What do we do about comedy? Seriously?
It's a question much on the minds of mandarins and networkies everywhere. This season, we've already had a half hour, How I Met Your Mother, that's noteworthy for the fact that a show that's marginal-at-best can be seriously overpraised now, just cause the field is so anemic. A couple years ago, Two and a Half Men filled that psychic sweet spot. The reality is that the mighty half-hour comedy engine has been sputtering diesel oil and PCB's for several seasons now.
There are shows that solidly deliver laughs, of course...Scrubs, for one. Nobody's really watching. Arrested was a gutbuster. Ditto. There's Earl and The Office staking out Thursdays on NBC, but they're a long way in the ratings from those glory days of Cheers and Seinfeld. Now, Will & Grace is gone too.
In Canada, it's worse. Corner Gas. Maybe Trailer Park Boys. That's it. Jerry Seinfeld once famously observed, "I'm not sure comedy wants to be a movie." Well, it certainly doesn't seem to be too horny for TV these days, either.
So out of this comes a vague hope: ape Curb. Bravo in the U.S. had a bit of luck with Significant Others -- a show I haven't seen -- so the new rage is partially scripted. Hey, why not? The shows aren't working. Must be all the writers. Let's throw them out and see how we do.
Except, of course, Larry David is a writer. Some might be cheeky and say the writer. I've never been as much of a fan of Curb as some, but there's no denying that it's funny. That ensemble is talented, and tight. I'm not sure it's a trend that can transfer -- and even if it can, it's not the magic bullet to cure comedy. Anyone who's suffered through an entire improv "show" can tell you that.
So now a couple of mid-season U.S. shows are clinging to the partially scripted come on as a possible defribulator -- a much needed shock-to-the-heart of the moribund state of television comedy in North America.
How are they doing?
Well the first two candidates are Free Ride and Sons & Daughters. I must say that the promos for Sons & Daughters are certainly funny. But FOX got out of the gate first with its semi-scripted Free Ride, which bowed last night after American Idol -- predictably, to great post-Idol ratings. Ryan Seacrest, ladies and gentleman -- the most important tastemaker in America. Brrrrr.
Free Ride doesn't have anything close to an original premise: guy returns from college and moves back in with his parents, whilst trying to romance a high school crush who's recently engaged. Shades of Ed, Garden State, Get a Life, and half a dozen other workmanlike concepts through the years. He's got a jerky mullet-headed sidekick, much mirth is made of his parents' attempts to have sex and get along. The whole thing actually comes off as reasonably joyless -- and that's with a very likable cast trying really hard. Josh Dean and Erin Cahill are cute, and diverting. And the shaggy rhythm of improvisation means that it's not labored like the worst of the clone-sitcoms we've seen for the last few years. But as for the central conceit, there's a commercial that runs here right now in Ontario that covers the same ground: old parents redecorate their sons' bedroom, throw out all his cool stuff, and put up a moose head. Turns out he loves it. He sits down to dinner with them and this old woman walks out of nowhere and rasps in this death-rattle voice: "Want your kids to leave home? Stop cooking with cheese!"
That commercial is funnier than this whole series. That's sad.
The series inherits the post-Family Guy slot Sundays starting March 12, but seeing that's also S-Day in my household, I think the likelihood of this show getting another click from me is pretty low. Only the first ride is free, guys. (Oh, see what I did there? Yes he did. He went there. Snap.)
In Canada, we had our own cute and shaggy little post-Idol carpetbagger, Jeff Ltd. which is written by and stars Jeff Seymour.
I don't know how much improv was involved in this show. It's possible, since the star also is the scriptwriter -- something that always sets off little alarm bells for me. But it's certainly not trying to run with the partially scripted ball like Free Ride, Sons & Daughters, or Curb.
This show is a bit more problematic. I want to be a cheerleader for my industry and local talent, I really do, but sadly the best thing I can say about Jeff Ltd. is that it's directed pretty well: there's a nice, crisp movement to Steve DiMarco's camera that makes me want to see more from him. I've seen comedy killed in Canada by bad direction. This is not that.
No, this is exactly the thing that you have to come to expect when an actor overextends himself. Jeff Seymour's a good performer, and he can be magnetic. But not in this show. Why not? He's got no character. There's nothing to suggest why you should watch this guy, like him, hate him, care what happens for him, wish for him to succeed, or root for him to fail.
You know how Larry David on Curb often starts out with the best of intentions, and then it all goes to hell and that's why it's funny?
Well, Jeff in Jeff Ltd. is a marketing guy. He's venal, shallow, opportunistic, with a huge ego. He's driven by greed and lust. Sounds good so far, right? He's got a female partner/co-worker. How does she feel about him? Vague disapproval, but ... otherwise unclear. He's got a sidekick, but...well, that's unclear, too. He casts an Eastern European stripper in a World Food Organization ad and sleeps with her. At the same time, he's trying to romance a teacher who teaches at the Catholic girls' school across the street. Just so you get that Jeff's a bit of a cad, there's a couple of scenes of him checking out the schoolgirls' short skirts. In the end, the teacher catches him fucking the stripper on a hood of a car. She drives off horrified, and he runs after her...
...but...why? You know? I mean, there's nothing that's been put out there to tell you why he actually cares about this woman. Why would he bother chasing after her? Why do his co-workers act the way they do? Why don't they have characters? Why is no one allowed to outshine or upstage Jeff, even for a moment? And why should we care about Jeff, even for a second, when he shows no redeeming or even interesting qualities whatsoever?
Does that sound harsh? I don't mean it to be. But watching this pilot, I was just shocked by the number of easy, clarifying fixes that could have made the thing funnier and clearer, that were just missed opportunities. If the female co-worker had been Jeff's boss, then he would have had to scheme without her catching on. There's a hint of that in there still, but it doesn't go far enough. What's the stake? Beats me. This is sometimes the blind spot that actors bring to actor-driven projects. They assume that if they're a compelling enough performer, that the viewer will just fall into line and love them. But that's not the way it works. It's understandable if you come from the school where "you create the character you play." But the character, like it or not, has to exist on the page before you pick up and imbue them with life. That's the common thing that both these semi-scripted shows, and Jeff Ltd. seems to miss.
A character who's slightly unlikable but still compelling? See, that kind of character is a real trick to pull off. Steve Carell and Ricky Gervais pull it off in their respective flavours of The Office because you see the loneliness and need lurking just underneath the surface. Larry on Curb is at least trying to do the right thing --sometimes.
Recently, I've been watching back one of those legendary old comedy series that never caught on but everyone still talks about: Buffalo Bill. At the time, Dabney Coleman's character was considered just too mean. (Now, of course, Hugh Laurie's Dr. House would have him for lunch and cure his ball cancer too -- probably while inducing a therpeutic heart attack.) You know the genre's in trouble when the funniest characters are on Drama shows.
Even in Buffalo Bill there's a window in. Because though he's a cad, he's got the love of Joanna Cassidy's character, JoJo...he's got admiration from a very young Geena Davis, and that other actor who did the voice of Piglet back in the day. See? He may seem like he's a jerk, but these other people see something in him...so there must be something else going on there.
Go back to the well on Cheers and in that first episode, you've got a tough sell. Sam Malone is a womanizing, ex-baseball player, alcoholic who owns a bar. But you know what? By the end of that first episode you see how much he loves Coach, how loyal he is to Carla, and he's even decent to Diane when her fiance leaves her high and dry. That's why you want to come back.
It's not enough to ask us to care about characters because they're the leads in your series. What is the world? Who are the people in it? How do they feel about each other? And why do I want to go back there again? Ultimately, by the end of Free Ride and Jeff Ltd. none of those questions are answered. And that's why I don't want to go back.
This is about the time that I'd get depressed. Luckily, in the last couple of weeks, I've read a couple of half-hour series scripts that are either shooting or on the verge of (hopefully) going into production -- and these scripts have heard. They hit all those points. You see the world, you get the relationships, and you want to come back. It can be done.
Improv isn't the answer, and neither is widening the auteur theory to include Actors. The answer is writing. Heartfelt, funny, well-drawn characters. A solid template. A believable world. An engaging premise.
Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss.
But that's just me.
I could be wrong.
Thursday, March 2, 2006
Dishing Life on Mars
Little logrolling to start the morning off right. I'm going to try to get something up about Free Ride and Jeff Ltd. later today. But for now, Danny Stack's got a great convo with one of the creators of the BBC's hit Life On Mars, which will be returning with new episodes next year. (The first series just ended in the UK this week; no word yet on when we'll see it over on these shores.)
Also, can someone fill in my cultural memory hole here: did the 70's British cop show The Sweeney (from which Life on Mars takes much inspiration) ever play in the USA or Canada?
My favorite bit:
This is an incredibly instructive point that can't be overstated -- especially in Canada, where the network people have pretty much all the power, and aren't usually so bold. (It's not the Canadian way to be bold, after all.) But every hit that ever hit needed a network person in their corner -- going out on on a limb.
Shows that EVERYONE AGREES ON never get to be hits. They get to be bland pablum.
Anyway. Go read about Life on Mars. I've got coffee to drink and two scripts to read.
Also, can someone fill in my cultural memory hole here: did the 70's British cop show The Sweeney (from which Life on Mars takes much inspiration) ever play in the USA or Canada?
My favorite bit:
We pitched it to then controller of BBC1 who had some reservations but commissioned Matthew to write a script. After a few drafts the BBC decided to pass on the project. But a BBC producer called John Yorke always liked the idea and when he went to C4 he took the project with him. Matthew wrote dozens of versions of the first episode and we were just about to get a green light when C4 got cold feet and rejected it. By now, though, Julie Gardner was at BBC Wales so Kudos took it to her and she loved it and managed to persuade the powers that be that it was worth making.Once again, multiple network executives, who get cold feet and won't go forward before one brave and smart soul takes the leap. And thus a hit is birthed.
This is an incredibly instructive point that can't be overstated -- especially in Canada, where the network people have pretty much all the power, and aren't usually so bold. (It's not the Canadian way to be bold, after all.) But every hit that ever hit needed a network person in their corner -- going out on on a limb.
Shows that EVERYONE AGREES ON never get to be hits. They get to be bland pablum.
