JaneEspenson.com

Okay, everyone. Tonight’s episode of Battlestar Galactica is, indeed, mine. I have not, myself, seen the final cut, so we’ll all be watching it together. Hope you enjoy it!

In other news, I got to be part of a roundtable discussion at the Writers’ Guild this morning about spec scripts, and I got some new insights into things I can tell all of you. I’ll be sharing them over the next few posts, but here’s a little one to get us started: original material. Make sure you have something in your portfolio, alongside the specs of existing shows, that is entirely in your own voice. It can be a screenplay, spec pilot or a play. (Some also say short stories will work for this, but I think something in script format is more likely to be useful, myself.) I heard an agent, a show runner and an executive all stress the importance of having something that demonstrates that you can create your own world, your own characters. So take off those shackles and run free through the fields of… um… making stuff up!

Lunch: boneless chicken wings from Johnny Rocket’s. Could’ve been spicier.

Just a small tidbit today. This is something I’ve been doing forever, and I find it helpful, so here it is. There’s always that big jump in the scriptwriting process, when you’re done working on the outline, and you start writing the dialogue. At this point, you’re opening a new file on your computer, right? (Or you’re renaming the file you’ve written your outline in so that you can gradually turn it into dialogue.) Either way, you need to name the file that will contain your first draft. Let’s say your script is called “Happiness,” okay? Instead of calling the file “HappinessFirstDraft,” you might want to try what I do, and call it “HappinessFirstTry.”

Then every time I go to work on that file, the first thing I’m reminded of as I open it, is that this is just a first try. It doesn’t ever have to become a complete draft, in fact. It can be full of stops and starts and experiments. It’s just a first TRY. Once I’ve got the whole script written, even if it’s a “garbage draft” or a “words on paper draft,” then I can rename the file “first draft,” but until then, hey! No pressure! It’s just a try.

Lunch: A veggie reuben sandwich from Aroma Cafe. Made with tofu. Somehow these are always even better than the meat variety. Isn’t that crazy?

Hi! I got a great letter today from Lisa in Indiana, who is new to the notion of writing television specs, and who is asking all the right questions. This made me realize that it’s been a very long time since I’ve covered the basics of this strange little enterprise.

1. First off, Lisa, yes, it’s true that spec scripts are not usually submitted to the show they represent. In other words, you don’t generally use a spec “The Office” to get hired at The Office. This is because it’s simply too hard to execute a show so perfectly that your mistakes will go unnoticed by someone on the inside. It’s like trying to do an impersonation of someone to their face. But, as a beginning writer, your scripts are unlikely to get to a show runner anytime soon anyway, but will instead be submitted to contests and to programs like the ABC Writing Fellowship. So write the show you love best.

2. Your instinct is right, not to use a spec to change the status quo of the show. Don’t get the romantically-sparring couple together, for example. You want your episode to look like a typical episode of the show, only better, because you will have more time to work with it than the staff writers do. Think a lot about what the show’s actual writers are going to do next.

3. A “shooting script” will work fine as an example script to teach you formatting. The only difference is that you shouldn’t number your scenes, nor should you include a cast or set list. (And if the script you’re looking at has asterisks in the margin, or pages printed in different colors, those are used to indicate changes made during different drafts. Don’t worry about them.) There are lots of books out there, too, that will help you learn proper script format. Final Draft, which is the screenwriting program most commonly used by real shows, also does a good job of helping you pour your story into the proper format. But keep trying to get all the example scripts you can. Some shows publish their scripts in book form — Buffy and The Sopranos both did this, and you can learn a lot from reading them.

4. And finally, Lisa asks the question that just keeps coming around, more and more. How do you spec a show with on-going arcs? You know, when I started writing this blog, I was convinced this didn’t have to be a problem. I used an out-of-date Roseanne spec for years when I was getting established — my spec had Darlene graduating high school for years after she was out. So I advocated simply picking a moment in time and not worrying when the arc continued past your show.

However, Roseanne was very different than, say, Heroes or Lost or 24 or even Grey’s Anatomy. Shows with fast-moving arcs that affect the heart of the relationships you’re trying to capture can be very hard to spec. Some agents even discourage the attempt, as they’re worried that the script will start very quickly to look old. And I guess I now have to grudgingly accept that that is true. Certainly readers of scripts can’t expect you to be psychic. But they also are going to prefer reading something that feels fresh and new.

I’ve heard various solutions to the problem. For example, I met someone who was writing a spec 24 — by writing the first hour of a new adventure. I think that’s brilliant. And although there is plenty of arc-driven stuff in House or Desperate Housewives, a story could certainly be chosen that starts and finishes off some stand-alone crisis. As for The Office, my instinct would be to ignore all the office re-org stuff, and settle everyone back into the relationships they had last season until and unless a new steady-state emerges.

