JaneEspenson.com

Friend-of-the-Blog Jeff sent me this link which I’m delighted to find references not only an interesting script style, but also a couple mentions of moi-self. Heh!

The issue is the use of earthy expletives in the non-dialog portions of your script. Apparently this is done with frequency and enthusiasm over at Lost. There is some talk in the referenced piece about whether or not this is a good thing. Someone speculates there that I might not approve. Well, it depends. I like a script to have force and energy and enthusiasm. I dislike scripts that read like gas grill assembly instructions. And these certainly look like scripts with verve. If I were on that staff, I think I’d probably have fun varying my style by tossing in a few zesty words.

Friend-of-the-blog Jeff raises the even more important issue, however. What if you’re writing a Lost spec? Should you follow the general rule of making it look like a produced script, and thus “fuck” if all up? Or should you avoid the dirty talk?

My inclination is to either refrain, or to split the difference. If you’re comfortable doing so, you can certainly write your stage directions with rather more punch than you might otherwise do, perhaps even get profane here and there. But be very careful about going overboard, because while there is little cost to avoiding the profanity, there might be a big one to overdoing it. And I’m not talking about easily offended readers. I don’t think that’s the hazard. I’m talking about coming across as flippant about the contents of your own script.

Joss never liked it when Buffy was referred to as “camp,” because that word suggests a style that doesn’t take its characters seriously, and we always took our characters very seriously. Similarly, you don’t want to seem to be making fun of all the people and actions in your spec script, and if you think about how a script with flip and exaggerated stage directions might read, I think you’ll see how it could easily give that impression.

Lunch: those darn stuffed jalapenos at Jack In The Box again. I can’t stay away!

Recently, I was watching an old re-run episode of a series that I rather like, when a character said– okay, let me set it up for you. Imagine a detective, holding something. I think was an old book of mug shots. Let’s say it was. He carries it into the interrogation room where the suspect is pleading ignorance of some crime. And our detective says… no really, I swear, he says,

But, but… but walking down memory lane already means– Oh my. Try saying it out loud. Try emphasizing different words. It doesn’t get any better, does it? It’s a bad line. Well, actually, it could be a great line in the right context, if you specifically wanted to suggest a self-important but unintelligent character. I’ve talked before about incorporating awkwardly repeated words for precisely that effect. But that’s not what’s going on here.

I actually suspect that this might’ve been a case of a problem born on the stage, not in the script. Sometimes things change during the shoot and a line ends up being hastily re-written, or perhaps even mis-remembered by an actor. And then something like this can happen. This line has that kind of “place holder” feel to it, like the intended line would be in that semantic area, just not involving the odd redundancy.

You don’t have to worry about that kind of stage-born problem in a spec script, but you do have to make sure that lines like this one don’t make it onto the page. Sometimes a line like this gets through because you yourself wrote it as a place holder and then forgot to fix it, or because the moment is so inconsequential that you never really looked at what you wrote to make sure it made sense. Keep an eye out. If a line seemed to write itself because you’ve heard similar lines a million times, it’s probably worth reviewing for several reasons: if it isn’t holding your interest as you write it, it probably won’t interest the reader either. And at worst, it might be nonsense.

Lunch: chinese chicken salad.

This is going to be a messy post, I can tell. No theme, no arc. Ah, well.

First: I’m looking at a letter sent to be on behalf of something called Zhura, which is billed as “a new online screenwriting tool.” The idea seems to be that you can write in professional script formats without paying for Final Draft. I have no idea if it works (everyone I know already has Final Draft), but if you’ve been saving your pennies to buy screenwriting software, you can check it out and find out if it works! (It’s at Zhura.com.)

Second: Thanks to Gentle Reader Lila who kept me company on the picket line and who writes thank me for the invitations I issued for aspiring writers to come out and walk with us. Thank you, Lila and everyone else!

Similarly, Matt in England, who is starting what sounds like a rip-snortin’ comedy career over there, writes to thank the blog for guidance in writing a comedy spec script. You’re welcome, Matt! I’m thrilled to hear I helped!

Finally, I’ve been meaning to thank some Gentle Readers for some gifts. Lilia, thank you very much. Also, I have received several interesting books. One of them is at home and I have forgotten the name of the G.R. who sent it, so I’ll add that here when I get a chance. The other is a fine book called “Comedy by the Numbers,” by Eric Hoffman and Gary Rudoren. There is a lot to love in this book, but my favorite bit so far is a list of “Novelty Items That Never Caught On,” which includes, “never-light emergency flares,” “sexy edible shoe insoles” and my all-time favorite, “vomit bikini.” Hee! Vomit bikini. In a way, these items work a bit like that joke we’ve been discussing, in which only part of a story is overheard. Like those story fragments, these items force the listener to construct a whole scenario in which these items are a sensible part. Interesting.

Lunch: avocado, lettuce and tomato sandwich. I’m more and more convinced you don’t really need the bacon.

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!

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.

« Older Entries

Newer Entries »