JaneEspenson.com

A very cool site called popgurls.com did an interview with me the other day. You can jump right to it here.

Anyway, they asked me if I had a Ten Commandments for spec writers. Here’s what I came up with:

1. Don’t spec a show you don’t respect.

2. Don’t make your spec about a guest character. Focus on the main character.

3. Get sample scripts of produced episodes. Study them.

4. Follow the show’s story structure exactly.

5. Find a story for your spec that plays on the show’s main theme.

6. Don’t write an episode that resolves the show’s mystery or consummates its romance.

7. Place the story turns at the act breaks, and give us reason to come back after the commercials.

8. In a comedy, spend time polishing the jokes, especially the last one in each scene.

9. Spelling, formatting, clarity of stage directions – they really matter.

10. Use strong brass brads.

Even with more reflection, I’m pretty well pleased with these. Maybe the thing about brads doesn’t deserve to make the top ten, but it’s not a bad list. I was interested to see that the first one is one I haven’t touched on much in this blog. About only spec-ing shows that you respect. It’s a topic that’s tricky, because sometimes there may not be a lot of choice in this matter.

For example, if you really want to be a multi-cam comedy writer, and you aren’t a fan of Two and Half Men… well, where does that leave you? With a spec pilot, I suppose.

Now, this isn’t to say you CAN’T write a show you don’t like. Once you’re hired on a staff, it’s not uncommon to have to write for a show you wouldn’t actually be a fan of. (I’ve been ridiculously fortunate in this way.) But I think if you ever find youself writing *down* — writing lines that are perfect for the show but that you personally don’t like — well, it’s hard to see how that spec is gonna sparkle.

For you drama writers too, if everyone around you is clamoring for you to write a show you don’t like, because it’s the hot show to spec, well, it’s probably best to resist. Find a show you love and do that one instead, even if it’s not the “Must-Have” spec.

Lunch: heirloom tomatoes and store-bought tabouli

So. Project Runway. Don’t you think Robert’s last two outfits have been too similar to each other? It was the same coat. Well… not the SAME coat. But both coats filled the same square in the great cosmic fashion grid. Know what I mean? Well, it’s just like with jokes…

Sometimes a room full of television writers will look at two jokes in the same script and realize that one of them has to be cut. Why? Because “they’re the same joke.” It seems weird the first time you hear it. They’re not the same. All the words are different! What is meant is that both jokes have the same *point*, they’re funny for the same reason.

Here’s an example. Consider the following sequence of lines. (Remember, this is an exhibition only. It is not real professional comedy.)

TEENAGER
Mom! I can’t find my phone!

MOM
Dig through the stuff in your room. When you hit Indian artifacts, you’ve gone too far.

TEENAGER
I looked through everything!

MOM
Better you than me. I’m always afraid I’ll find the puppy we lost when you were three.

Both of Mom’s lines are jokes. But they’re the same joke. Both have the same point: the kid’s room is a dump.

These two jokes are especially identical. They even exaggerate the messiness in the same way – by suggesting that things are buried in the mess. They clearly cannot both remain. Comedy relies on freshness of observation. If the observation has just been made… well, you’re not going to get a laugh on the second joke.

Sometimes, the one-joke-or-two issue is not as clear cut as it was in the example. Sometimes a writing staff will disagree about whether or not two jokes are the same. In your spec, if two jokes are far apart in the script, if one is an escalation, if the point is similar but not exactly the same… then you’ll probably get away with it. Note that Friends could load up a script with Joey-is-dumb jokes and every one would be delightful. But if they had two really specific Joey-can’t-count jokes on the same page? Nope. Same joke.

I think sometimes, in writing a spec, a writer can’t decide between two jokes. Which one will the readers like better? So he puts ’em both in, thinking he’s building a joke run. It can be very tempting. Resist the temptation. Close your eyes and point if you have to, but make the choice, Sophie.

