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What the World Cup can teach you about television writing

What the World Cup can teach you about television writing

As the 2010 World Cup in South Africa is about to close, you might come to realize that association “soccer” football is closer to the world of television writing than you realize. You don’t have to be a fan, or even care about football to appreciate a few valuable lessons that can be applied to TV writers.
Let’s start off with the most obvious.

Be in shape to play the game

For the same reason you don’t see overweight people running around the field, you won’t see a professional TV writer who is ignorant of act breaks, A/B/C stories, character arcs, script formatting and grammar.
Learn, write, and learn again.
You don’t need to be a master at everything, but at least be aware of the rules before playing.

You don’t have to be big to become big

I’m a firm believer that, even if you’re an unknown, at the end of the day everyone has their shot.
Take a cue from underdogs like Uruguay, Ghana and, yes, the U.S., whose teams managed to defeat and even outlast most of the favorites. Finalist Spain was even beaten in the group stage by Switzerland!
It’s not because people don’t see you right now as important that you won’t be in the near future. You can aim high.
Trust yourself and your writing.

Be ready

Upsets and surprises can happen anytime, whether on the field or in real life. Hollywood is an unpredictable place (except for the weekly superhero movie), so when opportunity comes knocking, you better have your awesome specs ready. In football, the offense must be at all times prepared to receive the ball, and score. Do the same.

Don’t be cocky

You’ve heard the adage, “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” Well even if you’re halfway there, you still need to make the next step. Translation: even if the writing job you’re given isn’t what you’ve dreamed of, think twice before saying no. You can be sure someone else is ready to tackle you and take that job in your place, and you might regret it. If you drop the ball, you will lose it.

Passion is key

Being a soccer player in America is kind of like being a television writer. It’s a full-time gig, you’re underpaid compared to other writers/athletes at the same level, and no one outside your profession takes you seriously.
So why do you really want to become a TV writer?
Ironically, the U.S. team went far because of their gusto. You could feel from their game that they were playing because they loved the sport, they loved their teammates, and they loved to give a hundred percent of themselves for it all.
On the other hand, spoiled Italian and French players were “playing” as if it was a burden. The passion was gone.
Please, don’t be that guy.
Find a way to remind yourself daily of why you want to be a TV writer.

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket

If this World Cup showed us anything, it is that favorites may not be as amazing as previously thought. Brazil, Italy, Argentina, Portugal, England, how many of them ended up disappointing their fans – and the people who bet on them.
Instead of going all-in by supporting your one script, you need to have a wide variety of specs ready to show. You might have a favorite, and that’s okay, but don’t let it deter you from writing other spec scripts from other genres and formats.
You came here to write, prove it.

It’s a team sport before all

Perhaps the greatest comparison between television and football is that both are based on team play. Everyone is working together to attain a common goal (literally). You will be surrounded by teammates, so play ball (figuratively). Pass it around, trust your comrades, and respect the process. No matter how great, rarely can a single player save the whole team. Case in point this year with Messi and Ronaldo.
If you put faith in other people, the ball will come back around (in a good way).
With that said…

Take the shot

Don’t expect that everyone will constantly be holding your hand (or foot for that matter). If you’re lucky, you might be guided along the way by kind writer souls (aka mentors), but when everything is in alignment, you need to score. There can be so many passes between the players before someone needs to step up. Sometimes, it is good to take the initiative.

Know that people will blame the coach

There will come a time where you will be an exec, and perhaps even a show-runner.
The sad truth is that, like in football, the main guy who gets blamed for all the problems is the coach (you). Yes, we just said it was a team sport, but still. Whether with the audience (“that episode was sh*t!”), with the VP (“that episode was expensive!”), or with your players (“fire him or I quit!”), when something goes wrong, you will be at fault.
Nine times out of ten, you will need to accept this and move on. The one time you might pull a Fabio Capello, and get your contract renewed, even if all has failed.

The game is sometimes unfair

Like with Suarez’s handball which prevented Ghana from moving on, you might be surprised at some of the tactics used by some to move ahead, as well as the shows being made compared to those that aren’t. This is no reason to be bitter at other people’s success. Embrace this opportunity to prove once more your originality.

Never lose hope

Even if you think you’re outplayed and you may get eliminated, never despair. The best example this tournament is undoubtedly Landon Donovan’s last-minute goal. This example actually can be extrapolated to the entire performance of the U.S. team. Indeed, in every game they seemed to be both outmatched and losing (1-0 for England, 2-0 for Slovenia, 1-0 for Ghana), but every time, the team was able to overcome their apparent inferiority and actually transform a downside into an upside. The team was reacting instead of suffering.
When you are down, get out of this vicious circle and realize that you can get back up.
This brings me to my next point.

