flip back through the clues in our head and see how it all fits together.

But Vantage Point never attempts to let you try and solve the mystery. Why? Because it purposely and shamelessly withholds clues. For instance…

Characters continually see clues we’re not allowed to see. I.e., at one point, Agent Barnes (Dennis Quaid) is watching a playback of the assassination on Howard Lewis's (Forest Whitaker) camcorder. As he watches the screen, his eyes go wide, he says something ominous like, “Oh my God—that’s it!” and races off. We don’t find out till much later, in a different person’s “story,” what he saw. Which is not only frustrating as hell, it’s a cheap shot on the part of the storyteller. We realize that the solution to the mystery is right in front of us, but we’re unable to solve it—or have the fun of trying to solve it—not because it’s a complex, intriguing puzzle, but because the storyteller is willfully withholding information… and sharing it with other characters right in front of us!

Also, each mini-story (each time we see the event from a new perspective) ends in a cliffhanger. At one point, for example, one of the main characters steps out to confront someone and says, “Bet you didn’t expect to see me alive, did you?”… but before we see who he’s talking to, the mini-story ends and we move on to someone else’s perspective. And while cliffhangers are supposed to be maddening and suspenseful, they should be maddening and suspenseful because we’re so emotionally invested in characters, relationships, and events that we’re dying to know what happens next… not because we’re angry at the filmmaker for not giving us information that's clearly right in front of our noses.

So while these moments are frustrating in and of themselves, the bigger problem is that we’re constantly aware that the filmmaker is not giving us the promised clues, so we’re never allowed to try and solve the puzzle… which is not only a complete betrayal of the marketing campaign’s promise, it’s a betrayal of the promise made by all mystery storytellers at the beginning of the mystery. Which is: “I, the storyteller, am going to create a mystery so complex and intriguing you can’t solve it… but we promise to play fair along the way, giving you all the clues and tools you’ll need to solve it.” In other words, "we'll do our best to outsmart you, but we'll at least play fair."

After all, you can’t have a great “oh-my-God-I-should’ve-seen-that-coming!” moment if there’s no way you could've seen anything coming.

It’s this flaw that makes Vantage Point such a dismal failure. I think mystery audiences are willing to forgive a lot of things—bad acting, lame characters, etc.—if the mystery is compelling and they feel like they’re actually able to participate in the solving.

But by refusing to play fair, Vantage Point immediately sets its own course for self-destruction.

So, the lesson to take away from this: IF YOU’RE WRITING A MYSTERY, YOU NEED TO PLANT CLUES FAIRLY AND HONESTLY ENOUGH THAT YOU AT LEAST GIVE THE “ILLUSION” THAT YOUR PUZZLE IS SOLVE-ABLE.

Coming soon… thoughts on Forgetting Sarah Marshall…

VANTAGE POINT TRAILER

WHAT NOT TO WRITE: Leatherheads

Chad — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 18:27:36 GMT

Hey, screenwriters--

Today's post is brought to us by Martin Scorsese's new Rolling Stones IMAX movie, Shine A Light. (Okay, not really, but it looks incredible, so do yourselves a favor and check it out.)

And while I haven't seen it yet, I can only assume that it will rock hard... which will help to wash off the stink for those of you who go see director George Clooney's new movie, Leatherheads... which I just saw last night. (So see Leatherheads first, then Shine A Light... so it's like you get dirty and then have a nice, warm, comforting shower...)

While I don't want this blog to turn into a movie review site, I do think it's helpful to look at movies and talk about their screenwriting qualities... and you often learn more by looking at bad movies than good ones, because you see all their mistakes.

So, let's talk about Leatherheads (and I won't give away any actual plot details, just in case you decide to actually put yourself through it)...

Leatherheads is a 1920's love triangle set against the backdrop of the newborn professional football industry. It follows three characters: Dodge Connelly (George Clooney), an aging pro football player for Minnesota's ailing pro football team, the Duluth Bulldogs; Carter Rutherford (John Krasinski), a college superstar-- and World War I hero-- who's drafted by Connelly to revive the dying Bulldogs; and Lexie Littleton (Renee Zellweger), a scrappy Chicago reporter determined to "cook Carter's goose" by proving he's not the war hero everyone thinks he is.

Of course, both Connelly and Rutherford fall head-over-heels for Littleton... forming a (supposedly) dramatic love triangle that's at the center of the film. Here's the problem...

It doesn't work.

There are a myriad of reasons that keep the film from working: it's a pastiche of incongruent styles and tones (screwball comedy, dry social commentary, contemporary romantic comedy), it flits from theme to theme without ever being sure what it wants to say, etc.

But today I want to talk about one major script flaw that prevents Leatherheads from taking off...

It never takes the time to define its core relationships.

The key to pulling off this kind of romantic comedy/love triangle is illustrating the love between all three people involved... and getting the audience to care for all of them. We need to see the attraction between Littleton and Connelly... we need to see the attraction between Littleton and Rutherford... and, perhaps most importantly, we need to see the bond and friendship between the two men, Connelly and Rutherford.

In Leatherheads, the relationship between the two men is most important... but it's given the least amount of time. The entire plot is driven by the partnership of Connelly and Rutherford... the fading veteran and the arrogant upstart. Yet we know very little about the two men's relationship. Are they father-son? (Not literally, of course... but in the context of their relationship.) Are they brothers who love and hate each other? Best friends? Business rivals? Teacher-student?

Because we're never sure, we don't know what's at stake when the woman-- Littleton-- drives a wedge between them. The destruction of two "brothers'" relationship is tragic and dramatic. So is the break-up of two best friends. But two guys who just like the same girl is just... well... two guys who like the same girl. Thus, we're never really invested in caring about how these two men will solve their battle for the same woman, because it never feels like anything tremendous will be lost or gained.

