Today’s reader question comes from Erica, who writes…

“When it comes to a TV spec, do you have to try and stay on the normal sets or can you branch out?  For instance, on How I Met Your Mother, they tend to go to other places, like restaurants or the mall. But they've had several episodes that stick to just the bar and their apartments. Just curious what the rule of thumb is.”

This is a great question, Erica, and one that many writers often wrestle with.

When writing a TV spec, you obviously want to make sure you have your main characters on their primary sets for at least some (and maybe most) of the story.  But I definitely think it’s okay to go to some new places… as long as they seem true to the world and tone of the show.

For example, let’s say you’re writing a “30 Rock” story in which Liz Lemon joins a Big Sister program and “adopts” an underprivileged child.  That seems like a likely enough “30 Rock” story, and in the context of that story, it’s very plausible that you might write a scene or two where Liz goes to the little girl’s house or neighborhood.

Similarly, perhaps you’re writing a spec for “The Big Bang Theory” in which Leonard and Sheldon pick up some nerdy girls at a technology convention.  You’d probably want some scenes on the floor of the convention… and you may even have a scene or two in a hotel room.

In these cases, it’s totally okay for you to leave the traditional sets of the show… just as most regular episodes often have a few scenes shot on “guest sets” (like when Michael Scott goes to Chili’s or the doctors on "Grey’s Anatomy" visit someone else’s house or hospital).

What you would NOT want to do is tell a story that seems so outlandish it forces you to go to ridiculous places.  You wouldn’t write a “House” spec, for instance, that sends Dr. House to the moon, requiring you to have sets of a spaceship or lunar modules.  And you probably wouldn’t write an “Ugly Betty” script where a job assignment sends Betty to Antarctica.

So, in short, it’s less about sending your characters to believable locations, and more about telling stories that seem tonally plausible for the show.

Having said all this… sometimes people write “novelty specs,” or spec scripts that are clearly playing with the format of their show—usually in some clever, splashy way.  I.e., a few years ago, a writing team wrote a spec script for Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen’s sitcom (I think it was “Two of a Kind”).  The spec was titled “Mary Kate Misses First Period,” and it was the raunchy, inappropriate story of how Ashley got her first period… but Mary Kate didn’t—and then it turned out she was pregnant.  The story was raw, vulgar, and totally inappropriate… but it also landed the writers a ton of meetings and eventually a writing job.

In those cases, it’s okay to venture beyond the bounds of the show; in fact, you have to.  Writing a novelty spec, however, can be risky.  If you do an amazing job, it can garner a lot of attention.  If you do a poor job, you look silly and foolish.

I remember reading a novelty spec for “Taxi” a few years ago… where the taxi kept picking up characters from different sitcoms—Jerry and Elaine from “Seinfeld,” Will and Grace, maybe some folks from “Cheers” or “Murphy Brown.”  I don’t remember the specifics… all I remember is: it wasn’t very funny.  The story itself was gimmicky and none the characters' voices seemed right... any everyone who read it knew is.  So while it may have been a noble idea, it just made the writer seem desperate and hacky.

Anyway, I hope this helps, Erica… and for the rest of you with questions, please feel free to post them in the comments section or email me at WDScriptNotes@FWPubs.com.

In the mean time, keep reading… we have some great stuff coming up: more reader questions, Pitch Workshop submissions, book and movie reviews, and—in a few days—our first bona fide writing contest!!

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!

Writer/director David S. Goyer’s “The Unborn,” which opens today, is a perfect movie to review—especially from a writing perspective—because it’s a shining example of exactly how NOT to write a horror movie… or any movie in the sci-fi/fantasy/horror genre.

“The Unborn” tells the story of Casey (Odette Yustman), a twenty-something college student who finds herself haunted by a mysterious demon… and must uncover the ancient family secrets that have led to her haunting.  (WARNING:  I won’t give away the very end of the film, but as you read on, know that I’m about to give away the major twists and turns of the movie.)

The film wastes no time jumping right into the horror, opening on Casey—out for a winter jog—as she finds a lost mitten in the park.  She stops to pick it up, noticing a spooky-looking kid standing behind her.  When she looks again, the boy has turned into a dog wearing a mask.  The dog leads Casey into the woods, where she finds its abandoned mask nestled in some leaves.  She tries to pull it free, but it’s connected to something buried in the soil.  She begins to dig… only to discover that the “something” is a jar—containing a preserved human fetus!  Suddenly, Casey awakes in her own bed—the whole thing was a dream.