Anyway. Go read about Life on Mars. I've got coffee to drink and two scripts to read.
Wednesday, March 1, 2006
This Cup Can Make You A Better Writer.
Do you recognize this cup?If you're a New Yorker, I'm sure you do. In fact, if you've spent any time in New York at all any time in say the last forty years, you probably recognize this little sucker right away. And I'm betting that there's a hint of a smile on your face.
In the pre-Starbucks days, this is the coffee cup you would get when you grabbed a coffee at any deli anywhere in Manhattan. I've gulped from a cup just like this walking through the East Village. I downed a mouthful of cold coffee out of a cup like this outside CBGB's (along with a handfull of Advil.) One time, when I was about twenty, I picked a cup like this off the ground and put it in the garbage precisely two seconds before the karmic lightning bolt hit and I caught the impossible- to-find-cab- in-the-middle-of- the- rainstorm- when-you're-late- for- the-theater-matinee- because- your-girlfriend- took- such-a-long-time-on -her-hair.
In its own weird way, it's as much an icon of New York City as the Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, or the Twin Towers.
I got thinking about this little cup the other day when my friend Rob was over at Dead Things HQ. Awhile back, I was checking out the MoMa reno in the City, and found this little cup in the gift shop. It's a ceramic replica of the famous paper-coffee cup. At ten bucks, it made me smile. (If it does the same for you, you can get info about how to purchase one here.)
Anyway, Rob was over and we were trying to break a nettlesome story for his series for, like, the sixth time, and he complimented my coffee-making skills. It was good coffee. (Yes, the entire conversation went like this. Very Grade-three-Gay. And don't give me shit for describing it thus...Dan Savage says I'm in the clear.) Anyway, more than the coffee itself, Rob really liked the cup. It evoked in him the same feeling it evoked in me, an instant nostalgia for all things New York.
What struck me later was not how he instantly recognized and responded to the cup the same way I did. I found that utterly unsurprising. Of course he'd dig it. It's yet another case of how our sensibilities are similar.
See, at that point, that little cup could be considered the objective correlative of both our friendship, and of our separate, warm memories of New York.
It's been a while since I talked about the Objective Correlative. Even then, I didn't get into it too much. Danny Stack followed up on the idea with a longer post here.
I guess the reason why I'm returning to the idea again is because lately I've been reading a lot of scripts where people talk about things, but where there isn't a real clear sense of the objective correlative working through the drama. It reads as flat. The simple realization that a tiny object like a coffee cup could make me think of my past, and reaffirm a friendship...well, that's interesting stuff. It's not just drama -- it's life.
T.S. Eliot came up with the Objective Correlative, in his writings on Hamlet. Here's what he said:
The only way of expressing emotion in the form of art is by finding an "objective correlative"; in other words, a set of objects, a situation, a chain of events which shall be the formula of that particular emotion; such that when the external facts, which must terminate in sensory experience, are given, the emotion is immediately evoked.That's exactly what happened with me and the coffee cup.
My reaction to the cup evoked everything I mythologize about New York. And later, it indicated camaraderie between me and my friend -- so it took on a separate, instant meaning in a different situation.
Interestingly enough, this little cup's gotten quite a workout -- because now that I think about it, I remember that about six months ago I had a woman over and we were chatting. We'd been out a few times, and it was at that point where you're not sure which way it's going to go. She asked about the cup. I told her the story, and she was utterly unimpressed. She'd been to New York several times. She vaguely remembered the cup. She just thought it was a little...stupid.
Guess what I realized in that moment?
"Damn You, Objective Correlative! Damn You to Hell!"
As I've gotten older, I'm fascinated by the fact that I'm much more interested in Sports than I was when I was younger. My Dad and My Uncle used to take me to Yankees and Blue Jays games, and my Grandfather was a huge Mets fan -- some of my earliest memories of him are watching the game with him on an old black and white TV set. He died when I was seven, so that's a pretty potent memory. But still, I managed to sail through my teenage years and most of my twenties without reading the Sports section daily. Not anymore.I think part of it is that as we get older, Sports increasingly becomes the objective correlative of male friendship. The game allows you to express emotion, bond, catharsis, the whole magilla. The Poker Craze, I believe, is part and parcel of the same thing. I read Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch and laughed my ass off, and I don't give a fig about Soccer.
By looking and finding the objective correlative of emotions in your life you start to unlock the inner life; the one you don't express consciously, but imbue to objects or situations. I think that helps you to unlock a trove that can help you weave the objective correlative more successfully into your art.
Understanding and recognizing the objective correlative in life makes you a better writer.
One totally non-scientific thing I've noticed, for instance, is that women who understand men's attachment to sports, or who appreciate men's penchant for silly or gross humor, kind of tend to understand men better in general.
An acquaintance of mine was having problems in his marriage, at the same time that his old car was constantly breaking down. This went on for a couple of years. One night, like a bolt out of the blue, he realized that he and his wife fought every time there was a problem with the car. Sometimes it was when she had the car -- and he probably blamed her. Sometimes it was when he was driving it, and it made him irritable. It went on and on, and they fought and made up. Then he got a new car. For two months, they didn't fight. But one night, when they did -- they nearly broke up. Their marriage was at the brink, and it caused them to finally face some of the big, structural, ugly things at the core of their marriage. His wife said a lot of the same stuff she'd said before...but finally, finally, he got it. (They're still together, by the way.)
Now...did that have anything to do with the car? Did the car being there offer a valve, a distraction, a symbol that kept them from getting to the core of things? Did removing it remove that valve and force a confrontation? I don't know. What do you think?
I'll tell you what, though, it's a damn sight more interesting than any of the other stories I've heard from half a dozen guys about how they fight with their wives (or ex-wives, as the case may be.)
Writing drama is about coming up with an effective shorthand for life, and putting it down on the page.
Seems to me that old T.S. Eliot gave us a great gift. I knew he did a lot more than come up with those damn singing cats.
I was going to come up with a few more examples from movies and TV -- but maybe that could be the audience participation portion of the post. So come on: what are your favorite filmic examples of the O.C. at work?
Now, I have to go and write a one-pager that basically demonstrates how the O.C. works in my choice of venue for a series pitch I did recently. They bumped on the setting in the meeting, but thanks to a conversation I had last night, I think there may be a way to better explain what I mean. The O.C. is everywhere.
Remember the Cup, Luke.
Electronical Armageddon
It's been a bad 72 hour period here at Dead Things Labs.
First was the inevitable LCD crystal crack of the Ipod Nano. I've been so careful, really. I don't know how it happened. Now the upper half of the crystal is readable, but that's it.
It's a huge pain in the ass.
Then, yesterday, horror of horrors, while reading a script and enjoying one of those fine brands of wobbly pops that the kids love so much, my man-bag fell from the shelf where it was placed lovingly, away from shuffling drunken children's feet. It tumbled to the ground with a sickening thud.
Strangely, the same thing happened in the very establishment approximately a year ago. Then, my beloved G4 Powerbook, which I purchased just before heading off to South Africa, found itself with a bend in the casing near the DVD Superdrive. Later it developed its current malaise -- a faulty venting that means that I often have to work on it with the plug in and the battery out, lest the thing overheat.
This time, there's another bend, and some wobbly badness on the casing of the screen, but so far no new symptoms.
But alas, the other precious was not so lucky. My Pioneer Airware radio, with which I enjoy the charms of XM Satellite Radio, now has a cracked crystal screen. I can now scroll and see the station I'm tuned to...but that is it.
As anyone who's ever experienced this kind of electronical injury knows, the crystal display is never, ever, ever covered under warranty. Yet one more thing that will change when my cult-like armies finally seize control of this benighted republic.
As for now, I'm goddamn bummed out.
First was the inevitable LCD crystal crack of the Ipod Nano. I've been so careful, really. I don't know how it happened. Now the upper half of the crystal is readable, but that's it.
It's a huge pain in the ass.
Then, yesterday, horror of horrors, while reading a script and enjoying one of those fine brands of wobbly pops that the kids love so much, my man-bag fell from the shelf where it was placed lovingly, away from shuffling drunken children's feet. It tumbled to the ground with a sickening thud.
Strangely, the same thing happened in the very establishment approximately a year ago. Then, my beloved G4 Powerbook, which I purchased just before heading off to South Africa, found itself with a bend in the casing near the DVD Superdrive. Later it developed its current malaise -- a faulty venting that means that I often have to work on it with the plug in and the battery out, lest the thing overheat.
This time, there's another bend, and some wobbly badness on the casing of the screen, but so far no new symptoms.
But alas, the other precious was not so lucky. My Pioneer Airware radio, with which I enjoy the charms of XM Satellite Radio, now has a cracked crystal screen. I can now scroll and see the station I'm tuned to...but that is it.
As anyone who's ever experienced this kind of electronical injury knows, the crystal display is never, ever, ever covered under warranty. Yet one more thing that will change when my cult-like armies finally seize control of this benighted republic.
As for now, I'm goddamn bummed out.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
"I smoke too much. I drink too much. I am too much."
How did I miss this?
I love Cracker. I love it to pieces. And I have to find out at a poker game that Jimmy McGovern, Fitz, Manchester and Robbie Coltrane are all going to be back on my TV sometime in 2006, even for two hours?
Is it my birthday?
Sure, it'll be weird to see that Jeff guy from Coupling as the new boss, but if you tell me that Penhaligon's back, I don't know what I'll do.
I love Cracker. I love it to pieces. And I have to find out at a poker game that Jimmy McGovern, Fitz, Manchester and Robbie Coltrane are all going to be back on my TV sometime in 2006, even for two hours?
Is it my birthday?
Sure, it'll be weird to see that Jeff guy from Coupling as the new boss, but if you tell me that Penhaligon's back, I don't know what I'll do.
Monday, February 27, 2006
"Pray with Me, Mike..."
Just in case you didn't get the President-Logan-as-President Nixon metaphor.
Heh heh.
Heh heh.
Ricky hearts Steve
Oh DEAR.
Canadians, in particular, are going to hate this.
My favorite quote:
I liked the American Office as soon as it came out. I thought it was well cast, and well executed, and really just needed time to emerge from the shadow of Gervais' personality. That was not a popular view in Canada.