Secondly, the script never fully articulates the Littleton-Connelly or Littleton-Rutherford relationships. We know both men find Littleton attractive... but what does Littleton see in each of them? Sure, she has some pseudo-witty repartee with Connelly... and she needs to cling to Rutherford to get her juicy newspaper story... but we're never sure what emotional need each of these men fills in Littleton. How does each satisfy her, emotionally, in a different way? And likewise, what emotional hole does she fill in each of them?

Because we never know, we have no idea what each man will lose if he loses this woman. As a result, we have no idea why each even bothers to pursue or fight for her. Does Littleton make Rutherford want to discover his wild, uninhibited side? Does she make Connelly want to settle down and become a responsible family man? We don't know... so we have no idea what each man stands to lose, personally, if he loses Littleton.

Likewise, we don't know what Littleton will lose if she loses one of these men. Does Rutherford provide her with a sense of security and warmth? Does Connelly give her excitement and adventure? And by picking one over the other, what is Littleton gaining and what is she sacrificing? We never know, so there are no stakes in her dating or giving up either.

So, Lesson #1: If you're writing a romantic comedy, we need to know why your characters desperately need each other... and we need to know what they'll lose if they lose each other.

And Lesson #2: If you're creating this kind of love triangle, we need to be invested in all the relationships... which means each relationship needs to be clearly enough defined that we understand why it's important to the characters... and what they'll lose if the relationship dissolves.

The best way to learn these lessons, of course, is to go see Leatherheads. Unfortunately, it'll be a two-hour, ten-dollar lesson (and neither is refundable), but if you're writing a love-triangle/romantic comedy, it just may be worth it...

Chad

LEATHERHEADS

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 many ideas should I present in a pitch?

Chad — Sun, 09 Mar 2008 22:09:41 GMT

Hey, screenwriters—

Today’s question comes from Anita, who also happened to take one of my writing classes a few weeks ago. Anita emails...

“My partner and I have been developing several [television show] ideas, and have more ideas we are fleshing out. We have been taking meetings here and there with some friends and contacts and are on our way... I wanted to know your opinion on pitching and pitch meetings. Would you say it's best to go in with your strongest idea and if asked, get into the others? Or how many would be best to go in to a pitch meeting with?”

Lots of people ask this, Anita... and I usually recommend people go in with two ideas; I think the one-two punch works really well. On rare occasions, I might have a third in my back pocket… but even when I do, I don’t go in expecting to use it.

I would never attempt to pitch more than three ideas. Even if I had four brilliant ideas, and the first three pitches went tremendously, I would rather leave the “audience” (producers or execs) wanting more. And even if they’re asking, I think people tend to hit "information-overload" after three pitches. So if I’d exhausted three and they were still clamoring for more, I’d probably say, “Know what?... I have a couple ideas I’m still working on, but they’re not quite ready. I’d love to come in back in once they’re fully baked and see what you think.”

This way, you A) get another meeting and more face time, B) get to pitch again when the buyers are fresh and not already thinking about your first ideas, and C) start an actual relationship that can be nurtured and grown (which is really what it’s all about, anyway… very rarely do execs or producers acquire projects from people they’re just meeting for the first time).

Having said all this, I still don’t usually like to pitch more than two ideas. Two outstanding ideas are stronger, and more memorable, than two outstanding ideas AND one almost-outstanding idea. And even if neither idea sells (which they probably won’t—and I say that not to be a pessimist, but because statistically speaking, most ideas don’t get bought), you leave the meeting being remembered as someone who has only outstanding ideas… even if those ideas weren’t appropriate to buy.

Which brings me to the real purpose of a pitch meeting…

Sure, we all want to sell something. But the cold hard truth is: most pitches don’t sell.

And that's not a comment on anyone's ideas. You could have the best idea ever… let’s say you have a brilliant concept for a sitcom about a family of aliens (which, I admit, is probably NOT a billiant concept, but let’s just PRETEND it’s brilliant)… and it still may not sell. It’s easy to think you flubbed the pitch or execs hated the idea. But what you may not know—what you couldn’t know—is that they already have three family sitcoms in development and they’re only looking for urban cop dramas. Or maybe they developed a show about aliens last year, it didn’t sell, and they don’t want to go down that path again. Maybe they’re looking for a show to pair with another sitcom, and while they love your alien idea, it’s just not a right fit for their current needs.

The point is: there are a million factors determining whether or not your show sells, and you can only know a handful of those factors.

Secondly, TV shows are rarely bought on pitch from total strangers, or even acquaintances, even when they’re brilliant ideas. Execs usually buy ideas only from established producers and/or people they’ve already worked with. But this doesn’t mean they’re not constantly looking for creative new talents, which—again—brings me to the real purpose of a pitch meetings…

The true purpose of a pitch meeting is not to sell an idea, but to impress your audience with your creativity, talent, and passion enough to BEGIN A RELATIONSHIP with them.

I never go into a pitch expecting to sell something. I go in hoping to form a connection with the buyer, impress them with my thoughts, and continue a dialogue… a dialogue that continually lets me know what they need and lets them know what I’m working on. So as we continue talking after the meeting, we eventually, hopefully, find something to work on together.

Anyway, Anita, I guess the short, straightforward answer to your original question is:

Go in with your two best ideas.

And having said that, only pitch the second idea if conversation allows it to come up organically. Maybe you finish Pitch #1 and the exec says, “So, what else are you working on?” Or, “Do you have anything else?” In which case: pitch away.

Or maybe your second idea is a game show that takes place entirely outside. And maybe, during the course of the meeting, the exec starts talking about how he or she went hiking this weekend. You could use that to segueway into, “I love hiking… anything outdoors. Hiking, fishing, hunting." And the exec says, "Yeah, me, too-- I try to get out to the mountains or the beach at least twice a week." And you say: "We’ve actually been working on a game show that takes place entirely outside.” And the exec says, “No way—that’s crazy. How does it work?” At which point, you could talk about that idea.