Lunch: Hot polish dog from a little food stand/restaurant with the best name ever: Pappoo’s Hot Dog Show. I was hoping for puppets.

When I first moved to Los Angeles, there was a criminal of some sort – possibly a bank robber – who was working the valley. The police nicknamed him “Radar” because, the newscasters explained, “he looked like the character from M*A*S*H.” I’ve always wondered how that was different from looking “like Gary Burghoff.” And I’ve always wondered how Gary B felt about the whole thing in the first place. Did he get hassled by cops a lot that year? And, how lucky were the police that the same actor played the role in the movie and the series?! Anyway, you have to admit, it is just about the most effective way I can think of to describe someone quickly and evocatively.

There’s a similar trick you can use when you’re working on your spec pilot. Especially when you’re pitching it to friends and advisors – anyone whom you want to have a quick feel for what you’re intending. The trick is to think of a show with the same tone.

Here’s what I mean. Right now, I’m getting ready to pitch an idea for a series. If the premise is described baldly, it sounds a bit silly — like it’s probably a broad comedy. But it isn’t. So I find that it helps a lot to explain first that I’m going for the tone of “Alien Nation.” Remember that? Aliens have integrated into our society and now live and work among us. Great stuff. And although there were lots of funny moments, the tone was very realistic. It could even be quite dark at times — even with actors looking like they stepped out of a Coneheads sketch. If you’ve seen the show, you know the cool effect that was achieved by treating such a wild premise with such realism and respect. Hafta say, I feel a lot more confident that I can convey the show I have in my head if I evoke the other show first.

If you’re working on a spec pilot, see if this helps you. It might even help in other ways, providing a guideline as to what has worked and what has not worked with a show that has something in common with yours. I feel like Alien Nation is providing me with a sort of tuning fork — keeping my tone pure and true.

Lunch: triscuits and a candy bar

Correction: Not “evoke.” I meant “invoke.” Geez. [forehead slappy noise]

I knew someone in college who worked in a sort of upscale housewares store. He told us once that there was a trick to selling overstocked items. Say you have too many black mugs in your inventory, and too few white ones. Here’s what you do: make a display of all white mugs with one black one. Everyone will buy a black mug. Don’t you love that? The power of opposites. Using one thing to sell the opposite effect… somehow this feels connected to something I’ve noticed about some scripted jokes:

We talk about comedy as a “relief” from the drama and tension elsewhere in a script, because it’s supposed to be the opposite. But sometimes a joke can actually heighten the tension. And then you, the writer, totally score, because you’re playing both notes at once. You’re making ’em laugh! You’re making ’em sweat! You’re the conductor of an orchestra of human emanations!

Here’s the thing that makes it work. Humor *does* lighten a moment. And the characters that you’re writing about know that. So if a character cracks a joke in a tense moment, the audience is going to infer that the character is scared, reluctant, and generally tense.

Here’s an example from an Angel script I wrote. Doyle has arrived home to find a monster named Griff in his apartment:

—
Doyle faces Griff. Doyle tries to look calm, but his hand shakes as he puts his keys back in his pocket.

DOYLE
I think you have the wrong place. I was very clear about canceling the maid service–

GRIFF
You owe money.
—

The fact that Doyle is finding it necessary to joke, despite his obvious fear, makes that fear all more evident.

Here’s a similar example from a Buffy:

—
Buffy is in her room, deciding on a pair of earrings. She’s considering hoops when she looks up
to see Giles standing in the doorway.

GILES
You know this is very dangerous.

BUFFY
You’ve just heard horror stories, that’s all. Wear hoops and they’ll catch on something, rip your lobes off, lobes flying everywhere…

GILES
That’s not what I mean.
—

Buffy, of course, knows exactly what Giles is really talking about. She’s just trying to defer the conversation because she’s nervous about Giles’ reaction. Her nerves come through extra-clearly because she’s making a joke.

