JaneEspenson.com

UPDATE: I am being told that our team might be reassigned to a different and even more remote gate. If you’re looking for me and cannot find me, then please, support any writers you do find. Hold a sign, stay and chat… it will be appreciated!

I am freshly returned from the picket line. They have put our “team” of Battlestar writers at a secondary, but strategically important Universal side gate, primarily an entrance to the theme park but also used by productions. Even there, hidden and isolated, I was delighted to be joined by a number of fans and gentle blog readers who found me and then carried signs and endured my foot-sore company for the duration! Thank you! And, as for the rest of you, I would love to meet more of you during future mornings.

And, get this — pizzas were delivered to me and to the other strikers down by the main gate by the generous readers of Whedonesque.com! Whoo! Pizza! Thank you, my people! You’re making this bad sitch a lot more comfortable.

And today’s writing advice? Today I offer you this link to “Scriptnotes,” Writers Digest’s new blog “about the craft and business of writing for film, television, and digital media.” It’s offered by friend-of-the-blog Chad Gervich, and it looks as if it’s going to address a lot of the questions that I avoid about aspects of the job that extend beyond the margins of the page.

For example, Betsy in Los Angeles, who wrote to ask about seeking out production companies versus agents as a way into the business? Well, you might want to direct that question to Chad. I concentrate on helping you perfect that script. Chad is better equipped than I am to advise you beyond that point. I think it’s going to be a great resource. Enjoy!

Lunch: pizza with anchovies, delivered specially for me to the picket line. Beautiful! Thank you!

Well, Gentle Readers, today finds me digging around for my sunscreen and comfy shoes, because apparently I’m going to be walkin’ tomorrow. I haven’t talked about the strike yet here, because I really do want this site to be about the scripts, all the time. But if you’re curious, and want to hear more about the issues from people who are more articulate on the subject than I am, I invite you to check out UnitedHollywood.com. And if any of you are in Los Angeles, and want to show support, or just learn more about the issues, please come out and join us. I personally intend to be at (well, just outside of) Universal Studios tomorrow from nine to one, along with other writers from Battlestar, Eureka, CSI and Desperate Housewives — drop by and say “hi.” Or drive by and honk.

Now, of course, I can’t write during the strike (other than this beloved blog), but you guys can certainly keep working on those spec scripts, so let’s see what I can do to help:

I attended an interesting event this week, in which spec writers got to hear actual actors reading their spec pilots. It was very enlightening to hear the words read out loud, and read well. I’ve mentioned before that I think this is a mistake if you’ve written a spec episode of a show that already exists, because it’s so crucial not to have another voice interfering with your inner echo of the actual actor. But for a spec pilot, there’s no reason not to do this, provided you have access to some readers who can do a credible acting job. In fact, I highly recommend it.

One thing you’ll immediately notice is when a line is too long, which is often. You’ll be crossing words out like crazy. You’ll also notice whole pieces of scenes that can be trimmed away. When you read silently to yourself, your eyes tend to speed up over bits that you know well or that bore you or concern you, but hearing it read aloud forces your attention to those parts and makes you address the problems there — often with a big red X through the whole page.

You’ll also notice awkward bits of phrasing, ambiguous lines and logical jumps that can confuse the audience. If your script is funny, you’ll be able to gauge if the laughs fall where you anticipated them.

Give it a try, and don’t forget to ask your performers what they thought. Actors are often the ones who catch inconsistencies in a script, since they are the ones most invested in following the logical progression of the characters. And, of course, get opinions from other writers. Because writers support each other.

See you on the line.

Lunch: beef shabu shabu with lots of those tiny clear noodles

In a remarkable display of something… Efficiency? Coincidence? Necessity?… two of you have sent in the same question. Adam in West Hollywood says:

… here I am, sketching out ideas for original pilots, and I can’t shake the nagging question of whether or not they’d stand out. […] [S]hould I be writing a pilot that’s more shocking instead of more touching or quirky or filled with those emotional character moments?

