JaneEspenson.com

Home of Jane's blog on writing for television
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    September 3rd, 2006Jane EspensonOn Writing, Spec Scripts

    A fellow named Steve from Nantucket… sent me a letter recently. He makes a very good point about writing. It is hard, as I have pointed out, to begin a television-writing career if you are either mature in years or distant in geography. But Steve reminds me that there are other kinds of writing. Prose, for example: novels, articles, short stories, non-fiction books of all kinds. It’s an excellent point. And I should tell you that I meet people all the time who mention that they read my blog, even though they are writers of other types. They claim that they can find things in my discussions of script writing that resonate with their very different pursuit. If this is the case, then I’m thrilled and I pat myself on the back so vigorously I risk harm to my elbow.

    So, for those of you who are simply not positioned for tv writing, welcome to the table, pull out a computer, and, please, write whatever shakes your tree! I’ve had a few (mostly Buffy-related) short stories published, so maybe I’ll even tell a few stories about my own experiences writing prose. (First observation: It’s hard. Right away, there are so many choices! First person? Present tense? I’m not used to having to make those decisions!)

    Another great letter also arrived recently, from Branko in Croatia! Don’t you love that?! He points out something I hadn’t consciously noticed, which is the tendency of aspiring television writers to get hyper-critical about television. Good point. This does happen. In order to acquire tv-writing skills, you have to start applying critical thinking to those shows you want to emulate. And the side effect of critical thinking is that you start thinking critically. You notice things: Hey! That important event happened off-screen! Hey! That moment sold out that character! Hey! That act break didn’t leave me wanting more!

    Keeping Steve’s letter in mind, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the same thing happens to writers of other kinds as well.

    For all the young writer/gripers out there, I just have to caution you that a negative attitude can seep into your spec and be detectable there. And it might seep into your other interactions, too. I once — years ago — got a letter from an aspiring writer who wanted advice, but who also pointed out that he didn’t think it could be very hard to write an episode of something like “Yes, Dear.” Hmm. In fact, it is hard to write an episode of “Yes, Dear.” Sit down and try it.

    The truth, of course, is that our ability to detect flaws is far stronger than our ability to avoid producing flawed product. So gripe if you will, but avoid feeling superior until you’ve got that shiny sparkly spec script finished. It’s harder than it looks.

    Branko also asks for more detail in the lunch descriptions. I think the “butter lettuce salad” conjured up some slippery images. Butter lettuce is a kind of lettuce with a lovely soft leaf, not a two-ingredient melange. So this one’s for you, Branko:

    Lunch: In-n-Out burger, animal style! (This is a burger from a very prestigious burger place, prepared with grilled onions and a tasty sauce.) Mmm!

    P.S. A hearty wave and thank you also to Margaret from LA, who also sent a great letter! She wasn’t able to come hear me speak at a local bookstore a few years back — don’t worry, Margaret! I don’t recall saying anything especially good. Besides, there were visible traces of some kind of missle test in the sky that night, which make the sky look like it was literally ripping open. Some people were understandably distracted by what appeared to be an impending apocalypse.

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    September 1st, 2006Jane EspensonOn Writing, Pilots, Spec Scripts

    Hi all! I’m visiting my parents and their new puppy this weekend. While Zia the Tiny Fuzzy Bundle slept, we ended up watching two episodes of a British sitcom called “My Hero,” on BBC America. I hadn’t seen the show before, and it was quite by chance that the first episode that was on tonight was the series pilot. The second episode was clearly from a later season. I’m guessing from the hair length of the lead female that it was perhaps two years later.

    The show is about a relationship between a normal woman and a superhero. Already I’m smiling. The pilot was nice. Superhero approaches woman and woos her in his goofy naive non-hero guise, charming her, winning her. Then, he loses her when his Superheroism is revealed, and has to convince her that he’s not as “super” as she fears. Simple, sweet, romantic, silly. And it was about something; about recognizing the person you’re meant to be with no matter what the obstacles are. Not Earth-shaking news, but it was relatable as a metaphorical mismatched relationship.

    But the later episode was a mess! They’re married now, and have a freaky talking baby that needs to eat more vegetables, so Super-dad brings him alien radioactive veggies, which makes Wife think he’s not concerned enough about the environment, which leads Superdad to enter into wacky proenvironment activities, which all backfire on him until he, out of desperation, is led to move the planet farther from the sun, thereby eliminating global warming. (I know, I know. We shan’t even discuss the science of that.) And that’s not even bringing the B stories into it! Yikes! It felt like there wasn’t an outline, like the writers simply jumped from joke to joke, from scene to scene, without a sense of telling a coherent story. Imagine a chain, zigging or zagging with every link. That’s what the structure felt like. What were the writers saying about environmentalism, the force of public opinion, or the loyalty and support of a spouse? These were all touched on. Picked up, held into the light, and then put back down as the chain linked off in a new direction.

