Toronto Screenwriting Conference

Posting a plug for a really great conference going on this upcoming weekend for both aspiring and experienced screenwriters...the Toronto Screenwriting Conference.

The second annual Toronto Screenwriting Conference will take place April 9 & 10, 2011 at Ryerson University’s Ted Rogers School of Management at Yonge and Dundas, in downtown Toronto.

A one-of-a-kind event for professionals in the screen-based industry, the Toronto Screenwriting Conference gives you:

•Extraordinary key-note sessions with high-profile showrunners and screenwriters •Incomparable breakout sessions with leading international screenwriting academics, book authors and industry execs

•Advanced level of education and skills development unparalleled by any other screenwriting event

Look who's speaking:

Academy Award nominee for best adapted screenplay "Chocolat", Robert Nelson Jacobs
VP Creative Affairs Overbrook Entertainment, Franklin Leonard
Mega hit animated series "The Fairly Oddparents" creator, Butch Hartman
"Sanctuary" Series creator Damian Kindler & director Martin Wood
One-hour drama writer, Leonard Dick Author of "The Writer's Journey", Christopher Vogler
Triple threat writer, producer, director Pen Densham Half-hour comedy expert Sheldon Bull
Creative consultant and author of "Inside Story", Dara Marks
Video game scribe Kevin Shortt
Network and cable comedy writer, Christine Zander
Feature screenplay writer Joe Gazzam "21 Jump Street"


Check out the conference website HERE. It costs some dough to register but I'll say well worth it from the information you will learn and the contacts you will make.

Follow on Twitter - #TSC2011 .

A Film By Any Other Name or Author This!

A Film By..., the dastardly *possessory* credit that tends to lead off most feature films you see today which is intended to recognize authorship of the film. Authorship? Speaking of making enemies!




This little three word credit has been a thorn in the sides of the DGA and WGA (director and writer guilds) for decades with directors stating that they're taking credit for an audiovisual work that is inherently distinct from the script whereas writers, on the other hand, have thought it absurd for anyone other than the writer to claim authorial ownership.

But in the late 1960's the Directors Guild fought for and won through the Producers Alliance (AMPTP) the right for directors to choose to have that credit at the front of a finished film. In fact, they pushed the knife in further and in 1981 even won the right to have that credit on all advertising including outdoor advertising (though this practice was abandoned in 2004).


From the Directors Guild of America basic agreement handbook:

Possessory Credits

Many directors choose to place a signature credit on their work commonly referred to as a "Film by" or "Possessory" credit. There is a long honored history of filmmakers being accorded such credit. The BA provides for the director's right to negotiate for such a credit and prohibits the companies from engaging in any agreement with any other guild or organization that interferes with that right. If you are not successful in getting the issue of the possessory credit on the table, please call the Guild.

Sigh.


Film is and always has been a creatively collaborative medium. Sure, some directors bring more to the table in terms of distinct look, tone, or visual style when interpreting the written word of the screenplay and getting it up onto the screen, but a film is ultimately a group effort and it starts with a story written by the writer, or the 'author'. That this credit even exists has always been baffling to me...and I belong to both guilds!

Anyway, I watched The Social Network this weekend. Great script. Great film. And I have nothing against director David Fincher. He's always been a solid perfectionist filmmaker with a distinct visual flair.

And my point is?

My point is if you've already seen the movie in the theaters, read the screenplay by Aaron Sorkin (one of the best you'll see this year) HERE, or even just the first page (click on jpeg below to enlarge), and you should see what I'm getting at.




This scene as written *is* the film that appeared on screen this weekend. So would someone please explain to me why Fincher deserves sole authorial ownership and the "A Film By..." credit?


Anybody?

.

Milch

In my opinion David Milch is the Steve Earle of TV writers...a brilliant American storyteller who has lived a tumultuous and sordid life I could never really relate to and thus am not sure I could ever emulate or even understand his writing methods or process.

But that doesn't mean listening to him discuss his life and process and methods any less fascinating.

From a 2006 MIT Communications Forum conversation with David Thorburn (it's all good, but gets really cooking around 30:00)





According to Variety, Milch has a new series in the works at HBO called Luck which centers on horse racing, including "the owners, gamblers, jockeys and diverse gaming industry players." Michael Mann directed the pilot and it stars Dustin Hoffman.

Can't wait.

The 'Room'

"Sometimes there's a table that everyone sits around, sometimes just a room with comfy chairs and sofas. Sometimes it's in the showrunner's office. Sometimes it's in a clean-and-corporate setting, sometimes it's peeling paint and a window propped open with a book. Personally, I don't care as long as there is enough corkboard space." - Jane Espenson

"If the writers room doesn't work, the show doesn't work. If the show doesn't work, hundreds of people are out of jobs. And that is, at least in my writers room, evermost in our minds — that we are the people who lay the track for the train." - John Rogers

"One of the rules I put in my writers room was Don't Break Anything You Can't Fix. Which is to say, if you don't like an idea I don't want to hear from you unless you can clearly articulate why you don't think it's any good and unless you have something to counter-pitch." - Javier Grillo-Marxuach

"There are two things that a writers room can't live without: caffeine and toys. Caffeine is vital, as you're working yourself into a state of mental exhaustion every day. By about 3:00 in the afternoon, you're ready for a nap. Having toys around the office is an important reminder that the room is supposed to be playful. It helps keeps things light, fun, and imaginative." - Amy Berg

"A safe comfortable place for to think, laugh, cry, gnash, mourn, sulk, joke, mull, curse, spitball, create, destroy, and ultimately break story with others." - Will Dixon


Okay, I'm actually not included in the roundtable with several talented and respected TV writers interviewed by Marc Bernardin for io9, but hey, it's my blog - just throwing in my two cents...nevertheless you can read the above and way many more tasty nuggets of crafty goodness from this most excellent group discussion about the TV writers room and how it runs HERE.

CRTC Reports Make Me Crafty

Brain is still aching after wading through the CRTC's new TV policy report (HERE) from yesterday and today's Value of Local Television Signal report (HERE)...38,000+ words to suss and parse. And my puny thoughts thus far are that for every step forward there seems to be another step back or sideways...Denis McGrath covers it all really well in this overview HERE at Dead Things On Sticks...so instead I am going to continue what began this week in my Mamet post with more screenwriting crafty goodness.

The One Pager.

There's an excellent post HERE from the UK's Michelle Lipton on writing the "one page outline" or as she describes..."a one page selling document designed to generate interest in your project from producers."

I like this post a lot because even though we hear that producers and broadcasters need pilot scripts and bibles or mini-bibles or treatments or season arcs and character bios when you pitch them a potential project, if, at the end of the day you can summarize your concept in one clear concise effective and entertaining page, I feel you will come out further ahead more times than not. Prospective buyers or optioners of your projects will say they need all of the above to judge the value of your property, but in reality they don't really want to read all that stuff.

At least not at first.

As Lipton writes in her post:

I like to say what it is right at the top underneath the title so that whoever you’re giving it to knows what they’re reading before they start. I think it makes a difference to how you think about it as you go through the outline if you know it’s a one-off play, a long-running drama series, a three part serial, a sitcom or what have you. It especially helps to know whether it’s a comedy or a drama, and if it’s a specific genre, that helps too.

