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?

.

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.

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

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.

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.

This Knob Wants Names!

I had a few more Banff posts I wanted to do, like notes from a couple of really wicked 'Making and Pitching Children's TV' panels I attended which I'll try to get up eventually. Instead I'm gong to relate a couple of introductory incidents from the festival that were seemingly insignificant...or were they?

One involved being introduced to a small group including some mid-level network execs, and one of them remarked: "Ah, Will Dixon...one of the bloggers." It was said with a small smile, but I felt like the subtext was: "...one of the crazies...or difficult ones...or one of the snobs even." Are we the snobs? God I hope not. We're just talking here on the blog circuit...trying to share and educate and discuss and kibitz...seriously, that's all.

But it took me back to the recent NY Times article where Flashpoint exec producer Anne Marie La Traverse (I know I swore I'd leave this one alone, but still...) was quoted as saying: “There's a snobbery about commercial shows here, among writers particularly,” La Traverse said. “Everyone dreams of doing a dark HBO series. There's a resistance. It took us a while to find writers who embraced this shape,” she added, “and wanted to be accessible, relatable, heroic, emotional, all the choices we really wanted to make.”

Really. Really?

TV writer Denis McGrath, another blogger, took exception, and then our friend John Doyle at Globe & Mail joined the fray and defended the Flashpoint exec's comments:

Thing is, La Traverse is correct, as I see it. Yes, many members of the tribe of Canadian TV writers take themselves very, very seriously indeed. They complain constantly. They complain about network executives and producers. They complain that their work is being diluted and diminished by people who are not, you know, artists. They complain about press coverage of their work. They complain about the lack of promotion for their work, often without reason. Most are decent, interesting people, devoted to creating really good television. But some of them make up the biggest chip-on-the-shoulder bunch in the entire arts and entertainment world. There are a few who sneer outright at those Canadian shows that are a commercial success. There are some who are, as La Traverse says, outright snobs.

Really John? Really?

I want names. Seriously. I want to know who the TV writer snobs are out there, because I sure don't know any.

I mean, I know what I am...I'm a mid-level TV writer/director/producer with some worthy credits on my resume, and some less than worthy credits (like the MAJORITY of anyone working in Canadian TV has). But I will say most of them are of the commercial variety...and snobbery hasn't really entered into the equation. During April's WGC Awards night in Toronto, I was pleasantly surprised to run into so many TV writers that I'd met, worked with, directed or written for, hired even, over the past fifteen years or so of what I'd like to call a career. And I'm pretty certain that, like me, none of them turned ever down a gig because they felt they were above the material.

In fact, yet another TV writer and blogger, Jim Henshaw, tells it like it is and more in his brilliant post Mexicans In Sweaters (MUST READ, HERE)

Now we’re “complainers” or we’re “difficult” or we’re “snobs”. Like the creeds and nationalities and races before us, it’s easier for some to snigger that somebody thinks they’re Hemingway or Shakespeare or Frank McCourt than to figure out if they, perhaps, just might be.

It’s always easier to be arrogantly dismissive than to engage those who don’t share your world view as possible equals.

I’ve run shows and hired writers in a half dozen countries over the last 25 years. Hundreds of writers. And unlike some of our current successes, many of the shows I ran were pure, unadulterated crap. ‘Cleavage and Dinosaurs’ as I’m wont to describe the formula.

But even if the shows I was working on demanded vivid decapitations, misogyny or ridiculous leaps of logic, I’ve never had a single writer turn me down because they thought they were better than the show.

They turned me down because they were busy, absolutely hated the show or didn’t think they could write a good script for it.

Not one ever gave the least impression the material was beneath them.

That’s because good writers know that nothing is an unworthy subject nor is there a title that might not come in handy on their resume someday.

Exactly!

Of course Denis fired back again at Doyle, and La Traverse and Doyle are certainly entitled to their opinion, but this sniping back and forth without naming names or citing examples is ultimately as fruitless and useless as CanWest Global's Barb Williams outlining how the Canadian TV biz really works to the CRTC during the recent in-camera meetings, and inferring that the creatives in this country just don't get it...and then having the entire passage redacted...so WE WON'T KNOW WHAT SHE SAID! AND THEREFORE WON'T KNOW WHAT WE APPARENTLY DON'T GET!

(I hope you've saved your pdf copy of said transcripts, because not only were they redacted further after they were initially released, but now they've been taken down completely)

Breathe...breathe...