They were wrong. Yet, strangely, not a lot of retractions.
Of course, there never are.
Canadians, in particular, are going to hate this.
My favorite quote:
"I think American TV is the best in the world. I knew 'The Office' wouldn't be ruined by these people," he says. "But I know American shows would be ruined by English people. We're not as good as you. ... American TV for me, as Randy Jackson would say, is da bomb."
I liked the American Office as soon as it came out. I thought it was well cast, and well executed, and really just needed time to emerge from the shadow of Gervais' personality. That was not a popular view in Canada.
They were wrong. Yet, strangely, not a lot of retractions.
Of course, there never are.
CTV Brings the Funny Wednesday, Post Idol
CTV, one of Canada's private TV networks, is a 900 lb. gorilla right now.
They have all the best U.S. programs...they win the ratings every night of the week. They're so unbeatable, they have all these Canadian shows on the shelf, just waiting for something to be canceled.
But nothing that CTV runs is getting canceled. They just keep backing up the trucks and unloading the money. It's a nice position to be in.
Better still, it means that when they DO finally free up a slot, it's a doozer.
This Wednesday, March 1, CTV will
sneak preview one of its new comedy series, JEFF LTD.
after American-Freaking-Idol.
Man, I'd love that slot.
And I'd hate it. Seriously. Talk about a high profile sink or swim.
If you're here in the Great White North, tune in Wednesday at 9:30 p.m, on CTV. After American Idol.
JEFF LTD. stars and was created by Jeff Seymour, who was last seen in CTV's failed newsmag drama The Eleventh Hour. (I say "failed" despite the fact that it won lotsa Gemini Awards - which are the hee hee Canadian hee hee Emmys--guffaw!; "failed" in the sense that nobody watched it. Ouch. Did he say that? Oh yes he did.)
Despite my usual trepidation/gagging about scripts written and created by actors -- I am told by people who've seen it that this one's actually quite funny. Good. The Canadian Industry needs a homegrown comedy 'win' right now.
/Plug
They have all the best U.S. programs...they win the ratings every night of the week. They're so unbeatable, they have all these Canadian shows on the shelf, just waiting for something to be canceled.
But nothing that CTV runs is getting canceled. They just keep backing up the trucks and unloading the money. It's a nice position to be in.
Better still, it means that when they DO finally free up a slot, it's a doozer.
This Wednesday, March 1, CTV will
sneak preview one of its new comedy series, JEFF LTD.
after American-Freaking-Idol.
Man, I'd love that slot.
And I'd hate it. Seriously. Talk about a high profile sink or swim.
If you're here in the Great White North, tune in Wednesday at 9:30 p.m, on CTV. After American Idol.
JEFF LTD. stars and was created by Jeff Seymour, who was last seen in CTV's failed newsmag drama The Eleventh Hour. (I say "failed" despite the fact that it won lotsa Gemini Awards - which are the hee hee Canadian hee hee Emmys--guffaw!; "failed" in the sense that nobody watched it. Ouch. Did he say that? Oh yes he did.)
Despite my usual trepidation/gagging about scripts written and created by actors -- I am told by people who've seen it that this one's actually quite funny. Good. The Canadian Industry needs a homegrown comedy 'win' right now.
/Plug
One Dead Soldier
Well, I just fielded a call from my agent -- a Nice Guy, who to my everlasting dismay and insane jealousy -- is also the possessor of a superior head of hair. In fact, I'll throw down here and put my agent's hair up against the hair of any agent or manager in Canada. That's right, bitches. Not only is he a tough negotiator -- he conditions. Daily.
Anyway, the official word is that one of my projects got a pass from the network. It was by no means a surprise. This project has been cooking on "min" for too long. When I pitched it, I was a completely different person, and a very different kind of writer. It was pre-South Africa, pre-Charlie Jade, pre-a-lot-of-things. It went through lots of changes -- not all of them completely internalized by me, and along the way the project lost an Exec or two. The process made me appreciate the value of having a strong-willed Producer on board to push things along.
Still, it was the first script deal I ever closed, so there's a certain nostalgia to seeing it go. I got paid for two scripts and a series bible, and I'm convinced that, with belief and committment, the series could be great. But that's kind of my job to think that, isn't it?
I don't know where the rights are now, so I need to find that out. If I'm able, I might post some of it here, or use it as an example in future posts. Or as fishwrap. Fish is stinky. It needs to be wrapped.
I'm still busy with other projects, so no tears. Just the usual character-building regrets, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth. Cue the gnashing.
Anyway, the official word is that one of my projects got a pass from the network. It was by no means a surprise. This project has been cooking on "min" for too long. When I pitched it, I was a completely different person, and a very different kind of writer. It was pre-South Africa, pre-Charlie Jade, pre-a-lot-of-things. It went through lots of changes -- not all of them completely internalized by me, and along the way the project lost an Exec or two. The process made me appreciate the value of having a strong-willed Producer on board to push things along.
Still, it was the first script deal I ever closed, so there's a certain nostalgia to seeing it go. I got paid for two scripts and a series bible, and I'm convinced that, with belief and committment, the series could be great. But that's kind of my job to think that, isn't it?
I don't know where the rights are now, so I need to find that out. If I'm able, I might post some of it here, or use it as an example in future posts. Or as fishwrap. Fish is stinky. It needs to be wrapped.
I'm still busy with other projects, so no tears. Just the usual character-building regrets, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth. Cue the gnashing.
Specs: Part Three: Breaking the Story
This is the third post in a series. For Part Two, go here. Part One is here.
A few weeks ago I went up to shoot the shit with a film school class here in Toronto. I do that sometimes, as well as periodically teaching a writing course here and there at a local University.
But by the end of the session a few weeks back, I was surprised to learn that most of the people in the class had never really been told a formal method for breaking a story.
Story breaking is, to borrow a phrase from the worst U.S. president in modern memory -- "hard work." It's why, when you're on a writing staff, generally the stories are broken as part of a group.
So there you go...as a spec writer, you're already at a disadvantage. You've got to be brilliant all on your own, and wrestle a notion into a fully-fleshed out outline from which you can write your script. Yup. That's hard. And it's also the price of admission, so quit whining about it. Sorry about that. A little harsh. One of those Judge shows was on in the background. You know what unforgivable hardasses those judges on those judge shows are -- it seeps through. Anyway...
I put all this forth with a caveat... you can use these methods to break both half-hour and hour shows. They're not revolutionary. They're not particularly original. But they work.
But...
What I'm talking about here applies to the standard North American style of network television. Network TV hours will run about 42 minutes or so with commercials, and will be made up of four, five, or six acts. There may be a teaser. There may or may not be a tag. Half -hours will have two or three acts. Again, maybe a Teaser. Maybe a Tag. About 22 mins of screentime. By now you'll know what show you're going to spec, and you will have determined what the structure of your show is by logging and analyzing, right? So you know what you're up against.
In the UK, or on Cable, an hour show isn't 42 minutes. Shows for the BBC where there are no commercial breaks in the body of the show might run 59 minutes -- which is about 1/3 longer than American shows. Cable shows like The Sopranos are the same way - except there may or may not be more variation in length. By not being beholden to commercial breaks, the internal structure may or may not easy to discern. Again, researching and deconstructing multiple episodes is the only way to figure this out. But it's a harder task: you don't have a commercial to tell you where the act break is.
I've never written a Sopranos, and I've never written a British TV spec, so you're on your own for that. I've recently been watching back the 3rd Season DVD's for Spooks/MI-5 -- and there's an extra there where they profile the writers and they speak to the difference between writing in the UK and writing for American shows.
Okay. As one of my first bosses would say, "let's get back to talking about what we were talking about."
Step One: Blue Sky's smilin at me, nothing but blue sky do I see...
Blue-skying is the natural first step of breaking story. In the room, you'll toss out ideas, no matter how stupid, put em on cards, and put em up on the board.
You need to not self-edit in this phase. Say an idea, slap it down, keep going.
After you do that for a while, hopefully a few ideas that you like will start to coalesce.
Maybe there's a bit of an A-Plot there. Maybe there's a runner or two. Whatever you've got, before you go on to the next step, take a stroll to the dark side.
Step Two: The Death of Hope
I'm pretty hard on fanfic writers. One, because a lot of them (tho' not all) are such bad, bad writers. Two, because they never, ever fail to go for the most obvious or strange obsession. Or they go in the other direction, and just go to places that...uh...nobody should go.
The point is, before you go too far down the road -- you should seek out some show fanfic -- if it exists. You are absolutely, positively, completely looking for what not to do.
Inevitably, fanfic writers will want to do the thing, or 'fix' the thing that needs fixing. I'm sure out there there are lots of Grey's Anatomy fanfics where Meredith finally wises up, dumps McDreamy and realizes her true destiny by sleeping with George. (And yes, I know...I know...I'll get to that.)
Back in the days of Star Trek: The Next Generation, I heard that they had a board where they put the most common pitches...of which there were several. The one that I heard they got pitched most often was a sequel to "Yesterday's Enterprise," the one where Tasha Yar comes back from the dead in an alternate reality because of the Enterprise-C. Anyway, they got a lot of pitches for sequels to that show.
In E.R., maybe it's the episode where Laura Innes' character gets together with the hot straight girl that's on E.R. now. (Whoever that is...I don't watch E.R. anymore. Is Dr. Kerry Weaver still on it? She didn't get over being a lesbian, did she? That would suck.)
In the new Battlestar Galactica, it's the episode where they find Earth. Or where Starbuck wakes up and has been turned into a man again. Or...um...where Adama is revealed to be a Cylon.
In Cheers, it's the episode where you meet Norm's wife Vera. In Frasier, it's the episode where you meet Niles' first wife, Maris. In Seinfeld, it's the episode where you learn Kramer's first name.
Do you see what I'm getting at, here?
Don't fuck with the show. Leave that to the fanfic.