In terms of shows currently on the air, look at how often House uses this technique. A character like that is almost defined by the thing’s he DOESN’T want to talk about, so this is the perfect technique to use with a guy like that. Give it a try.

Lunch: sauted mushrooms, leeks and bits of tofu dog with Chipotle Tabasco sauce. Try the Chipotle Tabasco — good stuff.

On Monday morning, gentle readers, I am headed off to a new job. I’m going to be on the staff of the new Andy Richter comedy “Andy Barker, PI.” I’m so excited – the pilot is great and I think it’s going to be a really strong show. The new staff had our first get-to-know-you dinner last night, and I can report that it’s a fun and accomplished group. The new schedule will mean I’m going to be a lot busier all of a sudden, and the blogging frequency may drop a bit – from once a day to once or twice a week, but I’m going to be here as much as I possibly can, my friends.

I’m way behind on addressing all the fine questions that arrive in the mail – I love these! And I wanted to talk about what may be the most delightful one yet. Jenn in L.A. asks “How do you deal with henchmen?” Oh my. Well, I punish them harshly if they fail to protect my mountain lair.

She explains what she means: “Lots of times in Buffy, she’ll come across a cluster of vampires, only one of whom has a speaking role. Still, the rest of these vamps might appear throughout the episode / die in interesting ways. How do you keep them alive on the page without taking up too much space?”

Thanks Jenn! That’s an interesting question. And, I should note, it’s not just relevant to Buffy and similar shows with an action element. Doctors, for example, might have to break some hard news to a gathering of a patient’s family members, and those might also be characters that reappear throughout the episode. This is a very similar situation since, again, it’s likely that only one of the group will have a speaking role. (You have to pay people a lot more to speak – even if it’s only one line – and writers will go to great lengths to keep extra characters from piping up.) For the sake of making me laugh, let’s continue to refer to these silent supporting characters as “henchmen.”

Usually, these kinds of characters don’t really get names, just the barest of labels. Here’s a chunk of stage direction (I believe this was written by the impressive David Fury) from a Buffy episode in which she fights some silent henchmen-types. Note that in this case there was no central speaking villain, just a band of silent equals:

—

BACK ON BUFFY as she is about to engage the Monster. When she hears a SNARL and turns to see ANOTHER ONE on her right.

NEW ANGLE as she takes a step back, sizing up the beasts, when a THIRD MONSTER leaps in behind her. She’s surrounded.

She spins around, catching the third monster in the head with a roundhouse kick. MONSTER #3 is knocked back as MONSTERS #1 and #2 charge her.

—

If you want to give them each visual defining characteristics, these could well have been called “bumpy-headed monster,” “extra-strong monster” and, I dunno, “mangy-furred monster” or something.

In our analogous doctor show, you could imagine something very similar:

—

BACK ON HOUSE as he straightens up from questioning the patient’s DEVASTATED MOTHER. He hears a CLEARED THROAT and turns to see the patient’s ANGRY-LOOKING SISTER on his right.

NEW ANGLE as he takes a step back, sizing up the sister, when a RED-EYED BROTHER steps in behind him. He’s surrounded.

—

At this point, he might dodge through the group to the safety of his office. Buffy’s roundhouse kick is cool, but House has got that bum leg…

Now, as the writer, you can just refer to ANGRY-LOOKING SISTER and RED-EYED BROTHER as being present in any scene in which you need them to be standing around silently. That’s all you need to do to keep them alive on the page. If they had importance to the story, you’d give them names and lines. But since henchmen really are just there to fill up the room, you should spend as little ink as possible on them. Similarly, if the Monsters in the Buffy story stuck around, you’d simply mention in stage directions something like “the three MONSTERS from earlier glare at Buffy from across the crypt.” Nothing more is needed.

Note that you can also fill up scenes with extras just by mentioning: “The deli is moderately busy” or “The halls are full of students.” Silent people are pretty cheap when producing an episode, and even cheaper in a spec.

Lunch: chicken and salsa in scrambled eggs

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