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Scott in Toronto wrote in a while back with some interesting questions. Apparently I let this letter sit a little longer than I should have, since one of Scott’s questions asks if there’s any point in writing an Andy Barker PI spec. At this point I’d have to say there is not.

Scott also asks a really interesting question about when you have to remove something from your spec. Here’s the deal: he has a certain joke in his spec for “The Office.” Recently, he saw a very similar joke actually used on the show. He wants to know if he has to change it.

Well, technically, probably not. He feels the joke is an important one that ties the story together, and I will point out that this certainly isn’t as big a deal as seeing a whole plot duplicated.

But, I will ask, Scott, that you give serious thought to replacing it. The Office is a hugely popular show in these parts, and it’s likely your reader will have seen the episode in question. And I bet you can find another joke that’s just as good and that does the same job of tying the story together. Remember, there is always another joke. I’ve been amazed, over the years, at the stuff that can get pulled out of scripts without damaging them. And almost always, when a change is made, it turns out to be change for the better. This happens simply because you’re being forced to really think hard about the story.

So give it a try. If you really can’t beat the joke, then you can leave it in if you must, but if you can beat it, you get a better script, plus you won’t be running any risk of a reader thinking you lifted the line.

(Scott also asks about spec-ing “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”. Well, a little checking does show that this FX comedy would seem to be eligible for the ABC/Disney Fellowship application. It’s a more obscure show than many, so any writer will face that classic problem of weighing passion for a show against possibly dealing with a reader who has never seen it. You will have to flip that coin yourself, Scott.)

Lunch: an avocado and swiss cheese sandwich — a very nice combination

Rene from Melbourne writes in with a question that’s so Australian that I literally had no idea what she was saying for a while. Delightful! Aussie Aussie Aussie! (Now you, gentle readers, say “Oi Oi Oi”.)

Anyway, Rene says she loves “coloring her big print” and wants to know if that’s okay. Further investigation suggests that she’s referring to getting creative and figurative in her stage directions. She writes:

I know it probably depends a lot on the tone of the show, but to me, “An awkward pause” doesn’t have nearly as much flavor as “Crickets chirp”, for example. And, “Cameron knows a rhetorical question when he hears one” seems way juicier than, “Cameron doesn’t respond.”

She worries, however:

…I sometimes wonder if I’m getting too far away from the basic big print function of describing the action in my pursuit of keeping the reader interested between the lines. […] So, do we treat the reader and the viewer as one and the same?”

First off, I’m fascinated by this use of “big print” to describe stage directions. Is that Aussie? English, too? Or is it just new and hip? It makes sense for multi-camera scripts where the stage directions are in all caps, I suppose. Interesting.

But to actually answer the question, Rene: go for it. Yes, creative stage directions are a great way to make a script into an interesting and confident-sounding sample. A reader is not the same as a viewer and they deserve to have attention paid to the special constraints of script reading. They don’t get the benefit of music, editing and pretty people to look at. We have to use other ways to help set the mood of the script, and this is a great way to do it.

My only quibble is with “crickets chirp.” That particular stage direction could be read as a real sound effects instruction, so unless you really want the reader to imagine hammy clammy crickets on their internal sound track, I’d steer clear of that one.

In fact, I’m reminded of one of my first jobs. We were working together as a staff on a script. We had just put in a stage direction: Fran enters, walking on eggshells. After a moment’s thought we changed it to something like Fran enters cautiously. The show had a very eager and very literal crew, and we feared that actual eggshells might appear on the set.

Oh! And now I’m remembering another story. Once, in a Buffy script (Band Candy), I wanted to indicate that Giles was very embarrassed and self-conscious about something Buffy was talking about. I wrote “Giles finds something interesting on his lapel.” Several members of the production staff came to me to ask about the thing on Giles’ lapel — would it turn out to be the villain of the next week’s episode, they asked?

So be poetic, but careful. If there’s a way to read your direction as literal, someone will do it.

Lunch: salad bar

Some jokes work better when said out loud than in print. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I’ve just remembered a really good example of this. I remember seeing an episode of The John Larroquette Show with the following joke (approximate, from memory):

JOHN
Your mother is Connie Rogers?

RACHEL
She was. She changed it to Connie Selleca.

JOHN
Oh. After the…

RACHEL
After the car.

A very strange little joke. Whatever you may think of it, you have to admit that it works far better when heard and not read. If you end up with a joke like this in your spec you may be debating how to properly get it down on paper so that it works — add some stage directions to clarify it, maybe?

Nope. Cut it, change it. There is always another joke. This is probably the biggest lesson of comedy writing. No matter how much you love a joke, even if a particular joke was why you decided to write a certain episode, there is always another one. I’ve seen scripts where a given spot in a given scene is (temporary) home to more than a half-dozen jokes over the course of a week. And those are just the pitches that made it onto the page at some stage. Many more will have been pitched in the room.

Give it a try. Pick a random joke in your script. It can even be one you like, and imagine you’ve just been told that the only change you need to make is to improve that joke. I bet you can do it. Now do it with every single joke in your script. It’s just like being on a show!

Lunch: Vietnamese rice noodles with pork and shrimp

Another quick note about the ABC/Disney Fellowship. I included this as an addendum below, but I think it deserves its own entry. There is no advantage to writing a spec for a show that either airs on ABC or is produced by Disney or Touchstone. So don’t let that factor into your choice, gentle readers.

I also wanted to let you know that I’ve just received an invitation to go speak to the current group of fellows. I’ll do this, and while I’m there I’m going to make a point of finding out what shows they wrote specs for and why they think they were selected. Let’s crack this code!

ADDENDUM: thanks to Melinda in LA along with others who asked this question.

Lunch: scrambled eggs with tortilla and avocado

If you’re preparing a spec of an existing show to submit to the ABC/Disney fellowship, you’ve spent a certain amount of time by now researching your show. You’ve read produced scripts, you’ve watched all the episodes you can, and you’ve analyzed the structure of the episodes and the personalities and relationships of all the characters. At a certain point, you start to think like an expert.

It’s tempting to let all that erudition show in the spec. Be careful. Remember that you’re not writing for the creator of the show. You’re writing for the people who go through the submitted entries over at Disney. There’s no reason to expect an expert’s level of knowledge of the show.

Keep this in mind as you write. If you’ve been studying The Office, you know that Andy is the one played by Ed Helms, you never confuse Toby and Oscar, and you remember all the details of Phyllis’s wedding. But your reader might have a more passive memory of these facts. They know the Andy character, but they may not have the name at their fingertips. And a quick snipe from Pam about Phyllis stealing her ideas might not land, if the reader doesn’t instantly recall that Phyllis recycled all of Pam’s wedding plans.

So help the reader out. Avoid building plots that hinge crucially on the reader having seen one particular episode, and provide clues to help the reader remember which character they’re supposed to picturing. “Stanley reacts with the deadest of deadpans.” — Ah! Now I remember Stanley.

A good test might be to have your mother, roommate or co-worker read the script. Pick someone who’s seen the show but who isn’t a ravenous fan. Ask them where they got confused. And pay attention even if they say they “eventually worked it out” or “it got clear later.” You don’t want your readers spending mental energy figuring out which one is Meredith when they should be laughing.

This obviously doesn’t just apply to “The Office”. Your reader may not be able to tell their Cameron from their Chase, either.

Lunch: a nice salad with grilled chicken from “Aldente cafe”

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