JaneEspenson.com

Another day on the line, Gentle Readers, and I am simultaneously pooped and energized. I came home and napped, woke up at 6, and literally couldn’t figure out if it was 6PM or AM. The sky is getting darker, so let’s go with PM, okay?

They’ve got us Battlestarrers at the Barham gate to Universal now, out where Barham meets Forest Hills Drive. It has turned out to be a fun and active spot — lots more marching and chanting than at our previous location. We’ve had lots of supportive shouts and honkings from passers-by and drivers — thank you! We only had one ugly encounter, with a studio driver in a creepy Halloween mask, who treated us to a prolonged obscene gesture. It was genuinely chilling. But mostly it was a great day — we were joined by writers from Law and Order SVU, from the new comedy Carpoolers, from Bionic Woman, and others, so it was also a wonderful chance for all of us to meet more of our colleagues.

By the way, we may be rotated out of this location at any time — I’ll try to keep you posted on where we are, Gentle Readers.

I’ve received some questions about what you can do to help us if you live too far away or are otherwise unable to come physically to our sides. Gentle Reader Mike asks, “Do we stop watching the shows? What about the reruns?” Well, I could be wrong but I don’t think there’s much to be gained through wielding your viewing power at the present moment. Watch whatever you wish. But, if you want to, you might want to watch it while composing a letter in support of the writers to the editor of the Los Angeles Times or any of the New York newspapers. Or while posting a writer-positive comment on any of the web sites that are taking on this issue — Nikki Finke’s column in the LA Weekly, for example. You can also take it upon yourself to educate your friends and family, who may not be getting the full story on what the issues are. If you read this blog, you’re probably interested in television writing as a career. I want it still to be a sustainable career when you get here!

Speaking of breaking in, I want to direct your attention back to Chad Gervich’s blog, in which he specifically addresses Gentle Reader Betsy, who wrote to me with a question I couldn’t answer. His response is loaded with useful tidbits about breaking into the business and I encourage you all to check it out!

I think I have more faith than Chad does in the power of doing well in script competitions. Especially if you count the ABC/Disney and Warner Brothers Fellowships as competitions, I think they can help you get that proverbial foot in that metaphorical door. But don’t let that be your only angle of attack — Chad provides others. This job is volatile, sometimes short-lived, and for most writers not as lucrative as you might hope, but it’s still the very best job in the world, and I want to see as many of you as possible getting your WGA cards in the near future!

Lunch: a sandwich and some of that wonderful cheesy garlic bread at The Smokehouse. (We also saw John Stamos and Maura Tierney there, who assured us that the cast of ER would be hitting the line to walk with their writers!)

Holy cow, Gentle Readers, I was just looking through my current stack of letters-to-answer when I pulled out a nice long one that I don’t recall reading before. To my embarrassment, I see that it’s dated October 20, 2006. The hell? How’d that happen? So apologies, Adam in West Hollywood, and thanks for the letter!

Adam is (was) debating whether to write a half-hour or an hour-long spec. He was tempted to try specing a multi-camera half-hour to bring some diversity to his portfolio, but he wasn’t sure he’d like the process of actually working on such a show. He described a scene he’d seen in a “Behind the Scenes” feature on a Friends DVD in which the writers had to fix a joke during the taping when it failed to get a laugh:

So there was this tight, feverish little knot of writers pitching out jokes like hot little coals no one could hold for too long […] as the crowd watched from ten feet away…

Adam asks if I’ve ever been expected to pop out jokes under the gun like that. The answer is that yes, I’ve been part of those awful feverish huddles in front of a waiting audience, although I’ve never felt that I’ve done much good there. The ability to find a new joke under pressure that way is a particular and prized skill that half-hour multi-camera writers are supposed to have, although the degrees of actual skill vary wildly. Also keep in mind that, in that huddle, you’re trying to get a fresh take on a moment that you’ve already been staring at for a whole week. If you’re flushing with the excitement of the challenge, go into sitcom work. If you’re feeling what Adam calls “big dragging icicle chills,” then it’s probably not the job for you.

And given that, Adam, I’d say you don’t need a half-hour multi-camera spec script. Write shows that are like the shows you want to write, if you get what I mean. If you’d like to write a spec for an existing show that mixes comedy and drama, try Ugly Betty — it’ll show off your joke skills without pushing you toward a tense and sweaty career.

Lunch: Chicken Caesar Salad. The croutons they used were clearly intended to be used as turkey stuffing, as they tasted strongly of sage — very odd mixture of flavors

Did you read Dilbert yesterday? In a lovely coincidence, yesterday’s strip provides an excellent example of a way to revitalize a clam. Amazingly, it’s a close cousin of the exact example that I discussed in Monday’s post. Here’s how the strip lays out:

First Panel: The pointy-haired boss thinks to himself: “It’s time for some generic management.”

Second Panel: He approaches an employee and says “Did you talk to what’s-his-name about the thing?” She replies, “Um… yes.”

Third Panel: He walks away, self-satisfied, thinking, “There should be some sort of award for avoiding minutiae.”