But if a show persists in feeling unspecable, and you’re throwing out everything you wrote every week when the newest ep airs? Then it just might not be the right show to spec.

Okay, Lisa! Those are the basics! Start writing!

Lunch: a BLT from The Daily Grill. So much bacon! Are they trying to kill me? Kill me with love?

So, here I am, reading the televisionwithoutpity recap of “The Amazing Race,” and the recapper goes on a lively little digression about the movie Gladiator. She doesn’t like the movie, and slams it with this comment: “The only thing missing from that movie was little robot silhouettes at the bottom.” Oh my god, that made me laugh. And here’s what made me love it. It’s a two-percenter about Mystery Science Theater 3000, which was a show that was itself all about two-percenters. It’s like a microscopic examination of a microscope and I love it.

A two-percenter, as I’m sure you’ve figured out, is a joke that the writers estimate will be understood and enjoyed by two percent of the audience. Sometimes the number cited varies, but the idea is the same, it means you’re dealing with a fairly obscure reference. As an audience member, when you’re part of the two percent that gets it, there’s nothing better than this kind of joke because it feels like the writer is reaching into your own personal brain. In a good way.

You can try to include some of these jokes in your specs, but be careful. I suggest that you go out of your way to ask every person who has read your script if they got the joke. And make sure they’re telling the truth. People don’t like to volunteer that they didn’t get something, so you might not find out if you don’t ask. If you’re getting too many blank stares, you might’ve written a joke that delights only you, the ultimate audience of one. That would be called a, let’s see, an ideolaugh. Ha! No?

By the way, the perfect joke is one that *feels* to an audience like a two-percenter when in fact it’s reaching far more of them. That’s why observational stand-up is so good when it’s done well, because Ellen or Jerry or whoever is describing events and reactions that you thought were specific to you, but which are surprisingly universal.

Any one script can probably only support one genuine two-percenter. But go ahead, write a great joke that almost no one will enjoy. Know that they’ll enjoy it a lot.

Lunch: leftover noodles from Chin Chin

The amazing Ken Levine weighs in today! Ken has written for shows including M*A*S*H, Cheers and Frasier, and is as impressive a writer as you’re ever gonna find anywhere. You can, and should, check out his blog
here.

Ken has a comment about my last post. He says:

“You make wonderful points about comedy scripts needing to be real and grounded even at the expense of additional laughs. That was a cardinal rule on shows like CHEERS and FRASIER. But I think today’s show runner and network executive would look at that as ‘too traditional,’ and ‘not edgy enough’. The standards have been so lowered on the current crop of sitcoms that what passes for good wouldn’t be passable ten years ago… I think the advice you gave was dead on, but as I was reading it I was wondering whether most of your readers even had a clue as to what that meant. And you can’t blame them…”

Ooh. Feisty and interesting. If I’m reading Ken right, he’s suggesting that writing a *good* spec might be somewhat different than writing a *spec that gets you hired*.

He makes an excellent point. If you look at shows that are older than the ones he mentions, like, say, The Odd Couple or Barney Miller, they often genuinely had the feeling of a filmed stage play, with all the quiet moments left in. A spec that felt like either of these shows now would probably feel slow and under-joked. I’m not certain that a Cheers or Frasier spec would have the same feeling, but I’ll bow to Ken’s experience on that.

However, I still think that a spec that manages to land a genuine emotional moment is going to stand out above one that offers nothing but empty calories. I’m going to have to trust that today’s show runners and network executives know that hiring a writer who can write something real is going to pay off in the long run. You’ll have used the rest of the spec to prove you can churn out jokes. Most writers who are writing comedy specs are pretty good at churning out jokes, in fact. But not every writer can strike one o’ those emotional chords that suddenly makes an audience care about a character or a relationship.

And, although many of you are probably quite young, you watch shows in syndication, and you’re seeking out the best of what’s out there. You’ve probably seen some of those wonderful moments they did so well on, for example, Friends. The Ross/Rachel moments, for example. And you’ve seen the Jim/Pam stuff on The Office. Even a show as kinetic as Arrested Development had some touching father-son interactions. I would advocate reaching for moments like these.

Now, I could well be wrong here. Ken is a very smart guy, and he’s making a more complex point than I think I’m giving him credit for. Writing for the purpose of being hired is a very tricky business indeed, and you’ll each have to decide for yourselves how you’re going to strike the balance between what you want to write and what you think someone is going to want to read. Just don’t let the winds of television fashion blow you so far over that you’re no longer doing what inspires you.

Lunch: pizza somewhere in West Hollywood.

« Older Entries

Newer Entries »