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What is the difference between a “spec script” and a “spec pilot”?
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Screenwriting lessons from Six Feet Under – Part Two

Screenwriting lessons from Six Feet Under – Part Two

A key part of writing for television is watching television. And learning from it.
Screenwriting lessons from tackles series past and present, analyzing them through the prism of screenwriting.

Click here for Part One

[Since I’ll be talking about Six Feet Under as a whole (including the series finale), I highly recommend you watch all five seasons of series before reading this post — it’s worth it.]


Lesson 5: Play with expectations

Looking at its structure objectively, you can’t deny that Six Feet Under was a formulaic show. Every episode started with a death, and the audience expected that.
All of this was subverted several times during the course of the series. You thought someone was dying a horrible death when, ultimately, it was someone else entirely. One episode opened with a man about to light his stove with a match and being distracted by a phone call. You expect him to die in a gas explosion, yet the death ends up being a mad-man gunning down the call center at the other end of the line. A season finale had a Kroehner employee playing golf with his boss. The audience arguably was rooting for the character’s death (given his antagonistic presence on the show), but an innocent bystander was the victim of the episode. The show also turned the whole concept on its head in its final episode, by opening with a birth instead of a death.
All of that is to say that, as formulaic as a show can be, it doesn’t necessarily mean you have to do the same thing over and over again. Formula isn’t a prison; it is merely a delimited playground.

Lesson 6: Have something to say

Six Feet Under was a very intense show dealing with a wide array of sensitive issues, most of the time in the rawest form possible. They didn’t sugarcoat the real world.
More importantly, each episode had its own theme that resonated with the various characters. Most of the times, this was launched by the opening death. No story was random; it had a reason to be on the show besides “stuff happens.” It always told something about the characters and the world. A young homosexual is murdered. David is forced to confront his own sexuality and relationship with his mother.
We talked earlier about different character point of views, but each episode also needs to say and show something different from the previous one. If your episodes are clones of each other by telling the same story over and over again, you might as well put on reruns.

Lesson 7: It’s okay to think ahead

Despite all the somewhat hackneyed “live in the moment” stuff I said in Part One, a show needs to have some kind of plan, or rather arc(s). And I’m not talking about a smoke monster.
Six Feet Under had under its hood multiple arcs layered and mixed into each other. The show was as much about the characters as what happened to them.
In season two, Brenda befriends a prostitute and starts having, let’s just say, a sexual awakening. Although at the time it may have seemed to be somewhat gratuitous, it was (and is) in fact a key part of the Brenda/Nate dynamic that unfolds in the given season. The prostitute storyline is set up early on, while Nate and Brenda are not yet married. Later on, when they do get hitched, all of this comes to bite Brenda in the ass, and the couple calls it quits. In this small example, Brenda had at the very least two arcs going on within her relationship with Nate beyond “the relationship.” I could enumerate many more arcs within it — Billy, her parents, etc. — however you get the point: nobody goes through one thing at a time.
This is not Inception, but, as you can see, shows (and life) tend to be “arcs within arcs”. All the more reasons not to get lost in your own world and actually think of the future a bit. Your stories themselves will likely improve (badly plotted arcs tend to stick out like sore thumbs by either going nowhere or ending in a tailspin).

Lesson 8: Stay with the emotions

Like we’ve seen before, there needs to be an emotional connection between the audience and the show. Six Feet Under pushed that to a new level by oftentimes “staying with the emotions.” It might seem contradictory from the famous advice of “quitting a scene at its height”, however sometimes it’s worth sticking with a central A story all the way through.
In one of the most intense episodes of the series, David is taken hostage by a psychopath. Although the episode starts like any other (A/B/C/D stories mixed), midway through, the focus shifts entirely towards David’s nightmarish situation. Not only is over half the episode devoted to that storyline, but, more importantly, once the situation heightens (i.e. when you understand midway through the episode that the other guy is a psycho), the episode grabs you and doesn’t let you go until its final seconds. Clearly the writer wanted the viewer to be put into David’s shoes. “Staying with the emotions” (in this case overwhelmingly negative ones), is one way to heighten both the tension and importance of the episode (anything can happen).
Viewers are now used to a fairly quick back-and-forth between scenes, so when you disrupt that dynamic and devote several pages back-to-back to a single storyline, you’re making a point.

What to take from the show (Part Two)

Stories need to be both relevant and interesting, but more than that they need to be engaging to the audience. Whether by intensifying its importance or managing expectations, the attention and structure given to a storyline is potentially as important as the plot itself.

Screenwriting lessons from Six Feet Under – Part One

Screenwriting lessons from Six Feet Under – Part One

A key part of writing for television is watching television. And learning from it.
Screenwriting lessons from tackles series past and present, analyzing them through the prism of screenwriting.