Anyway, the other Banff introductory incident I wanted to relate was a somewhat sheepish but excited CTV network exec sidling over to me and McGrath while we were at the Western BBQ and exclaiming: "Fanboy alert! Fanboy alert!" Denis and I kinda just looked at him as he introduced himself and continued: "I just have to shake the hands of two of my favourite bloggers, especially seeing the both of you live and in person and offline. Very cool."

We yakked with him for a while. Had a few laughs. That's not how snobs behave, is it?

Now if La Traverse or Doyle had said there are some Canadian TV writers that are outright knobs...well, I'd definitely be put in my place. Just sayin...maybe it was a typo.


I still want names though.

Writing Is Like Having A Poo...

...it's really hard if you don't want to go. But there comes a time when you have to go...and if you're ready, that's when it should be right (to write, as it were). Where some people falter is when they start writing too soon..."

"Finish it. It's not a script until it's finished. Let's be blunt, you're not a writer if its all in your head, or if you've only written two pages...shut up, stop wasting time, and finish it."

"Characters should be three people in one. I mean, most characters should be a good three people you know...and you don't literally pick, but, like Frank, is like four people from my family...both male and female, but they'll never know which bits are them."

"Good screenwriting means accepting it's better if the audience is confused for ten minutes than bored for five seconds."

"The thing about writing is that first draft is so hard...it's so hard you think, I don't ever want to do that again. And what people don't realize is that the difficulty of that first draft, it's only for the first draft....the second draft will become easier. And the third draft easier still..and by the fourth draft you'll be having such a good time because you've stripped away all the dead wood."

Hear these and other glorious nuggets of wisdom from several UK television writers being interviewed by Screenwipe's Charlie Brooker, Featuring: Russell T Davies, Paul Abbott, Tony Jordan, Graham Linehan, Jesse Armstrong, and Sam Bain.

Below is a sampling:




But just watch the entire episode. It's a great one hour of telly about writing for the telly (yeah, I know, an hour - who's got an hour these days...but it's really good!)

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE


Charlie Brooker. When he's not taking the piss out of TV like HE DOES HERE, he's giving us gold like this episode on TV screenwriting. I love the guy.

Roomies...And Fear Itself

I quite enjoyed this diary of sorts HERE from Lost writers Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz in a recent Variety article where they relate the agony and ecstasy of what they describe as the Four Day story break while working in the 'the room'.

The short version below:

Day 1 -- Wouldn't It Be Cool If ...

Day 1 is the day we start batting around the ideas. We know where we are in the uber-plot, and we know where we have to start and finish. Now we need the idea that gets us from A to B, and Day 1 is where the greatest idea ever happens. And that's when one of us will spit out something like: "Wouldn't it be cool if ... " Excitement sweeps through the room. The blank dry erase boards no longer look so daunting. We've done it. Which leads us to...

Day 2 -- Um, There's A Problem

Everyone comes in early, excited to knock this sucker out, only to discover that after a night's sleep, maybe this great idea doesn't exactly write itself, that maybe it's got a few... issues. After a few hours of wrestling with the difficulty of our premise, we all decide to sleep on it again. Which leads us to...

Day 3 -- The Breakthrough

We all come back in, maybe a little later than the day before, and all with the same conclusion. The problem is unfixable. That is until the sun is setting and someone, thankfully, quietly pipes in with ... the breakthrough. At first it seems just a small thought, but in actuality it has huge repercussions. Riding the wave of euphoria, everyone heads home nervous. Is this a real breakthrough? Possibly. Which brings us to ...

Day 4 -- The Break Begins

As the discussion begins, suddenly ideas for scenes start popping up. Natural places for our uber-mythology to slot in appear. Connective tissue between episodes presents itself. All the ingredients seem to be there. And that's when we know we might have a ways to go but we know we have an episode.

Up until the end of the break that is, because that's when, once again, we stare at the blank board that taunts us. We can't possibly keep going.

Someone: "Wait. Wouldn't it be cool if ..."

And the room goes quiet.

Suddenly we're re-energized. We all realize it at the same time. It's Day 1 again and, just maybe, we can do another one of these.

'We'...that's the operative word. Most of us have to work it alone --- trying to grind through those 'stages' all by ourselves. But the room is mostly successful because one has an undying belief that the collective creative energy of the group will ultimately save or at least improve anything you might come up with on your own. If you can find a handful of colleagues you like and trust that you can exchange works in progress with, the feedback can be invaluable.

There's another major factor why it works this way on TV series: deadlines, and the fear associated with those deadlines.