Logline

AN INTERESTING CHARACTER has a GOAL, in the way of which are various OBSTACLES which he overcomes/does not overcome and ultimately LEARNS SOMETHING.

This is a very formulaic approach to writing a logline, but it works. Telling your story in one sentence is not an easy thing to do well, and it might well take longer to get this right than it does to write the rest of the outline. But it’s worth it. It not only narrows your story down to its essence and keeps it clear in your mind what your story is really about, it helps a producer coming to your outline cold so they know what they’re being offered.

Look at it from the producer’s point of view. You’re busy working on loads of different projects in different stages of development. You’re honing pitches to take to commissioners, giving notes on drafts of scripts, dealing with casts and budgets and technical or practical problems on projects already in production, you’ve got media, marketing and press to deal with, agents and contracts and legal departments to worry about – and on top of all that, you’ve got a mountain of new material to wade through to decide which projects you want to put into development next. Some of these will be from agents, some will be from writers you already know or have worked with before, and some will be from writers you’ve never heard of who’ve dropped you a polite email asking if you’d like to look at their outline…

There is every chance that the project you, the writer, is developing and trying to sell, will be too close to another project already commissioned or in development for them to be able to take it any further. A producer might also have preferences about which genres or types of stories they’re personally interested in. If they can tell right from the off that this is a project they’re interested in because they’ve read a good logline summing it all up right at the start, they’re going to read the rest of your proposal with a more open mind.

I think Lipton's exactly right. And her post proceeds to walk you through the process section by section and makes some really good suggestions as to how to put your one page pitch...erm, outline...together. Seriously good...go read it. Now.


And as to whether having a good one page pitch will work in a new Canadian TV landscape after the CRTC decisions? Well, I need to reread those 38,000 words again to see if any of my current ideas would be appropriate for the likes of Star! or TVtropolis, which is where I could see a lot Cancon ending up in the very near future.

LETTERS FROM MAMET

This is basically just a cut, lift, and paste (courtesy Kevin Parnell) from Karen Walton's Ink Canada facebook group discussion board. It's a letter David Mamet purportedly sent his writers on the TV series The Unit a few years back. And even though it's mostly advice he's relayed previously in books like On Directing Film I'm a bit of a Mamet groupie, so um...read, absorb, and enjoy. The ALL CAPS can make it seem like you're being lectured or shouted at, but still... screenwriting crafty goodness.


TO THE WRITERS OF THE UNIT

GREETINGS.

AS WE LEARN HOW TO WRITE THIS SHOW, A RECURRING PROBLEM BECOMES CLEAR.

THE PROBLEM IS THIS: TO DIFFERENTIATE BETWEEN *DRAMA* AND NON-DRAMA. LET ME BREAK-IT-DOWN-NOW.

EVERYONE IN CREATION IS SCREAMING AT US TO MAKE THE SHOW CLEAR. WE ARE TASKED WITH, IT SEEMS, CRAMMING A SHITLOAD OF *INFORMATION* INTO A LITTLE BIT OF TIME.

OUR FRIENDS. THE PENGUINS, THINK THAT WE, THEREFORE, ARE EMPLOYED TO COMMUNICATE *INFORMATION* — AND, SO, AT TIMES, IT SEEMS TO US.

BUT NOTE:THE AUDIENCE WILL NOT TUNE IN TO WATCH INFORMATION. YOU WOULDN’T, I WOULDN’T. NO ONE WOULD OR WILL. THE AUDIENCE WILL ONLY TUNE IN AND STAY TUNED TO WATCH DRAMA.

QUESTION:WHAT IS DRAMA? DRAMA, AGAIN, IS THE QUEST OF THE HERO TO OVERCOME THOSE THINGS WHICH PREVENT HIM FROM ACHIEVING A SPECIFIC, *ACUTE* GOAL.

SO: WE, THE WRITERS, MUST ASK OURSELVES *OF EVERY SCENE* THESE THREE QUESTIONS.

1) WHO WANTS WHAT?
2) WHAT HAPPENS IF HER DON’T GET IT?
3) WHY NOW?

THE ANSWERS TO THESE QUESTIONS ARE LITMUS PAPER. APPLY THEM, AND THEIR ANSWER WILL TELL YOU IF THE SCENE IS DRAMATIC OR NOT.

IF THE SCENE IS NOT DRAMATICALLY WRITTEN, IT WILL NOT BE DRAMATICALLY ACTED.

THERE IS NO MAGIC FAIRY DUST WHICH WILL MAKE A BORING, USELESS, REDUNDANT, OR MERELY INFORMATIVE SCENE AFTER IT LEAVES YOUR TYPEWRITER. *YOU* THE WRITERS, ARE IN CHARGE OF MAKING SURE *EVERY* SCENE IS DRAMATIC.

THIS MEANS ALL THE “LITTLE” EXPOSITIONAL SCENES OF TWO PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT A THIRD. THIS BUSHWAH (AND WE ALL TEND TO WRITE IT ON THE FIRST DRAFT) IS LESS THAN USELESS, SHOULD IT FINALLY, GOD FORBID, GET FILMED.

IF THE SCENE BORES YOU WHEN YOU READ IT, REST ASSURED IT *WILL* BORE THE ACTORS, AND WILL, THEN, BORE THE AUDIENCE, AND WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE BACK IN THE BREADLINE.

SOMEONE HAS TO MAKE THE SCENE DRAMATIC. IT IS NOT THE ACTORS JOB (THE ACTORS JOB IS TO BE TRUTHFUL). IT IS NOT THE DIRECTORS JOB. HIS OR HER JOB IS TO FILM IT STRAIGHTFORWARDLY AND REMIND THE ACTORS TO TALK FAST. IT IS *YOUR* JOB.

EVERY SCENE MUST BE DRAMATIC. THAT MEANS: THE MAIN CHARACTER MUST HAVE A SIMPLE, STRAIGHTFORWARD, PRESSING NEED WHICH IMPELS HIM OR HER TO SHOW UP IN THE SCENE.

THIS NEED IS WHY THEY *CAME*. IT IS WHAT THE SCENE IS ABOUT. THEIR ATTEMPT TO GET THIS NEED MET *WILL* LEAD, AT THE END OF THE SCENE,TO *FAILURE* – THIS IS HOW THE SCENE IS *OVER*. IT, THIS FAILURE, WILL, THEN, OF NECESSITY, PROPEL US INTO THE *NEXT* SCENE.

ALL THESE ATTEMPTS, TAKEN TOGETHER, WILL, OVER THE COURSE OF THE EPISODE, CONSTITUTE THE *PLOT*.

ANY SCENE, THUS, WHICH DOES NOT BOTH ADVANCE THE PLOT, AND STANDALONE (THAT IS, DRAMATICALLY, BY ITSELF, ON ITS OWN MERITS) IS EITHER SUPERFLUOUS, OR INCORRECTLY WRITTEN.

YES BUT YES BUT YES BUT, YOU SAY: WHAT ABOUT THE NECESSITY OF WRITING IN ALL THAT “INFORMATION?”

AND I RESPOND “*FIGURE IT OUT*” ANY DICKHEAD WITH A BLUESUIT CAN BE (AND IS) TAUGHT TO SAY “MAKE IT CLEARER”, AND “I WANT TO KNOW MORE *ABOUT* HIM”.

