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Gentle Reader Lauren from Michigan writes in with a question I haven’t seen before. She asks,

I was wondering when you are writing a script if you should include what musical selection you think should be played over the course of the scene and if so, should you be so detailed as to indicate which lines of the song would correspond best to the mood? How would you represent this in the script or is it best not to explore that aspect at all?

Great question. This actually is something you can do as a writer, although you should use it only very rarely and very carefully.

It’s not unheard of to indicate a song that you’d like to hear in a scene. Here’s a (slightly edited) stage direction from my first draft of an Angel script I wrote: The radio turns on my itself and changes stations, landing on the Mills Brothers singing “You Always Hurt the One You Love.” A SHADOW falls across Cordelia’s bed. An old lady voice comes out of nowhere…

And I can certainly imagine the last scene of a pilot looking something like this:

EXT. COURTYARD

And there, amid the wreckage of the wedding reception gone horribly wrong, Billie Holiday’s version of “Embraceable You” wafts over the broken tables. Charles pulls Audrey into his arms. Here, finally, they get their wedding dance.

Audrey laughs when Charles sings along for:

We PULL BACK until they’re very small in the frame, and then we…
FADE OUT

There. See how that could work? Of course, in the examples, the songs were actually part of the scene, not laid on top, but you can do that, too. For example, you could do a big moving montage of, say, all your characters going about their lives, like in the finale of The Wire, and indicate a song to play over it, perhaps even indicating which lines play under each image. It might be lovely, and would probably be scripted similarly to my example above, with the lyrics presented in dialog form.

But be very careful. I wouldn’t do any indication of specific lyrics if there were any dialogue in the scene, for example. And even in a silent scene, there’s going to be a tendency for lyrics to just make it seem too cute, too neat, too much like a “song fic,” if you know what I mean.

If you really want to, give it a try and map out the scene with the lyrics, but I bet you end up editing them out later. At the very least they’re frosting, and you’re going to want that room for more actual cake.

Lunch: Garlic chicken and a banana milkshake from Versailles, a Cuban restaurant. So wonderful!

ADDENDUM: The amazing Friend-of-the-Blog Wendy Wallace, an experienced producer, writes in with this observation from her end of the process: I just wanted to give a producer’s perspective on using songs & song lyrics in scripts. While it may not be pertinent for specs, I would remind your gentle readers that any songs used and/or any lyrics spoken by actors must be cleared & licensed accordingly before a script can be produced. Sometimes this is not a problem, but there are occasions where a song is unlicensable for whatever reason, necessitating either a complete revamp of the scene, last-minute shoe-horning of a different song into the existing scene (often not as fitting), or worse–a shelving of the script altogether. I’m not suggesting “never mention music in a script ever” as I’ve seen it used quite effectively, I would just encourage screenwriters–especially first-timers–to keep in mind the larger implications of their musical choices.

Wendy is right that this doesn’t have to affect writers of purely speculative scripts, although I will point out that a spec script loaded with expensive music requirements isn’t going to impress a reader with your ability to write to a budget.

Thank you, Wendy!

Gentle Reader Nicholas in Rhode Island, writes in with a couple of interesting questions. First off, he wants to know if it’s all right to introduce the main character in a spec pilot late-ish, say, seven-to-nine pages in. Yes, certainly, that can be made to work. In fact, you can use the time to establish suspense if you want to — who is this man everyone’s talking about? But even that isn’t necessary. You see neither David nor Maddie until at least that late into the Moonlighting pilot, if my memory serves me. In the meantime, you’re watching the murder they’re going to be solving. Just make sure that the main character gets a fine introduction both for the viewer AND for the reader, by which I mean use your stage directions to make very clear that this is our protagonist. One of the worst things that can happen is to have the readers latch onto someone else by mistake.

Nicholas also asks for my input on an analogy he wants to use in a stage direction. It involves comparing a character’s ability to lie with that of a certain politician. He wants to know if I think it relies too much on the reader’s knowledge of current events. No, it’s okay to assume some sophistication in that area. But there is a different danger — what if the reader likes that politician? You’ve got a chance of raising someone’s defenses here with little chance of gaining any compensating benefit.

As young or aspiring writers, you’re a blank slate to the reader. They’re forming a picture of you based on glimpses like those provided by stage directions, which are, after all, in your voice. You can certainly apply an acerbic charm or even a defiant viewpoint if that’s important to you, but try hard to keep it from working against you. Remember, in television, people aren’t just looking for strong writers, but for people to spend a lot of time with in a small room — as in any job interview, you want to maximize the chances that they’ll sense you’re a kindred spirit.

Actually, in your letter, Nicholas, in discussing this stage direction, you coin the phrase, “lying by the seat of their pants.” I love that. I suggest you use that in your stage directions instead — I haven’t heard it before and it conveys what you want, the feeling of someone lying spontaneously and fluently. Nice work.