    I suspect it wasn’t the writers’ fault. Time pressures, notes, rewrites, and the inevitable empty story well that you can fall into on a show with this kind of premise… I sense all of these were at work. However, as the writer of a spec script, you don’t have those excuses.

    When you come up with a story for your spec, try very hard to contain it. Make it about something. Don’t make it about nothing. Don’t make it about everything.

    When you describe the story of your spec, try to come up with a single, complete sentence that says what it’s about. A single sentence to ensure simplicity. A complete sentence to ensure coherence. It’ll keep you out of the chain gang.

    Lunch: chicken salad sandwich with cranberries mixed in. A nice surprise!

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    August 30th, 2006Jane EspensonOn Writing, Spec Scripts

    My parents got a new puppy this week. She’s a teeny baby Bichon Frise whom they have named Zia. Can you believe these are the same people who came up with “Jane”? I suspect I’d’ve had a different life if I was named Zia Espenson. Not better, but different. Names can be like pins that attach us to our lives.

    Or, sometimes, they make things realer. When nothing got named “zero,” people started thinking about numbers in a different way. Nothing became something.

    A similar interesting thing happens when you’re breaking a story and you give a name to each act of your script. I find it to be totally helpful. At the very least, it makes you more aware of the overall shape of the story. Here’s an example of how you might label the acts of a spec script.

    ACT ONE: The building storm
    ACT TWO: Self-deception adds to the trouble
    ACT THREE: We strike back
    ACT FOUR: Double-cross!
    ACT FIVE: We win!

    Or whatever. These are for demonstration purposes only.

    Label the acts with whatever you feel best describes the thrust of the story in that act. I find that once I’ve settled on these names, I’m far better able to tell if a given scene is doing what I need it to do. If I have to let go of one of these guide ropes to reach for a scene, then I know I’m in danger of losing my way.

    Lunch: a nice tongue sandwich. Loosen up! Try it!

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    August 29th, 2006Jane EspensonDrama, On Writing, Spec Scripts, Teasers

    WorldCon made me get all theoretical and big-picture-y. That can be fun, but it isn’t always helpful if you’re sitting at home with your fingers on the keys, looking for advice you can put to work right away. So, how about we go back to talking about something more practical?

    Let’s suppose you’re “breaking” the story for your drama spec script. You’re in the early stages, thinking up the basic spine of the story, and looking for the act breaks – looking for the places where the story turns. So you come up with a nice exciting event for the end of the teaser, and other ones for the three or four breaks that follow — all the places where the story will continue after commercials.

    Let’s say that the act breaks you come up with are compelling and suspenseful. What could possibly go wrong?

    They could be duplicates, is what. Sometimes it’s very easy to end up with two act breaks that are way too similar to each other. If you end act one with your detectives at a dead-end, you shouldn’t end act three with another dead end. Or if an act ends with character one betraying character two, then it’s best to avoid using a subsequent betrayal of c2 by c1 as another act break in the same episode.

    This trap is so easy to fall into that I’ve been on staffs where no one notices that we’ve broken a story with this flaw for a strikingly long time. Then finally, someone points it out, and we all slap our foreheads in comical unison. Sometimes, it doesn’t even get fixed. You can probably find produced episodes that do exactly this. Maybe it even works, if the two scenes are purposeful echoes of each other, or if the second of the two breaks is presented as existing at an order of magnitude greater than the first. But unless things work out just right, and you can bury the similarity, you’re taking a risk of turning in a script that feels circular and repetitive.

    In an extreme case of repeated act breaks, you can look at the story for an episode and realize that nothing would really change if you removed, say, act three. This is a very bad sign. Test your story against this property before you begin writing dialogue. If you’ve got an act that lifts out like part of a sectional sofa, then something’s gone badly wrong. Change it now. Everything is easier to change in the pre-outline stage. And if no one sees you slap your forehead, does it really hurt?

    Lunch: no new lunch since last entry

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    August 29th, 2006Jane EspensonOn Writing

    Today is special because my favorite book, Prisoner of Trebekistan, will be released one week from today. If you’ve been hesitating because you didn’t want to pre-order and then have to wait for the book to arrive, then this is your time to strike!

    Lunch: egg salad and chocolate pie (two separate items)

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