From this moment on, almost every scene plays out the same way… Casey spots something bizarre and visually arresting, goes to investigate, and winds up—along with the audience—getting startled by a devil-child, a grotesque monster, or something equally weird.

In the second scene, Casey is on a babysitting job when she hears strange noises in the bedroom.  Upon peeking inside, she finds the little boy (her babysitting charge, not the freaky kid from the park) trying to get his infant sister to stare into a handheld mirror.  When she approaches to ask what he’s doing, the kid whirls—smashing Casey across the face with his mirror!  Later that night, as she heads home, she discovers another mitten lying in the snow.

In the third scene, the next morning, Casey wakes up and decides to make eggs for breakfast.  But when she cracks an egg into the pan, out falls a giant buzzing ant!

Obviously, Casey is quite unsettled by these events.  She tries talking to her best friend Romy (Meagan Good), her boyfriend Mark (Cam Gigandet), and her dad (James Remar), but no one believes her.  Casey has nowhere to turn… until her doctor notices her off-color irises and mentions he usually only sees it in twins.  Piqued, she asks her father if she ever had a twin… and he says she did: a brother who died in utero.

Casey is shocked and devastated by this news… not only that she had a twin who died in the womb, but that her parents never told her.  Casey retreats to her attic, where she sorts through boxes of photos and relics from her past and childhood.  We learn that her mother passed away years ago (later, we’ll learn she committed suicide in an insane asylum)… but she left Casey some unusual items—including a newspaper article about an old woman who lives in a nearby hospital.

It turns out the woman is Casey’s long-lost grandmother, Sofi (Jane Alexander), who informs Casey she’s being haunted by a dibbuk.  According to Jewish lore, a dibbuk is a spirit caught between this world and the next; it’s trying to get back into this world, but in order to do that, it must possess a body.  And it wants Casey’s.  (By the way, Casey is way less traumatized by discovering a secret grandmother than learning she had a fraternal brother who died in the womb.  Uh… SERIOUSLY?  I’ve never been told I had a sibling in utero, but I don’t think I’d be that rocked by it.  I mean, who cares?  At the very least, I certainly wouldn’t be more blown away by that than the discovery of my LONG-LOST GRANDMA.)

So why does this evil dibbuk want Casey?  Because almost eighty years ago, young Sofi and her fraternal twin brother were captured by Nazis and taken to Auschwitz, where Nazi doctors—who believed twins, because of their shared DNA, had occult powers and were doorways to the “other side”—subjected them to deranged experiments.  Unfortunately, Sofi's brother died… but then came back to life, possessed by an evil dibbuk!  There was only one thing Sofi could do: KILL HER ALREADY-DEAD BROTHER.  (This brother, she explains, is the ghost-child Casey has been seeing.)

Ever since, the dibbuk has wanted revenge on Sofi and her descendants.  The dibbuk killed Casey’s unborn fraternal twin brother.  It drove her grief-stricken mother to suicide.  And it now wants to kill Casey… unless she can find a rabbi to exorcise it before it possesses her.  And now, Sofi tells Casey, “it has fallen on you to finish what began in Auschwitz.”  (By the way, this uber-earnest line got a huge laugh in the theater.)

As Casey races to stop the dibbuk, it tries everything in its power to destroy her.  It re-possesses the little boy (the babysitting kid) and stabs Romy to death.  It possesses Father Arthur Wyndham (Idris Elba), a priest, and Mark… and snaps in half most of the people helping with Casey’s exorcism.  And it terrifies Casey with scary images, dreams, and hallucinations (mostly involving warped baby faces, dogs, or giant ants).

So… I bet you’re already asking the maddening questions this movie doesn’t answer.  I’ll list them here, but know this: none of these are the movie’s biggest flaw… so bear with me…

•  If the dibbuk wants to possess Casey so it can return to this world, why does it also want to kill her?  (At different times, it tries both… it’ll try to possess her… then kill her… then possess her… then kill her…)  We never know what this demon actually wants—or why—so we’re never quite sure what the real threat is.