Lunch: eggplant bharta, raita, rice

I haven’t quite finished with William’s letter from last time. He has more to ask. First off:

…I’m wondering about other ways to slowly get into the TV-writing business. For instance, I’m wondering if I could dabble in creating comic books and if that would help me get into the industry. Or will getting some short stories published help me as well? Or should I just put all of my energy into writing my glorious spec?

Do it all! Your spec pilots can’t really do you a ton a good right now, since you’re just now starting college and presumably won’t be ready to jump to L.A. during the next four years, but they’re good practice. You can also write writing short films if that interests you, maybe with an eye toward filming them and putting them on the internet. You can write plays, too. And, yeah, short stories. Comic books are great as well — why not? (I think I’ll devote an entry soon to comic book scripts, in fact.) When I was in college, I sold a greeting card idea for fifty bucks and considered it an important early sale. It’s all good.

As I said in a recent post, (Jan. 25), becoming an established writer outside of the TV field can actually be one of the faster ways into the business. In fact, short stories and plays can actually be used as television spec scripts right now, so it’s not even a matter of making a choice. What’s the worst that happens — you become a famous novelist by mistake? Might as well!

William also asks a very specific question about scriptcraft:

… if I wanted to write a scene with the camera facing down on somebody from an aerial shot, how would I do that? Would it be–

–for example?

Yep, that would work. These things tend to be much more flexible than you might think. You could also say:

OVERHEAD ANGLE looking down on CHESSIE

Or

LOOKING DOWN FROM OVERHEAD on CHESSIE

Or you don’t even have to break it out as an indicated shot. You could stay in stage directions with something like:

And suddenly our POV changes and we’re OVERHEAD, looking straight down on CHESSIE.

Bottom line: your objective is to be clear more than it is to do something right. Hope this helps!

Lunch: An avocado, lettuce and tomato sandwich. The bacon looked chancy.

Thank you to Gentle Reader Seanna-Lin in Massachusetts. She’s a novelist who says she has found this humble blog to be helpful. Really? Cool! I’ve never taken on a novel myself and am overwhelmed by those who have. Have you seen one of those things? So many words on a page!

There is also a letter here from Nicholas in Rhode Island. He’s asking about taking on too many spec script projects at once. In a neat turn of phrase he says that he thinks his “back burner is about to collapse.” Hee!

Well, Nicholas, I’ve found that back burners can pretty much take any weight you put on them. It’s the front burners that are shaky. Cue up as many projects-in-waiting as you want. The trick is in determining the number of them that you can actively work on at once. Some people need to work on one at a time or they get distracted and out-of-focus. Others of us find there to be something counter-intuitively calming about being slightly overworked, since it forces us to turn off our censor and go into emergency mode, which can be very helpful. Figure out which kind of person you are and take on projects accordingly.

And then set some priorities. Having a spec pilot seems to be necessary right now, so that might be a good thing to have finished — really finished — before you work on that spec episode of Chuck which is less likely to be immediately useful.

Nicholas also asks a question about breaking the fourth wall in a spec script in an unusual way. He’s thinking of having a character in a spec for an already-existing show make reference to a bit of pop-culture to which the actor playing that character is connected. Did you follow that? Well, strange thing is, I actually did exactly this in one of the first specs I ever wrote. I learned that the actor on the show I was specing had recently performed in a Chekhov play. So I added a bit in which that character specifically talked about that play, gambling that someone reading the spec might understand and be amused by the connection.

In retrospect, it was a mistake. I cannot recommend this approach. It’s going to cause you to make choices in the writing that have nothing to do with what’s organic to the scene, and it’s probably not even going to be noticed or understood. Worse yet, if it is noticed and understood, you’re in danger of appearing cute, instead of honest, in your writing. I understand why it’s tempting (as I was tempted myself, once), but I have to say, “turn away!” Writing the show within the confines of the walls of that show is almost always the right choice.

Nicholas has more good questions, but those will have to wait for another day. For now…

Lunch: a chopped salad with garbanzo beans. I got extra garbanzo beans and I still had them all picked out before I was half-way done.

Guess where I’ve been these last two days? Obviously, I, and all my co-workers, have been back at work in the Battlestar Galactica writers’ room. Fun! It’s all rush-rush-rush as we hurry to catch back up with our own brains.

The first thing we did was indulge in a film festival. We watched all the episodes that have been filmed so far. Not only did this remind us of the events of the season so far, but it immersed us in the world of the show: the rhythms of the story-telling and the texture of the scenes. I also found that, especially with the added time, I was better able to judge what worked and what didn’t work in the episodes I wrote. I learn something about the show every day, and I only regret that we’ll be finished with the run of the show before I achieve the level of competence I really want to have.

When you’re writing a spec script for an already-existing show, you should immerse yourself in it as much as possible — both reading and watching produced episodes. And if your spec pilot is similar in tone to an existing show, I would recommend doing the same thing with your doppelgangshow. We watched seven episodes in a row the other day, and when you watch something with focused attention for that long, it’s like being exposed to an intensive language course or to chocolate — you’re going to take it in.

Lunch: veggie sandwich from the commissary. No cheese, extra avocado.

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