You can and will experience the same daily 'stages' when working solo on your feature film or series spec sample...but without some sort of deadline hanging over your head and the fear it generates, it's wayyyy too easy to succumb to the 'problem' and give up on the idea after Day 2. Or, conversely, spend wayyyy too much time getting bogged down trying to make the solution discovered in Day 3 the best solution ever.

And thus you never really reach Day 4 and the actual 'break'.

When working on a series and its intense schedule of delivering scripts to be filmed, there isn't the time or luxury to either give up or wait for the perfect solution. You have to deliver.

It's next to impossible to reproduce that pressure if you aren't under contract and the deadline is self-imposed...but if you can somehow believe it exists, and work 'in fear' so to speak, you'll get a lot more accomplished a lot faster. And believe me, something finished and out there is always better than the almost perfect idea still in the desk drawer.

If I Knew Now What I Didn't Know Then (Reprint)

I'm enjoying my holidays...hope everyone else is as well, and so thought I'd go back through the archives and repost some of my favourite entries from the past year. Unfortunately, 2008 wasn't one of Uninflected's best...apologies...but still found a few I felt worth sharing again, like this one from the end of May.



IF I KNEW NOW WHAT I DIDN'T KNOW THEN

No that headline's not a typo...stick with me.

Just finished teaching another TV producing class...and it actually looks like a couple projects developed over the course of the semester will get bought by local producers. Very cool. And kudo's to the students for coming to the plate and bringing some game. And I see it in their eyes that the projects might actually happen.

Anyway, it got me thinking about the mindset one has when starting out in this film/TV biz. You are usually naive and blind to the harsh reality of it all, but are driven by one objective...to get the damn thing made.


I miss those days these days...here's why.

I came up with a TV series idea and a feature idea over the past couple weeks. Both jazzed me a little...I 'saw' them quickly...and liked the possibilities for both. And I started to rough them out...quickly laying down what might happen...how they both might unfold. I penciled in some character sketches...and projected what those characters might go through and where they might end up.

And then...

...I read about a series project in development somewhere that sounded very similar to mine. And who knows if it actually is, but just reading about it dampened my enthusiasm. And with the other...a feature film idea, I realized how much it would actually cost to do it up right. To do it the way I was 'seeing' it. It would have to be a big US feature, parked at some studio, with one or two stars....and knowing the prospect for all this to occur was so slim, my enthusiasm for that project soon began to wane.

And before I knew it, my ideas were being slid into a desk drawer.

Now some might say I'm just old or lazy or out of touch or don't get 'today's sensibilities'...but I would argue "no". In fact, when I take a look back at some of my early original idea pitches, I would say the current ones are far superior. Cleaner premises, better drawn characters, cleverer plots and plot twists, display longer legs. The only real difference is back then I didn't know any better...and today I almost know too much.

Sidebar: This last thought is really directed at those of us who peddle our wares in the minor/middle leagues....not brilliant or famous enough to warrant put pilots and pitches being snapped up for millions, and not starting out with nowhere to go but up and no way to get there without just getting something made...but middle men, as it were. Talented enough to have a track record and a generous amount of experience, but not talented (or lucky) enough to hit a home run every time we're at the plate. And creating series/movies from scratch is really really hard, which is why once we grasp the amount of effort (unpaid a lot of the time) actually involved, working on TV series can be so appealing. All of a sudden, you get to 'make shows'...quickly...over and over...without enduring the heavy lifting of creating it and selling it and pushing it and prodding it and changing it and evolving it until it finally gets made.

At any rate, I sold or optioned the first three big ideas I had post film school graduation, and eventually each got produced. And I had no idea what I was doing or how it all really worked or how much things cost...I just had some ideas that I liked and set about trying to get them made, even if one took almost six years.

But I did it.

Cut to the present, and I find myself yearning for that naivete sometimes. And every time I shelve a new idea because of the daunting prospect of the work ahead to get it made, or talk myself out of working on it because it might be a little too similar to something else out there, a part of me wishes I was starting out again, and could just say 'damn the torpedoes' and crash ahead.



If I knew now what I didn't know then, some of these new ideas might actually get made.

Writing...Gets Me Closer To God?

Far Away Scriptwriter thinks I have great musical taste (sometimes), and so tagged me with the following meme:

Find a song that sums up what you think it means to be a writer and post the lyrics on your blog and why you've chosen it. NB: It doesn't have to be your favourite song, it just has to express how you feel about writing and/or being a writer. It can be literal, metaphorical, about a particular form or aspect of writing - whatever you want. Then tag 5 others to do the same.