•  What are the stakes of Casey being possessed?  Obviously, no one wants to be possessed, but we’re never told what possession “means” in the world of this story.  In fact, we never—until late in the movie—see the dibbuk do anything but give Casey creepy hallucinations, so we’re never sure of the real consequences of tangling with this demon.

•  The movie posits that twins, thanks to their shared DNA, qualify as “mirrors,” making them doorways to the “other side.”  But Casey and her unborn brother were FRATERNAL twins—they shared no more DNA than any other non-twin brother and sister!  So how do they qualify for “mirror” status like identical twins which come from the same egg?!  (And the same goes for Grandma Sophie and her brother!)

•  If this demon wants revenge on Sofi and/or her descendants, why didn’t it just kill Sophie long ago?  (And the rest of her family for that matter?)

•  If the dibbuk wants to kill Sofi and it can snap people in half, why doesn’t it just snap her in two or throw her off a building?  Why does it do nothing to her but show her scary pictures?  (Sofi, at one point, says the dibbuk wants to wear Casey down, make her weak, so first destroys people close to her.  Yet not only does this seem inefficient on the part of the demon, Sophie also says the demon can’t be reasoned with.  But a demon with this thought-out of a strategy—even an inefficient strategy—seems pretty capable of reason to me.)  (Also, why does the demon possess a little boy and then stab Romy to death?  This also seems inefficient, considering the demon already has the power to SNAP PEOPLE IN HALF.)

•  If the dibbuk wants to POSSESS Casey (instead of kill her), why doesn’t it just possess her?  It already possesses everyone else… the little neighbor boy, Father Wyndham, an old man in the hospital, Mark… why not Casey?  Sofi implies that Casey must be “worn down,” like she’s somehow too “strong” to be possessed, but we see no evidence of this.  In fact, a twenty-something girl seems a lot easier to possess than strapping, basketball-playing Father Wyndham or Casey’s cool boyfriend Mark.

•  What do the giant ants have to do with anything?

But like I said, none of these are the movie’s fatal flaw.  In fact, all of these glaring flaws may have seemed a lot less glaring if the movie hadn’t failed to do one all-important thing.  And that is…

“THE UNBORN” ISN’T “ABOUT” ANYTHING.

In other words…

Sci-fi, fantasy, and horror stories work because they’re allegories for universal human experiences.  “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” tells the story of a teenage girl who kills monsters… but it’s really about the cruel tortures of high school, adolescence, and growing up.  “Cloverfield” is about the lengths to which we’ll go to be with our true love… even if the obstacles keeping us apart are as great as a prehistoric monster.  “The Exorcist” is an adult’s perspective on a kid growing up, losing her innocence, morphing from a sweet child into something sullied, ugly, dangerous.  “Cujo” is about feeling trapped and cornered by events or behaviors out of your control… and being unable to protect your loved ones from those behaviors (Stephen King would say those events and behaviors were his own alcoholism).

(One of my favorite “Buffy” episodes to cite is “Ted,” guest starring John Ritter, in which Buffy’s single mom begins dating again.  Her first suitor is Ted… whom Buffy hates.  Buffy’s mom begs her to give Ted a chance, but Buffy doesn’t trust him… and she soon discovers why: Ted is a deadly robot.  It may sound silly, but the point is: it doesn’t matter whether you hate your mom’s boyfriend because he’s an evil machine or you just don’t want your mom giving her love to someone new… when you’re sixteen, the feelings and behaviors are the same.)

Yet “The Unborn” has no allegory.  We never learn anything else about Casey, her life, or what she may be going through outside of this frightening adventure.

If we were to learn, for example, that Casey’s mother had died only months earlier… and Casey hasn’t been able to move on… the movie might be about the past’s ability to haunt and control us.

If we learned up front that Mark wanted to get married and have a baby… but Casey was terrified of marriage and parenthood… the movie’s events would feel like a manifestation of Casey’s fears, of her apprehension about growing up and becoming a mom.

If we learned that Casey’s brother had died when she was five-years-old… and he died because she left him alone… the movie would be about how buried guilt chases and consumes us.

But since we learn nothing—literally NOTHING—about Casey’s life outside the film’s sequence of events, there’s no way to give them any emotional context.  They may be visually shocking, but when they don’t strike us on an emotional level… when they’re nothing more than disturbing images… they become just that: a haphazard series of images that momentarily disturb, but quickly lose their power to do even that.

