JaneEspenson.com

Suppose you’re writing a spec pilot, and you’ve got a lot of characters whom you want your readers to keep straight. You’ve got Brian and Courtney and Flagg and Sharon and Henderson and Nigel… But let’s say that Henderson and Nigel are fairly minor. They’ve got names and all, they’d be regulars if the pilot somehow became a series, but let’s say they’re only in two scenes of the pilot.

In these circumstances, you might want to consider:

Committee-Head Henderson
Welcome.

And:

Nigel the Butler
Good morning, sir.

Now the reader will be reminded who they are whenever they speak, and the burden of keeping all those names straight will get a lot easier.

Whenever you make the reader’s job easier, you make your own job easier.

Lunch: In ‘n’ Out burger, Dr. Pepper

Well, I’m back from my trip! Las Vegas says “Hi.” And also “Hey, Sailor.”

Get this, gentle readers. I own a lovely big “Once More With Feeling” poster that I had reframed recently. (OMWF is the musical Buffy episode.) When I went to pick up the finished poster, someone had attached a note to it! I guess it was sitting in the store, looking all… mine (my name is on it because I had Joss sign it to me). And someone left me poster-mail! How cool is that?

So thanks to Jason Lee for the great note — I wonder, people, do you suppose that’s Jason Lee, the star of My Name is Earl? I think it would be very strange and wonderful if famous people were leaving notes for me in poster shops. Thank you, Jason, however famous you are or are not!

In other news, I just watched the latest episode of The Office. In this particular episode, one of the story threads was a bit surreal. For those who saw it, I’m referring to the “Dwight takes Ryan on a sales call” story line. It was right on the edge, for me, of being not realistic enough for the show. (Did you buy the thing where he took him to the farm?) However, it was largely redeemed, for me, because the ABOUT was working. It was about Dwight trying to make Ryan into the friend/acolyte that Jim could never be — and because that rings true, the rest of it is saved, or at least mitigated. It’s amazing how much you can get away with if you have some real human emotion underlying it.

Conversely, even a very grounded, totally realistic story can feel wrong if the emotional underpinnings are false. So take a step back from the events of your spec and look one more time at the emotional arc. Does it work? Is the progression logical and believable for your characters? Then you’re probably on good solid ground, no matter what crazy events you might be dealing with.

Lunch: two chicken soft tacos and a cherry coke from Del Taco. Get the Del Scorcho sauce.

Hi all — I’m on my way out of town on an impetuous last-minute weekend trip. So I’m typing this on one of those airport terminals. At least this one has only had its keyboard slightly tampered with – the “D” is upside-down. Much better than the last one I tried, on which the “M” and “N” had been switched. You might think you don’t look at the keys that much anymore, but I promise you, this is a pretty effective trick, and you should try it out on your co-workers’ computers at once.

Anyway, I only have time for a tiny post, and here’s a little tidbit I’ve been saving for just this kind of circumstance. Let’s suppose that you’re using Final Draft, and you’re in that frustrating situation where there’s a page of your script that contains nothing but the line “End of Act One,” or whatever act it is. Well, if nothing else works, try this. See that little window that tells you if the line is Action or Dialogue or whatever? Select that stray line, and change its category to “General.” Now it’s weirdly close to the line above it. Pulling it onto the previous page. I am told that at least one writing staff used this trick often enough that the procedure got a name: “Calling in the General.”

All right, it’s not terribly useful. Probably not even advisable. I think the best part is the name!

Lunch: The “Nature’s Grill” burrito at Poquito Mas. Surprisingly good.

Did you watch Studio 60 this week? Apparently not, according to the ratings. However, those of you who did got to see a lovely example of irony. During the last episode, they showed a pitch. A Mark Burnett type reality show creator pitched a show to the network. The irony is that while the show was being held up as an example of all that’s wrong with television, it was, in fact, an example of an excellent pitch.

It was polished, confident, short and precise. The guy explained the basic premise: a reality show in which committed couples find their relationships tested. He explained what made it unique, and made it clear that it was *about* something (i.e. a premise that love can triumph over everything but full disclosure). He gave an example of a sample episode to give an idea of the kinds of issues the show would tackle. Then he wrapped it all up with a big, confident, “And that’s our show!” (That’s my favorite part. I always do this as well… otherwise there can be a tendency to let a pitch kind of dribble out at the end.)

In an amusing straw man argument, Sorkin then spends much of the episode pointing out that something is wrong with a television culture that celebrates homewrecking as entertainment. But simply as a student of the form of the pitch as separable from the content – that was a good one. Very comparable to a non-reality show pitch, too, if you were wondering about that.

In real life, in a pitch for a scripted show anyway, the meeting continues past “And that’s our show,” with the network asking a lot of questions about the characters and the arc of the season and tone… but the front bit of the meeting? The presentation part? Well, those of you who saw the episode got to see a rare example of natural writer-executive behavior rarely captured on film.

Lunch: sushi at Echigo, the place with the warm rice. Heaven!

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