WHEN YOU’VE MADE IT SO CLEAR THAT EVEN THIS BLUESUITED PENGUIN IS HAPPY, BOTH YOU AND HE OR SHE *WILL* BE OUT OF A JOB.

THE JOB OF THE DRAMATIST IS TO MAKE THE AUDIENCE WONDER WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. *NOT* TO EXPLAIN TO THEM WHAT JUST HAPPENED, OR TO*SUGGEST* TO THEM WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

ANY DICKHEAD, AS ABOVE, CAN WRITE, “BUT, JIM, IF WE DON’T ASSASSINATE THE PRIME MINISTER IN THE NEXT SCENE, ALL EUROPE WILL BE ENGULFED IN FLAME”

WE ARE NOT GETTING PAID TO *REALIZE* THAT THE AUDIENCE NEEDS THIS INFORMATION TO UNDERSTAND THE NEXT SCENE, BUT TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO WRITE THE SCENE BEFORE US SUCH THAT THE AUDIENCE WILL BE INTERESTED IN WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

YES BUT, YES BUT YES *BUT* YOU REITERATE.

AND I RESPOND *FIGURE IT OUT*.

*HOW* DOES ONE STRIKE THE BALANCE BETWEEN WITHHOLDING AND VOUCHSAFING INFORMATION? *THAT* IS THE ESSENTIAL TASK OF THE DRAMATIST. AND THE ABILITY TO *DO* THAT IS WHAT SEPARATES YOU FROM THE LESSER SPECIES IN THEIR BLUE SUITS.

FIGURE IT OUT.

START, EVERY TIME, WITH THIS INVIOLABLE RULE: THE *SCENE MUST BE DRAMATIC*. it must start because the hero HAS A PROBLEM, AND IT MUST CULMINATE WITH THE HERO FINDING HIM OR HERSELF EITHER THWARTED OR EDUCATED THAT ANOTHER WAY EXISTS.

LOOK AT YOUR LOG LINES. ANY LOGLINE READING “BOB AND SUE DISCUSS…” IS NOT DESCRIBING A DRAMATIC SCENE.

PLEASE NOTE THAT OUR OUTLINES ARE, GENERALLY, SPECTACULAR. THE DRAMA FLOWS OUT BETWEEN THE OUTLINE AND THE FIRST DRAFT.

THINK LIKE A FILMMAKER RATHER THAN A FUNCTIONARY, BECAUSE, IN TRUTH, *YOU* ARE MAKING THE FILM. WHAT YOU WRITE, THEY WILL SHOOT.

HERE ARE THE DANGER SIGNALS. ANY TIME TWO CHARACTERS ARE TALKING ABOUT A THIRD, THE SCENE IS A CROCK OF SHIT.

ANY TIME ANY CHARACTER IS SAYING TO ANOTHER “AS YOU KNOW”, THAT IS, TELLING ANOTHER CHARACTER WHAT YOU, THE WRITER, NEED THE AUDIENCE TO KNOW, THE SCENE IS A CROCK OF SHIT.

DO *NOT* WRITE A CROCK OF SHIT. WRITE A RIPPING THREE, FOUR, SEVEN MINUTE SCENE WHICH MOVES THE STORY ALONG, AND YOU CAN, VERY SOON, BUY A HOUSE IN BEL AIR *AND* HIRE SOMEONE TO LIVE THERE FOR YOU.

REMEMBER YOU ARE WRITING FOR A VISUAL MEDIUM. *MOST* TELEVISION WRITING, OURS INCLUDED, SOUNDS LIKE *RADIO*. THE *CAMERA* CAN DO THE EXPLAINING FOR YOU. *LET* IT. WHAT ARE THE CHARACTERS *DOING* -*LITERALLY*. WHAT ARE THEY HANDLING, WHAT ARE THEY READING. WHAT ARE THEY WATCHING ON TELEVISION, WHAT ARE THEY *SEEING*.

IF YOU PRETEND THE CHARACTERS CANT SPEAK, AND WRITE A SILENT MOVIE, YOU WILL BE WRITING GREAT DRAMA.

IF YOU DEPRIVE YOURSELF OF THE CRUTCH OF NARRATION, EXPOSITION,INDEED, OF *SPEECH*. YOU WILL BE FORGED TO WORK IN A NEW MEDIUM - TELLING THE STORY IN PICTURES (ALSO KNOWN AS SCREENWRITING)

THIS IS A NEW SKILL. NO ONE DOES IT NATURALLY. YOU CAN TRAIN YOURSELVES TO DO IT, BUT YOU NEED TO *START*.

I CLOSE WITH THE ONE THOUGHT: LOOK AT THE *SCENE* AND ASK YOURSELF “IS IT DRAMATIC? IS IT *ESSENTIAL*? DOES IT ADVANCE THE PLOT?

ANSWER TRUTHFULLY.

IF THE ANSWER IS “NO” WRITE IT AGAIN OR THROW IT OUT. IF YOU’VE GOT ANY QUESTIONS, CALL ME UP.

LOVE, DAVE MAMET
SANTA MONICA 19 OCTO 05

(IT IS *NOT* YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TO KNOW THE ANSWERS, BUT IT IS YOUR, AND MY, RESPONSIBILITY TO KNOW AND TO *ASK THE RIGHT Questions* OVER AND OVER. UNTIL IT BECOMES SECOND NATURE. I BELIEVE THEY ARE LISTED ABOVE.)


Good stuff.

PS: I also liked Peter Mitchell's advice in the Ink Canada comments:

"Here's a super simple trick. Once you've written a scene or a script look for the "question marks" after each character's speech. Is the question being asked so that the other person in the scene can provide exposition. if so, consider revising it so the "exposition" comes as a declarative statement rather than an answer."


Excellent.

Jesus Is Not A Zombie

I shouldn't have to tell you that.

Find below an excerpt from a VERY LONG transcript from the keynote speech that buddy Hart Hanson gave at a 'Future of Story' conference in Edmonton last weekend. And there's some of that, the future of story stuff...but mostly it's Hart just being funny and talking about creating and running Bones or TV writers vs. Artists or writing for mass audiences and so on and so forth. Check it out...very entertaining stuff.

HART: I thought what I’d do is show you a couple things, a couple values, that we put up on the screen in Bones, and discuss, and sort of point out how one deals with the values and hopes to gain a mass audience without completely and utterly writing Sunday School tripe. My apologies to all Sunday School teachers here. Heather, could we run the next…

Clip:
Booth: Voodoo, who’s going to believe that stuff?
Brennan: It’s a religion, no crazier than… what are you?
Booth: Catholic.
Brennan: They believe in the same saints you do, and prayer. What they call spells, you call miracles. They have priests.
Booth: We don’t make zombies.
Brennan: Jesus rose from the dead after three days.
Booth: Jesus is not a zombie. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.


HART: Of all the lines I’ve gotten on American television, “Jesus is not a zombie.” I’m so proud. I was amazed that it went by Standards & Practices.

The States, that culture is a very, very religious culture these days. It’s… a significant amount of it is very fundamentalist. My lead character is an atheist. The female character is a scientist and an atheist. The value that we were talking about there is faith. Not to get too personal, but I tend more toward her than him. I’m a little cranky about religion these days, since about 9/11.