The whole point is this: if you tweak your mindset to realize you’re not going pitching shows you want to sell, you're pitching yourself as the most innovative, visionary, and skilled producer out there-- and your show ideas are simply proof of that-- you’ll can probably tell which of your ideas are most appropriate to actually present. If one of them sells—GREAT! If not, you’ve accomplished something just as valuable… started a relationship with an exec who likes you... a relationship that will hopefully pay off creatively and financially down the road.

I hope that helps, Anita! To everyone else, thanks for all your questions. Reader questions are my favorite part of doing this blog, and I have many more that I’ll get to over the coming days.

If you have a question, feel free to email it to WDScriptnotes@FWpubs.com, or just post it in the comments box below!

Hope all's well, and I'll talk to you soon!

Chad

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

TIP OF THE DAY: The Magic of the Prelap

Chad — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 08:16:06 GMT

Someone once told me that if you hear something three times, it means the universe is sending you a message. Well, I haven't heard this three times yet, but a question came up in my writers group last week... and then I got an email yesterday asking almost the exact same question. And since I was never good with numbers, I figure two times is as good as three. So here ya go...

In my writers group, my friend Tony-- an up-and-coming screenwriter who optioned his first script last year-- was working on a new project and having trouble tying two scenes together. Here, take a look...

                                    MR. JACKSON
                    Sure, sure. Well, see you next
                    Saturday.

Daniela, precariously balancing her mother-load of hot dogs, shoots Trevor a less than pleased glance. (The problem was: we see Daniela's "less-than-pleased glance" here...)

INT. TREVOR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

The place is totally seventies. Not hip, retro-cool seventies -- but musty, smells like Grandpa, seventies.

Trevor opens the door, pushing aside a pile of mail.

                                    DANIELA
                    Trevor, you promised you'd meet my
                    dad next Saturday. (...but don't
                      get an answer till here about what
                      she's less-than-pleased about.)

                                    TREVOR
                    Sorry, I forgot. How bout this --
                    you invite your dad to come to my
                    game. Huh? Afterwards, we'll grab
                    some grub... maybe a beer... maybe
                      two?

Although there isn't a huge amount of time between Daniela's "less than pleased" glance and the line that explains the glance, there's enough time that readers were saying, "Wait-- what? Why is she less-than-pleased? Did I miss something?" And even though they get their answer in a moment, any red flag, is enough to bump a reader out of your script.

So Rick, one of the other guys in the writers group, and I suggested using a "prelap" to move up Daniela's line.

Here's the thing about prelaps... I love them. I could write a whole script of prelaps. I have no idea who invented them, but I think I first discovered them while reading a Joss Whedon script a few years ago. And since Joss gave us Buffy and Angel, I'm perfectly willing to credit him with inventing the prelap.

The crazy thing is-- there's nothing all that special about them... except they do a great job of making a script feel genuinely cinematic, and when used correctly, they add shades of emotional nuance and foreshadowing.

Basically, a prelap uses a line of dialogue from one scene to end the scene preceding it, allowing the first scene to flow seamlessly into the second.

So here's what Tony did...

                                   MR. JACKSON
                    Sure, sure. Well, see you next
                    Saturday.

Daniela, precariously balancing her mother-load of hot dogs, shoots Trevor a less than pleased glance.

                                    DANIELA (PRELAP)
                    You promised you'd meet my dad
                    next Saturday.

INT. TREVOR'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

The place is totally seventies. Not hip, retro-cool seventies -- but musty, smells like Grandpa, seventies.

Trevor opens the door, pushing aside a pile of mail.

                                    TREVOR
                    Sorry, I forgot. How bout this --
                    you invite your dad to come to my
                    game. Huh? Afterwards, we'll grab
                    some grub... maybe a beer... maybe
                      two?

Because the second scene's conflict now begins in the first scene, it carries you into the next. The scenes are tied together with the prelap, letting one flow right into the other without bumping the reader. Screenwriting magic!

(I know, I know-- I tend to get excited over little things, but come on-- you gotta admit: that's pretty cool.)

(Oh, and by the way-- no real comment on Sunday's Oscars. I'm still upset that no one put down The Bourne Ultimatum as a write-in nominee for best picture.)

Get Ready for Staffing Season (with a great discount)

Chad — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 08:22:21 GMT

Hey, TV writers--

With staffing season ramping up in a matter of weeks (upfronts have already been announced for May 12-15, which means staffing will begin immediately afterwards), now is the time to whip your TV spec into shape. So I'm teaching another 10-week spec-writing workshop with mediabistro.com, beginning Wednesday, February 27.

This is a terrific class for anyone hoping to get staffed this year. Over the course of ten weeks, whether you're writing a Dexter, 30 Rock, The Office, Criminal Minds, or Weeds, you'll take your spec from mere story nugget to fully written script. We'll talk about how to structure your episode, nail your characters' voices, and-- most importantly-- inject your own original voice. And the class ends April 30... just in time for staffing season.

And the best part is... Script Notes readers get a $75 dollar discount. Just call Stefanie at mediabistro (310-659-5668) to sign up, and tell her you're a Script Notes reader. Here's some more info, or click HERE to read more at mediabistro.com...

WRITING THE TV SPEC SCRIPT
When: 10 weeks, Wednesdays, February 27 - April 30, 7-10 pm
Where: mediabistro.com, 7494 Santa Monica Blvd., Ste. 303, W. Hollywood, CA 90046
Cost: Originally $610, but tell them you saw the blog, and you get a $75 discount... only $535
To sign up: Call Stefanie at 310-659-5668
For more information: Click here...

READER QUESTION: Is "Boston Legal" Spec-able?

Chad — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 07:56:47 GMT

So... I got an interesting question yesterday in regards to my post about about this season's spec-able shows. Loyal reader Fig writes in:

"Why is it that I've never heard of anyone writing a "Boston Legal" spec? (Or is it just me?)"

