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Home of Jane's blog on writing for television
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    November 2nd, 2006Jane EspensonComedy, From the Mailbag, On Writing

    Hey, Gentle Readers, our little blog-shaped project here got a nice shout-out from Jacob, the amazing recapper at TelevisionWithoutPity who does the masterly job with Battlestar Galactica. Thanks for the mention, Jacob! I’m a fan!

    In the same recap, Jacob uses the phrase: “Everything you want, in the worst possible way.” This is an extremely important element of good storytelling, and I find myself surprised I haven’t talked about it before. Giving the audience everything they want, while stabbing them in the eyes at the same time, isn’t just a Battlestar trick, it was one of our storytelling staples at Buffy too, and it should be in your bag of tricks as well.

    The classic Buffy example, of course, was giving Buffy and Angel their lovely moment of happiness. Everything the audience wanted! And then revealing that that very moment of happiness had condemned Angel to lose his precious soul. The worst possible way!

    If you can find a way so that your spec culminates in a moment like this… it will be delicious. It works for (your more poignant flavors of) comedy, it works for drama… it adds a lovely angsty touch to any meal.

    I’m trying to think of other effective examples I’ve seen: Sela Ward saves House’s life (Wanted!) and loses his love and trust (Worst!). Pam doesn’t marry Roy (Wanted!), but Jim’s already gone (Worst!). Orpheus gets Eurydice (Wanted!), but he turns around too soon. (Worst!) Arrgh! It hurts so good!

    To do this, set up a goal. Make sure it’s clear that this goal trumps everything. Then figure out a way to fulfill that goal but at the cost of something else. Something vital. Something the gambler didn’t even know they were putting out on the table.

    It’s the classic deal with the Devil, and you, the writer, get to be the Devil.

    Have fun!

    Lunch: turkey burger

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    October 24th, 2006Jane EspensonFrom the Mailbag, On Writing, Pilots

    Adam in West Hollywood has sent in an interesting question, Gentle Readers. He asks for clarification on whether or not spec pilots should be, can be, or must not be “premise pilots.” He says he has received advice saying that premise pilot specs are problematical.

    Hmm. I can’t say I really see why. A premise pilot, for those of you who don’t know, is a pilot in which the events occur that set up the dynamic of the show. A non-premise pilot has all the characters and relationships already in place.

    Lost had a premise pilot. West Wing had a non-premise pilot as I recall, which is unusual, since most shows have at least some element of premise in their pilot. It was Carter’s first day of work in the ER pilot, although the other elements were in place. Rachel ran away from her wedding, and into her Friends and all their pre-existing relationships, in the Friends pilot. Heroes spread their character intros and premise-setting-up over the first two episodes, extending the premise pilot concept to Heroic new lengths. Having something new happen in a pilot, something that requires all the characters to adjust and act or react, is a great way to explain characters, relationships and situations. At the very least, having even one “new guy” requires the old hands to explain things to them, which facilitates exposition.

    The argument against premise pilots, I assume, is that you’re not giving the readers a “typical episode.” But this, it seems to me, is a more potent argument against actual network pilots than it is against spec pilots. You guys, presumably, need your spec pilot to function mainly as a writing sample and as a contest entry. You don’t have to worry so much about whether or not viewers got a representative slice of the show that will bring them back next week. (And since shows that began with premise pilots seem to be the big hits right now, I’d say even this isn’t really a serious concern.)

    So I say premise it up! Hire people, fire people, move people across the country, have people fall in or out of love, shake up their lives! When you’re specing an existing show, you don’t have the opportunity to change the basic dynamics of the show. So a spec pilot is your chance to demonstrate this skill — why not use it?

    Lunch: scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese

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    October 22nd, 2006Jane EspensonFrom the Mailbag, On Writing

    Well, I’m back from my trip! Las Vegas says “Hi.” And also “Hey, Sailor.”

    Get this, gentle readers. I own a lovely big “Once More With Feeling” poster that I had reframed recently. (OMWF is the musical Buffy episode.) When I went to pick up the finished poster, someone had attached a note to it! I guess it was sitting in the store, looking all… mine (my name is on it because I had Joss sign it to me). And someone left me poster-mail! How cool is that?

    So thanks to Jason Lee for the great note — I wonder, people, do you suppose that’s Jason Lee, the star of My Name is Earl? I think it would be very strange and wonderful if famous people were leaving notes for me in poster shops. Thank you, Jason, however famous you are or are not!