If at first you don’t succeed, try again

We’ve had our fair share of incredible matches with the German team, but the semi-final where Spain defeated them was for most non-aficionados a bore. Why? Not a lot of goals means no action, right?
The truth is that during the whole 90 minutes of play, both teams were probing each other’s defense, trying to find holes, and exploiting them to score.
It might not have been spectacular for outside viewers, but it is very effective.
In the TV world, this can be compared to ideas being pitched.
You might not be able to get them through the first few times, but the more you try, the greater your chances are at having a few of them heard, and perhaps getting made. It takes some work, and a lot of patience, but with such fierce competition on the other side, you can’t expect to score on your first try.

Believe in yourself.
Write the future.
Score.

Show, Don’t Tell: Mamet’s rules and Breaking Bad

David Mamet wrote a few years ago a letter to his writing staff on CBS’ The Unit talking about what makes drama (written in caps).
This is a must-read for everyone involved with writing.
As Amy Berg described it: “Check out the latest viral writing porn.”

Comments about the content follow the letter.

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.)

Although there is no one rule for writing “dramatic” scenes, I do find his various points thought-provoking.
What is also interesting is his rant about television not being like radio (despite its origins).
Seldom are TV shows treated with the same respect as movies, especially visually.
I recently listened to a Vince Gilligan interview linked last week where he did talk about how Breaking Bad, unlike any other series, “aims for the widescreen”, which is definitely something that can be both seen and sensed when watching the show.
Case in point in the season three premiere, where extreme wide shots were used to film an execution in the middle of nowhere (tip of the hat in this case to Bryan Cranston, who also was the episode’s director). This is still a visual medium, and this is a TV Show.
Paradoxically, Breaking Bad does employ a lot of great dialogue scenes which might seem to contradict the rule that “any logline reading “Bob and Sue discuss” is not describing a dramatic scene.” However there are also a lot of “silent moments”, and as Mamet says: “If you pretend the characters can’t speak, and write a silent movie, you will be writing great drama.”
It seems Breaking Bad is the current master in that department.

It is true that sometimes the audience doesn’t need that much information to watch a show (Lost anyone?), but can an entire episode sustain without any kind of exposition in it?
What do you guys think?

Ten Spec Writing Rules (and why you should care)

Ten Spec Writing Rules (and why you should care)

While giving her ten commandments on writing a spec script in an interview a few years ago, Jane Espenson thought that “this could be a good blog entry.”
She wasn’t wrong.

How to write a spec script for TV is a broad question that has many answers. Her comment made me reminisce about some of the standard spec writing ground-rules. I find that having some does not hinder creativity, but rather focuses it.

Here’s a little (albeit detailed) reminder of some of them, starting with the most obvious.

1. Don’t spec a dead show

For the love of God, we don’t want to know what Carrie did with Mr. Big’s underwear or Ross’ latest honeymoon with Rachel.
If the show is buried, leave it there.

2. Don’t spec a show you want to get hired on

Where to send spec scripts is another issue, but your sample television script should not be destined for the show you’re basing it on. This might sound crazy for some but if you think about it, it’s pretty logical.
There are, firstly, some legal issues that might become involved. More importantly though, it’s just very hard for an outsider to nail a show right on the money.
As Martie Cook explains it in Write to TV:

If you are anyone on the Desperate Housewives writing staff, you know each of the characters intimately […], you know absolutely every minor detail. As a freelance writer, no matter how much you study a show before you write it, you simply won’t have the same inside track that the show’s script writers and producers do. It is quite probable that here and there throughout your script you may have things that are slightly off. [The Desperate Housewives writing staff] will no doubt pick up on the flaws in your script instantly.

Go for the next-of-kin, meaning the next show closest (regarding genre/voice/stories) to the one you want to get hired on.
There have been some successful rule-breakers, but these are extremely rare cases.

3. Spec a show you like

Not speccing the series you’re aiming at doesn’t mean you shouldn’t write something you don’t like (if anything, it’s gonna show in your writing).
Don’t spec a show simply because it’s hot, but also because you’re into it and have some kind of appreciation for it.
Passion is what drives you to be a writer, so why not use the same fuel for your script?

4. Don’t write mythological episodes

You know these little toys you had as a kid and didn’t want anyone else to touch?
Well the characters you’re using belong to someone else.
You’re allowed to play with them a bit, but the show-runner expects you to bring them back safely to him/her.
When you spec a show, go for the memorable stand-alone episode, not the big season finale.
If House suddenly learns he has a tumor, or Meredith Grey finds out she’s pregnant, you’re doing something wrong.
You can obviously play with characters’ relationships and/or use bigger mysteries/arcs, but one of the (many) questions you should be asking yourself is if your episode can neatly fit anywhere in a given season of the show. If the answer is yes, congrats, you’ve got a stand-alone episode.
This doesn’t mean though that your script should be pointless.
You need to provide the reader with an emotional ride, and perhaps even some thought-provoking content.
Use the already-defined protagonists; they’re here just for that reason.
For overly-serialized character shows you wouldn’t be able to understand without a Previously, the WB Writers’ Workshop advises to “set up your episode:”

If you are writing a serialized show (e.g. Gossip Girl or Grey’s Anatomy) please include a “Previously On” page that lists where your main characters are within the series when we come across them in your spec. This page should come after your title page and before your teaser.