So I put a lot of what I think into Brennan’s mouth. But in the end, because Bones is mass entertainment, the spiritual, religious man gets the last word. Okay, it’s a little subversive to say that Jesus is a zombie. But you know what, Jesus was a zombie – three days […] and then he went and scared people!

We get a lot of mail about Brennan’s offensive statements about God, the pope… I don’t know if anyone watches the show a lot… I make a lot of fun of the pope’s hat, and I treasure every one of them. The funny thing to me is that the same letters will say, “Thank goodness Booth was there to set you straight.” And it’s like, I wrote that, too! Apparently, I’m writing the atheist, but Jesus is writing Booth.


Jesus is writing Booth....nice!


Check out Hart's entire talkey speechey thing plus the q&a HERE.

Everybody Needs A Copilot

This will only mean anything if you've seen Up In The Air, which I liked a lot, but man oh man....depressing. George Clooney plays hatchet man Ryan Bingham who flies around the country firing people for bosses that don't have the balls to do it themselves. But he also gives motivational speaking engagements...we're talking major Tony Robbins shit, as he puts it. And the film opens with Bingham in the middle of one of these presentations, standing at a lectern in front of dozens of attentive listeners. And while I was watching the film, and this scene specifically, I wondered: What if Up In The Air’s Ryan Bingham was the TV series writer’s answer to Robert McKee?

It might go something like this.


How much does your draft weigh?

Imagine for a second you’re carrying your story in a backpack...I want you to feel the straps on your shoulders...you feel them?

Now I want you to pack it with all the tricks you have in your writer’s toolkit. Start with the little things. The premise and the overview. The set up and the exposition. Inciting incident and complication. Feel the weight as it adds up. Now start adding the larger stuff. Your beats, plot points, rising action, resolution, your climax. That backpack should be getting pretty heavy at this point – go bigger. Your B-story, your act breaks, the cat you want to save...stuff it all in. Your theme...get it in there. Your structure – whether you have five act television pilot or a two part to-be-continued, I want you to stuff it into that backpack.

Now try to write.

Kinda hard, isn’t it? This is what we series TV writers do to ourselves on a daily basis. We weigh ourselves down with so many story possibilities we get blocked and can’t move. And make no mistake – in TV, moving your fingers fast on the keyboard is living.

Now I’m going to set your backpack on fire. What do you want to take out of it? Plot? Plots are for people who can’t remember how to feel. Drink some glingko and let the plot burn. In fact, let everything burn and imagine waking up the next morning with nothing.

It’s kind of exhilarating isn’t it? That’s how I approach every episode rewrite.

Okay, this is where it gets a little difficult, but stay with me. You have the same story, but a new backpack...and this time, I want you to fill it with characters. Start with bit parts, walk on’s, friends of friends and passersby, and work your way to the people your main character trusts with their most intimate secrets. First, the secondary characters – relatives, best friends, co-workers, colleagues, and relatives...get them all into that backpack. And finally your main character’s husband or wife or boyfriend or girlfriend. Get them in there too.

Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to light it on fire.

Feel the weight of that bag. Make no mistake, your main characters’ relationships are the heaviest components of your TV screenplay. Feel the straps cutting into your shoulders. All those negotiations and arguments and dilemmas and secrets. But all that conflict equals drama. And drama equals story.

Now set that bag down. You don’t need to carry all that weight. But your episodic screenplay does. And if you have to rewrite a draft fast, let your characters show you the way.

Some animals were meant to carry each other. To live symbiotically over a lifetime. Star-crossed lovers. Monogamous swans. We are not one of those animals. The slower we move, the faster we die. We are not swans. We’re sharks.

We’re TV writers.





EDIT: Having just read the ugly arbitration backstory between Jason Reitman and original screenwriter Sheldon Turner regarding this screenplay, I now wonder how the above speech may have sounded if it was given by Turner. And the backstory certainly gives new meaning to the 'needing a copilot' line

More Elves, Please?

Another semester done. Another room full of screenwriting students out the door with a half hour draft under their arm and their spirit not broken too badly I hope. But what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, or so I've been told. And as Neil Gaiman says more eloquently than I ever could with this advice for aspiring writers...it's just putting one word after another.



You're welcome.


H/T Trevor Cunningham

This Is Not A Challenge, This Is An Opportunity

When you make your living as a creative freelancer, you're constantly getting asked to work on spec, as in: "Could you do this for us and if we get any traction there will be some work/money in it for you down the road." The future employment, that's always the carrot dangled in front of your nose.

And when you're starting out, you do need to take on some of those freebies. Because you need to get noticed. Because you need to show what you've got. Because you need to start building professional relationships. But the problem so many of us face is that even after doing it successfully for years, decades even, you'll still get the "We've got no money, but could you whip something up?" calls.

The following are two Friday Fun examples of what you wish you could say instead of "Sure thing. I'll get right on it." They're from the worlds of advertising and graphic design, but they absolutely apply to screenwriting or making TV.

The first is a hilarious e-mail exchange between David Thorne and a prospective client. It's from Thorne's website 27b/6 .

An excerpt:

From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 4.10pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

Anyone else would be able to see the opportunity I am presenting but not you. You have to be a f*cking smart arse about it. All I was asking for was a logo and a few pie charts which would have taken you a few f*cking hours.


From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 4.25pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

Dear Simon

Actually, you were asking me to design a logotype which would have taken me a few hours and fifteen years experience. For free. With pie charts. Usually when people don't ask me to design them a logo, pie charts or website, I, in return, do not ask them to paint my apartment, drive me to the airport, represent me in court or whatever it is they do for a living. Unfortunately though, as your business model consists entirely of "Facebook is cool, I am going to make a website just like that", this non exchange of free services has no foundation as you offer nothing of which I wont ask for.

Regards, David.


Go read the rest of the transcript HERE, with pie charts and everything. Simply brilliant.



The other example is in the same vein and pretty self explanatory. And pretty funny.




Because they make me smile.


H/T Matt MacLennan H/T Jay Robertson

Jump Right In...It's *Your* Story

Sure it's kinda spoofy and a little over the top, but this post from TV writer/producer Richard Manning still captures the essence of excitement/pain blend that a freelance screenwriter experiences when trying to successfully navigate a television series' Writer's Room.

Mary Sue’s successful pitch: “Griff and Angela [the series leads] must mind-link with K’Vax [their sentient, female, wisecracking spaceship] after a radioactive nebula erases K’Vax’s memories.”

There was more to her pitch – such as the mind-link forcing the aloof Griff and Angela to confront their true feelings about one another – but Mary Sue never got that far; Sam had interrupted. “Good hook, but amnesia’s soft. Needs more jeopardy. Hey! What if the nebula turns K’Vax evil? And she tries to kill everybody on board! So it’s dangerous for Griff and Angela to go into her mind; they might never come out. Terrific pitch! Sold!”

Mary Sue was ecstatic. “Great! I’ll write up an outline –”

“We don’t do outlines. We – me and the writing staff – break all our stories in the room. Once we get the structure down, you go off and write the script. Come in Tuesday at nine. Bring in a beat sheet. Not an outline, just the big moves. Some rough act breaks. Keep it simple. One page, tops, just to get things started.”

