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More news from the front! Remember the friend-of-the-blog who is currently reading stacks of spec scripts as he sets about staffing a show? Well he’s moved on from reading crushingly unemotional specs of The Office to reading spec pilots instead. And you should perk up at what he’s found, gentle readers, since once again your work is improving by comparison with underperforming professionals!

The problem this time? Voiceovers. Now, a voiceover can sometimes be a stylish choice, often used to good effect in stories where you want to feature an unreliable character whose internal monologue doesn’t actually match the events around him or her. And of course, there have been many successful and/or well-written shows with voiceovers: Sex and the City, Wonder Years, and Arrested Development, for example. But it takes a very specific situation or a very light hand to do it well.

The problem, of course, is that it can be a tempting way to avoid the inherit limiting feature of what we do. We are not novelists; we have chosen to work in a branch of fiction which takes an external, not an internal, look at characters. We get the tricky but rewarding task of giving viewers/readers clues that allow them to infer inner motivations, rather than making them explicit. We’re just brimmin’ with subtext and that’s on purpose. Voiceovers often make it too tempting to just make the subtext into text. Which makes for a very boring and obvious read.

But let’s imagine that you’ve managed to do it well. You’ve used a light touch, some ironic touches, a bit of magic, and you’ve employed a voiceover effectively in your spec. But you’re going to be sending that script out into an environment that, for whatever reason, seems to be unusually full of voiced-over scripts right now. Our friend-of-the-blog reports that the concentration of them is as at an all-time high; he’s finding one-third of the scripts he’s reading have voiceovers. It’s not going to be easy to make your use of the device stand out in that talky crowd. So think hard about it.

Writing your script without voiceover may seem dauntingly difficult, but that’s actually a good sign. Every time you up the degree of difficulty, you’re giving yourself a chance to show off. And the scripts that show off best get the jobs.

Lunch: instant noodle soup with added hot sauce, followed by an apple

Is there conflict in your spec script? Yes, of course there is. You might even have a scene of two people disagreeing, arguing, maybe even screaming and throwing punches. Great stuff. But here’s a little trick to make that scene even better:

Imagine that at some point in the scene, you are required to give one of the characters this line:

Fightin’ Guy
Oh my God. Is that what this is really about?

Don’t actually give them the line, just imagine that they had to say it. What would the “that” be? What is the underlying emotion that’s being expressed in the conflict between the two characters? Is there one? It’ll be a much better fight if there is. They don’t have to comment on it explicitly, but if you go into the fight knowing what underlies their animosity – beyond the immediate issue of the script – you’ll find all sorts of tricky little ways to let the audience in on the fact that there’s something deeper going on, without having to actually use the on-the-nose line above.

And remember that the “that” which the fight is “really about,” doesn’t actually have to be a conflict in itself. It can be a denied attraction, or a self-hatred, or a too-long-suppressed secret, or whatever. If you’re writing a spec for an established show, then you can draw on existing dynamics for the “that.” If you’re writing a spec pilot, a fight like this in which the deeper motivation is exposed can be a great way to clue the audience in to a history between two characters — exposition and backstory are always better if fists are flying when they come out.

Deeper! It’s good for pizza and it’s good for scripts.

Lunch: In ‘n’ Out burger, fries, Dr. Pepper

Just a reminder — my episode of Andy Barker, PI airs tomorrow night (thurs) on NBC! Check it out. After it airs, I’ll talk with you all a bit about writing action sequences, since I got to write a really fun one for this episode.

But while we wait for the ep to air, I say we go to the mailbag. Robert in Orlando asks about how a novice can get an idea for a show to a network. Sorry, Robert (and everyone else with this very popular question), I’m afraid I don’t know of any such open door. I was working as a writer for more than ten years before I got to pitch pilot ideas to network executives. If there were a quicker route, most TV writers would take it.