What I like about this is that the purposeful vagueness is being put to a new and more subtle purpose than just a character excusing himself from conversation so that he can pull his friend aside. This is about using a vague question to demand a vague answer, thus excusing both parties from a conversation neither wants to have. That’s less familiar, more complicated and more interesting.

It’s the illustration of dynamics like this — ones that are recognizable but haven’t been mined to the point of exhaustion — that make good shows and good comic strips feel fresh. Recognition is at the heart of comedy. That’s why Jerry Seinfeld impersonations always start with “did you ever notice…” The problem is that after you’ve recognized something once, you no longer get a thrill of connection when you recognize it again. Dilbert and The Office are both great at finding these fresh dynamics. Once you find them, you can put familiar comedy conceits into them, like the self-conscious use of “thing” as above, and it won’t feel tired, because the overall point is new and fresh.

Lunch: enchiladas

What do you get when you get when you breed clams? Strangely, sometimes you get a genuinely fresh new joke. Gentle Reader Sarah in Washington state writes in with a great example of this phenomenon, which I had not consciously noticed before. She doesn’t know on which show this occurred, but she brings us the line, “After all, it’s not rocket surgery.” Hee! I love that! Two clams getting together to create new life.

It occurs to me that I even know of a three-way menage a clam. The not-very-smart character Mark on Roseanne once said something like, “He’s not the brightest tool in the deck.”

To be fair, I suppose these aren’t really clams that are being combined, they’re simply cliches, and the idea of malapropisms as comedy dates back as far as humans had sayings to screw up. But let’s not pop my parade here; I think there’s something to be learned from these. Lots of you will be writing specs in which you have to convey something of a character’s essential nature very quickly. Malapropisms like these can be very useful for establishing a certain type of character. Give ’em a try!

In other news, I’m pleased to find a letter today from Mark, also in Washington, who writes representing the Northwest Screenwriters Guild. This is a mysteriously apostropheless group that helps professional screenwriters get started at making a living. He wanted to let me know that a link to this very blog has been added to the site’s Resources page. Thank you, Mark! I’m always happy (as a clam) to be listed as a writing resource.

Lunch: bean and rice burrito

This is a continuation of the reply to Lauren in Michigan who asked about the daily life of a TV writer.

A typical day when you’re working on a show varies from show to show. Almost all shows maintain some kind of writers’ room, although the amount of time spent there is wildly variable. The room might feature a large central conference table and desk chairs, or it might be filled with comfy armchairs and couches. There is a whiteboard or a corkboard-and-cards arrangement, or both.

This is where the entire staff works together to come up with the storylines for each episode. A typical day often involves sitting in the room helping develop the stories. As a new staff writer, you wouldn’t be expected to dominate the room, in fact, it would be a mistake to try. You spend a lot of time listening in a writers’ room. By the time a story is sent off to be given a detailed outline, the staff has worked out the general content of each scene through collaborative discussion — this is “breaking the story”. If it’s a comedy, especially a multi-cam, traditional sitcom-type comedy, you spend even more time in the writers’ room doing group rewrites of the current script. This involves the higher-stress activity of pitching jokes: coming up with jokes for the script and calling them out to the group. You probably already have an instinct about whether that sounds like fun or torture for you.

Some dramas don’t have a room, instead requiring each writer to work one-on-one with the show runner to develop their episode. As a writer you simply fold yourself into the method that your show runner prefers.

If there is a room, sometimes you won’t be there, because you’ll be “out on script.” Some shows like you to still come to the studio every day and write in your office, while others let you disappear for the one or two weeks you have to write the episode. Sleep in, go to Vegas, whatever, just turn in a great first draft when it’s due. Being out on script is great.

As you become a more experienced writer, other duties might come up to add variety to your days. You might be expected to go to set and watch your episode being filmed. You might be expected to go work with an editor. But no one would expect you to come in as a new writer with a full set of producing and editing skills. Some shows never require you to do much of this kind of activity anyway. To a large extent, writing scripts and breaking story IS the job.

I’ve left Lauren’s most interesting question for last. She wants to know what the hardest part of the job is. There are a number of potential answers to that:

— The hours. Some shows, especially but not limited to multi-camera comedies, require very long hours and/or coming in on the weekends. But you’re young.

— The humanity. If working with the same people, hearing the same voices, accommodating the same personalities for long stretches of time under stress and in a limited environment sounds like hell, then you may not enjoy the room. But you do get to go out on script now and then.

— The ego-crush. You will get notes. You will be rewritten. You may have your suggestions derided publicly. But you do get to see your name on television.

— The business. It’s hard to get that first job, and for a while it may be hard to get that next job. It can take time and luck to get traction in this career. There aren’t a lot of jobs and they’re highly sought-after. But you’re good, right? I see new people getting in every single year. There’s no reason it can’t be you.

I hope that answers your questions, Lauren! Hope this helps!

Lunch: that heirloom tomato salad again

« Older Entries

Newer Entries »