While, across town, Megan in Los Angeles chimes in:

… my question is whether a family-friendly emotional pilot with a small hook has any chance of competing against a high-concept pilot. (ie. “30 year old former child star moves back to hometown to live with her sister” vs. “girls’ volleyball team discovers locker room is a time portal!”)

Both gentle readers want to write the less “shocking” spec pilots, but are worried about whether that’s the right choice. Well, I hate to disappoint, but I certainly think a strong, unusual, surprising hook helps. I mean, admit it, Gentle Readers, didn’t you perk up when you thought about that volleyball team and their time portal? If both scripts were in front of you, which one would you be tempted to peek at? They’re a volleyball team! With a time portal!

Remember, just because you pick a more out-there premise, it doesn’t mean you have to lose all the great subtle character stuff that you would do in your more standard story. I certainly would like to think that the team captain, traveling back in time to witness her parents’ first meeting, would have a lovely emotional reaction to it. Adam is, I think, setting up a false choice when he contrasts “shocking” with “touching”. Buffy the Vampire Slayer would’ve made a great spec pilot if it hadn’t already been a movie. The concept – even the title – is manifestly startling, but the writing is subtle and emotional. And touching.

What you don’t need, and this may actually be what Adam is referring to when he says “shocking,” is to load your story with turns that are surprising because they lack motivation or are extra violent or prurient for no other reason than to get a visceral reaction. That’s never a good idea. But coming up with a new and intriguing story hook that makes people curious… that’s never a bad idea.

Lunch: believe it or not, that heirloom tomato salad again. But I think this’ll be the last time for a while.

Gentle Reader Sean in New York writes in with some new information about the Warner Brothers’ Workshop. This is fascinating. Sean tells us that in his rejection letter…

… they informed me that I was among the top 5% of the entries submitted […] so I was invited to a special seminar for the top 5% to discuss how to make our specs better.

Really? That’s incredibly cool! If any of you others out there also find yourself in this category, you have my congratulations. This is a big deal.

Sean has concerns about the cost of a mid-week trip across country for this. Oh, man, Sean, if there’s any way you can swing this, you should do it. This isn’t just some kind of consolation prize, this sounds to me more like a genuine boost over Hollywood’s towering threshold. You won’t just be getting inside advice that you could get from any schmo like me. You’ll be getting inside advice from the actual people deciding who gets into the program!! I know nothing for sure, but I’d certainly suspect that the scripts of the previous year’s seminar participants are read with extra interest.

And, by the way, Sean tells us that the script that earned him this attention was a spec Heroes. Take note of that — I wouldn’t have thought Heroes was an especially specable show, but Sean apparently knocked it at least 95% of the way out of the park.

So everyone get to work. Next year I expect to hear that everyone finished in that top 5%! You know you can do it!

Lunch: pad thai with lots of tiny lime wedges

Sometimes you just have to ask the audience to make a “buy”. Your story might require that they accept some piece of invented technology or a small coincidence or perhaps a slightly flawed plan on the part of a villain. I’ve talked in the past about one way to make a buy more palatable, namely by “hanging a lantern” on it, which means actually pointing the unlikelihood out to the audience and simply owning it. If a character says, “Wow, that was kind of a weak plan,” then your audience tends to relax and accept the weak plan as a part of the story, instead of feeling cheated. Again, it’s all about feeling like you’re in the hands of a confident writer who is aware of what they have created.

But even with a good stockpile of lanterns, you have to be careful. One buy per script is a good maximum. If you’ve come up with a great intricate bank heist with split-second timing and a stunning surprise resolution and it requires that a guard turn away from a security monitor at an important moment, well, that might be okay. But if it also requires that the armored car driver wouldn’t use his cell phone to report a malfunctioning radio… well, then you might want to see what you can do to come up with some logical non-lantern-hanging explanation that will eliminate one of your buys.

Over and over again, I discover that people who are merciless viewers, snorting at the screen about plot points that they find dubious, can be shockingly cavalier about similar holes in their own plots. Perhaps they’ve decided that sloppiness from others excuses their own. Nope. If it would make you snort when someone else does it, it should make you snort at your own pages.

Lunch: “Santa Fe Salmon Salad” — I didn’t like the sound of it, but it was quite good

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