So what’s the lesson we can learn from “The Unborn?”…  That no matter how enticed we, as writers, may be by the visions haunting us (and I think as horror fans we often have mental libraries of horrifying visions)… and no matter how much fun we may have weaving our library of visions into a seemingly logical story… horror stories don’t begin with scary images.  

Horror stories begin on deep emotional levels… levels where our emotions are so dark and powerful we can’t deal with them head-on… levels so deep we must create metaphors and allegories simply to face the feelings that live there.  

(I.e.,  it’s a lot harder to talk openly about the shame burdening us than it is to write a short story about a murderer, racked by guilt, who hears his victim’s heart beating beneath the floorboards.  And it’s a lot more painful to discuss unresolved feelings of forbidden lust and longing than it is to write a novel about falling in love with a vampire.)

I don’t mean any of this in a dorky, college-English-teacher, “write-from-your-heart” kind of way.

I mean this in a very literal, practical, “write-from-your-heart” kind of way.

This is the essence of horror, folks (and by “folks,” I mean you, David Goyer)… you are writing about something so personal, so emotional, so profound and moving that it can’t be expressed in normal words or images.  In fact, the only way for you to express it is to create a fantasy world where you can work with the events and feelings from a distance.  If you ultimately don’t know what those feelings and events are (like in “The Unborn”)… or if you can express them in a more direct, straightforward way… then do yourself and your audience a favor: don’t tell us a horror story.


“THE UNBORN” TRAILER

I wanted to take today to respond to Wendy’s sitcom idea, "Three-Two-One," which she submitted to the pitch workshop last month.  First of all—Wendy, thanks so much for submitting this!  And another huge thanks to everyone who posted a comment!  

For those of you just coming to the party, here’s Wendy’s synopsis for "Three-Two-One," her half-hour TV comedy…

Think Sex in the City meets Weight Watchers; this sitcom cold opens each week with Emma, an extra curvy redhead, Mandy a philosophical dumb blonde, and Gwynne, a semi drag-queen, at a weight loss club; followed by an episode where the snarky humor shows the comedic side of their martini-hampered efforts to lose weight, manage their insecurities, and understand the men in their lives.

WHAT I LIKE ABOUT THIS:
You’re starting off in some deliciously relatable territory; everyone can relate to the struggles of trying to lose weight, so right off the bat you’re playing with story fodder that’s incredibly universal to millions of women (and men!).  And while there’s not much detail, I like that these three friends are leaning on each other in other areas of their life as well… like their romantic failures.  Both relationship insecurities and body image issues are rich places to mine for stories.

WHAT I’D WORK ON:
Well, Wendy, while you’re starting off with some good footholds, I think there are three places you need to focus on strengthening this…

1)  CHARACTERS.  Tanya and Scott have already given some great notes on your pitch, and I totally agree with their thoughts.  Even though you have a short amount of time, you need to introduce us to the hearts and souls of the people in your show—or, as I always like to say, show us “how they see the world.”  Descriptions like “semi drag-queen,” “extra curvy redhead,” and even “philosophical dumb blonde” do little to help us understand who these people are, how they approach life and behave.

Think about people you know—maybe even the people these characters are based on—and how they “see the world,” and you’ll probably the answers you’re looking for.  For instance, do you have a best friend who is terrified of everything and views the world as an obstacle course of dangers?  Maybe your father sees the world as a battleground, where he must decimate every obstacle—including people—in his path.  Perhaps you have a fiance who treats life like a party, constantly looking for the next sensual experience… and the all the time in between is just boredom to be survived as easily as possible.  Do you have a sister who sees life as a mysterious labyrinth, full of weird and enticing tunnels and paths, each of which should be fully explored?

Think how much more your characters will come to life if you describe them this way…

This sitcom cold opens each week with Emma, a gorgeous redhead who attacks every opportunity in life like it’s her last… Mandy a neurotic blonde who views the world as a maze of monsters waiting to devour her… and Gwynne, a drag-queen who lives each day as if it’s a frat party without consequences… at a weight loss club.

