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Rene from Melbourne writes in with a question that’s so Australian that I literally had no idea what she was saying for a while. Delightful! Aussie Aussie Aussie! (Now you, gentle readers, say “Oi Oi Oi”.)

Anyway, Rene says she loves “coloring her big print” and wants to know if that’s okay. Further investigation suggests that she’s referring to getting creative and figurative in her stage directions. She writes:

I know it probably depends a lot on the tone of the show, but to me, “An awkward pause” doesn’t have nearly as much flavor as “Crickets chirp”, for example. And, “Cameron knows a rhetorical question when he hears one” seems way juicier than, “Cameron doesn’t respond.”

She worries, however:

…I sometimes wonder if I’m getting too far away from the basic big print function of describing the action in my pursuit of keeping the reader interested between the lines. […] So, do we treat the reader and the viewer as one and the same?”

First off, I’m fascinated by this use of “big print” to describe stage directions. Is that Aussie? English, too? Or is it just new and hip? It makes sense for multi-camera scripts where the stage directions are in all caps, I suppose. Interesting.

But to actually answer the question, Rene: go for it. Yes, creative stage directions are a great way to make a script into an interesting and confident-sounding sample. A reader is not the same as a viewer and they deserve to have attention paid to the special constraints of script reading. They don’t get the benefit of music, editing and pretty people to look at. We have to use other ways to help set the mood of the script, and this is a great way to do it.

My only quibble is with “crickets chirp.” That particular stage direction could be read as a real sound effects instruction, so unless you really want the reader to imagine hammy clammy crickets on their internal sound track, I’d steer clear of that one.

In fact, I’m reminded of one of my first jobs. We were working together as a staff on a script. We had just put in a stage direction: Fran enters, walking on eggshells. After a moment’s thought we changed it to something like Fran enters cautiously. The show had a very eager and very literal crew, and we feared that actual eggshells might appear on the set.

Oh! And now I’m remembering another story. Once, in a Buffy script (Band Candy), I wanted to indicate that Giles was very embarrassed and self-conscious about something Buffy was talking about. I wrote “Giles finds something interesting on his lapel.” Several members of the production staff came to me to ask about the thing on Giles’ lapel — would it turn out to be the villain of the next week’s episode, they asked?

So be poetic, but careful. If there’s a way to read your direction as literal, someone will do it.

Lunch: salad bar

Another quick note about the ABC/Disney Fellowship. I included this as an addendum below, but I think it deserves its own entry. There is no advantage to writing a spec for a show that either airs on ABC or is produced by Disney or Touchstone. So don’t let that factor into your choice, gentle readers.

I also wanted to let you know that I’ve just received an invitation to go speak to the current group of fellows. I’ll do this, and while I’m there I’m going to make a point of finding out what shows they wrote specs for and why they think they were selected. Let’s crack this code!

ADDENDUM: thanks to Melinda in LA along with others who asked this question.

Lunch: scrambled eggs with tortilla and avocado

I have a notion, gentle readers. Let me run this past you. I am being told with ever-increasing (almost table-pounding) vehemence that specs of existing shows are no longer what you need to get staffed on shows. You need original material. Spec pilots, short film scripts, feature-length film scripts, plays, even short stories.

But, as we have discussed at length, to get into the ABC/Disney writing fellowship, one of the rare glittering unlocked doors in this town, one needs to submit a spec script for a show that’s currently in production.

Now, traditionally, there have always been only a handful of “specable” shows every year. But it seems to me that since this spec no longer needs to be something universally-acceptable that you can submit *everywhere*, since it will, it appears, probably be used only as part of this one application, perhaps we should consider throwing the doors open a little wider as we contemplate what to send to Disney.

If you’d rather write a Battlestar or a Friday Night Lights than a House, a How I Met Your Mother or a 30 Rock than a The Office, maybe it’s okay to pick something a little more off-the-beaten-track, or a little newer, like that. You’re taking the chance that the person who reads your script knows the show, so keep that in mind, but you are going to do your very best writing if it’s a show you’re passionate about. Remember that it has to be primetime, so don’t throw yourself into an “Aqua Teen Hunger Force” spec, but it might be worth taking a searching look at the primetime network and cable schedules and picking something that you think you can really cut loose and excel at even it’s not the same thing everyone else is doing.