It's funny, Fig-- when I read your question, my first response was, "Oh, yeah-- Boston Legal-- that must be a spec-able show!" But of all the people I asked... agents, execs, writers... not one of them mentioned Boston Legal. Which is weird, I know, because it's still a pretty popular show, and it seems-- in theory-- that a quirky, standalone show like that should be highly spec-able.

But it's not... or, at least, it's not considered a "hot spec."

And here, I think, is why...

Reason #1) It's old. It's going into its fifth season this year, and most shows have lost their sexy new-kid-on-the-block status by then. And while you probably never want to spec a super-new show like, say, Eli Stone, or Aliens in America, you also don't want to spec something that feels like yesterday's news. And while I never really saw a glut of Boston Legal specs, there was definitely a time-- a few years ago-- when I saw many more than I do now. Which brings me to...

Reason #2) For whatever reason-- and maybe this is just my own perception-- Boston Legal has never really felt "cool." Maybe because it was a spinoff of The Practice, which had been around forever, but Boston Legal just never felt like a fresh, new, groundbreaking show... which isn't necessarily fair, because it's very different than The Practice... and it's really good... but still-- it lives in that world, those characters were born on The Practice, and The Practice first premiered eleven years ago. This isn't to knock Boston Legal... I think it's so much better than many people give it credit for... I'm just saying that it has never felt like the show all the kids are watching.

Having said all that-- if your heart is pounding to write a Boston Legal, my advice is: write a Boston Legal!

While one of the first rules of spec-writing is to write a hot spec that execs, agents, and showrunners are dying to read, the real first rule of spec-writing... or of writing anything... is to write what you're most passionate about. Nothing will show off your true voice better than something your pour your heart into... whether it's this year's hot 30 Rock spec or a radio play about your mother. In other words, brilliant St. Elsewhere spec will get you farther than a mediocre Dexter.

Of course, having said all this, it doesn't mean you should just damn the rules, write whatever you want, and expect to get staffed. The rules are there for a reason... every year, there are certain specs people like to read, and certain specs they don't. And the specs people like to read tend to get read first, plain and simple. So the best case scenario for you, as a writer, is to find a story you're deeply passionate about and implant it into one of the hot specs. Could your Boston Legal story work as a Dexter? How about a Mad Men? Maybe even a CSI (which is older than Boston Legal but still, somehow, manages to have a higher "cool factor")?

If you can't adapt your story... if you're burning to tell a specific, heartfelt, personal tale that won't work as a Dexter or The Office... then by all means-- tell that story in whatever form it needs to be told, whether it's a spec of L.A. Law, an epic poem, or a stage play in iambic pentameter. Your goal is to rock your reader to his core... and if Boston Legal's the only way to do that, Boston Legal it is.

This Year's Spec-able TV Shows

Chad — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 01:13:56 GMT

Well, screenwriters-- here we are... the final day of the WGA writers strike. As I write this, writers in New York and L.A. are casting their votes to end the last three months' work stoppage. And the end of a work stoppage means only one thing...

It's time to get back to work.

TV networks have already announced which shows would be returning this spring, and ABC even gave 2008-2009 pickups to nine returning series, including Grey's Anatomy, Desperate Housewives, Dirty Sexy Money, and Pushing Daisies. Numerous pilots have also been greenlit, and NBC is even greenlighting some projects-- like Kath and Kim and Robinson Crusoe-- right to series. Which means we're looking at a pretty unconventional staffing season this year.

Some shows may begin hiring writers immediately. Others will probably hire in late May, as usual. And still others may hire throughout the summer. The point is this...

It's to get your writing samples in shape.

Dust off that original material and finish that TV spec you've been procrastinating on. The urge to hire writers is definitely in the air, and I've had several email conversations today with writers and agents alike on what TV specs may be hot this staffing season.

There weren't any huge breakout hits last fall... or even the previous year... so it's difficult to pinpoint exactly what specs people will be reading. But here are my lists of what seem to be shaping up to be this year's spec-able shows...

COMEDY
30 Rock - Possibly the hottest comedy spec out there right now (which means people will probably be sick of reading it soon)
The Office - There was a massive glut of these last year, and people were pretty tired of them, but it's still a well-respected show... so if you got a hankering to write an Office spec-- go for it)
Weeds - Not the most-watched show, but it's well-respected and has a unique, edgy sensibility; paired with the right originals, this could be a very effective spec
Samantha Who? - I'm gonna be honest: write this at your risk. It's a new show... and it was the closest thing TV had last year to a new hit comedy. It's coming back next fall, and who knows how it'll do. But if there's gonna be a new spec-able comedy on the market, it's probably gonna be this one.

DRAMA
Dexter - A widely respected show, with a dark, ascerbic sensibility. This could be a huge spec this year (especially if it does well when it moves to CBS).
Mad Men - It may be just a tad too early to officialy declare this show as spec-able, but if I were a betting man (which I'm not), I'd say this could be a hot spec very soon.
Rescue Me - I would've thought this show was pretty tired as a spec, but I've talked agents who definitely like reading it still.
Californication - I say spec at your own risk, although there are definitely agents and execs out there who will read it. Not a lot, but enough.
Grey's Anatomy - Yeah, this show's old news, but people still love it, and that includes execs, agents, and other writers. I don't know if it'd be the number one show I'd tell you to spec, but if you love it and have a great idea for your story... go for it.
Criminal Minds - This show never seems to get a lot of buzz in industry circles, but it's a hit nonetheless, and there haven't been any size-able new procedurals for a while. So again: maybe not the first thing I'd recommend, but probably spec-able.

SHOWS TO KEEP AN EYE ON
There are several series out there which may not be spec-able yet... but could be soon. So keep an eye on them. Also, if you're dying to spec one of them know, take a shot... if they become hot specs a few weeks or months down the road, you'll be the first one on the market. If not... well... consider it an exercise that made you a better writer...

Pushing Daisies
Chuck
Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
In Treatment
Breaking Bad

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.