The thing that a producer is looking for with a spec script is someone with a voice and a good sense of story. That means someone who comes up with interesting and fresh takes on the characters -- not an episode that either violates one of the major tenets of the show (ie: you never see Maris or Vera) or blows something so big, or changes the game so much, that even if you were on staff, the chance that you would get to write that major episode is nil. (Ie: the episode of Grey's where George and Meredith knock boots.) They have a whole staff for those episodes. And just as Star Trek:TNG eventually did a sequel of sorts to Yesterday's Enterprise, so too will the show you're looking to spec get around eventually to introducing the brother or the parents, or whatever. If the story seems obvious to you, it will have been obvious to them too. And if they haven't done it yet, there's a reason for that.
In fact, let's get as many of these out of the way right now as possible, m'kay?
That one. That's your idea.
Step Three: Two Pages
This is the part that I learned from two great Showrunners: Bill Laurin and Glenn Davis (Missing) When I went to the Canadian Film Centre five years ago, they, and another great writer named Larry Lalonde, were my mentors there. I went in thinking that I already knew how to break story -- but they added this step, and I think it really helps.
On the LEFT page, write down all the things that have to happen in order for your protagonist to achieve their goal for the episode.
On the RIGHT page, write down all the things that would be really cool/funny/interesting to see. Things that excite you about the possibilities raised by your stories. If your characters make a road trip to Vegas, what would be fun to see? If they're at an amusement park, knowing what you do about your characters, what would it be fun to see them do?
This is a physical representation of the whole left brain, right brain thing. The left represents process -- how you're going to go from A to B to C. Looking at it, you may be able to discern where you can come in late for your plot. Do you really need all those steps? Can some be truncated? Collapsed together? Eliminated entirely?
The right page is key though. Because the right page is where you're going to have fun. As you figure out beats for the story, the key is to figure out how to seed in some of that fun stuff from the right hand page while serving the story needs of the left hand page.
Step Four: The End
Where do you want your story to end up? That's the thing you figure out first. That way you know what you're writing to. I don't know a single successful writer who does not work this way -- especially in TV. Starting to write a story before you know where it's going to end up -- well, if you'll forgive my French -- that's just retarded. And I don't mean in the fun, Black Eyed Peas kind of way.
Step Five: The Start
How does your script begin? What's the kickoff? Big scene, draw people in fast. Make it funny or shocking or surprising. Set the table for conflict right off the bat.
Step Six: The bottom-of-the-clock break
The most important act break in the show is the one that happens at the half-hour mark in a broadcast hour. That may be the Act Two out, or it may be the Act Three out, depending on the structure of the show you're breaking. This is the "holy shit" moment. All act breaks have to be major-out scenes, but this bottom-of-the-clock break is the one that spins your story off in a new direction. The problem we thought we were facing isn't really the problem...the solution we were pursuing earlier was the wrong solution and won't work and now everything's way worse and more hopeless-seeming...you know...like that.
This is literally the most important moment in your script. Not because it's the thing that keeps the audience from switching to another channel. (Remember, as a spec writer, you're creating a reading document...this isn't going to be produced.) It's the most important moment because it's here, if you've kept the reader reading up to this point, where the reader is going to start to decide whether you're any good or not.
A predictable act out here, one that you see coming, will blow you out of the water. A surprise, a moment where the reader says, "Oh man, I can't believe he/she did that/went there" will probably guarantee that they'll read your script right to the end.
Traditionally, you don't go out on an Act without one of two things: Jeopardy (emotional or physical) or New Information (that changes the way that we think about what we've seen before.)
Like I said...this one's a doozy.
(In a half hour, it's a bit different. If it's a two-act-plus structure, your Act One out is the big one. If it's Three Acts, it's probably your Act Two out.)
Step 7: Fill in the Other Act Breaks
Once you've done this, you have what we call the "tentpoles" for your story. You should be able to put these on cards and put them on a cork board and see your story take shape.
Step 8: The Weave
Go back and do steps 1 to 7 for all your other plots -- B, C, D, etc. They may not be the act out, but each plot has X number of turning points, and you need to figure out how those plots will progress, too. Think of them separately, as if they were A plots, all.
Now...you're going to weave everything together.
Start slapping up those B/C/D plot beats. Are they all their own scenes? Can some of them happen at the top or the tail of A plot scenes. When you need to jump forward in time, you can use a cutaway to another plot to ease that time passage, or manage audience suspense.
But there's more to the weave than just marrying the plots together. Remember those two pages? Well, the Left page should be up there now, all the tissue that forms the story. Now it's time to weave in all that cool stuff that you wanted to see -- the character, the funny, the heartwarming, the cool -- whatever it is. Make that right page serve the left and your script won't be boring, and it won't be predictable.
Now step back and look at your story. Does it seem well paced? Does it seem rushed in places? Does one act seem too packed while one of the early acts seems sparse? Is it too dense in places. Go back and adjust.
Once you've got it to a place where you feel right, you're looking at a beat sheet. Congratulations. You've just broken a story.
Now. Go write it.
NB: There's another method, conceptually, that I've heard some people use when breaking a story. I generally don't use it unless I'm having trouble with the story. But it's an interesting approach.
It involves expressing each plot as a function of the character conflicts within it. Ie: the A Plot is Meredith Vs. George, the B Plot is Izzie vs. Alex, etc... Then figure out the beats from there. (Hint: the last beat is always the resolution.) The trick to this method is that it's grounded in character, so you can chart how the plot goes forward by who has the upper hand, action, followed by reaction, followed by consequences...etc. If you find yourself getting criticized for being "plotty" -- this may be a way to get away from that and ground your writing more in character.
Part Four will be "Reading Your Spec Back." But it might be a while in coming. I want to tackle my other favorite subject, the Objective Correlative, first.
A few weeks ago I went up to shoot the shit with a film school class here in Toronto. I do that sometimes, as well as periodically teaching a writing course here and there at a local University.
But by the end of the session a few weeks back, I was surprised to learn that most of the people in the class had never really been told a formal method for breaking a story.
Story breaking is, to borrow a phrase from the worst U.S. president in modern memory -- "hard work." It's why, when you're on a writing staff, generally the stories are broken as part of a group.
So there you go...as a spec writer, you're already at a disadvantage. You've got to be brilliant all on your own, and wrestle a notion into a fully-fleshed out outline from which you can write your script. Yup. That's hard. And it's also the price of admission, so quit whining about it. Sorry about that. A little harsh. One of those Judge shows was on in the background. You know what unforgivable hardasses those judges on those judge shows are -- it seeps through. Anyway...
I put all this forth with a caveat... you can use these methods to break both half-hour and hour shows. They're not revolutionary. They're not particularly original. But they work.
But...
What I'm talking about here applies to the standard North American style of network television. Network TV hours will run about 42 minutes or so with commercials, and will be made up of four, five, or six acts. There may be a teaser. There may or may not be a tag. Half -hours will have two or three acts. Again, maybe a Teaser. Maybe a Tag. About 22 mins of screentime. By now you'll know what show you're going to spec, and you will have determined what the structure of your show is by logging and analyzing, right? So you know what you're up against.
In the UK, or on Cable, an hour show isn't 42 minutes. Shows for the BBC where there are no commercial breaks in the body of the show might run 59 minutes -- which is about 1/3 longer than American shows. Cable shows like The Sopranos are the same way - except there may or may not be more variation in length. By not being beholden to commercial breaks, the internal structure may or may not easy to discern. Again, researching and deconstructing multiple episodes is the only way to figure this out. But it's a harder task: you don't have a commercial to tell you where the act break is.
I've never written a Sopranos, and I've never written a British TV spec, so you're on your own for that. I've recently been watching back the 3rd Season DVD's for Spooks/MI-5 -- and there's an extra there where they profile the writers and they speak to the difference between writing in the UK and writing for American shows.
Okay. As one of my first bosses would say, "let's get back to talking about what we were talking about."
Step One: Blue Sky's smilin at me, nothing but blue sky do I see...
Blue-skying is the natural first step of breaking story. In the room, you'll toss out ideas, no matter how stupid, put em on cards, and put em up on the board.
You need to not self-edit in this phase. Say an idea, slap it down, keep going.
After you do that for a while, hopefully a few ideas that you like will start to coalesce.
Maybe there's a bit of an A-Plot there. Maybe there's a runner or two. Whatever you've got, before you go on to the next step, take a stroll to the dark side.
Step Two: The Death of Hope
I'm pretty hard on fanfic writers. One, because a lot of them (tho' not all) are such bad, bad writers. Two, because they never, ever fail to go for the most obvious or strange obsession. Or they go in the other direction, and just go to places that...uh...nobody should go.
The point is, before you go too far down the road -- you should seek out some show fanfic -- if it exists. You are absolutely, positively, completely looking for what not to do.
Inevitably, fanfic writers will want to do the thing, or 'fix' the thing that needs fixing. I'm sure out there there are lots of Grey's Anatomy fanfics where Meredith finally wises up, dumps McDreamy and realizes her true destiny by sleeping with George. (And yes, I know...I know...I'll get to that.)
Back in the days of Star Trek: The Next Generation, I heard that they had a board where they put the most common pitches...of which there were several. The one that I heard they got pitched most often was a sequel to "Yesterday's Enterprise," the one where Tasha Yar comes back from the dead in an alternate reality because of the Enterprise-C. Anyway, they got a lot of pitches for sequels to that show.
In E.R., maybe it's the episode where Laura Innes' character gets together with the hot straight girl that's on E.R. now. (Whoever that is...I don't watch E.R. anymore. Is Dr. Kerry Weaver still on it? She didn't get over being a lesbian, did she? That would suck.)
In the new Battlestar Galactica, it's the episode where they find Earth. Or where Starbuck wakes up and has been turned into a man again. Or...um...where Adama is revealed to be a Cylon.
In Cheers, it's the episode where you meet Norm's wife Vera. In Frasier, it's the episode where you meet Niles' first wife, Maris. In Seinfeld, it's the episode where you learn Kramer's first name.
Do you see what I'm getting at, here?
Don't fuck with the show. Leave that to the fanfic.