And so it begins…

9:00 am Tuesday. A punctual Mary Sue happily looks around her first Writers’ Room. Cheap, mismatched “executive” chairs surround a coffee-stained table strewn with old magazines, food wrappers, a Slinky, a broken water pistol, various Rubik’s-type puzzles, and other toys. The walls are a crazy quilt of actors’ headshots, set blueprints, costume design sketches, test photos of alien prosthetics… and three large whiteboards.

Two are covered with multicolored scrawls, circles, arrows, renumbering, and crossouts – the story beats for Episodes 5 and 6, in impenetrable shorthand: “5. BRIDGE: G + A expo. K ng 10 min no Froonium. H/L payoff? AB: J zapped.” The third is frighteningly blank – a naked canvas awaiting a plot.

I've been there. It's confusing, terrifying, intimidating, and exhilarating all at the same time.

Read THE ENTIRE POST HERE.

Talent Assumed Of Course

A NICE SUMMARY HERE of a panel on TV Development at the Austin Film Fest starring “Lost” co-creator Damon Lindelof, “Freaks and Geeks” creator Paul Feig, and late-night comedy writer Chuck Sklar.

A taste:

On writing “safe”: “Nobody knows what safe is,” Lindelof said. “If anybody knew, there would be no pilots and no failures. People are always asking me, ‘Do you have another “Lost” in you?’ That completely ignores that (‘Lost’) was a fluke. People are always saying something is the the next ‘blank’ to create an illusion of safety.

“The public and television executives all say ‘we want something new,’ but (the executives) anesthetize it — make it the same,” he added. “If you can get your pilot made without compromise you’re good.”

“Really be original, don’t be beholden,” Feig said. “Don’t mute your voice; write what you’re passionate about. If they love the idea, it blasts through. (TV executives) are not ultimately creative people, but they know what they want, and they want good content.”


On casting: “We did not have a script when we started casting (‘Lost’); we just had an outline. Yunjin Kim came in to read for the character of Kate … we just had to create a character for her. We made a suit tailored to the body. That’s entirely different than pulling suit off the rack and trying to find most perfect fit. If I ever do another TV show I’d do it the same way.

Feig talks about a youngster coming in for an audition. “Smart show runners go, ‘this kid is so great, there’s nothing in the script that’s so good that we can’t change it’. It makes it easier to write the show. You need the blueprint, but then you need to be open to the human beings who are bringing it to life. There’s nothing worse than the inflexibility of saying, ‘well, this is how I heard it in my head’.”


On opportunity: “Every great success story has 2 things in common: right place, right time — also called luck, which you have no control over; and you knew somebody — that you do have control over,” Lindelof explained. “I was in LA for 5 years building up my network of somebodies. Talented is the other important part, of course.”

Of course.

Be original. Be flexible. Be passionate. Be adaptable. Be talented. Be lucky. Easy peasy.

Good Monday morning TV stuff. Go. Read. Now.

Short Film Writing 101

So many of the websites and how-to-do books out there focus on the writing or making of the feature length film. But truth be told, writing and making a feature is such a daunting and overwhelming undertaking first time out. So here are some resources for writing and making the short film.

From Karen Gocsik and Serguei Bassine, the writer and director of the short film, Because of Mama.

In a short film, there's no time to develop an elaborate plot structure. In fact, as we noted earlier, some short film makers fear time constraints and so eschew story entirely. They make films based on situation, not story. Generally, these films are ironic: they show characters in unusual situations that are resolved through some final "twist."

Story is different. Stories evolve when characters want something, are blocked from having it, and resolve the matter in some way. In a story, characters don't simply find themselves in ironic situations. They grow. They change. The structure of the film is based on this growth. However, in the short film, the character's desire has to be made clear very early in the film. The obstacles have to arise almost immediately. The road to resolution has to be well-plotted and well-paced. If you manage all of this, you'll have produced a successful short screenplay.

And a good place to start is HERE, a website devoted to the creating of and making of the short film 'Because Of Mama'. And after perusing the advice layed out by the filmmakers in the sidebar, you can read the STEP OUTLINE, then read THE SCRIPT, and then watch the finished production of the film HERE.

One caveat...I didn't think Because of Mama was a particularly stellar effort when all was said and done...but it's a decent short film, and a lot can still be learned from the film and the filmmakers.

Also worth checking out is The Lunch Date. Again, not a home run in my books, but still decent plus a transcript of the screenplay is HERE. And you can watch the finished film below:




I still think one of the best short films I've seen recently is The Black Hole.



Simple, clear, effective...a clever idea with a good ending not to mention nice execution and it looks great...all the necessary elements for a successful short film.

However, I Will Let You Buy Me A Drink...

I teach a couple of screenwriting courses, including a night class at the local university. This means I'll see twenty or thirty or so pitches and synopsis' and treatments and scripts cross my desk over the course of a semester. Yes they're from students, kids just starting out...but just because they have me at their disposal shouldn't make it any simpler or easier. Do the work, newbies...put the effort in...make whatever it is you're writing the best you can. Don't take advantage of the situation just because, unlike pro scribe Josh Olsen, who wrote this wicked piece for the Village Voice, I have to read your script.

Now, I normally have a standard response to people who ask me to read their scripts, and it's the simple truth: I have two piles next to my bed. One is scripts from good friends, and the other is manuscripts and books and scripts my agents have sent to me that I have to read for work. Every time I pick up a friend's script, I feel guilty that I'm ignoring work. Every time I pick something up from the other pile, I feel guilty that I'm ignoring my friends. If I read yours before any of that, I'd be an awful person.

Most people get that. But sometimes you find yourself in a situation where the guilt factor is really high, or someone plays on a relationship or a perceived obligation, and it's hard to escape without seeming rude. Then, I tell them I'll read it, but if I can put it down after ten pages, I will. They always go for that, because nobody ever believes you can put their script down once you start.

But hell, this was a two page synopsis, and there was no time to go into either song or dance, and it was just easier to take it. How long can two pages take?

Weeks, is the answer.

And this is why I will not read your fucking script.

It rarely takes more than a page to recognize that you're in the presence of someone who can write, but it only takes a sentence to know you're dealing with someone who can't.

(By the way, here's a simple way to find out if you're a writer. If you disagree with that statement, you're not a writer. Because, you see, writers are also readers.)

You may want to allow for the fact that this fellow had never written a synopsis before, but that doesn't excuse the inability to form a decent sentence, or an utter lack of facility with language and structure. The story described was clearly of great importance to him, but he had done nothing to convey its specifics to an impartial reader. What I was handed was, essentially, a barely coherent list of events, some connected, some not so much. Characters wander around aimlessly, do things for no reason, vanish, reappear, get arrested for unnamed crimes, and make wild, life-altering decisions for no reason. Half a paragraph is devoted to describing the smell and texture of a piece of food, but the climactic central event of the film is glossed over in a sentence. The death of the hero is not even mentioned. One sentence describes a scene he's in, the next describes people showing up at his funeral. I could go on, but I won't. This is the sort of thing that would earn you a D minus in any Freshman Comp class.

Which brings us to an ugly truth about many aspiring screenwriters: They think that screenwriting doesn't actually require the ability to write, just the ability to come up with a cool story that would make a cool movie. Screenwriting is widely regarded as the easiest way to break into the movie business, because it doesn't require any kind of training, skill or equipment. Everybody can write, right? And because they believe that, they don't regard working screenwriters with any kind of real respect. They will hand you a piece of inept writing without a second thought, because you do not have to be a writer to be a screenwriter.