Well this will be NSFW, but I have to go there. NIN. Trent Reznor. The dark auteur of industrial excellence. A song not surprisingly from his The Downward Spiral release, 'Closer'.

Closer

you let me violate you
you let me desecrate you
you let me penetrate you
you let me complicate you

help me
i broke apart my insides
help me
i've got no soul to sell
help me
the only thing that works for me
help me get away from myself
i want to fuck you like an animal
i want to feel you from the inside
i want to fuck you like an animal
my whole existence is flawed
you get me closer to god

you can have my isolation
you can have the hate that it brings
you can have my absence of faith
you can have my everything

help me
you tear down my reason
help me
it's your sex i can smell
help me
you make me perfect
help me become somebody else
i want to fuck you like an animal
i want to feel you from the inside
i want to fuck you like an animal
my whole existence is flawed
you get me closer to god

all through every forest
above the trees
within my stomach
scraped off my knees
i drink the honey
inside your hive
you are the reason
i stay alive


Reznor’s 1994 album The Downward Spiral told the story of one man’s descent to near self-destruction. He describes this album as having “a brutality and an iciness that is a way to prevent you from getting inside. It’s an armor.” This reflection on the artist and the album from BlogCritics Jaime Nichols is well worth reading, and I liked this bit:

By the end of the last song, on The Downward Spiral, one had the unmistakable sense of teetering on the brink of the nihilist void with Reznor's narrative "i", now reduced to a stripped down, elemental consciousness that had eviscerated itself of moral and emotional certainty, but whose mind was still terrifyingly and unflinchingly engaged. It was a dreadful prospect, but one which felt like a kind of extreme, if uneasy, virtue.

'Closer', with all its ferocious intensity, was the highpoint of The Downward Spiral. And for me it's less a song about raw uninhibited sex, and more about achieving purity through sin, freedom through expression, unbridled passion through purging. Letting it all out and holding nothing back, as painful and soul-baring as it will be, can allow for 'pure' creativity. Giving yourself wholly and completely will make it an experience unlike any other...usually resulting in what we call 'writing in the zone'.

You are the reason I stay alive....that more or less says to me all there is to say about writing or being a writer.





Most people hate getting tagged, but I'll tap the shoulders of fellow Canucks Henshaw, McGrath, Epstein, Trevor, and Brandon and see if they respond.

Why TV Indeed

Jane at If This Is LA I Must Be A Screenwriter has saddled me with the Why TV? meme that's been travelling around lately:

"What made you want to be a TV writer? Was there a defining moment? Was it an awakening? Did you always know?"

And not wanting to be a poop, here's what I can say...


I enjoy writing, but since I'm not much of a journalist, a really lousy novelist, a mediocre blogger, a bad playwright, an 'only occasionally' feature film writer, and a lame poet (not to mention a rather slow 'plink plink' typist), where does that leave me?

I still like to tell stories, even seem to have a bit of a knack for it...so why TV? Well, in the immortal words of Zack Mayo (Richard Gere) in An Officer And A Gentlemen...

"I got nowhere else to go!!"





This meme stops here.

First Day

Kids heading back to school today, and I'm always amazed at how frazzled they get. You know, running around making sure their hair is washed and 'just right'...that their new clothes look 'just right'...that they have all their 'supplies', and definitely absolutely want to get to class early.

Because maybe this time it will be different.

I suppose it's not unlike starting a new gig on a TV series. There's a nervous excitement...you'll try to look more presentable, perhaps brush the teeth and comb the hair after donning a new shirt. And you pack the computer bag with new notebooks and a package of your favourite pens. And you definitely absolutely try to get in early.

But before long you're dragging your sorry tired ass in as late as possible, maybe even wearing the same top you wore the night before. You know, after you realize its just another 8 month gig (like another school year), and you make a few friends but the jerks are still jerks, and it's really just about grinding out the scripts (homework)...getting there early and all the 'appearances' stuff seems kinda irrelevant.

I guess you could say going to school prepares you for working in TV.

Best Before Date

I had several things this morning I wanted to link to and comment on, but got busy and one thing led to...well, you know how it is.

So keeping it short and sweet, go check out THIS POST at Just Thinking... by Earl Pomerantz, a terrific TV writer with a long track record primarily in American sit-coms. He talks about the ageism settlement that a group of writers recently won (as also reported by Nikki Finke) against the ICM Talent Agency, and whether discrimination was really at play here.