The thing that a producer is looking for with a spec script is someone with a voice and a good sense of story. That means someone who comes up with interesting and fresh takes on the characters -- not an episode that either violates one of the major tenets of the show (ie: you never see Maris or Vera) or blows something so big, or changes the game so much, that even if you were on staff, the chance that you would get to write that major episode is nil. (Ie: the episode of Grey's where George and Meredith knock boots.) They have a whole staff for those episodes. And just as Star Trek:TNG eventually did a sequel of sorts to Yesterday's Enterprise, so too will the show you're looking to spec get around eventually to introducing the brother or the parents, or whatever. If the story seems obvious to you, it will have been obvious to them too. And if they haven't done it yet, there's a reason for that.
In fact, let's get as many of these out of the way right now as possible, m'kay?
- Characters who have never slept together sleep together
- Characters who have been on the show die
- Characters who were on the show but died or left suddenly come back - either for real, or in a dream sequence.
- We meet the parents, brother, sister, ex-wife, or ex-husband of a Character where we have not previously met the parents, brother, sister, ex-wife, or ex-husband.
That one. That's your idea.
Step Three: Two Pages
This is the part that I learned from two great Showrunners: Bill Laurin and Glenn Davis (Missing) When I went to the Canadian Film Centre five years ago, they, and another great writer named Larry Lalonde, were my mentors there. I went in thinking that I already knew how to break story -- but they added this step, and I think it really helps.
On the LEFT page, write down all the things that have to happen in order for your protagonist to achieve their goal for the episode.
On the RIGHT page, write down all the things that would be really cool/funny/interesting to see. Things that excite you about the possibilities raised by your stories. If your characters make a road trip to Vegas, what would be fun to see? If they're at an amusement park, knowing what you do about your characters, what would it be fun to see them do?
This is a physical representation of the whole left brain, right brain thing. The left represents process -- how you're going to go from A to B to C. Looking at it, you may be able to discern where you can come in late for your plot. Do you really need all those steps? Can some be truncated? Collapsed together? Eliminated entirely?
The right page is key though. Because the right page is where you're going to have fun. As you figure out beats for the story, the key is to figure out how to seed in some of that fun stuff from the right hand page while serving the story needs of the left hand page.
Step Four: The End
Where do you want your story to end up? That's the thing you figure out first. That way you know what you're writing to. I don't know a single successful writer who does not work this way -- especially in TV. Starting to write a story before you know where it's going to end up -- well, if you'll forgive my French -- that's just retarded. And I don't mean in the fun, Black Eyed Peas kind of way.
Step Five: The Start
How does your script begin? What's the kickoff? Big scene, draw people in fast. Make it funny or shocking or surprising. Set the table for conflict right off the bat.
Step Six: The bottom-of-the-clock break
The most important act break in the show is the one that happens at the half-hour mark in a broadcast hour. That may be the Act Two out, or it may be the Act Three out, depending on the structure of the show you're breaking. This is the "holy shit" moment. All act breaks have to be major-out scenes, but this bottom-of-the-clock break is the one that spins your story off in a new direction. The problem we thought we were facing isn't really the problem...the solution we were pursuing earlier was the wrong solution and won't work and now everything's way worse and more hopeless-seeming...you know...like that.
This is literally the most important moment in your script. Not because it's the thing that keeps the audience from switching to another channel. (Remember, as a spec writer, you're creating a reading document...this isn't going to be produced.) It's the most important moment because it's here, if you've kept the reader reading up to this point, where the reader is going to start to decide whether you're any good or not.
A predictable act out here, one that you see coming, will blow you out of the water. A surprise, a moment where the reader says, "Oh man, I can't believe he/she did that/went there" will probably guarantee that they'll read your script right to the end.
Traditionally, you don't go out on an Act without one of two things: Jeopardy (emotional or physical) or New Information (that changes the way that we think about what we've seen before.)
Like I said...this one's a doozy.
(In a half hour, it's a bit different. If it's a two-act-plus structure, your Act One out is the big one. If it's Three Acts, it's probably your Act Two out.)
Step 7: Fill in the Other Act Breaks
Once you've done this, you have what we call the "tentpoles" for your story. You should be able to put these on cards and put them on a cork board and see your story take shape.
Step 8: The Weave
Go back and do steps 1 to 7 for all your other plots -- B, C, D, etc. They may not be the act out, but each plot has X number of turning points, and you need to figure out how those plots will progress, too. Think of them separately, as if they were A plots, all.
Now...you're going to weave everything together.
Start slapping up those B/C/D plot beats. Are they all their own scenes? Can some of them happen at the top or the tail of A plot scenes. When you need to jump forward in time, you can use a cutaway to another plot to ease that time passage, or manage audience suspense.
But there's more to the weave than just marrying the plots together. Remember those two pages? Well, the Left page should be up there now, all the tissue that forms the story. Now it's time to weave in all that cool stuff that you wanted to see -- the character, the funny, the heartwarming, the cool -- whatever it is. Make that right page serve the left and your script won't be boring, and it won't be predictable.
Now step back and look at your story. Does it seem well paced? Does it seem rushed in places? Does one act seem too packed while one of the early acts seems sparse? Is it too dense in places. Go back and adjust.
Once you've got it to a place where you feel right, you're looking at a beat sheet. Congratulations. You've just broken a story.
Now. Go write it.
NB: There's another method, conceptually, that I've heard some people use when breaking a story. I generally don't use it unless I'm having trouble with the story. But it's an interesting approach.
It involves expressing each plot as a function of the character conflicts within it. Ie: the A Plot is Meredith Vs. George, the B Plot is Izzie vs. Alex, etc... Then figure out the beats from there. (Hint: the last beat is always the resolution.) The trick to this method is that it's grounded in character, so you can chart how the plot goes forward by who has the upper hand, action, followed by reaction, followed by consequences...etc. If you find yourself getting criticized for being "plotty" -- this may be a way to get away from that and ground your writing more in character.
Part Four will be "Reading Your Spec Back." But it might be a while in coming. I want to tackle my other favorite subject, the Objective Correlative, first.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Metal: A Headbanger's Journey
Well, I'm pretty hemmed in this weekend working on an animation script, but I wanted to put a plug out for a film that I did some work on last year that opened commercially this weekend in Canada.
Metal: A Headbanger's Journey is a personal odyssey through the culture of Heavy Metal. It's the kind of joyous doc that's interesting if you're a metalhead, but even more interesting if you're not. Seriously.
I blogged about the doc when it had its premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival in September. The nice thing about Metal: A Headbanger's Journey is that you learn something about culture, and people, and it's a damned entertaining film to boot. It's been getting great reviews, and if it's playing in your city, I would heartily recommend you go give it a looksee.
Go to their site for reviews, and cities where you can see it.
Metal: A Headbanger's Journey is a personal odyssey through the culture of Heavy Metal. It's the kind of joyous doc that's interesting if you're a metalhead, but even more interesting if you're not. Seriously.
I blogged about the doc when it had its premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival in September. The nice thing about Metal: A Headbanger's Journey is that you learn something about culture, and people, and it's a damned entertaining film to boot. It's been getting great reviews, and if it's playing in your city, I would heartily recommend you go give it a looksee.
Go to their site for reviews, and cities where you can see it.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Paris is Burning
Once upon a time there was a woman who was famous for nothing, though she was rich.
Then came this.
Which begs the question: if you make your living by looking like a woman who's famous for having no discernable skills -- let's face it, she doesn't even seem to be that adept at the very act that kickstarted her fame -- well...what are you, exactly? I think we really might have reached fame's bottom on this one. What say y'all?
In the movies, the last time I remember them doing this well was DAVE. And that guy was pretending to be the President. Now we have a real President who says nothing about pretend things and a pretend person pretending to be a celebrity who's a pretender herself.
The snake's been eating his tail for a while now, I realize...but...um...what's left?
Then came this.
Which begs the question: if you make your living by looking like a woman who's famous for having no discernable skills -- let's face it, she doesn't even seem to be that adept at the very act that kickstarted her fame -- well...what are you, exactly? I think we really might have reached fame's bottom on this one. What say y'all?
In the movies, the last time I remember them doing this well was DAVE. And that guy was pretending to be the President. Now we have a real President who says nothing about pretend things and a pretend person pretending to be a celebrity who's a pretender herself.
The snake's been eating his tail for a while now, I realize...but...um...what's left?
Thursday, February 23, 2006
While I spiral into a black hole of unending creative torment...
Why would you be here, seriously, when there is the beauty of this post from the Kung Fu Monkey?
I particularly-heart-his description of the act breakdown of every sci-fi genre story.
I particularly-heart-his description of the act breakdown of every sci-fi genre story.
Whoopsy-Daisy
Well, all of a sudden there's meetings to be had. And I'm behind on one script, and dangerously close to being behind on another. And just three days ago, I was filled with righteous vigor, and felt on top of things. Eep.
Anyway, what that means is that I'm going to have to delay the third part of the Spec Script post for a few days.
In the meantime, I've noticed that the site counter and stats have now ticked up to a respectable level...but so very many of you are like Charlie -- just laying in wait out in the jungle. Apparently Duvall got it wrong. Charlie do Surf...he just don't comment.
I've got anonymous commenting turned off because it attracts too many trolls and too much spam -- but though Blogger says when you register that you have to register a blog -- you really don't. Sign up, sign in, and let me know some stuff:
And can I crash on your couch for a few days?
Anyway, what that means is that I'm going to have to delay the third part of the Spec Script post for a few days.
In the meantime, I've noticed that the site counter and stats have now ticked up to a respectable level...but so very many of you are like Charlie -- just laying in wait out in the jungle. Apparently Duvall got it wrong. Charlie do Surf...he just don't comment.
I've got anonymous commenting turned off because it attracts too many trolls and too much spam -- but though Blogger says when you register that you have to register a blog -- you really don't. Sign up, sign in, and let me know some stuff:
- Who are ya?
- What's yer business here? (Aspiring screenwriter, working writer, just interested in TV, Secretly Canadian, ex-girlfriend stalking you (enjoy the bunny))
- What kind of posts have you enjoyed the most?
- Have any of my ramblings sparked questions?
- Paper or Plastic?
- What bugs you most about TV?
- Is Michael Bay the Devil?
And can I crash on your couch for a few days?
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Seriously. Why Even Bother?
I defy anyone to read this article and not do one of two things:
Fire good.
Actually, Antonia's blog at The Toronto Star makes the inanity even clearer.
- Laugh.
- Cry.