READER QUESTION: How Do I Show My Character Is Avoiding Profanity?

Chad — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 03:48:19 GMT

Hey, screenwriters--

Today's question comes from loyal reader Justin, a screenwriter who writes:

"Hi, Chad--

I wonder how you would indicate that a character was holding back from using foul language - if his mother was in the room or something. Is it clear enough to say, for example:

                            ARNOLD
                         (Holds back from swearing)
                   What the f---?

Or is there perhaps a more elegant way to do it?

Best regards

Justin"

Well, Justin, I'm gonna make this short and sweet: yes. I think what you've written is a fine way of showing a character holding back from swearing.

On one condition.

That the character, and not the writer, is the one refusing to swear.

In other words... I sometimes get screenplays in which the writer is clearly avoiding profanity (and I'm gonna be honest-- I see it a lot in the annual Writers Digest screenwriting competition). Which is fine-- I'm all for clean entertainment-- as long as it's appropriate to the style, tone, and world of the story.

In other words... I sometimes see writers ducking profanity in scenes or stories where it would otherwise be appropriate: a battle scene, a frat house, a gangster shootout, two teenagers hanging out, a couple having hot sex. But profanity, used correctly, is not only often appropriate in certain scenes... it's necessary to make the audience believe they're real. It's a simple fact of life: people swear. Soldiers, frat guys, gangsters, lovers in the throes of passion, teenagers out of earshot of adults... and, of course, ordinary people going through their days.

In fact, avoiding profanity where it's appropriate can undercut the power of your storytelling.

Take these swatches of dialogue from different characters and situations:

A BATTLE SCENE

EXT. BATTLEFIELD

The battle rages. Bombs explode. Gunfire crackles. Sirens blare. Tony struggles to pull Gregor to his feet.

                            TONY
                   You are not fucking dying today!
                   Do you hear me?! Get the fuck up!

                            GREGOR
                   My leg... I can't feel my fucking
                   leg...

TWO TEENAGE GUYS

INT. CAR

SHANE downs the Beam and hands the bottle to ERIC.

                            SHANE
                   What a bitch. Don't take that
                   shit from her.

                            ERIC
                   Easy for you to say.

                            SHANE
                   Dude. If my mom pulled that shit with
                   me I'd crack her across the skull.
                   Wham. Just like that.


A LOVE SCENE

INT. BEDROOM

Smokey looks at Shondra, splayed out acorss the bed.

                            SMOKEY
                   I've... uh... I've never really done
                   this before.

                            SHONDRA
                   What? Fucked a hooker?

                            SMOKEY
                   Could you... not use that word?

                            SHONDRA
                   Well, it's what I am, baby. A
                   hooker. We fuck.

In each of these snippets-- two men struggling to survive a war, two teens venting about their parents, and a man visiting his first prostitute-- profanity not only seems appropriate, it's almost necessary to illustrate the reality of the situation. Look at the edited versions...

A BATTLE SCENE - TAKE TWO

EXT. BATTLEFIELD

The battle rages. Bombs explode. Gunfire crackles. Sirens blare. Tony struggles to pull Gregor to his feet.

                            TONY
                   You are not fricking dying today!
                   Do you hear me?! Get up now!

                            GREGOR
                   My leg... I can't feel my stupid
                   leg...

The meaning of the lines themselves haven't changed, but the softness of the language works against the urgent life-and-death stakes of the scene. People about to be blown to pieces aren't concerned about watching their mouths... their language is as extreme as the situation they're trying to survive.

TWO TEENAGE GUYS - TAKE TWO

INT. CAR

SHANE, 16, downs the Beam and hands the bottle to ERIC, 14.

                            SHANE
                   What a loser. Don't take that
                   garbage from her.

                            ERIC
                   Easy for you to say.

                            SHANE
                   Dude. If my mom was that mean
                   I'd crack her across the skull.
                   Wham. Just like that.

Again-- the sentiments of the lines haven't changed, but removing the adult language betrays what these kids are doing-- trying to behave like adults: drinking, venting about relationships, and-- perhaps most importantly-- speaking and expressing themselves like adults.

A LOVE SCENE - TAKE TWO

INT. BEDROOM

Smokey looks at Shondra, splayed out acorss the bed.

                            SMOKEY
                   I've... uh... I've never really done
                   this before.

                            SHONDRA
                   What? Had sex with a hooker?

                            SMOKEY
                   Could you... not use that word?

                            SHONDRA
                   Well, it's what I am, baby. A
                   hooker. We have sex.

Again, the meanings of the lines remain the same, but the first draft's profanity reflects the raw seediness of the situation. Remove the profanity, the whole scene suddenly seems sterilized and unrealistic.

The point is: people swear. And your job, as an artist, is to reflect the world as you see it as accurately as possible. Which doesn't mean you can't see a cleaner, profanity-free world... as long as it's an honest reflection of the world you see. But to compromise your vision... to sanitize the world in order to avoid profanity on principle... is usually a recipe for weak writing.

Anyway, Justin-- I realize this was a long-winded answer to a question you may not have asked, so thanks for bearing with me.

But like I said, I occasionally see this... and while no producer or executive is ever looking for profanity, the obvious avoidance of it is an immediate turn-off, because it means the writer isn't being true to his or her own vision.

So next time you're tempted to hit the delete key over whatever four-letter word has slipped out... trust me: leave that shit in. It will, most likely, make your writing stronger.

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.

TIP OF THE DAY: Getting In (and Out) of Difficult Scenes

Chad — Fri, 11 Jan 2008 21:37:40 GMT

Hey, writers--

I thought of you all last night. In a good way… even though it came in a moment of sheer outrage and frustration.

I was sitting in my office, beating my head on the desk as I tried to figure out a scene in a romantic comedy I’m working on. And it was not going well. You know the feeling… you know what the scene needs to accomplish, you know exactly what information needs to be conveyed, you even know how long the scene should last. But you can’t figure out a way in. You don’t hear the opening line—or see the opening action—in your head.

