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Home of Jane's blog on writing for television
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    April 9th, 2007Jane EspensonOn Writing

    Here’s a joke from an episode of Andy Barker, PI. Andy is pointing at a series of stickers.

    ANDY
    Inspected by number seventy-eight, seventy-eight, seventy-eight. Notice a pattern?

    SIMON
    You keep saying “seventy-eight” the same way.

    I love this joke, and it occurred to me that it was probably a recognizable joke type. “True but irrelevant” has to be type. I tried to think of another example, and I instantly remembered this exchange that I saw years ago on an episode of “Perfect Strangers.” Balki is testifying about a piece of evidence in court. This is from memory, but it’s very close:

    LAWYER
    Do you notice anything odd about this photograph?

    BALKI
    It is borderless.

    Oh, here’s a similar one. Do you remember this (approximate) exchange from the episode of The West Wing in which the president was rushed to the hospital after he was shot?

    ER DOCTOR
    Are you in good health?

    PRESIDENT
    Well, I’ve been shot.

    These are almost always good jokes because they play off character. If the character is being disingenuous, as in the last example, the joke makes him smart and snarky, which can be useful to illustrate. If the character is answering genuinely, as I would claim is the case in the first two examples, it tells us about his unique world-view. This is even more useful. A character who sees the world a bit differently is the kind of character who breaks out, who is instantly memorable. If I were still writing for Buffy, this is the kind of joke I would give to Anya. It’s possible, in fact, that I did write jokes of this type for Anya. If you’re writing for a character like that, you should probably play around with this joke type. I think you’ll find it very useful.

    Lunch: salad bar and a creamy mushroom-artichoke soup that caused great distress later.

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    April 8th, 2007Jane EspensonOn Writing, Spec Scripts

    Clam alert! I’m calling clam on the following construction:

    “She’s what you call — how can I put this nicely? — oh yes, a skanky ho.”

    And its clam-cousin:

    “He’s a thieving bastard, but I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

    Both of you. Out of here and into the chowder. Go through your spec scripts, everyone, and toss ’em out. Seriously, I’m done with ’em.

    Lunch: stuffed jalapenos from Jack in the Box

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    April 7th, 2007Jane EspensonOn Writing

    Years ago, I was working on a sitcom about a family with three kids. That meant that there were frequent family meal scenes in which everyone had to be given lines. This is a common situation; if you’ve got a big group scene, you pretty much have to make sure everyone has something to say.

    But watch out for this little trap that we fell into. Early in a breakfast scene the older sister said something like “I don’t want to go to the family reunion this weekend.” Then the other four people in the scene all weighed in with their jokes about this and that, and the next time Big Sister spoke she said something to her brother like, “You’re just jealous because we’re all going to be having fun at the family reunion.” Hmm.

    It was an unintentional contradiction, and it actually was in the script that way through at least one run-through without any of us catching it. I think the actress was young enough that she just figured we must want it that way — I blanch to think of her trying to come up with the story in her head that justified this strange uncommented-upon turn.

    The moral is that sometimes it helps to read any big group scene like this to yourself several times, with each character in mind, just to make sure that the character is consistent. It can be surprisingly easy to write the line that comes most naturally off the line preceding it, and that will set up the line that follows, without making sure it lines up with that character’s stated attitude.

    Lunch: beef shabu shabu

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    April 5th, 2007Jane EspensonOn Writing

    So, who is the main character in your House spec? In your Ugly Betty spec? House? Ugly Betty? Are you sure?

    You might be very confident that you’ve centered your story on the main character. After all, they’ve got the most scenes, and they’re the one driving the story, making the choices. But if they’re not the one who is changing during the story, then they may not be as central as you intended. Sometimes, during the process of breaking, re-breaking, outlining and writing, you might find that the story has shifted out from under you as you’ve become interested in some minor character, or as you’ve tried to satisfy other requirements. Without your even being aware of it, the spotlight might’ve moved away from your main character, leaving the good doctor in the dark.

    I was fortunate enough to go snorkeling this last weekend. (Oh the fishes/ So lovely/ And delicious.) It’s remarkable how your eyes are drawn to the one element in your landscape that’s moving. Be it a Ugly Betty or Ugly Betta. If your main character moves — changes — during the story, the readers won’t be able to take their eyes off of him or her. If someone else is doing all the moving, you risk having a spec that feels off-center and beside the point.

    Lunch: egg salad sandwich, Fig Newtons

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    April 3rd, 2007Jane EspensonFriends of the Blog, On Writing

    Interesting. Recently (March 30), I observed that writing teams are always composed of two, and only two, writers. But then I got a note from a Friend-of-the-Blog, saying:

    Believe it or not, there may have been a three-partner writing team on the original staff of “Everybody Hates Chris.” I knew one of the original writers for that show… and he mentioned one of the teams had three people. I know it’s rare, but I guess it can happen…

    Well slap my flank and call me Bessie. Who knew? I have to say, though, that this is very rare indeed. And it gives me the image of trying to navigate the streets in a vehicle that’s three cars wide. How do you steer it? How do you park it? How do you keep it from splitting into three cars that want to go different directions? The metaphor might be breaking down, but I think you get the point.

    While we’re in the area, here’s more on teams. It’s not usual for a writer to be part of a team that writes features, while also pursuing a solo TV writing career. Entering into a partnership doesn’t have to mean that you’re partnered for every aspect of your career. So feel free to seek out writers you’re compatible with. Just make sure you’re very happy with the shape of the car that results.

    Also, a big thank you to the lovely people of Equality Now and the Browncoats who were involved in my trip to WonderCon. They sent me a deeply appreciated gift of exotic spices which I am currently sprinkling on everything in my home. Thank you!

    Lunch: cafeteria sushi. Oh, the cold chewy rice. Sigh.

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