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Home of Jane's blog on writing for television-
March 17th, 2008Friends of the Blog, From the Mailbag, On Writing
I think this has happened before. It seems like every time I post something here that seems to close a door, I get an email from a friend with a way to open it back up. Fantastic.
After my post about how sending an agent a letter probably wasn’t a workable avenue to job-having, I received the following communication from working writer and Friend-of-the-Blog, Gillian Horvath. Take it, Gillian!
I did get my first agent by sending a letter to someone I’d never met. I was at that time a young aspiring writer without a script sale. It wasn’t entirely a “cold call” — the agent had been recommended to me by a mutual acquaintance — but there was no personal connection. It was the letter that got me in the door to be read, and met, and signed.
There are two keys to this approach, I think. One is that you don’t send a query letter and wait to be asked for the script, the way prose writers do with literary agents. Your letter is more of a cover letter, with the script right there in the envelope, so that if the letter piques their interest they can flip open the script and read a few pages right then and there. (Be prepared to spend money on copying and postage that you will never see back, because of course many times that whole envelope is going straight into the recycling.)
The other key thing to be aware of is that there has to be something in that letter that sets you apart from everyone else in the pile. Not your script — you. What you’re selling them on is not the enclosed script — not its premise, not its quality, not its saleability — but you. This is the direct opposite of query letters for prose manuscripts, where it’s all about the project, and details about the author are discouraged.
The letter is your chance to convince the agent that you are going to make money for them — that you are committed to making a career, and that you are putting so much work into it that their job will be easy. In my cover letter, I was able to mention various contacts I had made and promising leads I’d created. I’d made those contacts by working as an intern and assistant around town, but I think the important thing isn’t the specifics of my progress — it’s the fact that I used the letter to report on that progress. I was able to realistically portray myself as on the cusp of selling, so the agent I’d approached could see the potential for getting a commission soon. That made it worth her time to consider my spec.
In a post-script, Gillian adds: Typing up the story really got me thinking about that transitional moment when I realized that you can’t approach an agent hunt (or a pitch meeting, or a job interview) as a complete supplicant. No one signs you because they want to do you a favor, right? They sign you — or hire you — because it’s going to be good for them.
So there you go, Nic in Germany and everyone else… excellent advice from someone who found a door that I didn’t even know was there. Inspiring! And that final observation is a huge one — when you’re dreaming about your big break, stop framing it as, “how can I get someone to do me a huge favor?” and start framing it as, “how can I make the case for what I have to offer?” (Then, don’t argue the case, build the case.)
Lunch: chicken soft tacos from Del Taco. As always, opt for the Del Scorcho sauce.
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March 14th, 2008On Writing
Nic in Germany wants to know about query letters that a writer could send to agents to get their TV specs read. Hmm. I actually have not heard of this being done. I suppose there might be small agencies that would read a query letter, but it just doesn’t sound like the most likely approach to me.
Now, recall that I’m not any kind of expert or authority on getting a job. I just help with the script-writing part. I don’t even like to address job-getting concerns at all, because it always leads to a flurry of letters with questions I can’t answer. But I will tell you what I do know. It seems to me that there are three primary ways to get into the TV writing business:
1. Move to Los Angeles and get a job as an assistant of some kind, work your way into relationships with writers or agents or executives. Then get someone to read your scripts. (Get your body here and pull your scripts after.)
2. Get into the ABC/Disney Fellowship or the Warner Brothers’ program, and then move to L.A. to participate. (Get your scripts here and pull your body after.) This is what I did.
3. Become established as a writer outside the business. Become a playwright or novelist or a creator of short films for online, or otherwise gain a solid writing rep, then slide laterally into television. (Get your name here and pull your body and scripts after.)
Notice that these approaches can be combined for a multi-pronged attack. And none of them require sending letters, cold, to agencies. The problem, of course, is that there are already so many writers approaching the business on these three tracks, that there really is no need for agencies to look around for a fourth track carrying query letters about scripts from outside.
So you can certainly try soliciting agencies. Who knows? Perhaps it will work. At the same time, however, you might want to try paths one, two, three or a combination of them. (And, Nic, since you’re in Germany, you might want to try looking more locally first? Get established in Germany, or check out the BBC option? It’s going to be extremely hard to crack the Hollywood market from so far away.)
Lunch: gyro sandwich
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March 13th, 2008From the Mailbag, On Writing, Pilots
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
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March 11th, 2008On Writing, Pilots, Spec Scripts
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–
AERIAL ANGLE looking down on CHESSIE
–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.
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March 9th, 2008From the Mailbag, On Writing, Spec Scripts
Mail Bag! First up, a letter from Gentle Reader Bill in Houston. He’s an aspiring prose writer in the Sci Fi genre, who is looking for a Sci Fi writers’ group in which to participate, perhaps long-distance. Sorry to say, I don’t know of such a group, but I’m certain they must exist, certainly online, no? I suppose it’s a hopelessly old-fashioned answer, but I suggest you ask at your local public library. If they don’t know a group, I bet they’ll still know how to help you find or start one.
Bill mentions, in his note, the familiar scourge of the Sci Fi writer — the perception among others that Sci Fi is somehow unworthy or not respectable. I sometimes wonder if those people are aware that (off the top of my head) respectable works like 1984, Brave New World, Fahrenheit 451, The Handmaid’s Tale, Dracula, and Slaughterhouse-Five all contain unabashed Sci Fi or fantasy elements. And that’s not even including popular juggernauts like those Oz, Lord of the Rings, Narnia and Harry Potter series.
Write and be proud, Bill!
The same batch of mail includes a letter from Gentle Reader William in Delaware, who is also interested in writing Science Fiction, more specifically TV Sci Fi. William is about to select a major at his liberal arts college and wants my advice on what to pick — should he definitely go for the “creative writing” minor? Psych? Anthro? Short answer: doesn’t matter.
My undergraduate degree is in Computer Science and that’s never hurt me a bit. I know many writers who studied film in college, but more who did not. Writing is a skill and a talent that can be engaged in and studied without benefit of classroom instruction. In fact, the more you become really good at other things, the more you have to offer when you arrive in Hollywood and have to compete against all those other people who can write, too. If you also know something about the law, or history, or technology, or government, or, man, anything, then that can be a selling point. Take writing courses, certainly — I did — but you can do that starting from any major.
(By the way, William, Bill, from the first letter discussed above, works for a living running a Space Station simulator for real live astronauts. Now that’s a nice background for a Sci Fi writer. Don’t know how you major in it, but as an illustration of how experience can mean more than writing experience, it can’t be beat!)
So, in school, pick something that inspires you, take loads of courses outside your field for breadth of experience, and — get this — don’t be afraid to be practical. It’s not a sign of an unartistic spirit to keep an eye on future earnings.
My favorite picking-a-major technique was the one employed by a friend of mine who went to her campus job-placement office and asked which major produced students who always got hired upon graduation. When they said “engineering,” she went to the Engineering Department and signed the heck up. It can be hard to get a writing job in Hollywood, and it’s not crazy to have something else that you love and that can also pay the bills while you’re polishing those spec scripts.
Have fun in college, William! You’re gonna do great!
Lunch: ground-chicken loaf with embedded vegetables