I hate these moments.

And after about two hours of trying to concoct as many clever beginnings to the scene as possible, I remembered something… a little trick I like to use that almost always works.

Fifteen minutes later, I had finished the scene, and it was better than anything I’d written all day.

And that’s when I thought of you guys. Because I figured if I had this problem, maybe other writers had this problem, and if this trick worked for me, maybe it would work for them as well.

So, here’s my suggestion for a great way to begin and end scenes…

Part I: Enter your scene on the answer to a question. In other words, begin the scene with one character answering a question asked by another character—but we don’t hear the initial question. This throws us directly into the “meat,” or action, of the scene… and, usually, right into good conflict between two people. Not hearing the question, which would anticipate an answer, also lets you have some fun coming up with a compelling opening line. For instance…

Rather than starting your scene this way—

INT. BEDROOM

Sarah turns from the window to face her husband.

                            SARAH
                   But… but why her? Why’d you do it?

                            MICHAEL
                   Because I’ve never loved you, that’s why.

Just come in here…

INT. BEDROOM

Michael turns to face his wife.

                            MICHAEL
                   Because I’ve never loved you, that’s why.

                            SARAH
                   Don’t say that.

                            MICHAEL
                   Our house… our marriage… the kids… it’s a
                   sham. Always has been.

See how you begin your scene with your characters, and their conflict, already in motion?

Likewise, I like to end scenes with a question, without hearing the answer (Part II). This allows you to end every scene with a little cliffhanger that propels your audience into the next scene. For instance…

Rather than ending you scene this way…

                                            BRANDON
                   I know there’s a lot of blood, but some
                   day we’ll look back at this and laugh.

                            ROGER
                   What about Michael? Is he okay?

Brandon frowns.

                            BRANDON
                   I’m sorry, Roger. He didn’t make it.

INT. FUNERAL HOME

Mourners sob as the MICHAEL’S WIFE reads her eulogy…

                            MICHAEL’S WIFE
                   …and that’s when Michael would laugh
                   the hardest…

End it this way…

                                BRANDON
                   I know there’s a lot of blood, but
                   some day we’ll look back at this and
                   laugh.

                             ROGER
                   What about Michael? Is he okay?

INT. FUNERAL HOME

MICHAEL’S WIFE reads her eulogy…

                             MICHAEL’S WIFE
                   …and that’s when Michael would laugh
                   the hardest…

By eliminating Brandon’s final answer, we leave the scene hanging on Michael’s question… making the beginning of the next scene the answer itself! This gives both scenes a new energy, with one scene propelling the reader into the next.

Hope this tip helps… and remember: don’t be afraid to ask questions, leave comments, or email me at WDScriptnotes@fwpubs.com.

Writing the TV Spec Script (with a great discount!)

Chad — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 18:46:12 GMT

Hey, everyone--

If you're gearing up for the post-strike staffing season, I just wanted to let you know that I'm teaching a new TV spec-writing class at Mediabistro in Los Angeles, beginning next week. And to make it even better, tell them you saw this blog, and they'll give you a $75 discount. Here's the scoop...

WRITING THE TV SPEC SCRIPT: Complete a Draft of a Sitcom or Drama
When: 10 weeks, Wednesdays, January 16 - March 19, 7-10 pm
Where: mediabistro.com, 7494 Santa Monica Blvd., Ste. 303, W. Hollywood, CA 90046
Cost: Originally $610, but tell them you saw the blog, and you get a $75 discount... only $535
To sign up: Call Stefanie at 310-659-5668
For more information: Click here...

You want to write for TV, and you've mastered the basics of meeting deadlines, mastering wordcount, and editing. Now you're ready to get your script off the gorund. In this class, you'll start and finish the first draft of your sitcom or one-hour drama spec script. Each week, you will bring in the amount of pages for your spec script that your instructor requires. Each student will read his or her work (with the help of fellow "actors" in the class), and the teacher and students will take turns critiquing the piece while adding suggestions for making it tighter. The entire last class will be devoted to reading final drafts and learning how to get your script into the right hands. Class is also heavy on TV clips and sample scripts.

In this class, you can expect to learn:
• Everything there is to know about the TV business from an industry expert
• The rules for creating characters that are true
• Structure: How to "break for commercial," find a good ending, wrap things up seamlessly
• The secret behind perfect dialogue
• Subplots: Where to put them, how to tie them in

By the end of class, students can expect to have:
A complete spec script of a one-hour drama or sitcom.

Admission requirements:
Please submit a letter of interest (including a brief work history), and a writing sample (less than 2,000 words).

Take Me To Your Pilot: 3 Rules For Writing a Successful TV Pilot

Chad — Mon, 07 Jan 2008 18:27:32 GMT

While the Writers Strike may have decimated this year’s pilot season, one thing it won’t decimate is TV’s continuing need for pilots. Once the strike is over, networks and studios will be desperate for new shows and content. And fortunately, the market for spec pilots (pilots written without being first pitched and sold as ideas) has been robust lately… with studios hungrier than usual to snatch up already-written scripts.

So as writers all across America use the strike’s down-time to work on their pilots (yeah, yeah—the Writers Guild says no one’s supposed to write during the strike, but come on… not even the WGA can keep a writer from writing), I thought we’d take a quick moment to discuss some of the vital elements that make pilots work.

First of all, let’s answer this question… which a student in my Writing the TV Pilot class asked last month:

What, exactly, is a pilot?

A pilot is most commonly thought of as the first episode of a television series… the first story in a series of many more stories… and while this is often the case, it’s not entirely accurate.

The truth is: a pilot, whether in script form or actually produced, is a selling tool used to illustrate what the TV series is about and how it works. In other words, a pilot is designed to convince network or studio executives that this series a good investment of their money and airtime. Some pilots never even make it to air… they’re simply used to get the series “picked up,” then discarded.