Networks like to hear pitches from writers with the experience to write a polished and producible script, and ideally with the experience to run the show themselves. In short, it’s just not a system that’s really set up for input from the outside. But there is a way to the inside of the system, if you want to write a spec script and use it to apply to programs like the ABC Writers’ Fellowship. So pull up a chair and we’ll talk specs!

Finally, to comment quickly on some other notable notes:

In answer to Richard from New York — thank you for your letter — I’m not allowed to use any writing submitted to me, but thanks for lovin’ the blog! In answer to Andrew, also from New York — yes, I think your interpretation of the Balzac joke is exactly right! And a thank you to friend-of-the-blog Leona for the lovely card. And to Scott from Alameda for his Battlestar insights.

Thank you everyone! Soon: action!

Lunch: an ice cream sandwich (I know, I know)

Okay, here is another chapter in the continuing saga of whether or not you’re going to need some other kind of material in addition to your specs of existing shows.

I’ve reported here before that writers are being urged by various agencies around town to have short stories, short plays and scripts for short films available in addition to traditional specs. But this week I heard a new spin on this.

Aspiring comedy writers are now being urged to have short comedy pieces available for busy executives and even show runners to read. And we’re talking really short, like a few pages!

The kinds of things that are being used for this seem to vary. Parody pieces suggest themselves immediately: a spoof of a catalog, or of a children’s book, or of a museum guidebook, or of a MySpace page, or of the “Harper’s Index,” or of the “cuteoverload” website, complete with pictures? … maybe an excerpt from a scholarly analysis of The Pussycat Dolls… maybe a school-lunch menu that devolves into a rant from a clearly deranged lunch lady. A parody of a travel guide or an obituary…? A funny series of newspaper retractions that build off each other…? An amusingly bad translation of The Rosetta Stone…? I assume comedy sketches and funny short stories would be good for this kind of purpose, and I could also see a humorous dialogue written as an exchange of emails, or as a series of text messages. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if soon execs are just given the address to the YouTube clip you’ve written and produced for them. Maybe we’re already there.

Be creative in thinking of your approach to what you pull together for this. If the concept itself is unique, that in itself might just be the thing that opens that door. Take a while to decide what to do, take a few practice passes at it. When a piece is short, it often takes far longer to write than something long, because every word of it has to be precisely right.

Now, recall that this does not replace a script. You will still need a spec script of some kind. Possibly a spec pilot, although I still advocate also having at least one spec of a show currently in production. So write your spec “The Office”. And then keep writing just a little bit more.

The idea, if this isn’t clear, is that reading a script takes time and concentration. Gems can be missed because the reader is rushed and tired. Something short and punchy that shows off your comedy skills in a concentrated fashion is going to have a heck of a lot of appeal.

Lunch: “Eggs Ranchero” at some random restaurant on the 3rd St. Promenade.

So I’ve literally just now arrived back home fresh from the Andy Barker, PI premiere party. Large fun was had by all and the pilot episode looked great, didn’t it? I’m told that my episode (co-written with the delightful Alex Herschlag) airs next week, so tell your Tivo all about it.

One of my favorite lines was cut from the pilot — so much always has to be cut to bring an episode to broadcast length. And I ask you to consider the question: is this a joke?

The moment was Andy watching himself on surveillance video, while searching for a clue in the background. He winces at what he sees and says, “Uch, I walk just like my dad.”

Now, obviously, that is not a joke in any traditional way. And yet it is a line that draws a big laugh. It’s a great lesson that all you need to be funny is character and observation. Andy’s comment is totally recognizable to all of us — we’ve all had reactions like that when looking at ourselves on film. That’s the observation part. The character part is that Andy is the kind of character who is willing to voice the thought even while searching earnestly for a clue.

Some of you may be alarmed by the idea of having to “write funny,” because you’re not confident in your ability to structure a joke. Well, look at that one… no darn structure at all and it’s a gem.

Character and observation. You can do it!

Lunch: egg foo yung and rice. Quite good!

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