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Here is a super cool thing about having this blog. The other night someone asked me how to add dimensionality to a character. At a party, they asked me! I love that – party conversation is a lot more fun when you can talk about aspects of writing instead of just praising the appetizers and gossiping about which celebrities smell bad (a surprisingly long list).

The problem this person was having was that they were working on a spec pilot featuring two main characters. The lead character was coming across as sparkling and vibrant, but the slightly more secondary character (the sister of the lead), just wasn’t as interesting. Here’s what I eventually came up with:

A neat trick to quickly devising an interesting character is to think about the contradictions in their nature. You probably do this already when you’re trying to describe an interesting actual person whom you know. You say things like “He’s this big bruiser of a guy, who writes the most amazing poetry.” Or “She’s so quiet and shy, except when she’s arguing a case in court.”

Imagine character traits that all support each other as a field of arrows all pointing in the same direction. When you add arrows that point in other directions, you start getting a more interesting dynamic… shapes and forces and complexity. Of course, the traits don’t really contradict each other; they just support each other in non-obvious ways. Ways that make you want to dig deeper into the character’s psyche, to find the connection.

I think Starbuck on Battlestar Galactica is a great example of a character who seems all the realer because of her contradictions. Fierce yet vulnerable (or is it fierce *because* she’s vulnerable?). Smart and skilled but impulsive and intuitive. Self-destructive, self-deluding, but also capable of startling insight. You want to get to know her better to figure out where all these traits come from.

Here’s one of the first lines I ever wrote for the character of Cordelia on Buffy:

CORDELIA
I do well on standardized tests.
(off their looks)
What? I can’t have layers?

I was so tickled with that line, and completely delighted when it actually made it into the final episode. I just love those moments of unexpected revelations of character. This one was done with purposeful obviousness, for the sake of the joke, but it got the job done anyway.

Come up with the main traits first. You don’t want “contradictory” to be the only thing that shines through. Figure out who this person *mostly* is. Then add some arrows jetting off in other directions. I bet you’ll get interesting results right away!

Lunch: wonton soup from Noodle Planet.

I just saw Little Miss Sunshine. One of those movies with such a complex tone that it’s hard to talk about, since the events add up to so much less than the movie as a whole. I thought it was wonderful. And such a cast! Caution: Spoilers ahead.

After I got home, I took another look at the documentary “Living Dolls,” which is all about child beauty pageants. Sooo interesting. It’s so fascinating, in fact, that it was one of the first things I ever put onto my Tivo, and I’ve kept it stored there for several years now.

Anyway, I’m certain the makers of LMS looked at this film. In addition to pageant moments that are captured perfectly, I spotted the most lovely overlap. Both films feature a character working on one of those little handheld slide puzzles. In both films it’s the same one: when solved, it forms a picture of a happy face. Nice. Isn’t that a perfect symbol? “Want to be happy? Then work it out.”

And the thing that’s best about this little puzzle-symbol? You don’t notice it! I didn’t remember seeing it in the movie at all until I saw it again in the doc. The effect is subtle to the point of invisibility. Anything more obvious than that, and the artifice of the script will jump out at you and then you’re in trouble.

So use symbols if you want to, but use a light touch. We’ve all seen torn photos, empty shoes, empty picture frames, wilted flowers… and they tend to smell like… huh… what is that? Oh yeah, writer.

Lunch: a movie theater hot dog with tons of jalapenos

Also… a big thank you to Lilia. She knows what for!

So, tonight after Project Runway — the best show ever created — I watched an episode of House. It was one that I seem to have missed during this last season. This one featured the gorgeous Mel Harris, whom I worked with on Something so Right, and the equally gorgeous Michelle Trachtenberg, whom I worked with on Buffy. I guess eventually I’ll have worked long enough that some episode of something will come on with an all Jane’s career cast.

Anyway, I noticed something about one of the act breaks that I thought everyone should notice. Here’s how it went. First, there was a lot of hinting around about ‘paralysis,’ but without really spelling out what it would mean for the patient. Finally, the mother said:

MOTHER
She’s going to lose the use of her legs?