The article is titled: 'I Will Not Read Your F***ing Script". Enjoy the rest of Olsen's words HERE...and newbies, take notes!

The Last Best Action Writer Heroes...or Black Vs.Gilroy

In my opinion, the art of good action movie writing is the ability to direct the sequences with your words without appearing to 'direct' them.

In my experience however, even though TV series action scenes need to be written out, most often it feels like a bit of a wank. That's because the producer and fight coordinator and stunt coordinator will take away the scene and break it down and budget it and choreograph it and more often than not you'll be presented with how it is going to play out, usually at some point during prep. Once I saw the finished product, most times I felt I could've written: Hero enters alley. Bad guys emerge from shadows. Hero attacked. They fight. Hero wins.

I kid....sort of. But even if you're on a series where action plays an important role, TV is shot on such tight schedules and budgets you really are at the mercy of 'what we are able to do' vs. 'what we or you would like to do.'

But when penning feature scripts, there is the opportunity to really shine when it comes to action screenwriting, especially if speccing an original sample as opposed to writing to budget. The best feature action writers use a combo of style and economy of words...keeping it sparse yet succinct. But there should also be an emotional, almost visceral, response while reading. They not only make you see it, but make you 'feel' it also.

For many years my 'go to' guy to read some good action writing was Shane Black. Lethal Weapon, Lethal Weapon II, and The Last Boy Scout more or less defined crash boom bang for me and I kept copies of the above scripts beside my desk at all times (more recently, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang was a nice return to form). Black always kept it simple, casual even, sometimes making little asides to you the reader...but boy did he make you see and feel.

Experience this shoot-out sequence from 'The Last Boy Scout'.

EXT. DESERTED CITY STREET - NIGHT

Cory is cut down. Blown backward over the hood of
her Ford. Flung to the street.

Without missing a beat, the Hitmen turn --
And OPEN FIRE on Jimmy.

He takes a running start.
Clears the hood of his Jag in a single leap.
BULLETS DICE the metal behind him.

He lands, hard. Sucks the ground. Huddled behind
his car, as:

TWO HITMEN

move toward him, triggering THREE SHOT BURSTS.
The kid is dead meat. Or so it seems until, without
warning --

JOE HALLENBECK

charges into the intersection. Screaming bloody
murder. He's got a GUN in each fist, and both
are BLAZING.

One Hitman dies immediately: Dances like a
puppet, racked by gunfire.
Bullets go through him. SHATTER the sedan's WINDSHIELD.

The second Hitman turns and OPENS UP on Hallenbeck.
Too late. Joe rolls behind a mailbox.
BULLETS chase him, blowing apart the metal box.

The Hitman swears. Turns, running for the sedan.
He knows when a getaway is in order.

Just one problem. He forgot about Jimmy Dix.

A SCREECH of TIRES.

As Jimmy's Jag slews around the corner, laying
rubber. Rockets toward the Hitman, pins him in
its headlights --

The Hitman screams as Jimmy plows through him --
And CRUNCHES into the gray sedan.
Shatters the Hitman between the two cars.

And holy Christ, the guy's still alive.

Pinned like a butterfly, legs broken...
He raises his rifle, screaming.

Jimmy dives flat on the front seat.
The WINDSHIELD ERUPTS.

The Hitman. Still pinned. Still screaming.

He FIRES SHOT AFTER SHOT into Jimmy's car.

Hallenbeck walks up behind him.
Puts a BULLET in his head.

He stops screaming.


Wow. I still get jazzed just reading it.

These days my action screenwriter of choice is Tony Gilroy. His scripts for The Bourne Identity, The Bourne Supremacy (with Brian Helgeland), The Bourne Ultimatum (with Scott Z. Burns and George Nolfi), and Michael Clayton are loaded with brilliantly written action sequences. And even though Gilroy has a tendency to always CAPITALIZE his characters names, and will sometimes go all 'ing' (present participle) with his verbs...his crisp tight writing style more than makes up for my minor personal pet peeves.

Take this sequence from 'Michael Clayton' for example:

INT. ARTHUR’S LOFT -- DAY

ARTHUR heading out -- pulling on his coat --
heading for the door -- checking for keys --
there -- grabbing them off the side table,
as he opens the door and --

ZZZIIPPP!!!!!

A TASER -- 25,000 volts -- from nowhere --
ARTHUR’S BODY clenching as it hits and --

VERNE and IKER -- already flooding in --
gloves -- hairnets -- surgical boots --
like machines --

IKER -- the athlete -- perfect -- hands catching
ARTHUR’S WRITHING BODY before it hits the floor
and --

VERNE -- attack -- gloved hand thrusting down
and --

ARTHUR’S FACE -- AEROSOL CAN -- VERNE’S HAND --
two quick bursts -- point blank -- words --
throat -- everything choked off -- eyes rolling
and --

IKER -- the body drops -- ready for the dead
weight and --

VERNE -- kicking shut the door -- back to the
body and --

IKER
Ready and...

VERNE
Lift.

ARTHUR -- like a prop -- limp -- effortless --
IKER and VERNE flying him through the space --
this horrifying freight train pas de trois --
and so far this whole thing has taken eighteen
seconds --

Heading like a freight train for --

THE LOFT BATHROOM -- here they come -- IKER
walking backward holding ARTHUR’S SHOULDERS --
VERNE guiding him --

VERNE
Ready and...turn.

IKER shifting -- they’re in -- twenty six
seconds --

IKER
The coat.

VERNE
Hold him.

VERNE works off Arthur’s coat -- tossing
it --

IKER
Let me just...

VERNE
Ready and...

IKER
Down.

ARTHUR sprawled across the bathroom floor
and --

VERNE
(checking his watch)
We’re good. Prep it.

IKER -- like a shot -- unlacing one of Arthur’s
boots and --

VERNE -- backpack off -- digging through it --
coming up with -- A PREPPED SYRINGE and --

IKER -- pulling off Arthur’s sock and --

THE MEDICINE CABINET -- flying open -- VERNE
searching -- knowing right where to look --
bingo -- BOTTLE -- BOTTLE -- BOTTLE --
pulling them down and --

IKER -- foot is bare -- reaching up --
forty-one seconds --

IKER
Bag, I need the wipe...

VERNE -- tossing the backpack -- scanning
the pill bottles --

IKER -- coming out of the backpack with a
pint of vodka and a sterile handkerchief and --
forty-nine seconds --

VERNE -- stripping open the syringe -- kneeling
now and --

ARTHUR’S FACE -- gasping back to life -- he’s
coming to -- gagging now as IKER wipes the
aerosol residue away from his mouth -- eyes
twitching, as they start to open and --

IKER
Better hit it.

ARTHUR’S BARE FOOT -- THE SYRINGE -- up --
in -- between the toes and --

VERNE -- as he plunges it home -- no hate --
no fear -- no pleasure -- nothing --
sixty-seven seconds and --

ARTHUR’S FACE -- as the eyes open -- just
an instant -- catching the light -- these
strange masked faces -- then gone -- just
like that -- rolling away -- a little sigh --
a puff of air -- tongue thickening -- and
then still and --

IKER
We good?