Ten years ago, one of the greatest American series debuted on television: Six Feet Under.
Concluding in 2005 with one of the best finales in TV history, the show broke new ground with its emotional and riveting stories. The series dealt with many day-to-day issues, including family, sexuality, relationships, and of course life & death. These are some of the lessons learned from this amazing character drama.

[Since I’ll be talking about Six Feet Under as a whole (including the series finale), I highly recommend you watch all five seasons of series before reading this post — it’s worth it.]


Lesson 1: Life is a prism

Never will your neighbor, your friend or even your brother think the same thing as you since each person has a different life experience. This translates directly into the way you, and your characters, view the world.
Different characters have different viewpoints, and the money in character relationships is where characters are trying to convince each other to change their mind.
When we meet them, Nate and David couldn’t be more different in their views of the family business. The former tried to escape this world as soon as he can, the latter abandoned his lawyer dream to be a mortician. During the life of the series, Nate is, despite himself, transforming into his father while David searches for his own identity. Both disagree on what death and the business is/should be, but they’re still brothers at the end of the day.
Beyond characters, the “prism” aspect of life also directly translates into the story. Each episode of the show centered on a different death, and more importantly how the funeral home dealt with it (and how it resonated through them).
When a grieving widow confides in Rico that she barely remembers her (now dead) ex-husband, Rico (and the audience with him) immediately think of his own fragile marriage on the brink of a divorce, slowly being erased from his family.
We’re all humans and therefore see the world in our version, our own “first-person POV.” It is vital that you represent that kind of polarizing diversity in your characters since no one is a clone of another person. Note that diversity and polarizing viewpoints do not mean a Manichean black/white division of your world.

Lesson 2: Less is more

If there is one thing Six Feet Under does better than any other show on television (besides Breaking Bad), it is to play up the silence. The “moments in between” are the moments of the show (arguably another big difference between film and TV in general). Continuous action is not needed to hold continuous interest from the audience (you don’t see a car explosion every episode, let alone every act).
It can be good to have an explosive monologue you build up to where a character pours out all of his/her emotions, but how often does that happen in real life? People rarely say more than a few words at a time, and most of life happens without words.
In one of the finest scene from the series finale, Ruth calls Maggie to get closure on her son’s death, asking her if he was happy in his last moments. The crux of the exchange doesn’t come with Maggie’s answer but by Ruth’s gasp for air, more indicative of her relief than anything else. Sure, a lot of it is due to the actor’s performance, but it also means the writer trusted his writing enough to write less. He knew it was the best option instead of doing a tedious/on-the-nose remark.
The old expression still holds true: Silence is golden.

Lesson 3: It’s about what is happening, not why

In other (canned) words: “it’s about the journey.”
Don’t get me wrong, you need to have reasons for putting X character in Z position, and you should be able to track your story’s progress plus ram up the tension at the end of your third act. Yet, a show isn’t a logical math problem with a solution. There should be some kind of reason for your madness, but all of this is for you, the writer, not the viewer. Your audience isn’t made up of robots analyzing and deconstructing beat by beat your show to determine why you put this and that there (at least not subconsciously). A show needs to not only live and breathe but more importantly be emotionally engaging.
So what does that have to do with “what is happening”?
Well, when you’re in the world, you (almost) never ask yourself “why is this happening?!” (unless you’re in Lost or a philosopher).
Your characters can question the “what” and do a spiritual search to get answers to “why” (after all, that’s the central question around life/religion itself), but unless you want to alienate your audience, it is never a good idea to remove any shred of mystery and actually answer the mysterious question.
Why do you think the Six Feet Under series finale is not only considered the pinnacle of the show but one of the best finales ever? The characters’ lives are (literally) concluded, but everything in between is left open-ended. We were only privileged to a slice of their lives, part of their journey. You cared about the characters and you lived with them. The show offered the perfect amount of closure.
Think of it this way: Life doesn’t have a point, it is the point.

Lesson 4: Unknown is better than known

Continuing on the “less is more” philosophy, no one is omniscient, which means you know next to nothing besides your limited point of view (no offense).
This directly translated on screen in the show with Lisa’s terrible, unknown, fate.
For the second half of the third season, Lisa, Nate’s wife, goes missing. Little by little, Nate worries and pretty much goes insane not knowing what happened to his wife. All of this builds up to somewhat of a closure to the arc that won’t happen until a season later. I say “somewhat of a closure” since even then, it isn’t really a closure. Just like in life, you don’t know what really happened to Lisa, simply the consequences (i.e. death).
Dread is a powerful emotion oftentimes ignored. Fear of the unknown is also a great motivator for people to take action (no one wants to see a hero wallow in self-pity).

What to take from the show (Part One)

Before mythology or adventures, a show needs to be about people true to life. No one is one-dimensional and no two people share the same exact limited point of views. Treat your characters as such.