This was a pretty big moment. A bit of a thunderclap, since it hadn’t really been clear that this is what everything meant. And then:

DOCTOR
To start with.

Now THAT’s an act break. The punch after the punch.

This act break works the same way a literal one-two punch works. The second punch lands harder because the first one knocks the air out of you. The key to making this work is the speed with which you land that second blow. Three words, they used in this script, and it works great.

Note also that the first revelation has to be big enough that the audience thinks that was the big moment. And the second revelation has to be substantially bigger than the first, so it doesn’t read as an afterthought.

Given those requirements, this might seem like such a specific situation that you’ll never be able to use this trick. But, in fact, I use it all the time. If you’ve got a nice big shocker in your script, you might try having some character guess at a milder version of it RIGHT BEFORE you reveal the true surprise.

Here are some examples I’m making up as I type them, top of my head:

DECTECTIVE
Oh my god. All those years ago, your brother killed your boyfriend.

VICTIM
And then he BECAME my boyfriend.

Yikes! Or:

SOME GUY
Oh, no. You stole a car to get here.

HIS FRIEND
I stole a time machine to get here.

Or:

SOME GIRL
I think maybe there’s something here in the dark with us.

HER FRIEND
I think there’s lots of somethings.

See? A little something shocking. And then something shockinger. You will be amazed at how useful this is. Really, it’s like act break in a box.

Lunch: Caesar salad

I recently received an extremely cool book in the mail. Alex Epstein, of the fine “Complications Ensue” blog, has sent me a copy of his book “Crafty TV Writing.” I’ve been waiting to tell y’all about it until after I finished reading the whole thing, but my schedule has conspired against me. So, although I haven’t finished it yet, I’m going to tell you right now that there’s a lot of really valuable stuff in there. Alex covers some of the same joke types, in fact, that I’ve discussed here.

So far, my favorite bit of advice in there is this:

“It takes many bad jokes to find a good one.”

Mm. I nod and murmur “how true.” One of the tricks to spec writing is to keep trying to beat your own jokes. You have the luxury of time, remember. It’s okay to work on a joke — shorten it, rethink it, reverse it, try a whole different joke area… until you find the approach you like best.

Thanks for the book, Alex!

Lunch: the Tomato-Basil Spaghettini from California Pizza Kitchen. Get it with the added goat cheese.

When I first moved to Los Angeles, there was a criminal of some sort – possibly a bank robber – who was working the valley. The police nicknamed him “Radar” because, the newscasters explained, “he looked like the character from M*A*S*H.” I’ve always wondered how that was different from looking “like Gary Burghoff.” And I’ve always wondered how Gary B felt about the whole thing in the first place. Did he get hassled by cops a lot that year? And, how lucky were the police that the same actor played the role in the movie and the series?! Anyway, you have to admit, it is just about the most effective way I can think of to describe someone quickly and evocatively.

There’s a similar trick you can use when you’re working on your spec pilot. Especially when you’re pitching it to friends and advisors – anyone whom you want to have a quick feel for what you’re intending. The trick is to think of a show with the same tone.

Here’s what I mean. Right now, I’m getting ready to pitch an idea for a series. If the premise is described baldly, it sounds a bit silly — like it’s probably a broad comedy. But it isn’t. So I find that it helps a lot to explain first that I’m going for the tone of “Alien Nation.” Remember that? Aliens have integrated into our society and now live and work among us. Great stuff. And although there were lots of funny moments, the tone was very realistic. It could even be quite dark at times — even with actors looking like they stepped out of a Coneheads sketch. If you’ve seen the show, you know the cool effect that was achieved by treating such a wild premise with such realism and respect. Hafta say, I feel a lot more confident that I can convey the show I have in my head if I evoke the other show first.

If you’re working on a spec pilot, see if this helps you. It might even help in other ways, providing a guideline as to what has worked and what has not worked with a show that has something in common with yours. I feel like Alien Nation is providing me with a sort of tuning fork — keeping my tone pure and true.

Lunch: triscuits and a candy bar

Correction: Not “evoke.” I meant “invoke.” Geez. [forehead slappy noise]

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