VERNE
(checking the pulse)
Hang on...

IKER
I’m gonna get the shoe back on.

VERNE
We’re good.

And it’s over. Ninety seconds start to finish.


Again. Wow. I saw it, and I felt it.


In both examples, the key appears to be generating flash frames of critical information in the mind of reader using half sentences and fragments instead of overwriting the shit out of it. In fact, choosing to leave a lot out as opposed to putting everything in (again, directing or cutting the sequence with words without appearing to step on the director's toes) seems to be a great trick.

Not to negate their plotting and dialogue writing skills, but when it comes to action Black and Gilroy do it as good or better than anyone. No matter what genre you work in, there's a lot you can takeaway from these masters.


PS Honourable mentions have to go to Michael Mann, James Cameron, Andy Wachowski and Larry Wachowski, and Christopher Nolan...all excellent action writers in their own right, but all are director writers and their scripts can sometimes read more like a shot list than a screenplay.

Editing Of Story, Narrative Exhaustion, And Using Your Voice

Story Editing. I do a fair bit of it, though what I do exactly is still a question I hear often...especially when it comes to editing feature screenplays. You see, since there aren't really any 'studios' in Canada per say, our funding agencies allow for a producer or in some cases even a writer to hire a senior screenwriter or story editor to give notes and feedback to help guide a script to a place where it can successfully be optioned, sold, or produced. I believe it was John Rogers who once said: "In Hollywood we call that 'lunch'."

Currently I have six screenplays on my plate...all different writers, all different genres, all at various stages of development, all needing unique thoughts, notes, suggestions, and advice. It can be a little overwhelming keeping track of each of them, kind of like showrunning an anthology TV series but without the deadline of 'it shoots tomorrow'.

So what do I do. I collaborate, to a point, but mostly just guide the writer, and help them shape their story into a screenplay until it starts to feel like a 'movie'. That may sound obvious, but there is a real fine line between a story told in a hundred pages in 12 point Courier and script that reads like a film...one that's arrived at the 'almost a blueprint' place. I don't want to write it for them, but assist them to find the most efficient and effective way to tell the tale they want to tell, while always keeping in mind the audience for the story, and the potential ways to fund or finance said project.

There's a rather dry but fairly complete overview of the gig HERE. And last month Trevor Cunningham laid out in his own indomitable style how he works/writes, and sent some love my way. Go read about his method (and madness?): Part I and specifically Part II (working with a story editor).

Anyway, so much of successful story editing depends on 'getting' the story, and connecting with and establishing a trustful bond with the writer. They need to believe you are nudging their idea in the proper direction. But it can be tricky business, especially when you consider the 'narrative exhaustion' we as writers AND viewers feel these days, or so says screenwriter Paul Schrader in the Irish Times:

For a storyteller, it (narrative exhaustion) means that’s it is increasingly difficult to get out in front of a viewer’s expectations. Almost every possible subject has not only been covered but covered exhaustively. How many hours of serial killer plot has the average viewer seen? Fifty? A hundred? He’s seen the basic plots, the permutations of those plotlines, the imitations of the permutations of those plotlines and the permutations of the imitations. How does a writer capture the imagination of a viewer seeped in serial killer plot? Make it even gorier? Done that. More perverse? Seen that. Serial killer with humour? Been there. As parody? Yawn. The example of the serial killer subgenre is a bit facile, but what’s true for serial killer stories is true of all film subjects. Police families? Gay couples? Corrupt politicians? Charming misfits? Yawn, yawn, yawn.

This becomes painfully clear to any writer who attempts to orally tell his story (screenwriting is closer to the oral tradition than it is to literature). You start to tell a story, try to catch the listener’s attention, then watch as Ollie Overwhelmed packages your story and places it in a box. He has seen so much storyline that he has the boxes already prepared. Just drop quote marks around the premise and file it: oh, that’s the “two couples on a road trip” movie or the “six men in a lifeboat” film. I know that film. Ollie’s mind operates like that of story editor. “And then he goes to her place,” you the screenwriter say, “and he finds her hanging naked from a hook in the bathroom,” Ollie the listener thinks: I know that film.

Read the rest of this interesting article HERE.

Shrader's right, it's a bitch battling those boxes...especially when grasping for common ground to not only bond with the writer you're story editing but also to try to give tried and true examples of directions their story could go. And therein lies the rub...sometimes the way a story should go is the predictable and familiar route. I'm not a big fan of breaking the rules just to be different, or I feel you should at least feel know the rules and be able to tell a coherent accessible entertaining story first, then you can go off and mess with the mold.

It's really difficult to be original these days, and there are only so many ways to skin a cat (or save the cat even - sad news indeed), or tell a story as it were. But sometimes the best way to tell your tale is by fitting it into those boxes Schrader references...because that's the right way to tell it. Then you can try to combat some of the exhaustion of narrative that exists out there by going back and finding a unique spin for some of the ingredients (characters, locations, dialogue, etc.) within each box in an effort to make it feel more original. That's where 'style' and 'voice' come into play.

Your voice battles narrative exhaustion, and that's something a story editor can't give you notes on...you just gotta have it.

Easy To Say, Hard To Write

Over the weekend, Macleans TV critic and friend of the blog Jaime Weinman wrote a great post at his other digs Something Old Nothing New. Inspired by the words of music critic Conrad L. Osborne regarding an opera, Weinman spun it all into some inspired observations on the difference between great and merely effective dramatic writing.

Almost all commercial theatre, television, film, novels, use certain tried-and-true devices. And nearly all of them space out the use of these devices to the moments when they will be most dramatically effective. Musicals need spots for comedy songs, ballads, an "11 o'clock" number; movies and plays need certain set-pieces or types of scenes depending on the genre; TV episodes need to incorporate certain tricks to keep the audience's attention through the episode and especially during breaks.

The distinction between first-rate works and merely good or effective ones is not that the former doesn't use those proven, familiar devices. It's that the former tries to make those devices seem like an organic part of the story. It wants to convince us that a certain thing happens not because convention requires it, not because this is the moment in the evening when a certain type of response needs to be obtained from the audience, but because the characters would logically do this at this point. Of course they're also doing it because convention requires it, because the actor/singer needs a showpiece, and many other reasons. But the writer is trying to hide this and make everything seem natural.

If the writer does not succeed in making the events seem like they are driven by the story, and instead makes it too obvious that the story is constructed around the set-pieces and tricks, then the result may still be something entertaining and good. But it's probably not going to work on the highest level.

Read the rest of this very interesting piece HERE.

You work in or even watch enough TV and you know exactly what Jaime's getting at. All dramatic story-telling, but especially episodic television story-telling, is guided by certain rules and expectations. I'll take a drubbing here but I'm just now finally getting around to watching the Battlestar Galactica series. Watched several eps of Season 1 on DVD this weekend actually. Saw "Bastille Day"...you remember...the prison uprising, all hell breaks loose episode. And it was a fine hour of TV, but it was still a 'prisoners revolt and take one of our heroes hostage' story, even if set in space. That 'plot' device has been used sooooo many times in sooooo many network television series over the years, you could almost call each beat just before it happened. In fact you not only expected one of the heroes get taken hostage...the story demands it!

