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I have just returned tonight from attending a screening/Q-and-A honoring Larry Gelbart. He’s amazing. If you don’t recognize the name (although I think you do), check him out at imdb and then come back. He said many fascinating things, but the one that I tucked into my brain for later examination was a statement he made about the version of M*A*S*H that had no laugh track (available on DVD and in broadcasts aired in the UK). He commented that in the no-laugh version, Hawkeye came across as “less of a wise-ass and more of a cynic.” Isn’t that a fascinating distinction? I’ve got an instinctive understanding of the two categories, but I’m enjoying trying to articulate exactly what separates them. I think it’s that a wise-ass adopts his attitude in part because of the reaction he gets from others around him, while the same attitude is woven deeper into the fibers of a genuine cynic. Yes? Have you got a Hawkeye-character in your spec pilot? Which is he/she, a wise-ass or a cynic? It’s fun to do minute character parsings like this, and it can really help you develop and distinguish characters.

At the Gelbart event, I was delighted to run into a number of people I knew including my old boss from Ellen (and colleague from Dinosaurs), the incredible Tim Doyle. Tim is another graduate of the Disney Writing Fellowship, having been part of the program in its very first year of existence. The program has had a fine record of producing writers who go on to have long and creative careers, and I hope to see this tradition continue.

Strike:

Special thanks today go to Brijanna (forgive me if I have the spelling wrong, as I don’t have it in front of me at the moment), who brought sweet treats and an even sweeter letter to me on the line this morning. Thank you, Brijanna (repeat spelling disclaimer here)!

Tomorrow is another Special Event Friday, and this one has me really excited. Here’s the official info: “Hollywood Homecoming, an event honoring the veteran writers, directors and stars of yesteryear who helped form and shape the unions we are fighting to protect, will be held this Friday, November 30th, from 10AM-12PM at Sony Studios in Culver City.” Doesn’t that sound amazing? In LA? Got a lunch hour? Come on by!

Lunch: A post-picket Chicken-and-cheese omelet and a waffle (The #5 at Roscoe’s Chicken ‘n’ Waffles). Brilliant.

First off, I just had a new idea for the pencils campaign — when you put down what show or writer you support? Put your own name down. After all, you’re the generation of writers who are going to benefit from this. It makes perfect sense. Go ‘head. Support yourself; that’s what you’re really doing anyway.

All right. Now down to business. I heard a great line in a Law and Order re-run yesterday. The detectives go to bust a mob guy in the back room of a shady bar. You know exactly the scene, right? They find the guy, the son of an old-time mobster, with his cronies watching television (financial news). Detective Briscoe hauls the head mobster to his feet. As he cuffs him, he says:

“You know, your old man would’ve at least had a card game going.”

Fantastic. The writer, finding himself faced with a hopelessly familiar scene, found a subtle way to make it new while calling our attention to the one missing classic element. And it’s funny.

Got a scene that feels familiar? Try mixing it up a bit, and don’t be afraid to have a character comment on it. We did stuff like this on Buffy, too, by having some surprising design or lifestyle choices in the demon world — and having a character notice and comment on it always yielded funny moments.

Strike: I’m trying something new today, a “van loader” shift at WGA headquarters. You get double-credit compared to picketing, so I suspect it’s going to be hard work.

Lunch: Sushi at Echigo (the warm rice place)

Hi, all. So did you enjoy “Razor,” the new Battlestar Galactica movie? It represents the last bit of Galactica in which I was not involved — the last bit I can watch as a pure fan. I recommend it — it’s packed with chilling and gradual revelations. Great stuff.

On the writing front, Friend-of-the-blog Maggie has called my attention to Pamela Ribon’s fascinating blog. The entry I’m linking to here has a fantastic list of clams and a great discussion that reveals how they sometimes end up in scripts by staffs that know better. I don’t know Pamela, but — Hiya, Pamela! Great work! Her blog looks like a great source of inside info, especially for those of you curious about the room experience. She really captures how in-the-room interactions work.

I’m interested to see that “X is the new Y” is on her list. It highlights the fact that often it’s the form of the joke that gets clammy, even though different variables can get plugged into the equation. I was calling these “clamshells” for a while, and it’s not a bad way to picture it — no matter what you stuff in there, from the outside, it’s a clam.