I’m not saying those descriptions are right for your story… or even great descriptions in and of themselves… but—at the very least—you start to get a sense of who these people ARE… and how they interact and function as a unit.  Which brings me to point #2…


2)  RELATIONSHIPS.  Just as important as who these people are as individuals is how they related to one another… how they’re defined by their relationships within the group.  Like “Sex and the City,” “Friends,” or even “The Office,” your sitcom is essentially a family comedy… but your family’s not defined by blood.  So approach it that way…  Who’s the mother?  The father?  Is there an impetuous child?  An awkward teenager?  A drunken, wayward uncle?

I’m not suggesting you actually define each person according to a familial role; I’m just suggesting you start looking at your group as just that… a group, with different parts that relate to each other and work together, like a machine.  And if you understand how each character sees the world as an individual, you’ll be able to start seeing how they function as a family.

For instance, think how much easier it is to see your characters as a group if you describe them this way…

This sitcom cold opens each week with Emma, a bombshell who views the world as a fight for survival… and it’s her job to protect those close to her, including her friends; Mandy, a naïve waif who longs to prove herself an adult and claim her independence… from her parents, her fiance, and—most importantly—from her best friend Emma; and Gwynne, an irresponsible drag-queen who believes life is a non-stop party, a quest for hedonistic nirvana… and loves seducing her friends—especially Mandy—into joining her ill-advised adventures.

We start to see a triangle of influence… maybe with young, innocent Mandy at the center, and Emma perched liked an angel on one shoulder and Gwynne on the other.  While we haven’t given details, we can start to understand where conflicts and stories will come from within the group.

Again, I’m not saying this is the story you want to tell, but you start to see how your characters interact, conflict, and affect each other.


3)  HOW DO YOU SEE THE WORLD?  This is a big one, Wendy… maybe the biggest of all.  Not only do you need to know how each of your characters sees the world, but you need to know—and be able to articulate in your pitch—how YOU (or, rather, the storyteller and world of this show) see the world.  Chris Carter sees the world very differently in “The X-Files” than Anthony Zuiker and “CSI.” Bill Cosby and “The Cosby Show” see a different world than Ray Romano in “Everybody Loves Raymond” or Matthew Weiner in “Mad Men.”

And an important thing to note… how these shows and storytellers “see the world” isn’t the same as how you, the audience, perceive the show.  Chris Carter, for example, doesn’t see the world as dark and scary.  Rather, he sees the world as a place where we’re all under the illusion that we have free will, that we’re making choices about what to wear, who to vote for, how to cook dinner.  But the truth is (according to Chris)… NONE of us have free will, because everything we do is being controlled, watched, monitored.  Sometimes we’re being controlled by the government.  But even the government is being controlled… possibly by the aliens.

Likewise, Bill Cosby and Ray Romano see the world very differently… even though, on paper, their shows seem very similar (befuddled dads trying to navigate the worlds of marriage and parenthood).  But the truth is… Bill Cosby views his house as his castle, where he’s willing to give his wife and children long leashes to do as they please, but at the end of the day—what he says goes.  Ray Romano, on the other hand, sees marriage and family as a political minefield, where anyone can ambush, attack, or betray you… and your job is simply to survive with as little conflict as possible.

So the question your facing is: how does WENDY see the world?  Or… how does the storyteller “Three-Two-One” see the world?

To be totally honest, I’m not sure—right now—how your sitcom sees the world any differently than “Sex and the City.”  “Sex and the City” was about four best friends trying to navigate their personal and professional thirties… and in a world where nothing is certain and no one is loyal, the only thing they had to rely on was each other.  

Your show needs to see the world differently.  Does this show see the world as a candy shop, packed with millions of delicious experiences to be tried and savored with your friends?  Is the world a series of disappointments… and the only silver lining is your friends’ smiles?  Is the world a race which you can never win… but your friends keep you from giving up?

Each of these world-views will generate different kinds of stories, characters, and comedies… but it’s ultimately your world-view… and not physical character descriptions or even creative uses of a cold open (or any other device)… that will sell your series.  After all, no one tunes into “Gossip Girl” each week to hear Gossip Girl’s voice over… we tune in to spend time with Blair, Chuck, and Serena… and to spend an hour living in their decadent, soapy, melodramatic world.

Anyway, Wendy—thank you again so much for submitting to the pitch festival!  Keep reading… keep submitting… and I hope this helped!