JaneEspenson.com

All right. I’m back home in Los Angeles, and my hope is that blogging will now resume its normal schedule. Sorry ’bout the interruption. Life in Vancouver had a certain work-sleep-work pattern that was very hard on the blogging.

Because I have all sorts of on-set experience fresh in my head today, I think I’ll diverge a bit from the normal function of this blog. In general, I like to limit the discussion to practical advice to those of you writing spec scripts that are not likely to (are not even intended to) ever be filmed. These specs are the audition pieces that get you jobs, or get you into fellowship programs. They have special properties because they are ultimately intended for a reader, not a viewer. That’s why I spend so much time talking about the poetry of a good stage direction.

But I know that some of you are doing something different. You’re actually writing material that will be filmed, either because you’re already working on a show, or because you’re producing something yourself, perhaps for the internet. So here’s some advice for those of you who need to worry much more about the viewer than the reader:

1. Write Short. When the cameras roll, the material seems to expand like a big yeasty ball of unwieldy dough. Three pages will feel like an eternity. Make sure in advance that every line is working for you. Is that particular line absolutely needed? Are you sure?

2. Let the Actors Work. If an actor can do it with their face, you don’t need to write it. In a spec script that will never be filmed, you may find yourself over-explaining emotions with good cause, but if you’ve got good actors, let them do their stuff. If your material is going to be produced, you may want to take a pass (well ahead of time) that eliminates any of the over-writing you may have found necessary at earlier stages.

3. Be Flexible. I know you imagined a specific staging when you wrote it, but now that you’re shooting it, it may feel awkward to bring this character all the way into the room, or it might look weird or simply be unshootable to have that character reacting from the other side of the window. Coming up with natural staging may even require you to change some lines around while it’s being filmed, but that doesn’t mean you failed. Take these kinds of adjustments as part of the process, not as a sign that you didn’t stage it correctly in your head.

And, in apparent contradiction:

4. Don’t Be Too Flexible. Everyone around you may get all excited about some cool shot or unexpected costume choice or really innovative staging of a scene. But you’ve got a job they don’t have. You are the Keeper of the Story. You have to keep in mind whether or not that really interesting choice supports the scene or undercuts it. When you watch them shoot a scene, remind yourself of the purpose that the scene serves in the story as a whole, and make sure that that purpose is realized.

And, finally,

5. Stay Out Of The Way. Give any notes you have to the director, not directly to the actors unless there are circumstances that make it acceptable. Let the director do their thing. Don’t panic and feel like you need to rewrite something on the spot because it isn’t playing — usually it isn’t playing because it isn’t cut together yet. Watch, learn, relax, and enjoy the food.

Lunch: An avocado, lettuce and tomato sandwich with a big bowl of noodles on the side.

Friend of the blog, the amazing Rob Kutner, one of the writers on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, has written a book called “Apocalypse How.” You can order it here, or, once Book Soup has it on their site, you can also order it there! And you can read about it way over here!

I don’t have my copy in hand yet, but this is sure to be terrific. From the web site: APOCALYPSE HOW is a comprehensive cataclysmic guide that walks you through the Nine Most Likely World-Ending Scenarios, and provides useful and inspiring advice on every aspect of surviving (and thriving!) in the new world to come. Fantastic.

Up here in Vancouver, I’m continuing to enjoy watching my words get spun into gold by this amazing crew and cast. Nothing will convince you you’re brilliant faster then having brilliant actors read your material. Of course, the opposite is true too, which is why I caution you to be very careful about staging amateur table reads. Terrible line-readings will make you think your writing is terrible. And it just isn’t. I think you’re better off listening to imaginary brilliance than real-world awfulness. So turn up those voices in your head and turn down your roommate’s boyfriend’s offer to read the lead in your spec pilot. Unless he’s good, he might just convince you to throw out something that actually works. Remember that there is no line so inspired that it can’t be read painfully badly.

Lunch: cheeseburger, pickles, other wonderful items from the catering truck

I’m still up here in Vancouver, watching production of my next episode. It’s exhausting but fun. One of the things I’ve been doing is making last-minute cuts to shorten too-long scenes. It’s been making me think a lot about how to keep a scene short and focused and strong.

If you’re tackling this in your own script, I suggest trying what I’ve been doing: recreating a beatsheet like the one you wrote at your pre-outline stage, only even shorter. Just make a list of the one crucial thing that happens in each scene. Sometimes two crucial things happen in a scene, especially if an A-story and a B-story are both involved, but usually no more than that. So I mean, literally a couple words for each scene: “Joe tells Carrie his secret.” “Leslie starts the house fire.” “Jeremy blames his father for his failings.” “The soldier starts to regret his actions.” Then look at the scene and find the part where that happens — sometimes it’s all in one line or one action. Decide on the absolute minimum you’d have to keep to fulfill the promise of your little beatsheet. Declare all the rest expendable.

Now, this isn’t really true, of course. The heartbeat of a script is in all the stuff that might not be strictly necessary for this scene, but that gives a world its texture, and fleshes out a character so that their actions reflect a full and believable person. If you cut everything but story, you’d have a synopsis, not an episode. But keeping your eye on the function of the scene within the story is crucial and sometimes surprisingly difficult. If you know exactly what the scene needs to do, you can bring a slightly more objective eye to the cutting process. I’ve been amazed sometimes when I’ve realized that some four-page scene I’ve written actually plays better — is sharper and more emotional — as a one-page scene. You don’t always lose when you cut. The bones of your story show up better when you take some of the fat off.

Even if you don’t need to lose length off your script, I recommend that at some point you make one of these little reconstructed beatsheets, just to keep your focus on the most basic shape of your story, the real function of every scene. It will keep you from wandering off into the maze.

Lunch: steak, which I shared with a beagle who lives in the Set Dec Department. I love food from the set.

Did you see my episode of Battlestar Galactica that aired last night? I myself did not, as I was on a soundstage, watching even fresher Battlestar being made. So instead, to celebrate, I reread the script this morning and I thought I might show you all a little excerpt to illustrate how simple it can be to do something that might look tricky on the screen.

SPOILERS… if you haven’t seen the episode yet, you might want to wait. Anyway, there’s a moment in the episode where something plays out and then you realize it didn’t really happen, that it was just one character’s fantasy/fear/hallucination/projection/SOMETHING…. Here’s how I scripted it (I’m just showing you a scene fragment here):

…Awkward pause. Adama signals the bartender, then says:

See what I did? Almost nothin’. I just said what happened using emphasis so the eyes of careless reader wouldn’t miss it, and then with a “We realize…” sentence. I love “We realize,” because what you’re really doing is conveying to the reader the intended experience of the viewer. You’re not forcing them to guess about what you want the viewer to understand at that moment, and you’re not using dialogue to over-explain something that a character wouldn’t say out loud. I find it incredibly useful as long as it’s not being used to try to convince a reader that something would be clear to a viewer when in fact it would not. It’s a powerful weapon, use it well.

Lunch: shrimp dumplings, rice rolls, sticky rice and chicken in lotus leaves from Dim Sum place near the hotel. Best Dim Sum I’ve had in a long time. Vancouver is food heaven!

Hello again, Gentle Readers. Were you worried about me? So sorry to disappear for so long. I’m up here in Vancouver where they’re shooting my latest Battlestar episode. It’s crazy and hectic and wonderful. I’ll be back to talk to you all again when I’m out from under!

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