Fire good.
Actually, Antonia's blog at The Toronto Star makes the inanity even clearer.
Spec: Part Two: Research
This is Part Two. Click here for Part One.
Okay, so now you’ve got the show.
Now what?
Stupid is the writer who starts writing a screenplay without an outline. But the TV writer who attempts a spec without a Beat Sheet is a total maroon. But here's the rub, chickens -- we're nowhere near the beat sheet. Not yet. Before you start to prepare a beat sheet, you have to do your Research.
In this case, research involves immersing yourself in everything you can find about the show. This is a lot easier today than it was a few years ago. Many writers blog, or there are online sites, official or fan-driven, where you can read all the interviews, online chats, blogs, and press materials in one place. Your first journey should be to try and get in the headspace of people who already write for the show. What do they think it’s about? What motifs or themes do they return to, again and again? Is it possible to explain the show in a couple of sentences? Early pre-press, and the first interviews given about the show are often invaluable for this – because it gives you the first blurt – often the simplest distillation of what the show’s about, and what makes it different.
It’s great if you can get screenwriting articles from the WGA or Creative Screenwriting or Script – and if you can find a script online, that’s gold. If not, reading some transcripts can help – just remember that you’re reading fan transcripts, not shooting scripts, so don't follow them for style -- just dialogue. Once you’ve waded through all that, here’s your next step:
Set it aside.
In the end, the only way to get a feel for the show that you’re about to spec is to screen multiple episodes, and deconstruct them. This is very much active, not passive viewing – so it’s best if you’ve seen the shows before. Watch them once for entertainment value, then return to them with fresh eyes; professional eyes.
Actually, if you’ll let me backtrack a bit, sometimes the best approach is not to use eyes at all – not at first.
Once upon a time, what set TV and the movies apart was the fact that movies were visual, and TV was radio with pictures.
If you think about the visual grammar of TV – it’s traditionally largely been composed of medium shots and close ups. The visual fooferal you’ll see in auteur-movies is largely absent.
In TV, stories have been conveyed primarily through dialogue. If you think back to childhood, I’m sure you’ve got memories of doing your homework in front of the tv. You still followed the show, right?
People watch TV and talk on the phone. People fold laundry, do their taxes, cook dinner, make love, in short, they often don’t devote 100% attention to the tv.
This has changed a bit over the years. DVD rewatching of TV means that more info can be layered in visually. HD and 16:9 mean the same thing. The complexity of TV storytelling is exponentially greater than it was a generation ago. But TV still has those Radio with Picture roots. So a first step in discerning how your show works may be to listen to the show. Go in the other room, play the recording back, and see how much you can follow the action. When you watch it later, ask yourself, “how much did I miss?” And what kinds of things did you miss? Were they major turning points? Most of the time, you’ll find that you may miss atmospheric details, but the essential turns in plot will either be revealed, or underlined in dialogue. By listening to the show first, you can “tune” just how visual or action-driven your show is, compared to how dialogue-driven it is. That’s an important thing to know going in to the rest of the research process.
The aim at this point is to break the show down into its component parts. Your object is to crack the DNA code of this show.
So how do you watch that way?
Sit on the couch with a stopwatch. Watch the teaser start to finish. Now watch it again. How long was it? How many scenes? Was it a cold open or a true teaser? Which plots were introduced? Which characters were featured? When did the A Plot get introduced?
Go through the whole show that way. You’re looking to construct a log of the show – how many scenes are there in total? How much time is given to the A? The B? Are there other plots or runners? How much screen time do they get? If it’s a show that has arcs, how much screen time is given over to plot threads that begin and end in the show, and how much to the overall arc?
How many acts, and how long are each? Some shows will have long teasers, almost an act unto themselves. Some shows will have the major turning point at the end of Act Two, some at the end of Act Three. Are any of the acts longer, or are they of more or less uniform length? Some shows tend to have longer scenes at the beginning, and then have the scenes get shorter and shorter as the show progresses – the better to suggest momentum. In some series, the penultimate scene is the longest scene in the show. In others, it’s the last scene. Does the A and B plot resolve in the last scene, or does the B resolve earlier? What else did you notice?
All of this is math.
You are doing a mathematical deconstruction of how the show fits together. You're looking for patterns. This is why…and get ready to groan… you have to do this at least three times, with three different episodes.
I know people who do it with two. But the problem is that even a great show can have an atypical episode. If you pick at random, an atypical ep, you may skew the pattern. Better to log three…chart em….put em up on the wall. And look at the map you’ve created.
Whatever episode you write is going to have to replicate this math.
Now, cast the math aside, and go back through the shows again.
This time you’re mapping character interactions, and story points. Is the show an ensemble or a main star? How does the story revolve around the core cast? (One of the biggest rookie mistakes is writing an episode with a great guest star and having the story revolve around the guest star. Even if the guest star is compellingly written as all get out, in series television, the show revolves around your core cast…everything needs to be their point of view and reveal their characters.)
Are there characters who always find themselves paired? That might be important later – because you either have to nail the essence of that relationship, or if you’re going to play against type, put two characters together who don’t normally interact and go from there.
What role do the various characters play in the show? Who drives the plot? Who discovers things? Who is the conscience? Who sends our characters off in another direction? Which characters are instigators and which are followers? What is the map of how these characters interrelate? Do all interactions go back through the star/central character (ie: Raymond on Raymond) or are they allowed to go off on their own tangents (Jack and Karen on Will & Grace.) Now look at the plots the same way – Are the A & B separate? Are they linked thematically? Do they stay separate, join in the end, kiss somewhere in the middle, and then spin off to separate conclusions, or do they conclude together? Does the solution for the B point the way to the solution for the A? Most of the time, you’re going to see some kind of overall theme emerge. Usually the plots won’t say the same thing about the theme – they may act as point or counterpoint. Or the connection between them might be slight at best. What’s the norm for your show?
Finally, apply the old rule of “what is this scene doing?” Traditionally a scene can fulfill three functions: it can move the plot along, it can reveal character, or it can reveal theme. Good scenes do one of these things. Better scenes do two. The best scenes do all three. What happens in your show?
Meredith and Cristina walking along the corridor with the bomb in the guy’s chest moves the plot along, but it also gives them a chance to talk through Cristina’s relationship troubles, which reveals both what they think is important in life, and their deepest fears. This is another way of approaching the hoary and difficult subject of laying in subtext in the scene. Breaking it down into its three components is often easier than thinking of a big scary word like subtext. When you look at the scenes this way, it also helps you to understand how the show handles the difficult problem of laying pipe and hiding pipe. (doling out plot info, and doing it in such a way that it’s not overly exposition-y.)
Once you’ve done your due diligence, and performed this task for three episodes, you should start to grok the DNA of how the show works.
Now it’s time to come up with your plot.
That’s for next time.
Okay, so now you’ve got the show.
Now what?
Stupid is the writer who starts writing a screenplay without an outline. But the TV writer who attempts a spec without a Beat Sheet is a total maroon. But here's the rub, chickens -- we're nowhere near the beat sheet. Not yet. Before you start to prepare a beat sheet, you have to do your Research.
In this case, research involves immersing yourself in everything you can find about the show. This is a lot easier today than it was a few years ago. Many writers blog, or there are online sites, official or fan-driven, where you can read all the interviews, online chats, blogs, and press materials in one place. Your first journey should be to try and get in the headspace of people who already write for the show. What do they think it’s about? What motifs or themes do they return to, again and again? Is it possible to explain the show in a couple of sentences? Early pre-press, and the first interviews given about the show are often invaluable for this – because it gives you the first blurt – often the simplest distillation of what the show’s about, and what makes it different.
It’s great if you can get screenwriting articles from the WGA or Creative Screenwriting or Script – and if you can find a script online, that’s gold. If not, reading some transcripts can help – just remember that you’re reading fan transcripts, not shooting scripts, so don't follow them for style -- just dialogue. Once you’ve waded through all that, here’s your next step:
Set it aside.
In the end, the only way to get a feel for the show that you’re about to spec is to screen multiple episodes, and deconstruct them. This is very much active, not passive viewing – so it’s best if you’ve seen the shows before. Watch them once for entertainment value, then return to them with fresh eyes; professional eyes.
Actually, if you’ll let me backtrack a bit, sometimes the best approach is not to use eyes at all – not at first.
Once upon a time, what set TV and the movies apart was the fact that movies were visual, and TV was radio with pictures.
If you think about the visual grammar of TV – it’s traditionally largely been composed of medium shots and close ups. The visual fooferal you’ll see in auteur-movies is largely absent.
In TV, stories have been conveyed primarily through dialogue. If you think back to childhood, I’m sure you’ve got memories of doing your homework in front of the tv. You still followed the show, right?
People watch TV and talk on the phone. People fold laundry, do their taxes, cook dinner, make love, in short, they often don’t devote 100% attention to the tv.
This has changed a bit over the years. DVD rewatching of TV means that more info can be layered in visually. HD and 16:9 mean the same thing. The complexity of TV storytelling is exponentially greater than it was a generation ago. But TV still has those Radio with Picture roots. So a first step in discerning how your show works may be to listen to the show. Go in the other room, play the recording back, and see how much you can follow the action. When you watch it later, ask yourself, “how much did I miss?” And what kinds of things did you miss? Were they major turning points? Most of the time, you’ll find that you may miss atmospheric details, but the essential turns in plot will either be revealed, or underlined in dialogue. By listening to the show first, you can “tune” just how visual or action-driven your show is, compared to how dialogue-driven it is. That’s an important thing to know going in to the rest of the research process.
The aim at this point is to break the show down into its component parts. Your object is to crack the DNA code of this show.
So how do you watch that way?
Sit on the couch with a stopwatch. Watch the teaser start to finish. Now watch it again. How long was it? How many scenes? Was it a cold open or a true teaser? Which plots were introduced? Which characters were featured? When did the A Plot get introduced?
Go through the whole show that way. You’re looking to construct a log of the show – how many scenes are there in total? How much time is given to the A? The B? Are there other plots or runners? How much screen time do they get? If it’s a show that has arcs, how much screen time is given over to plot threads that begin and end in the show, and how much to the overall arc?