When you begin looking at a pilot this way—as a selling tool, rather than just the first of many stories—you realize that pilots must accomplish certain things besides simply kicking off the series narratively. Thus, here are three important tips to think about as you craft your own TV pilots…

• Pilots must prove your series has longevity. TV series are designed to run not just for a few weeks, or even a few months. Successful TV series must run for years. Which means your pilot need to prove that this world can generate a nearly endless number of stories.

One way to do this is to base your series around a locale or occupation that organically generates stories. Cop and detective shows, like Bones or CSI, never run out of stories; as long as the world has crimes, these shows have tales to tell. After all, every time the door of a police station or detective agency opens, in walks a case—which is a story.

Soaps, like Brothers & Sisters or even Heroes, never run out of stories because they’re filled with incredibly deep, rich, and complex relationships. It’s easy for an executive to see—in a world where people are constantly lying, cheating, sleeping with and backstabbing each other—how these relationships will generate many years of interesting stories.

Whether you’re writing a mystery show, like NCIS, or a character-driven dramedy, like Grey’s Anatomy, it’s your pilot’s job to prove this series can generate an endless number of stories.

• Pilots must illuminate how every episode of the series will work. Although a pilot is kicking off a new series, meaning it works a bit differently than subsequent stories and episodes, it must also demonstrate how the series’ regular episodes will work the same on a regular basis. In other words, they must help buyers (executives and producers) understand exactly what it is they're buying. Does each episode tell a single, close-ended mystery… like Law & Order: SVU? Or will each episode deal with a particular issue about married life or relationships, a la ‘Til Death or Rules of Engagement? While a pilot is indeed the catalyst that sparks the rest of the series, it must also work just like every other episode of the series. If your doctors will heal one patient per episode, let them heal a patient in the pilot. If your squabbling couple must solve a marital problem each week, let them do so in the pilot.

This is often a difficult tightrope to walk. How can a pilot be both the beginning of a long-running saga as well as an example of a prototypical episode? This, unfortunately, is the delicate artform of writing a pilot, and one of the reasons it often takes writers years of working in and developing TV before they get a series on the air.

• Pilots must (usually) show us how/if episodes are repeatable. Repeatability is the bread and butter of traditional television. This is because relatively little money is made off the “first run” of a TV episode; the real money comes when a series is sold into syndication (reruns on local stations or cable channels). But in order to be repeatable, episodes must function in specific ways. The most repeatable episodes are “standalone,” meaning they tell a singular, close-ended story in each episode. Each week, the cops of K-Ville receive, investigate, and solve a completely new mystery. It begins and ends all in one episode, making it easy for audiences to watch a single episode—whether it's the show's first run or a rerun—and still understand what’s going on. Similarly, Justin and Raja in Aliens In America deal each week with a new problem in their friendship, school, or family… and it’s solved that same episode. Standalone episodes not only makes a series more repeatable, they make it easier for audiences to pop in and watch just one episode at a time. (It’s pretty difficult to simply bounce in and watch a single third-season episode of Lost.)

If your series has repeatable episodes, it’s infinitely more sell-able… and you need to show this in your pilot. Let your detectives begin and close a mystery in the pilot. Let your bickering best friends deal with an issue and resolve it.

On the flip side, if your show is highly serialized or soapy, like 24 or Cane, with stories spanning many weeks or months, let us see how this works as well. Use your pilot to show how stories will play out over the course of an episode and then seduce us to come back the following week.

Remember: selling a TV series is like selling anything else, from vacuum cleaners to used cars. You job is to show your buyer what they’re buying and how it will continue to work. This is the true purpose of a pilot.

As Script Notes continues, we’ll keep discussing pilots and what makes them work the way they do. In the mean time, if you have questions, thoughts, or comments, please don’t hesitate to post them below or email me at WDscriptnotes@fwpubs.com!

Why 2008 Is Like Billy Joel (Becaue You've Got To Begin Again)

Chad — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 18:49:14 GMT

Hey, everyone--

Welcome to 2008! Usually, around this time of year, you hear everyone saying things like, “Where did last year go?” “What happened to 2007?” “2007 just went so fast!”

Well, I’m gonna be honest.

2007 did not go fast. While there were lots of great things about 2007, it was also a year of grueling work, failed projects, and unfinished scripts. In other words, it was just like every other year. And while I enjoyed much of 2007, I am—frankly—glad to see it gone.

Which is why I thought I’d dedicate today’s blog to “new beginnings.” After all, we’re screenwriters… which means there’s often nothing harder for us than beginning something, typing “Fade In” or “Once upon a time” or whatever those first words may be. Some writers hate staring at a blank page. Some are intimidated by filling a hundred more blank pages. Others are afraid of failing.

So whether you’re using the start of the new year to begin your new screenplay… or you don’t start it till June… here are some helpful hints to get your creative juices flowing and kick-start the writing process.

• Make a mix CD or playlist. I love music. And if I don’t make my first billion by writing, I’m going to become a music supervisor, making soundtracks for movies and TV shows. I often like to begin a new script by creating a CD or playlist of songs that make me feel like my story makes me feel. (For example. I was recently working on a script for a supernatural thriller, so I created a playlist full of creepy, Goth-y music like Woven Hand, Current 93, Syd Barrett, 16 Horsepower, Hekate, Swans, etc.) I’ll even order the songs so they create a chronological soundscape to the story. As I write, this helps me stay in the moment and connect to the feelings and atmosphere of the story.

• Think of a great opening line. Many writers obsess over finding the perfect first for their story. But this is often easier said than done, because we often think we need to find a line that encapsulates the entire story. Instead, simply make a list of great opening lines, whether they’re appropriate for your story or not. (I keep a running list in a journal.) Things like: “Nobody likes killing their own mother… except Tyson Rockford.” Or: “Cicely slides off her dress and smiles at her new husband. This marriage will never last… and she knows it.” Or: “It’s hard to be a good father when your daughter finds you with a ball-gag in your mouth.” This helps turn on your “first-line muscles”… and you’ll probably find a fun, interesting way into your story.