Why are agencies and the studios and networks discriminating against older writers? Do they despise them? Are older writers perceived as being genetically inferior? That can’t be true. Their genes haven’t altered from when they were young writers, and fully employed.
What’s the reason older writers are discriminated against? Is it “Wrinkle Envy”? What?

Older writers are not hired because they are perceived as being unable to provide material that will deliver the younger audience advertisers require the networks to attract. Agencies are dropping them, because they can’t get them any work. In other words – an argument can be made – and probably has been – that that this has nothing to do with discrimination at all. It’s simply a matter of business.

It’s an argument that cannot be easily dismissed. Can you imagine a similar lawsuit being brought against Major League Baseball by a group of fifty year-old ballplayers?

He's got a good point there. And then Mr. Pomerantz neatly brings it around full circle:

In the article about the agism lawsuit, a writer named Larry Mintz was mentioned as one of the plaintiffs. Among his credits, it was reported, were Sanford and Son, The Nanny and Family Matters. These are estimable credits on successful sitcoms, but do those shows bear any resemblance to the half-hour comedies they’re making today? (This is no shot at Mr. Mintz. You can ask the same question using my credits.)

Can an older writer learn to write scripts consistent with contemporary tastes and standards? Some can, I imagine. I’m probably not be one of them. The structure’s not the problem – as I mentioned, a story’s a story – but the current sensibility, with its focus on the coarse, the blatantly sexual, the humiliating and the pain inducing…it’s not my natural terrain.

An older writer can try to “write young”, though their efforts may prove imitative rather than generic. The option of older writers’ exploring their current experiences for the enjoyment of their contemporaries is unavailable, since advertisers aren’t interested in the older audience, making their stooges, the networks, unwilling to program for them.

This seems like a mistake, since the only audience still loyal to the network television brand is that very same older audience. Someday, perhaps, the business people will wise up and program for who’s watching – the older audience – instead of who they wish were watching – the otherwise engaged younger audience – in which case, the older writers are back in business.

Nice.

I've written about this topic in other forums, like Ink Canada.

I still contest that the struggles we face to get hired (hell...or even meetings!) as we get older has sooooo much to do with what one will do for the gig when one is younger and starting out. You'll work for free, laugh at the asshole producer's lame jokes, do countless unpaid revisions, be asked to cut corners or screw colleagues...all in exchange for the supposed privilege of being allowed to maybe play in the big leagues. But then as you get older and wiser etc., and, yes, more experienced and probably better suited and prepared for the work, there's a reluctance to put up with the bullshit of the biz. And you can become known as 'difficult' or 'won't play by the rules'...or even 'too expensive' if you've had a decent but not meteoric run. Hence, it can just be cheaper and easier to go younger.

The cream of the crop will usually always rise to the top, regardless of the age. But when playing in the middle leagues, which is what most of us do, TV/movies has been and always will be primarily a young man/girls game.

But what I said isn't exactly discrimination either...rather a resistence to play the game, or not being good enough to rise above all the crap. So Pomerantz has got me going "Hmmmm...", how much merit was there in this lawsuit/settlement anyway?

Anyhow, his entire piece is well worth reading. Seriously, GO, before it becomes old news.

Diane Gets Busy...And Bible Belting

Ms. Diane Kristine has been busy, not only providing us with some interesting interviews via her BlogTalkRadio podcast with Canadian TV directors Martin Wood and David Winning...LISTEN HERE...but also piecing together a nice TV writing post gleaned from her time in Banff spent with House's David Hoselton and Jeff Greenstein from Desperate Housewives.

One snippet that stood out for me was this:

Hoselton confirmed that House doesn't have a show bible, a document that supposedly collects the known facts of the series. "It's sort of a joke," he revealed. "Every now and then, somebody will say 'Where does Wilson live?' 'I don't know, it's in the bible.' "

Greenstein suggested show bibles are not particularly common or useful, given the collective memory of the writing staff and the availability of episodes and scripts online. "If there's one on Desperate Housewives, I haven't seen it." In fact, he hasn't read a bible for any of his shows. "It's probably a useful tool if you're a freelancer," he shrugged. "But the series bible to me is a relic of pre-Internet days. It's not necessarily a tool we worry about."

Pretty much every US showrunner I've spoken with over the past few years has echoed this sentiment, that TV series bibles are a thing of the past. There might be a pitch document that gives character overviews and the gist of the show and where it all might go, but once it gets rolling the 'bible' really only lives in the writers room and showrunner's head.