5. Don’t write around new characters

You’re trying to prove that you can “blend in” a writing staff, and more importantly “get” the voice of a show.
Writing the backstory of Don Draper’s hairdresser might be fun, but it certainly doesn’t show how you can write the other Mad Men characters (the ones in suits and dresses).
And in case you’re wondering, limiting the amount of screen time a new character has doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be any guest-stars.
If you’re writing a procedural, you will definitely need to introduce new people (victim, murderer, suspect, etc.), just make sure they’re not the protagonists of your episode.

6. Don’t go for the obvious

If you have thought of it, chances are other writers on staff have too. How to write a TV script isn’t about using the low-hanging fruits.
Think of why the show didn’t use that particular storyline. Now look at your spec script outline.
The aim is to write better TV than what’s on TV. You have months, they have two weeks (at best).
Don’t be that guy/girl who throws an empty can of beer at your screen yelling “My dog can write better than that!”, and then come up with a body-switch episode.

7. Don’t think too big, your spec must be realistically producible…

Maybe you should edit your spec script down. Jane Espenson once told the story behind a failed Star Trek spec she did:

It was all epic. And unfilmable. I had demonstrated a complete lack of ability to tell a story with an eye toward real-life budget constraints. And, as a result, I had ended up telling a story that they simply wouldn’t do on their show. Writing a filmable spec, keeping it small enough, is an important part of the process.

8. …but don’t expect it to get produced

Specs are mainly here to showcase your talent as well as show you can blend in a predetermined ensemble.
One of the greatest ironies of TV spec writing is that, even though you’re striving to prove you can successfully write a one-hour drama, your “proof” won’t be made.
You can use that to your advantage by going bigger on some of the stories.
Alex Epstein in Crafty TV Writing also makes an interesting point about censorship, and how your material can be “slightly edgier” to what’s on TV:

If you are going to push the envelope, it should be in a direction that the show would naturally take if the network censors were all on holiday that week.

With that said, don’t go too far. Although you can thematically go beyond the usual, don’t go overboard and start putting “fuck” every pages (unless it’s The Sopranos — but what the hell are you doing speccing a dead show?).
Like getting staffed on your specced show, there have been very rare instances (mostly in sitcoms) where specs ended up being made. There’s also that guy who got struck by lightning twice. You know what I mean.

9. Keep it fresh

This is both about your choice of main storyline (who wants to see a rehash of a plot done to death?), as well as arcs you might have to use in your spec.
Your Grey’s Anatomy script about Izzy Stevens won’t be of much use now that Katherine Heigl is off the show.
Try to keep it updated enough so as not to make your spec stale. Doing this on a serialized show is obviously harder.
But like Botox, too much nip and tuck on your finished script, and it quickly becomes a mess.
As Jane Espenson puts it:

It’s better to let a spec show a few of the signs of aging than to keep fattening its lips and lifting its keister until even you can’t recognize it anymore.

Fellowships find that 6-month old scripts are fine as they consider it the correct amount of time for a good polish/new writing. However, if it’s a couple seasons old, cross it off.

10. Watch, read, and study

Perhaps the single most important rule here.
You’re aiming to mimic an already-existing show so that your own spec script format matches theirs.
The best way to know how it works is to do the three things listed: watch their episodes, read their scripts, study their structure. If you can, you should definitely try to get your hands on the series’ bible (though that’s going to be a hard thing to do).
Ask yourself: What would a typical A, B, or C story be? How long are the teaser and the tag? Why are the act breaks here but not there? And for that matter, how many acts are there altogether? The list goes on. You should also have a feel of how the characters talk, and even think.
Basically know the show by heart.

Remember that writing a spec script is still art, not science.

You could forget about everything and write for the double-edged sword that is ‘stunt speccing.’ If you’re on top of your game and make the perfect script, kudos to you. However if not done correctly, it could bomb massively (and you’d have wasted a lot of time writing it). Perhaps I’ll post a spec script example or two next time around.
Rules are meant to be broken, but some are also meant to be respected.

And since I did mention Jane Espenson’s own ten commandments of TV Spec writing, here they are:

– Don’t spec a show you don’t respect.
– Don’t make your spec about a guest character. Focus on the main character.
– Get sample scripts of produced episodes. Study them.
– Follow the show’s structure exactly.
– Find a story for your spec that plays on the show’s main theme.
– Don’t write an episode that resolves the show’s mystery or consummates its romance.
– Place the story turns at the act breaks, and give us a reason to come back after the commercials.
– In a comedy, spend time polishing the jokes, especially the last one of each scene.
– Spelling, formatting, clarity of stage directions – they really matter.
– Use strong brass brads.

Write on.