• Don’t start at the beginning. Hopefully, by the time you begin your actual script, you’ve completed a comprehensive, in-depth outline. Which means—if you’ve done your job well—you don’t need to start at the beginning. I rarely write my story’s first scene first. If I know my outline is solid, I writes the scenes I’m most inspired to write at the moments I’m inspired to write them. If I’m depressed, I’ll write the break-up scene on page 37. If I’m excited, I’ll write the action scene on 94. This not only makes the writing more fun, it allows you to write scenes when you’re in the best frame of mind to write them.

• Write the scene as prose. Or poetry. Or a newspaper article. If I’m blocked about how to begin a particular, I often try and write it in a different medium. Let’s say, for instance, I need to write a battle scene between two spaceships, and I’m having trouble figuring out how to “attack” or get into it. Instead of writing it in script form, I’ll try writing it as a short story (or a scene from a short story). Sometimes I’ll try writing it as a magazine story. Or an evening news report. Or a sonnet. Ultimately, of course, I’ll need to go back and do it in script form… but writing it in a different medium helps me look at the scene and think about details in different ways. It also removes the pressure of feeling like the scene has to be “good.” Since I know I’m never going to use a poem version of my battle scene, I can stop worrying about the quality of the writing and simply focus on story information.

• Watch a movie. Or 30 Rock. Or read a book. Imaginations are like gas tanks… we need to keep them full in order to keep our engines running. So a great way to “unblock” yourself is to give your gas tank some fuel… absorb someone else’s creative material: a movie, play, sitcom, short story, new CD, anything. I often find I get inspired by watching movies of opposite genres of whatever I’m working on. If I’m beginning a romantic comedy, I’ll watch a horror movie. If I’m writing a medical thriller, I’ll watch The Office. Different genres tend to begin their stories differently, so watching something unrelated to your own project helps illuminate other ways to begin stories or deal with problems.

There ya go. Hope those help, and here’s to a great 2008.

Now, I’m gonna go start my romantic comedy... by listening to Van Halen II and watching Friday the 13th.

Please Don't Bait the Schmucks

Chad — Mon, 17 Dec 2007 10:07:13 GMT

With all the WGA strike-related activity, one thing this writing blog hasn’t devoted much time to is actual writing. But this is, of course, a Writers Digest blog, and if there’s one thing WD does well, it’s talk about writing. And inspire writers. And offer bits of writing info and advice. (Okay, that’s actually three—or maybe even four—things.) And this blog is no different. So I wanted to talk today about an issue which—while taking up less of the spotlight—is just as pressing and urgent as the writers strike:

Schmuck Bait.

What prompted me to tackle this thorny issue was an incident that recently occurred in the weekly TV spec-writing class I teach for mediabistro.com.

One of my students was writing a spec script of The Office. I won’t go into the plot of his script, but the second act break involved Michael Scott getting fired. Obviously, a bold, dramatic move. It poses dire consequences for every character in the script. And it creates huge conflict within the world of the show. All good elements in creating compelling drama.

It’s also Schmuck Bait.

A sitcom term, “Schmuck Bait” usually refers to plot points that—while potentially explosive and dramatic—actually just do nothing but create false jeopardy. They promise consequences and courses of action that can’t possibly occur.

Firing Michael Scott, for instance,especially in a sample spec script, is certainly “Schmuck Bait,” because no rational reader is ever going to believe that Michael Scott is genuinely going to be fired from Dunder Mifflin. Without Michael Scott, there’s no show… so firing him only creates false jeopardy.

A similar Schmuck Bait might be on, say, 24, if an episode ends with a cliffhanger suggesting Jack Bauer has been killed. Sure, it’s a great cliffhanger, but no one—except maybe a genuine schmuck—is actually going to believe that Jack Bauer, the central character of the entire series, is dead.

Thus, Schmuck Bait is a dramatic twist, or turn of events, that doesn’t tease or “bait” anyone but… well… schmucks.

The problem with Schmuck Bait is that it’s seductively easy to use. I mean, if you’re writing The Office and need a gripping second act break, what could be more riveting than firing the main character?!

But there are two problems with Schmuck Bait. One: it’s false jeopardy. And two: it’s often generic, rarely stemming from the central conflict of the story. I.e., the idea of Michael getting fired could be used in virtually any episode of The Office. It’s totally non-specific. And this is where the solution comes in.

Most people—without even knowing it—turn to Schmuck Bait when they’ve lost sight of their script’s main problem or story engine. If you’re writing a spec for The Office, for instance, in which Michael desperately wants to win an annual Dunder Mifflin award, it would be easy to engineer a schmuck-baiting second act break—the cliffhanger in which all seems lost—where his shenanigans get him fired. But the driving force of your spec is Michael’s desire to win the award, not keep his job, so the cliffhanger should pertain directly to his current desire. I.e., it should be a moment in which Michael thinks he has lost all chances of winning the award. Losing his job is certainly dramatic, but not only is it unbelievable, it has nothing to do specifically with your story.

A less schmuck-baity second act break might be Michael losing the one account that would allow him to win. Or learning someone else is announced as the winner. Or withdrawing from the contest. You can choose whatever it is… as long as it’s something that could actually happen in the course of the series… and is also a logical extension of the central conflict.

So next time you’re worrying whether or not you’re incorporating Schmuck Bait, take a look at your script’s central premise. Ask yourself: “what’s the worst possible outcome of this particular premise?” Is it Michael Scott losing a contest? Terrorist’s killing Jack Bauer’s important prisoner? Meredith Grey’s favorite patient dying? This answer should guide you in the right direction.

Because when you try using Schmuck Bait, the only one who ends up looking like a schmuck… is you.