So I watched another episode of Community last night, and I realized something wonderful and deep about the way complexity of character interacts with theme. More complex characters = more precise themes. Okay, maybe it's not that deep, but it is wonderful.

The episode had to do with Jeff realizing he'd lost his position of authority over the group. Thematically, it was very similar to the episode I talked about a couple weeks ago, that was about Jeff resisting a challenge to his inflated perception of himself. Similar. But not identical. One was about needing to be in charge, the other was about needing to project coolness. And that's marvelous, because if you can write your episodes with enough focus that those become distinct character flaws, then you get two great precise stories instead of one mushy one about Jeff feeling usurped in some general way.

When you're looking for a story to tell, you may want to think of it as looking for a way to provoke your character. Look for their weaknesses, but do so with precision. This may lead you to despair that you haven't created a complex enough character, but that's okay -- the secret is that it's stories like this that CREATE character. If you don't know how your character would react to a very specific provocation, then this is your chance to find out and tell the viewer/reader about it. You'll look like a genius and your character will grow.

The other really good trick that the writers of Community use is that it's never just one character acting out. Get two characters provoked at once, spurring them into actions that put them in conflict and you've got a lot of activity -- with all of it coming out of character. Beautiful!

Lunch: I was at a baby shower where I ate many exciting cheeses, veggies, chicken satay and a delightful scallion pancake!
Jane on 04.25.10 @ 10:26 AM PST [link]

There's a good example out there right now of what my friend and fellow writer Jeff Greenstein (@blue439) calls "Clams Casino" -- that is, an old over worked joke (or "clam") used as an ingredient in a new exciting mixture. Note that Clams Casino is a classic garlicky recipe, presumably good for making sure dinner guests don't realize how old the clams were until they're halfway home.

The clam dish in question is featured in the latest Progressive Insurance ad. This is the series of ads featuring the perky salesgirl, Flo. I often find that these ads have the rhythm of jokes without being genuinely funny, but this one worked for me. In the ad she cracks some kind of mild joke and then adds, "I'm here all week." This particular phrase has been clammy for at least a decade. It's often accompanied by "Try the veal," and/or "Remember to tip your waitress".

The commercial rescues itself by having the girl continue, a bit abashed, "I will. That's my schedule." This is a great save. Not only is the attitude right, clam-shamed, but the word "schedule," by referencing the *actual* venue that's represented, a retail store, pulls us out of the implied world of 1980s comedy clubs in a grounded way. The joke was made literal and became a joke again. Nice work, some ad writing person!

You can do the same thing if you find yourself in a clammy situation. Look for a way to make the joke literal by tying it to the setting, character or plot that's specific to your script. Here's another example in which the same trick was used. Strikingly, it's also a comedy club reference -- because that is of course the source of the clammiest clams. This is in an episode of the Simpsons: Moe tells a joke, gets no reaction from a crowd, taps his mike and nervously jokes, "is this thing on"? Angle on Barney, who realizes the mike is in fact unplugged. He apologizes and plugs it in. Just as in the Progressive ad, the joke is saved by making it literal.

An aside: What I find interesting about both of these clams is that they are clams ABOUT clams (or at least about failed jokes). The "here all week" joke is used exclusively as a follow up to a joke that the speaker is trying to gently disavow. By pointing at the image of a hacky standup from the age of hacky standups, the joke is designed to allow the speaker a chance to gently distance him or herself from what was just said. The fact that this clam occurs so often tells us, I suppose, that there's a real social function being served here. We clearly need jokes that fill this ecological niche-- can you be the one to coin the fresh replacement?

Lunch: whitefish with artichokes and string beans at Toscanova at the Century City Mall. So fresh and delicious!
Jane on 04.18.10 @ 10:17 AM PST [link]

I'm doing a lot of reading about old Hollywood right now, with particular emphasis on the transition from silent films to talkies. Oh, this is such good stuff, you have no idea.

The screenplays for silent movies obviously were about action and mood and intention instead of dialogue. I'm not talking about the dialogue that appeared on title cards, but the scenario for what happened in the film. The skills of a novelist were very appropriate for this kind of screenplay writing, which was descriptive, evocative, and internal. By "internal" I mean that it was concerned with what the character was thinking and feeling.

When the arrival of Talkies necessitated the writing of massive amounts of dialogue, new writers were hired, usually brought in from the East Coast. Novelists and journalists were both hired and given the chance to try their hands at this new kind of screenwriting.

So who thrived and who didn't?

The journalists won. They had an ear for naturalistic dialogue and they knew how to write concisely and tell stories with clear-eyed details, not evocative prose. The novelists tended to write longer and more stylish (or stylized) speeches and descriptions. Beautiful stuff, but not as valuable as something short and potent.

Three of my colleagues in the writers' room at Battlestar Galactica were former journalists. That's about half the room. They were some of the finest writers I've met in the business. It looks to me like the skills still mesh.

I'm obviously not telling you to go out and find a newspaper to write for -- that doesn't seem like a particularly easy assignment right now. But I still think this information is useful for all you aspiring writers. Think like a reporter -- pare the story down, find the bones of it, and listen to your characters talk in the language of whatever street they come from -- even if you let them ramble on a bit in the first draft, eventually try to find the succinct quote.

You get to make up the facts and the people, but the core truths that you're uncovering should be just as real as if the story had happened. Be a reporter.

Lunch: Wheat Thins and cheese today. But I went to "Street" the other day, Susan Feniger's restaurant, and it's amazing. I was not surprised to see her do well on Top Chef Masters this week. Try the "Kaya Toast".
Jane on 04.10.10 @ 02:13 PM PST [link]

Hi! I'm back. I don't know for how long, but I missed talking with you guys in chunks of more than 140 characters!

I've been off writing shows (Dollhouse, Caprica), and speaking to young writers and pitching pilots and writing freelance eps of wonderful shows and generally recharging my blogbatteries!

Is everyone out there watching Community? I love this show and it's a master class on new and fresh ways to tell jokes. And on how to actually be about something at the same time.

You can tell that the episodes are conceived in the same way you guys should be conceiving your spec scripts -- they start with something to say and then the humor comes out of that. I guarantee you that they did not start working on the latest episode by thinking of funny things that could happen in a pottery class. They started by thinking about their characters, what they believe, and where they're weakest.

Find your characters' vulnerable spots and poke them and you'll find a story. The idea that Jeff was over-praised as a child, resulting in a self-image that needs correction is not hilarious. It's grounded and real -- which allows for more license when writing the jokes. For example, the writers were able to go to the surreal place of having Jeff's childhood memories change retroactively at the end of the episode only because we were invested in an emotional change that we really bought. You have to be really careful with surrealism because it can make an audience check out unless careful groundwork has been laid.

A lot depends on the show you chose to spec (or the tone you're looking for in your spec pilot), but in general I would recommend that you should be able to produce a non-funny answer to the question, "what is your script about?" Answers like, "My main character is afraid his kids don't respect him" or "My main character is scared that he's more feared than loved at work," or "My main character thinks her lover is growing bored with her." Very non-funny. But the way that character takes action to address the problem -- now you've got a whole vista of comic possibilities that the viewers are going to actually empathize with. And that's golden.

Lunch: Yesterday I had a movie theater hotdog without seeing a movie. They had a spicy relish that I quite liked, although I still wished they had 'kraut.

Jane on 04.06.10 @ 11:39 AM PST [link]