And remember, you can only be as good as the show, so don’t aim low in the belief that you’ll impress readers by elevating a mediocre show. Impress them instead by capturing an excellent show.

Lunch: spicy hot wings with many many napkins

Well, as long as I’ve got my snout in the mailbag, let’s root around and see what else is in there, shall we, gentle readers? Ah… a very good letter from Zach in L.A. who is finding himself frustrated with looking for comedy writing work.

The interesting thing here is that Zach has done everything right — he’s moved to L.A., worked as a gofer in writing rooms; he has several polished specs and other material, has met and impressed established comedy writers… those are all great ingredients. But, as most established comedy writers are themselves out of work right now, he’s finding it hard to get a foothold.

He asks, Should I take four months to write a feature-length? Should I do more “alternative media” stuff? […] Do I bite my cheek and do stand-up?

Well, Zach in L.A., those are all good things to do — the feature in particular would be good to have anyway — but I also have another idea. You mention in your letter that your two specs for existing shows are “The Office” and “American Dad.” Why not supplement those with a “Desperate Housewives,” or, even better, an “Ugly Betty”?

Half-hour comedy is a bit of a hiring wasteland right now. There simply aren’t enough shows to support all the experienced writers, so it’s very difficult for new writers to get in. And while television drama writing isn’t an easy gig to get, it’s substantially easier than comedy. And, in writing a spec for a show like “Betty,” you still get to use your comedy skills. In fact, you get to use them every bit as much. A comically-inclined hour-long spec pilot is also something you could try.

Hang in there, Zach. Luck is opportunity plus preparation plus luck. (I made that up and I think it’s fantastic. Feel free to borrow it.) Keep writing, keep polishing the specs you already have, keep adding new ones, keep making those connections… just keep on doing more of what you’ve been doing. I can’t guarantee that you will get hired, but you’ve got a better shot than all the people who haven’t done what you’ve done.

Lunch: My favorite “Johnny Rockets” burger place is now called “Beverly Hills Diner.” Quite a shock. But they served me a fine Jalapeno Burger and a chocolate coke, so it’s all good.

More news from the front! Remember the friend-of-the-blog who is currently reading stacks of spec scripts as he sets about staffing a show? Well he’s moved on from reading crushingly unemotional specs of The Office to reading spec pilots instead. And you should perk up at what he’s found, gentle readers, since once again your work is improving by comparison with underperforming professionals!

The problem this time? Voiceovers. Now, a voiceover can sometimes be a stylish choice, often used to good effect in stories where you want to feature an unreliable character whose internal monologue doesn’t actually match the events around him or her. And of course, there have been many successful and/or well-written shows with voiceovers: Sex and the City, Wonder Years, and Arrested Development, for example. But it takes a very specific situation or a very light hand to do it well.

The problem, of course, is that it can be a tempting way to avoid the inherit limiting feature of what we do. We are not novelists; we have chosen to work in a branch of fiction which takes an external, not an internal, look at characters. We get the tricky but rewarding task of giving viewers/readers clues that allow them to infer inner motivations, rather than making them explicit. We’re just brimmin’ with subtext and that’s on purpose. Voiceovers often make it too tempting to just make the subtext into text. Which makes for a very boring and obvious read.

But let’s imagine that you’ve managed to do it well. You’ve used a light touch, some ironic touches, a bit of magic, and you’ve employed a voiceover effectively in your spec. But you’re going to be sending that script out into an environment that, for whatever reason, seems to be unusually full of voiced-over scripts right now. Our friend-of-the-blog reports that the concentration of them is as at an all-time high; he’s finding one-third of the scripts he’s reading have voiceovers. It’s not going to be easy to make your use of the device stand out in that talky crowd. So think hard about it.

Writing your script without voiceover may seem dauntingly difficult, but that’s actually a good sign. Every time you up the degree of difficulty, you’re giving yourself a chance to show off. And the scripts that show off best get the jobs.

Lunch: instant noodle soup with added hot sauce, followed by an apple

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