And that's the constant struggle one has when writing conventional network television (premium pay cable series not so much, though they now have their own rules and devices and conventions even sans commercial breaks). Whether it's a procedural or a medical drama or a crime drama or a soap drama or sci fi drama, there are 'industry standard' devices and conventions for every plot line you devise, and audience and story expectations for each story for each series. And yet you don't want to seem like an 'obvious' writer...frak! What to do?

Of course, the knee jerk reaction is to not give the audience exactly what they 'want' or tell the story people 'expect', so you throw some twists into the plotting. But sometimes those twists or turns won't feel organic to the plot or the series even, and you're back to executing the Fail Jaime describes above: that the story is being constructed around the twists (hello, Dollhouse anyone?) as opposed to the twists and turns being driven by the story.

Take what I'm sure many feel was as good an hour of network TV over the past five years, David Shore's "Three Stories" for House at the end of Season 1. It twisted and turned, it broke rules, it played with perspective...but it was only able to do so effectively because the majority of episodes written to that point in the season did have a predictable (but well-executed) pattern of devices used and conventions established. Same for many of the brilliant Darin Morgan's episodes of The X Files and Millennium...he appeared original, but only because he had a mold to break.

However, those episodes stand out for being different from the norm...and the 'norm' is what most of us watch or most of us get paid to write. So back to Weinman's post, he's absolutely right...a good sign of great TV writing is when the scribe can make those predictable and expected devices seem natural and organic within the established conventions of a series. But it's difficult to do and takes more talent than you'd think....as simple as it sounds, it's waaayyyyy easier said than done.

My Character Would Never Write That

I hate just linking somewhere, but I have a headache and some pressing matters to attend to...still, this Ken Levine post on actors giving notes to writers was too good to not recognize.

So it’s just a matter of communicating your concerns in a way that will make us receptive to you and here’s the key – WANT to make those changes.

Quite simply, it’s all about showing us respect.

When we come down to the stage don’t glare at us like we killed your puppy. If the script doesn’t work it, we didn’t do it on purpose. Try to remain positive. Give us the impression that you’re not overly concerned, that you have every faith that we can fix it. Is that hard to do sometime? Yes, of course. But you’re ACTORS. Act!

One trick is to start by praising something. You love “this” but just have some issues with “that”. We know you’re bullshitting We do the same thing when giving notes to other writers. But we appreciate the gesture.

If you want us to shut you off completely just say, “My character would never say that!” Whether it would or not, you say those words and we hate you.

We didn't do it on purpose...seriously. Read all of Ken's great advice HERE.

The best thing about the post is that it applies to execs giving notes to writers, producers giving notes to writers, directors giving notes to writers, writers giving notes to writers...hell, pretty much anyone giving anyone notes on anything. I've worked for or with great note givers, and for or with lousy screaming 'It just sucks' or 'My character wouldn't say that' note givers. The former are a pleasure and a privilege...the latter are teeth-gritting get-ones-back-up flinch-inducers, and great restraint must be used.

Try to be the former.

When It's Okay To Show Your Tell

No, I'm not talking about poker...I'm talking about writing.

Show don't tell. We've all heard that mantra before....it's Screenwriting Advice 101. Showing brings your characters to life. It lets your reader see and discover your story instead of simply being told or explained it. Well-made engaging films advance through action...lessor films describe or tell the film to the viewer. But when it comes to your first draft and especially if you are just starting out writing screenplays, I've decided it's okay to tell it once first before you get around to the showing.

I just finished story editing two newbie feature scripts that showed their tell in a big way. And I was initially very critical of the work...frustrated by bland description like: Joe walked into the room. He was a skinny man. Or screen direction that explained what the characters were thinking like: Beth looked over at the man who bumped her. It was obvious she didn't like him and wanted to get back at him. Or dialogue that stated the obvious: "We need to get out of here. Hey! There's some stairs, let's go up them." followed by the screen direction - Joe and Beth walked over to the stairs and proceeded to go up them.

I found myself getting more and more annoyed, constantly rewriting in the margins...until I remembered that this was their first draft, and the writers were simply trying to get a story with a beginning middle and end onto the page...poop it out as it were, without getting bogged down figuring out how to show it effectively and efficiently.

I relaxed. And my notes became more about guiding the rewrites instead of just criticizing their tell. Now it's back in their court...hopefully they'll show me a winning hand with the next pass.

What Is And What Could Never Be...Again?

Former busy blogger and present-day busy UK TV writer James Moran is in today's Telegraph talking about his role in the upcoming 5 part series Torchwood: Children of Earth.

Moran offers some insight into the writing process and what it was like working with the wicked Russell T Davies, but what really struck a chord for me was the following:

When I started out in 2003, nobody here was making science fiction TV. Doctor Who was in limbo, and whenever you mentioned science fiction, people would sadly proclaim, “Ah, but you see, it doesn’t work.” So I wrote a horror movie called Severance. I spent a year writing it, then it sold to a production company, who made it into a successful film. It was only later I discovered getting things made is a rarity in the UK film industry. But by then, UK science fiction TV was thriving.

I wrote more scripts, and got a meeting with the Torchwood producer and script editor, for series two. I was already a fan of the show, and pitched several ideas of my own. They picked one, and I wrote an outline (about three to five pages). I did several more versions, getting notes and feedback at every stage from the script ed, the producers, and Russell T Davies and Julie Gardner, the executive producers.

I then wrote a draft of the script. Again, I’d get notes, feedback, then do the next draft. This continued until it was time to shoot, about five months altogether.

It’s a strange job. You work alone, writing, for weeks, occasionally meeting the team for feedback. So you’re on your own, but constantly supported. Once my episode (Sleeper, the one with the stabby-arm aliens) was finished, they offered me the Doctor Who job. Obviously I had to think it over carefully for 0.3 nanoseconds. It was a dream come true, and I’d love to do more if they’ll have me. After that, I worked on Spooks, Primeval, Spooks Code 9, and Crusoe, in what became the busiest two years of my life.

Read the rest of the article HERE.

Moran's recap took me back to a time that doesn't seem that ancient but is in fact approaching ten years ago here in Canada. Everyone it seemed was making sci fi/paranormal/fantasy television (primarily for foreign and US syndicated television markets), and over a four year period I worked on (writing and/or directing) Psi Factor, The Outer Limits, Earth: Final Conflict, The Immortal, Beastmaster, The Lost World...not to mention meetings for Stargate, First Wave, Mysterious Ways, and Dark Angel.

And then, it all mostly kinda went away...those kinds of TV shows I mean. The rules for making Cancon drama changed, and reality television and procedural dramas have ruled the airwaves for the better part of the last decade. I know forms of popular entertainment go in cycles, and we'll never go back to the way things were, but I know I'm ready for semi-return to those days at least.

I've watched Severance, and it was a great calling card. And the 'how things unfolded' that Moran describes is pretty much bang on for anyone who's experienced the same sort of meteoric rise up the ladder. But so much of the key to his or anyone in a similar boat's success is that sci fi came back in a big way in the UK (though, as Warren Ellis points out HERE, that phase seems on its way out). You need the talent, that's for certain, but you also need the genre that you specialize in to be popular at the time when the planets align. Otherwise, well...it won't matter if you're good at something if nobody is making it.

But if your genre is 'in' and you're in the loop, then Moran is dead right when he says it's the best job in the world.

Cheers James...enjoy the ride.