JaneEspenson.com

Hey everyone! Very busy right now. But I needed to drop by for just a moment to tell you all that I will be appearing at WonderCon this weekend in San Francisco, at the Moscone Center. Drop on by! Should be a blast!

Lunch: packaged sushi. Just okay.

Wow. Didn’t the actors and production people and everyone do a great job on Anne Cofell Saunder’s and my Battlestar ep, “Dirty Hands”? I was so pleased with how it came out. Whee!

For those of you who didn’t see it (possibly because you were watching the Academy Awards), the episode took place partly in a facility that converts Tylium ore into spaceship fuel. I don’t know anything about this fascinating but fictional process, and I don’t think Anne does either. So what does one do when one has to write about something both technical and fictional?

Well, here’s part of a scene that I wrote into an early draft (it differs a bit from what was shot, but not by too much):

FENNER
Here’s where we had the problem last time. The temp on this machine fell, but the indicator was stuck. We didn’t know. The dross didn’t all get burned off…

FENNER (cont’d)
Find it. If it stops, the ore that’s in the chamber will superheat…

Did you see what I did there? I totally faked it. But I faked it with authority. It’s really a matter of making sure that the people talking about the process sound like they know what they’re talking about.

And the best thing is that since they all know what they’re talking about, they can do it in a sort of professional shorthand that sounds real and also avoids too much detail. The worst thing to do in this kind of a writing situation is fall into “as you know” writing, in which characters explain things to each other for the benefit of the audience. Don’t worry if the audience doesn’t get exactly what’s happening, just make sure they understand the consequences of what’s happening.

Lunch: salad from the Universal salad bar and a selection of Hershey miniatures

Oh! I just found another example of what I was talking about yesterday about extending the life of clams. I know I saw a joke recently — I have no idea what it was on — in which someone freshened up the “decaf” clam just a tiny bit, rendering it as something like, “Hey, maybe less Red Bull tomorrow?” Something like that, anyway. Not the best joke in the world, but loads better than just repeating the original. Red Bull is a nice contemporary touch, don’t you think?

I’m also told, by the way, that the writers on Will & Grace used to refer to this process of clam rehabilitaion as “clams casino,” i.e. clams baked into a fancy dish.

Lunch: “Buffet City” again! Bao and noodles and shrimp and sushi and fruit and… and…

There are many things that seem terribly clever and endlessly engaging when you first encounter them, but which quickly turn familiar and then grating. This year’s hot toy, the newest novelty dance (aren’t we about due for a new one, by the way?), the latest celebrity breakdown… these all have really short shelf-lives.

A joke that has outlived its shelf-life is consistently referred to as a “clam.” I’ve talked a little about these before, I believe. You know a clam when you hear it. Here are a few of them: “I’m switching you to decaf.” “Check please.” “Who are you and what have you done with ___?” “Did I say that out loud?” “Too much information!” and its brother (hand over ears) “La la la”. Also we have “Was it something I said?” And “That didn’t come out right.” Or “That came out wrong.” And finally “That went well,” and its sister, “He seems nice”.

However, there are ways to adapt or revive clams even after they start to smell. Ways to extend their usefulness.

One way is, paradoxically, to overuse them. Stepping on a rake is a visual clam, but The Simpsons famously used it in an extended sequence which took it to absurd new levels. I also recently read a scene in which “That didn’t come out right” was used a couple different times by different characters. If it had just been used once, it would be clammy. But the repetition of it became its own joke.

Another way is to use the lines in unexpected way. A character who has been sitting silently and suddenly blurts, out of the blue, “Did I just say that out loud?”– that’s pretty funny. (I bet it’s been done, but still, funny.) “That didn’t come out right” is pretty funny, too, if it’s Dr. House saying it while removing a tissue sample.

Another way is to supplement the clam with fresh material. When Dawn complimented a burger on Buffy she said: “It’s like a meat party in my mouth. (then) Okay, I’m just a kid and even I know that came out wrong.” Yeah, the last part of the line is a clam. But “meat party” is priceless and tying her reaction to her age gives it more content than if it just sat there unadorned.

Another way is to express the same notion, but find a new way to say it. Even a minor variation helps. “Who are you and what have you done with ___” is less nerve-blastingly familiar as “Take good care of ___, wherever you’re holding him.”

There’s also the option in which the writer acknowledges the clamminess. The Office can give Michael Scott any of these lines and have them work because the joke is that he still thinks they’re funny. I can clearly imagine him saying, “That’s it, I’m switching to decaf,” followed by Dwight trying to actually take his coffee away while Michael fights to keep the smile on his face. In fact, just recently, Michael used the classic clam “…if that’s your real name,” and in his hands, it was funny.

The best option, of course, is to find your own jokes that are so short and punchy and funny that they would be clams if anyone else had thought of them yet. It’s not an impossible task, actually. After all, every one of those clams listed above had its first appearance some time.

Lunch: Those stuffed jalapenos at Jack in the Box. Can’t resist ’em!

When I’m writing an outline for a script I’m going to write, I find that I’m actually writing a sketchy little version of the scene in my head as I go, just tryin’ it out, making sure that the scene is going to work, that there’s a point to having the scene. You can catch problems that way, because sometimes a scene looks like it’s going to work when it exists as a short description of a thing that happens, but it totally falls apart when you realize that your characters do not give a fig about that thing that just happened, and hence your scene evaporates.

If you come up with a couple lines or a joke or something for the scene, make note of it. It’ll help when it’s time to actually write the scene. If you really imagine each scene like this as you write the outline, you’ll be amazed at how fast the writing goes. You can literally write a scene in a few minutes if, when you start typing, you already have it roughed out in your head.

Those of you who still insist on writing without a real, typed outline that you’ve given to friends for input — you’re buying a lot of extra work. And that thing you value, that sense of “finding the story,” you can get that during this imagining stage, without wasting all the ink and time.

Outline! It’s bones for your script! You need those!

Lunch: Salad, cheese and a roll. And Doritos.

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