    In other news, I just watched the latest episode of The Office. In this particular episode, one of the story threads was a bit surreal. For those who saw it, I’m referring to the “Dwight takes Ryan on a sales call” story line. It was right on the edge, for me, of being not realistic enough for the show. (Did you buy the thing where he took him to the farm?) However, it was largely redeemed, for me, because the ABOUT was working. It was about Dwight trying to make Ryan into the friend/acolyte that Jim could never be — and because that rings true, the rest of it is saved, or at least mitigated. It’s amazing how much you can get away with if you have some real human emotion underlying it.

    Conversely, even a very grounded, totally realistic story can feel wrong if the emotional underpinnings are false. So take a step back from the events of your spec and look one more time at the emotional arc. Does it work? Is the progression logical and believable for your characters? Then you’re probably on good solid ground, no matter what crazy events you might be dealing with.

    Lunch: two chicken soft tacos and a cherry coke from Del Taco. Get the Del Scorcho sauce.

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    October 14th, 2006Jane EspensonFriends of the Blog, From the Mailbag, On Writing, Spec Scripts

    So, all right, let’s talk more about that thing about not building a spec around a guest character. I’ve tended to follow that up by saying that centering a spec around the show’s main character is best. And certainly, there are shows where that’s the case. Most shows, in fact. A House without House at the center will not stand. BUT…

    Friend-of-the-blog and dazzlingly successful writer Jeff Greenstein has told me of the specs he wrote, with his then writing parter to get into the business. Specs that got attention, that got them meetings. Their trick? Write to the underdeveloped character. Hmm. Interesting, no? This only works, of course, in a show with a strong ensemble, in which the series can shift the focus around a bit. And, of course, the main character should come into it somehow… crucially affecting or being affected by the story.
    A good way to approach this technique might be to think about the main story being centered on the *relationship* between the main character and the underutilized ensemble character.

    The example Jeff told me about was a spec episode of Murphy Brown, in which the story was created to center on Miles’ 30th birthday. Miles was a strong supporting character, who hadn’t, at the time the spec was written, been given tons of air time. And the topic of age/accomplishment is obviously well-chosen to get a reaction from Murphy.

    I’m reminded of some of the Buffy episodes I wrote — “Superstar,” and “Storyteller,” specifically. This is one of my favorite things to do (although I have to say that the original ideas for these episodes came from Joss). I love taking a character who is secondary (or tertiary), especially if they tend to be discounted by the others, and showing how they are the masters of their own house, the centers of their own universes. In real life, no one is a tertiary character — everyone’s feelings count for as much as everyone else’s, so I like it when the same thing holds in Fictionland.

    Be careful, gentle readers, don’t lose sight of the center of the show, make sure it’s an episode you think the actual writers of the show might write. Then pick part of the ensemble that has been out of the spotlight… and light it up!

    P.S. Such good mail lately! Thank you to Micky in Long Beach for a great letter — good luck on the writing career, Micky! And a generous note from Cheryl in Lodi offers encouragement to Angie, the recent correspondent who contemplated giving up our ink-stained pursuit. Cheryl is finding that success in screenwriting doesn’t have to be limited to the under-30 crowd. She encourages Angie to hang in there. Thank you, Cheryl! I haven’t heard back from Angie — I hope that means she’s too busy writing spec scripts!

    And candies! German chocolates from faithful German reader Nic! Wow! Thank you!

    Lunch: scrambled eggs and cream soda

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    October 12th, 2006Jane EspensonFrom the Mailbag, On Writing, Pilots

    I had a very spec-writer-y experience today, gentle readers. I was writing my pilot in a deli, when the waiter asked what I writing. “A TV script.” “Oh? What show?” “It’s a pilot.” He instantly looked deflated-slash-encouraging and lost interest. Sigh. I know you guys face this all the time. Interestingly, it tends not to get better. Buffy writers were routinely asked if the show was animated, or if it was a kid’s show, or even just told “never heard of it.” And that was pretty much the MOST well-known show I’ve worked for. When I mentioned Battlestar Galactica recently, I actually got a, “Oh, is that a magazine?” So… I guess… chin up, it doesn’t get much better.

    Anyway, here’s a thought that might actually be helpful!

    You know how I’m always talking about the most common spec-writing mistake? Namely, centering a spec around a guest character? Well, you know when this is even more important? When what you’re writing is a spec pilot.

    And it would be really easy to make this mistake, too, since in a pilot EVERYONE feels like a guest character. The detective’s client has been known to the reader just as long as the detective, after all. But resist! You’ve got to establish new characters here, make the reader/viewer fall in love with them and want to see that next case. And you’ve got limited room to do it in.

    So get ’em in, make ’em interesting, and then get ’em the heck off the stage. Let your fine new regulars get down to work. They’ve got readers to seduce. They’re gonna need room.

    Lunch: corned beef hash and poached eggs. Yum!

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