But here in Canada for some reason, bibles continue to be a broadcaster-required necessary evil. I suppose it helps the execs maintain some control over the creative process ("That can't happen, it's not in the bible!"), but it can truly stifle the natural progression of things.

Good TV series don't happen according to a hard and fast pre-designed plan...they evolve. Of course you need a jumping off point, but once production begins, actor chemistry develops and character relationships take on a life of their own...pitches that sounded great don't end up that way on the page...arcs that felt right don't play out as well as expected....budget crunches require a bottle show or a lot of studio shooting...and then there's the audience response to take into account. And by that I don't mean listening to the screeching of the Internet fan boy/girls...I mean getting a sense of what viewers are responding to once shows go to air (what they are digging and what they aren't) and then applying it to future episodes.

And most importantly, there's 'the rooms' response to produced episodes. If you are any good as a creative, you should be able to recognize if something is working or not. But that can't happen if the season is being mapped out in minute detail from beginning to end prior to filming even beginning. And if it wasn't working, it'd be so painful to keep adhering to the bible because someone upstairs kept saying you had to...and by upstairs I don't mean God, though some may see themselves that way.

I'd forgotten I'd written about this subject last year, but pretty much everything I said then still holds water now.

The only shows I worked on that had bibles that were truly helpful and continually updated were Mentors, Are You Afraid of the Dark?, and The Outer Limits. Note that all these were anthology series of sorts...and unlike most shows today, they used to hire a lot of freelance writers. So the bible was primarily an overview of the 'rules of the show' and the continuing characters (if any), and then a synopsis of all the stories produced thus far (so the freelancer would know what not to pitch). That kind of bible made sense...but in today's day and age of most series being written in the room by the staff, not so much sense.

And for Canadian shows entering their 2nd or even 3rd season, it really really makes no sense at all.

Read the entire post by Diane HERE.


EDIT: And as usual, anything I say here McGrath says better (and longer)...go read the big guy riff on Bible bashing over at DeadThings.

Read That Last Part Back To Me...Like, All Of Act Three!

I know, I know...who cares about kids/tween TV...but actually I do, and was introduced to a whole new spin on room writing from showrunner Michael Poryes. Poryes has had a long career writing TV comedy primarily (Cybill), but lately several Disney Channel shows have been his meal ticket --- writing and producing That's So Raven, Cory In The House, and the focus of his Master Class, Hannah Montana.

So here's how his room works. The staff scribes gather round the table and begin to talk out an episode. A writing assistant writes what they are spinning....no, not writes as in 'takes notes', but types out the beats, and then the outline, and then, eventually, the screenplay.

That's right, types the entire screenplay...from Fade In to Fade Out!

Then as a group they will do another pass, verbally, working presumably from hard copies or off their own computers, as the writing assistant continues to type it...or 'retype it' in this case. Then, when each script gets published, they either all share in or divide up the writing credits equally between the members of the staff.

In some ways I'm sure this is how a sitcom room must work, but still...I mean, I've been in the room as the group will work together to break the story beats, but then at some point a writer or the appointed writer will go away to pen the outline. And then, after notes and revisions, that writer will pen the draft of the script. But I have never heard of a room hashing out the beats and the outline and script verbally as a group, while the assistant 'types' the screenplay proper.

Poryes says this method works great for them ---they blast through a draft of a half hour episode in a couple of days (when you eliminate the 'going away to write' part and then the 'sending around what's been written for notes' part, yeah...I'd say pretty fast indeed), and are usually home by 5pm every evening. Sweet. But still...pretty wild, huh?


In other news...caught up with Al Magee and got some of the scoop about his new role as co-executive producer of Little Mosque...and we started the ball rolling toward a follow up interview to the monster one we dumped on all of you last year. Stay tuned for that.

Also spent some quality time with writers and bloggers Diane Wild (who was handing out TV, eh? hats! Hats I tell you!) and Jill Golick and David Moses. Actually Moses, along with screenwriters Rick Drew, Matt MacLennan, Karen Hill, James Phillips, and several other deserving participants, are all part of the CanWest Showrunners Training Program being held in conjunction with the festival. I was very pleased to get the chance to chat with a lot of them...AND crashed their catered lunch (sorry, but I was starving).

Forging on....though it's been pouring rain all day, and the notion of trekking out to the BBQ only to slog through mud and shiver in a tent is sounding less and less appealing.

We shall see.