Click here for Part Two

How to get an agent

How to get an agent

The great Jacob Michael has written an excellent article on ways to get a literary agent (among other advice). I sadly can’t link to the original, but here’s what he had to say about how to get agents for TV writers:

Steps to representation:
1) Write a really, really, really, really, really good story that has all the stuff you’d expect a good story to have in the genre and mode in which you want to write.
2) Wash. Repeat.

Now, is it that simple? Yes and no. But until you have that, any advice on how to pursue an agent (actually “pursuing an agent” isn’t exactly accurate) or whether to pursue a manager (which is sort of accurate) will be a waste of space.

So if you want to work in TV, at the bare minimum, you need:
1) An Original Pilot (2 is better)
2) A current spec of a current show

If you want to work in features, you need, at the bare minimum, 2 features in the genre you want to work in (if you want to be a horror writer, do not write a rom-com spec, write horror specs).

And then, if you have short stories or plays or some other fiction you’ve written, especially if it’s won awards of any kind, and most importantly if it’s in the same genre as your scripts, that can help your cause.

It is important to note this—managers and agents like to “define” writers. In other words, if you write in several different genres, they’re going to have a hard time “selling” you and they’ll pass on repping you. But if all your scripts are comedy, they can sell you as “an up and coming comedy writer” (and by-golly, you better be funny…both on the page and in person). Once you’re established as a writer, you can write that indie drama you’ve always wanted to write, or that big action flick…but not now. Or, you can begin your career in the indie film world where the rules are a bit more loose. But if you’re wanting to work in commercial film or in TV, write originals and specs in the genre you want to work in and do not deviate. Sorry. That’s just the way it is. (Yes, there are exceptions. There’re always exceptions. But they’re exceptions and not the standard…keep that in mind.)

Once you have the bare minimum in scripts, it’s time for real feedback. Not the feedback from your family and close friends who are going to rave about it, but the feedback from other writers who will piss and moan because you came up with a better idea than they had and executed it well…and where your script sucks, they’ll point it out.

After your scripts are in tip-top shape, the options are wide open, but the goal is the same: Get read. Your scripts may be better suited for a contest, so go that route. If not, maybe try query letters (they do work…see below). And, you can let people you know and have a relationship with who may know someone what your goal is. See if they’d be willing to read a script of yours and offer feedback. Or do the networking thing and when someone asks to read something of yours, give it to them.

NOTE: Do not go to a networking event and try to hand out your script. Bad idea. Go there to meet people. If they ask what you do, “I’m a writer and I’m looking for representation.” What do you write? “I’ve really been into unicorns and leprechauns ever since I was little because I was horrified by them, so I have some horror specs, one of which placed as a finalist in the Hobokon International Screenplay Competition called LEPRECHAUN ZOMBIES.” Oh, really? I know someone who might want to read that. Can I get a copy? “Of course.”

Now, those conversations won’t always go that quickly and sometimes they take time…but be patient. Be assertive and let people know what you do and your goals, but don’t assume they are the ones to help you. If you are pushy, they run. If they’re a writer, ask to read their stuff. Be more willing to help others than help yourself…it does come back around. Plus it makes you a better writer as you are now forced to critique another script…it’ll help you articulate what isn’t working in your own scripts.

Other options: TV writer programs, diversity programs, and even some internships. There are about a gazillion ways to get your script read…but back to above, if the script ain’t good, the method of your choosing won’t matter.

Also, re: television — TV managers and TV agents are much more willing to read original pilots right now than specs. If they like your pilot, they’ll ask for a spec, but they’ve already read 14,932 specs of HOUSE, so don’t try to send that first.

A note about query letters—production and management companies are rarely going to say “no” to a query that expresses an idea that is interesting to them and fits within their production guidelines. Now, some will, but generally, these companies stay in business because they have the next, best, newest thing. Enter: You. The writer. They need you. They won’t come out and say it like that, but they do. So if you don’t know anyone, do some research on projects similar to your original ideas (TV or film) and send query letters to those companies. If you get all “no” responses, tweak your query. If you get “yes,” send your script. If they end up not liking it, invite them to offer why they didn’t (most won’t say, but a few will). If you need to fix your script. Do it. Then send out another batch of queries.

Re: Agents—They are there to make money. So if you don’t look like an ATM, you’re not going to get much traction with an agent. Typically, agents only sign with writers who have sold or who are about to sell something. There are exceptions, but they’re rare. You might win a contest, which could get their attention. You might know someone with clout who gives it to an agent, which could get their attention. But generally, you have to have “heat” on your script. So if you’re sending it to several production companies and they’re big names and want to read it, feel free to query an agency related to the production company. It does work. Does it work for everyone? No. Like I said, there’s about a bazillion ways in…you just have to find the right one, and honestly, the right way depends on your personality and on the type of script you’re trying to sell.

But it starts with a good script. If you don’t have that, you’re wasting your time.

Hopefully that helps. Happy writing.
– Jacob