How many acts, and how long are each? Some shows will have long teasers, almost an act unto themselves. Some shows will have the major turning point at the end of Act Two, some at the end of Act Three. Are any of the acts longer, or are they of more or less uniform length? Some shows tend to have longer scenes at the beginning, and then have the scenes get shorter and shorter as the show progresses – the better to suggest momentum. In some series, the penultimate scene is the longest scene in the show. In others, it’s the last scene. Does the A and B plot resolve in the last scene, or does the B resolve earlier? What else did you notice?
All of this is math.
You are doing a mathematical deconstruction of how the show fits together. You're looking for patterns. This is why…and get ready to groan… you have to do this at least three times, with three different episodes.
I know people who do it with two. But the problem is that even a great show can have an atypical episode. If you pick at random, an atypical ep, you may skew the pattern. Better to log three…chart em….put em up on the wall. And look at the map you’ve created.
Whatever episode you write is going to have to replicate this math.
Now, cast the math aside, and go back through the shows again.
This time you’re mapping character interactions, and story points. Is the show an ensemble or a main star? How does the story revolve around the core cast? (One of the biggest rookie mistakes is writing an episode with a great guest star and having the story revolve around the guest star. Even if the guest star is compellingly written as all get out, in series television, the show revolves around your core cast…everything needs to be their point of view and reveal their characters.)
Are there characters who always find themselves paired? That might be important later – because you either have to nail the essence of that relationship, or if you’re going to play against type, put two characters together who don’t normally interact and go from there.
What role do the various characters play in the show? Who drives the plot? Who discovers things? Who is the conscience? Who sends our characters off in another direction? Which characters are instigators and which are followers? What is the map of how these characters interrelate? Do all interactions go back through the star/central character (ie: Raymond on Raymond) or are they allowed to go off on their own tangents (Jack and Karen on Will & Grace.) Now look at the plots the same way – Are the A & B separate? Are they linked thematically? Do they stay separate, join in the end, kiss somewhere in the middle, and then spin off to separate conclusions, or do they conclude together? Does the solution for the B point the way to the solution for the A? Most of the time, you’re going to see some kind of overall theme emerge. Usually the plots won’t say the same thing about the theme – they may act as point or counterpoint. Or the connection between them might be slight at best. What’s the norm for your show?
Finally, apply the old rule of “what is this scene doing?” Traditionally a scene can fulfill three functions: it can move the plot along, it can reveal character, or it can reveal theme. Good scenes do one of these things. Better scenes do two. The best scenes do all three. What happens in your show?
Meredith and Cristina walking along the corridor with the bomb in the guy’s chest moves the plot along, but it also gives them a chance to talk through Cristina’s relationship troubles, which reveals both what they think is important in life, and their deepest fears. This is another way of approaching the hoary and difficult subject of laying in subtext in the scene. Breaking it down into its three components is often easier than thinking of a big scary word like subtext. When you look at the scenes this way, it also helps you to understand how the show handles the difficult problem of laying pipe and hiding pipe. (doling out plot info, and doing it in such a way that it’s not overly exposition-y.)
Once you’ve done your due diligence, and performed this task for three episodes, you should start to grok the DNA of how the show works.
Now it’s time to come up with your plot.
That’s for next time.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Specs: Part One
So you want to write a spec script.
Great. Good for you. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you know if you’re targeting the half-hour or the hour arena. In places like Canada, you do flip back and forth between hour and half-hour, simply because there’s not enough work to specialize too much. There’s also some odd ducks here too, like the occasional half-hour drama.
In the U.S. this isn't usually the case. You pretty much have to declare yourself an hour writer or a half-hour (comedy) writer. There’s not a lot of flipping between the two camps. Switching between one and the other is not impossible, but it’s extraordinarily unlikely. Few seem to even try. In Canada, it’s not at all uncommon to have a half-hour sample, and an hour sample in your library. I think that’s probably of much more limited value if you’re going to take a run at L.A.
So if you’re looking about, how do you pick the right show?
Well, to decide that you need to know a bit more about you-- what kind of person you are, where your interests and skills ultimately lie; also what’s going on in the industry at large.
I’ve always thought a good time to spec a show is at the end of its first solid season, or sometime in its second. Every show takes several episodes to find itself. If you compare, for instance, early episodes of My Name is Earl or Commander in Chief to the ones that are on the air now, you’re going to see some subtle but very important differences. (In the case of the latter, you'll also have the benefit of seeing how a show that seemed like a sure-fire hit can go south; CiC took exactly the opposite trajectory as last year's House.)
The show you pick should have a degree of familiarity and currency. You don’t want to pick a show that’s going to be canceled. You want one that’s going to be around for a while, but that’s had the time to find itself.
It should also be something you’re naturally interested in. If you’ve had a background in science, maybe a medical drama or a police procedural would work for you. For my part, you’d never catch me specing a House or a CSI in a million years. All the science leaves me cold, and the one true thing about a spec script is this: you cannot fake it. If yours is a show that requires research, you need to do the research. (And yes, I know, on House they have people that do that. But you're not on House yet, are you? Suck it up, buttercup.)
I spec’ed a West Wing at the end of Season One. I’ve read a lot of bad West Wings over the years, but it was a natural for me because I have a very deep grounding and interest in U.S. Politics. I also took a bit of insider knowledge and worked that into my spec – years ago as a journalist, I’d done a story on the Library of Congress…I interviewed the Librarian, Dr. James Billington. So I worked that kind of insight about the institution, its history, what it meant, and hung that on a couple of my characters. And the result was something that still gets me work six years later.
Is there some kind of personal experience you’ve had that you can imbue into the script? We’ve all gone to high school, certainly, but is there something that happened to you in High School that might inform or put a new spin on Summer or Seth on The O.C.?
Trying to match your sensibility to the show you choose to spec is a very important step. The one thing I’ve seen fail, time and again, is when someone decides to spec a certain show because it will be “easy,” or because “How hard can it be?”
It’s hard, Cochise.
It’s hard because of one very, very salient fact:
You are not trying to write an average episode of that show. Average episodes are not going to impress anybody. If your spec’s going to pop, it needs to be a superior episode of that show. An episode that displays that you can write the structure of the show, and embody the singular voices of the characters, but a story that also engages or twists, or turns, or shines brighter than all but the very best that show is about. There’s going to be a median level of knowledge that readers bring to this show you’re doing. Some who read your script will know the show quite well, and some will know the show only in passing. Most will fall somewhere in between. Your dialogue, action, story, and description needs to crackle with the very essence, the lifeblood of the show. It has to nail the template, and offer the reader an experience that stands out not only against all the other specs of that show they’re ever going to have to read – but also against the show itself.
Tall order.
So starting with a show that connects with you emotionally is a good start. At the same time, it probably shouldn’t be your favorite show. We all tend to get a little fanboy about our favorites. You’re not writing...shudder... fanfic. You’re trying to show your professionalism and your talent.
Once you’ve come up with candidates of shows you think are in your wheelhouse emotionally or experientially, then there are a few strategic questions to ask:
Is this going to be the thing everyone is writing?
The more spec scripts of a certain show that go out, the more tired people get of reading them, and the higher the bar gets – in order to impress, you have to rise above the rest, and also impress enough to overcome all the half-hearted, desultory attempts at the same material the person has to wade through.
What market are you trying to target? Can your show do double duty?
There are some shows that really have very limited appeal, and others that can work for wider, or multiple markets.
For instance, the new Battlestar Galactica might be on everyone’s best of lists – but it’s still sci-fi. That will probably help you with Sci-fi work – but even though it should, it probably won’t help you with Adult dramas. People are funny that way.
On the other hand, Smallville works for Sci-fi, and it would probably also work as an action adventure sample, and a youth sample. You could send that out for multiple assignments. The O.C. has both Adults and Teens in it – if you write ‘em both well, you could show breadth that way.
Grey’s Anatomy shows you can write relationships and adult drama. CSI or Law & Order can show that you write procedural, but if you’re trying to also demonstrate mastery of character, CSI probably would have the edge. Scrubs shows that you can write comedy, absurdity and character, but because it also has serious scenes it can show a certain depth that say, a Two and A Half Men can’t touch. (Also, 4 camera and single camera half-hours: very different. But you know that already, right?)
A teen sample might work for animation aimed at teens as well, or vice versa. Children’s or Sci-fi shows probably don’t work beyond those genres.
Recently, some people have tackled vintage specs, either as parody or straight-up. I think they’re risky. Jane Espenson wrote on this subject a while back. I certainly can’t add anything better than she’d say. But I know if I was looking at scripts, and I got a well-written Cheers, that might be something that could stand out, and provide an edge.
All these come with the same caveat: they have to be extra-special good.
So now you’ve found your show. Good for you. Now what?
Next time, we’ll talk about prepping and analysis, doing the ‘ear’ test, and spec math for math idiots.
Hola, amigos.
Great. Good for you. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you know if you’re targeting the half-hour or the hour arena. In places like Canada, you do flip back and forth between hour and half-hour, simply because there’s not enough work to specialize too much. There’s also some odd ducks here too, like the occasional half-hour drama.
In the U.S. this isn't usually the case. You pretty much have to declare yourself an hour writer or a half-hour (comedy) writer. There’s not a lot of flipping between the two camps. Switching between one and the other is not impossible, but it’s extraordinarily unlikely. Few seem to even try. In Canada, it’s not at all uncommon to have a half-hour sample, and an hour sample in your library. I think that’s probably of much more limited value if you’re going to take a run at L.A.
So if you’re looking about, how do you pick the right show?
Well, to decide that you need to know a bit more about you-- what kind of person you are, where your interests and skills ultimately lie; also what’s going on in the industry at large.
I’ve always thought a good time to spec a show is at the end of its first solid season, or sometime in its second. Every show takes several episodes to find itself. If you compare, for instance, early episodes of My Name is Earl or Commander in Chief to the ones that are on the air now, you’re going to see some subtle but very important differences. (In the case of the latter, you'll also have the benefit of seeing how a show that seemed like a sure-fire hit can go south; CiC took exactly the opposite trajectory as last year's House.)
The show you pick should have a degree of familiarity and currency. You don’t want to pick a show that’s going to be canceled. You want one that’s going to be around for a while, but that’s had the time to find itself.