In strike news, I continue to buy pencils, and I’m looking forward to another week of picketing. HUGE thanks to Gentle Reader Claire who sent me a care packet of strike snacks and shoe liners. Yay!

Lunch: a variety of snacks eaten at my semi-weekly Scrabble game: brie, Fig Newtons, crackers and chips.

A long time ago, the readers of John August’s wonderful blog collected some questions and comments for me. Due to a miscommunication, I haven’t really had a chance to study them until now. Thank you for all the questions and comments!

John-August-reader Drew T. asks a great question. He wants to know if there’s a difference between jokes written for half-hour comedies versus those written for hour dramas. And, yes, generally there is. Half-hour comedies favor what are called “hard jokes.” Here’s an example of a hard joke, which I adapted from an old episode of Family Ties:

JENNIFER: I told you to run a down-and-in. You were supposed to go to the pole and stop!

SKIPPY: I did. I stopped when I hit the pole.

You’ll notice that it’s very structured, very lean, and it’s all about the words. The set-up HAS to have the words “pole” and “stop” for the punch line to land.

The distinction between this and a soft joke isn’t as clear-cut as some writers would have you believe. The same punch line, if spoken with a self-aware wince, would be at home in many comedic hours.

Take out the constructed-sounding wordplay to soften it further. Now can you imagine it in an episode of House?

INJURED PLAYER: I was supposed to stop at the goal post but I didn’t.

Dr. HOUSE (examining contusion): Actually, I suspect you did.

The simple fact that House makes a dry joke of it makes it softer. This is another example of that general principle which I’ve laid out before: broadly comedic characters tend to be serious in their intent. More complex, “dramatic” characters are often consciously making a joke. It’s my favorite writing irony.

Here’s another version in which the speaker is attempting a mild joke, and the joke is, again, softer, more subtle. Can you see this on, say, Friday Night Lights?

COACH: One a’ your guys just ran into the pole.
ASSISTANT COACH: Oh, for pete’s sake. I told him to stop.
COACH (dryly): Looks to me like he did.

Can you feel the difference between these and the sitcom version? The “ba-dum-bump” feeling has gone away even though the basic idea is exactly the same. Don’t be too afraid of certain jokes that you fear might mess with your tone. Content doesn’t determine tone as much as you think. Characters do a lot of that. A good self-aware character can soften nearly any joke.

Lunch: turkey sandwich with lots of mayo on white bread. The only way to do it.

Happy Thanksgiving! Are you full of turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes? I know I am. Mmmm. So sleepy. And there’s still pumpkin pie that needs to be eaten! (By the way, the pie is entirely homemade. By this I mean that I mixed the spices and eggs into the canned pumpkin myself instead of buying the pre-mixed kind. So superior.)

So, I was sitting here, slipping quietly into a food coma, and I started randomly thinking about the nature of competitions. Every entrant in the Miss America competition wants to win, right? But do you root for all of them? Do you root for any of them? It’s not enough for someone to want something, or even deserve something. To really make us pull for someone, it helps a lot if they’ve overcome something. If a contestant can weave a compelling tale of childhood tragedy or mild disability, we root for them. We want them to be compensated.

This can tell us writers a lot about how to create characters that audiences root for — a crucial ingredient in populating your spec pilot. Just making a “good” person or a “deserving” person isn’t enough. A person with impeccable morals who has never had them tested isn’t that compelling. I’ve written here before about how Dr. House and Starbuck are both wonderful characters despite not being “likable” in the traditional sense. We understand them, and the tragedies that have led them to be the wonderful prickly souls that they are, and we want them to accomplish their goals as a result.

So give the main character in your spec script something that they want. Absolutely. But also give them a nice juicy obstacle to getting it. The audience will love them.

And allow me to particularly recommend the application of a special case of this — unrequited love, which instantly wins over any reader/viewer with its power. Got a character who’s a hard sell? Having a rough time in the swimsuit competition? Try a little fruitless yearning. Great stuff.

Lunch/Dinner: You know how it goes: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, gravy and an experimental liaison with a broccoli salad that no one liked.

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