It should also be something you’re naturally interested in. If you’ve had a background in science, maybe a medical drama or a police procedural would work for you. For my part, you’d never catch me specing a House or a CSI in a million years. All the science leaves me cold, and the one true thing about a spec script is this: you cannot fake it. If yours is a show that requires research, you need to do the research. (And yes, I know, on House they have people that do that. But you're not on House yet, are you? Suck it up, buttercup.)
I spec’ed a West Wing at the end of Season One. I’ve read a lot of bad West Wings over the years, but it was a natural for me because I have a very deep grounding and interest in U.S. Politics. I also took a bit of insider knowledge and worked that into my spec – years ago as a journalist, I’d done a story on the Library of Congress…I interviewed the Librarian, Dr. James Billington. So I worked that kind of insight about the institution, its history, what it meant, and hung that on a couple of my characters. And the result was something that still gets me work six years later.
Is there some kind of personal experience you’ve had that you can imbue into the script? We’ve all gone to high school, certainly, but is there something that happened to you in High School that might inform or put a new spin on Summer or Seth on The O.C.?
Trying to match your sensibility to the show you choose to spec is a very important step. The one thing I’ve seen fail, time and again, is when someone decides to spec a certain show because it will be “easy,” or because “How hard can it be?”
It’s hard, Cochise.
It’s hard because of one very, very salient fact:
You are not trying to write an average episode of that show. Average episodes are not going to impress anybody. If your spec’s going to pop, it needs to be a superior episode of that show. An episode that displays that you can write the structure of the show, and embody the singular voices of the characters, but a story that also engages or twists, or turns, or shines brighter than all but the very best that show is about. There’s going to be a median level of knowledge that readers bring to this show you’re doing. Some who read your script will know the show quite well, and some will know the show only in passing. Most will fall somewhere in between. Your dialogue, action, story, and description needs to crackle with the very essence, the lifeblood of the show. It has to nail the template, and offer the reader an experience that stands out not only against all the other specs of that show they’re ever going to have to read – but also against the show itself.
Tall order.
So starting with a show that connects with you emotionally is a good start. At the same time, it probably shouldn’t be your favorite show. We all tend to get a little fanboy about our favorites. You’re not writing...shudder... fanfic. You’re trying to show your professionalism and your talent.
Once you’ve come up with candidates of shows you think are in your wheelhouse emotionally or experientially, then there are a few strategic questions to ask:
Is this going to be the thing everyone is writing?
The more spec scripts of a certain show that go out, the more tired people get of reading them, and the higher the bar gets – in order to impress, you have to rise above the rest, and also impress enough to overcome all the half-hearted, desultory attempts at the same material the person has to wade through.
What market are you trying to target? Can your show do double duty?
There are some shows that really have very limited appeal, and others that can work for wider, or multiple markets.
For instance, the new Battlestar Galactica might be on everyone’s best of lists – but it’s still sci-fi. That will probably help you with Sci-fi work – but even though it should, it probably won’t help you with Adult dramas. People are funny that way.
On the other hand, Smallville works for Sci-fi, and it would probably also work as an action adventure sample, and a youth sample. You could send that out for multiple assignments. The O.C. has both Adults and Teens in it – if you write ‘em both well, you could show breadth that way.
Grey’s Anatomy shows you can write relationships and adult drama. CSI or Law & Order can show that you write procedural, but if you’re trying to also demonstrate mastery of character, CSI probably would have the edge. Scrubs shows that you can write comedy, absurdity and character, but because it also has serious scenes it can show a certain depth that say, a Two and A Half Men can’t touch. (Also, 4 camera and single camera half-hours: very different. But you know that already, right?)
A teen sample might work for animation aimed at teens as well, or vice versa. Children’s or Sci-fi shows probably don’t work beyond those genres.
Recently, some people have tackled vintage specs, either as parody or straight-up. I think they’re risky. Jane Espenson wrote on this subject a while back. I certainly can’t add anything better than she’d say. But I know if I was looking at scripts, and I got a well-written Cheers, that might be something that could stand out, and provide an edge.
All these come with the same caveat: they have to be extra-special good.
So now you’ve found your show. Good for you. Now what?
Next time, we’ll talk about prepping and analysis, doing the ‘ear’ test, and spec math for math idiots.
Hola, amigos.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Query-Feary
A reader emails, basically, the following:
That being said, I guess a more general rundown of exactly what I'm working on right now wouldn't be too out of order. So, in my best vague terms, here we go:
This is the main reason why I want to be out of the development game for a while. At this point, being able to focus on one project through production would be a godsend. Some of my projects seem tantalizingly close. But close, we all know, is only good for horseshoes, hand grenades, and shooting close personal friends of the Vice President.
So that's what I'm up to.
You write a lot about a lot of stuff. And you don't mind saying what you think. But you don't talk about what you're doing. Why not?That's a good question. In some cases, it's to be circumspect. I'm not sure, exactly, what my obligations are when it comes to development deals I have, and what I can and can't talk about. So I mostly err on the side of "say little." Also, I'm of Irish background, and fatalistic in the way of all the Irish in the sense that it's not nice to talk about something until it's actually something. Development deals are like bums. Everyone has one. They all work the same. Nothing to get excited about.
That being said, I guess a more general rundown of exactly what I'm working on right now wouldn't be too out of order. So, in my best vague terms, here we go:
- A half-hour comedy -- currently on a desk somewhere in Toronto waiting to be read -- takes place in the dorm of a mid-sized University somewhere in Canada. It's like Degrassi meets Dawson's in a Dorm. Status: Work completed, in with the Network.
- An hour-long mystery series about a father and a daughter, set in two eras. Status: Two of three scripts co-written, and in with a Network. Revising 1 & 2, writing 3, and revising bible.
- A half-hour comedy set in and around a neighborhood, about small neighborhood issues, and the whole NIMBY movement. Status: Pilot and Script, In Consideration for the Canadian Film Centre Pilot program. Currently being pitched.
- An hour-long series that's part soap, part office drama, and a spin on the "case walks in the door each week" engine that fuels most cop, lawyer, and medical shows, but in an arena that isn't cops, doctors, or lawyers. Status: Bible + Pilot, 2nd Episode currently at Outline. With a Network.
- Writing an episode of an animated series.
- Story Editing a half hour comedy series.
- Writing & Story room work for a friend's half hour series.
This is the main reason why I want to be out of the development game for a while. At this point, being able to focus on one project through production would be a godsend. Some of my projects seem tantalizingly close. But close, we all know, is only good for horseshoes, hand grenades, and shooting close personal friends of the Vice President.
So that's what I'm up to.
What Happens When You're Bold?
It's a cold and beautiful sunny day here in Toronto. I'm enjoying coffee and an omelette at the place on the corner. It's the kind of day where you almost don't mind working through the weekend.
Well, except for the fact that I'm not working. I'm writing this. But anyway.
The week ahead has a few meetings, and a few "definitely have to do that's" attached, along with the usual passel of "hmm, that might need to get done too's" -- but I'm definitely thinking in the Spec Script frame of mind. So I'm probably going to do a series of posts on how to approach that, since the Agent's put me on notice that it's time (past time) for me to wade in with some new samples myself.
In the meantime, I'd like to address a slightly different, slightly smaller audience. And I'd like to do it by saying, "lookee at this picture."
I'm assuming you know who the guy on the right is. The guy on the left is the President of the Sundance Channel, Larry Aidem. In the middle is Sundance Channel Executive Vice President Laura Michalchyshyn.
Ms Michalchyshyn is the reason why Americans are seeing the great Canadian series Slings & Arrows, which starts its second season on the Sundance Channel today.
Michalchyshyn used to be an executive at Alliance Atlantis here in Toronto, where she oversaw a number of specialty channels. She developed a reputation for being very encouraging of talent, and shepherding a number of high-quality projects to the screen. She was bold, and worked hard, and had vision, and was very good at what she does.
Now she's in New York, working for Robert Redford, and bringing some of those great series she helped get going reach a wider audience.
This is an interesting time for the Canadian TV biz. There's lots of competing visions about how things are going to go. CBC...Global...CTV...CHUM...CORUS...all have some serious decisions to make about how they're going to go forward. Now the future can belong to the shoppers, who go to the U.S. screenings, and cherry pick and come back and simulcast and tell themselves that they're really very, very important and effective broadcast executives...
...or the future can belong to the bold.
Just saying.
Enjoy Slings & Arrows, guys. Second season's awesome.
Well, except for the fact that I'm not working. I'm writing this. But anyway.
The week ahead has a few meetings, and a few "definitely have to do that's" attached, along with the usual passel of "hmm, that might need to get done too's" -- but I'm definitely thinking in the Spec Script frame of mind. So I'm probably going to do a series of posts on how to approach that, since the Agent's put me on notice that it's time (past time) for me to wade in with some new samples myself.
In the meantime, I'd like to address a slightly different, slightly smaller audience. And I'd like to do it by saying, "lookee at this picture."
I'm assuming you know who the guy on the right is. The guy on the left is the President of the Sundance Channel, Larry Aidem. In the middle is Sundance Channel Executive Vice President Laura Michalchyshyn.
Ms Michalchyshyn is the reason why Americans are seeing the great Canadian series Slings & Arrows, which starts its second season on the Sundance Channel today.
Michalchyshyn used to be an executive at Alliance Atlantis here in Toronto, where she oversaw a number of specialty channels. She developed a reputation for being very encouraging of talent, and shepherding a number of high-quality projects to the screen. She was bold, and worked hard, and had vision, and was very good at what she does.
Now she's in New York, working for Robert Redford, and bringing some of those great series she helped get going reach a wider audience.
This is an interesting time for the Canadian TV biz. There's lots of competing visions about how things are going to go. CBC...Global...CTV...CHUM...CORUS...all have some serious decisions to make about how they're going to go forward. Now the future can belong to the shoppers, who go to the U.S. screenings, and cherry pick and come back and simulcast and tell themselves that they're really very, very important and effective broadcast executives...
...or the future can belong to the bold.
Just saying.
Enjoy Slings & Arrows, guys. Second season's awesome.
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