Screenwriting

Lester Dent’s Fiction Formula

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Dent2
I got this email from "Bigby" today:

Lester Dent, the pulp writer who created Doc Savage
(and I believe wrote all or most of the Shadow stories) and God knows how many
others once gave his formula for any 6000 word pulp story… which is EXACTLY
the four-act structure for TV. He even breaks those six thousand words into four,
1500 word acts…Absolutely fascinating.

Bigby is right.  Dent’s formula reads almost exactly like the four-act structure of an episodic teleplay. For example, here is how Dent describes the first 1500 words of a story:

  1. First line, or as near thereto as possible, introduce the hero
    and swat him with a fistful of trouble. Hint at a mystery, a menace or
    a problem to be solved–something the hero has to cope with.
  2. The hero pitches in to cope with his fistful of trouble. (He
    tries to fathom the mystery, defeat the menace, or solve the problem.)
  3. Introduce ALL the other characters as soon as possible. Bring
    them on in action.
  4. Hero’s endevours land him in an actual physical conflict near the
    end of the first 1500 words.
  5. Near the end of first 1500 words, there is a complete surprise
    twist in the plot development.

That’s pretty darn close to what the first Act of any episode has to accomplish. The first Act sets up the central conflicts of the story:  what the hero has at stake, what others have at stake, what his goals are and the obstacles that prevent him from achieving his aims. Dent says much the same thing, only in a different words ("He
tries to fathom the mystery, defeat the menace, or solve the problem."). Dent’s advice is worth taking — whether you are writing a thrilling short story or a spec episode of a TV show.

Making a Living

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I had lunch with a TV writer-friend not long ago, and he was lamenting how the business was letting him down lately. He hadn’t worked much in TV during the last year and was despairing about his future. He told me that he wished he wrote books, too. So write one, I said. But I could see from the expression on his face that he wouldn’t. He liked the idea of writing a book…actually doing it was something else. He was a TV writer, and that was it.

I decided long ago that I was going to be a writer first and a TV writer second. There’s no question that I make most of my living in television…but I believe it’s important to me professionally, financially, psychologically and creatively not to concentrate on just one field of writing (It probablyhelps that I started my career as a freelance journalist, then became a novelist, then a non-fiction author, and finally, a TV writer/producer).  So I write books, both fiction and non-fiction, I teach TV writing, and occasionally I write articles and short stories… most of the time while I’m simultaneously writing & producing TV shows (though the TV work always takes priority over everything else). 

While the income from books, teaching, and articles doesn’t come close to matching what I  make in TV, those gigs keep some cash coming in when TV (inevitably) lets me down, keep me "alive" in other fields,  and, more importantly, keep my spirits up.

As a result, who I am as a writer isn’t entirely wrapped up in whether or not I have a TV job or a book on the shelves. I often have both, or one or the other — but if I have neither, I have a class to teach or an article to write.

I’m not producing a series right now. But last week, I partnered with a major production company and pitched a movie with them to a cable network. I met with representatives of a European TV network that’s interested in having me teach TV writing to their writer/producers and consult on their series. I rewrote a  TV movie treatment to incorporate studio notes.  I turned in a freelance script to the producers of a new drama series. I taught an online screenwriting class. I submitted a short story to Amazon shorts. I wrote 60 pages of my next novel. Next week, I have a meeting with a studio exec who has shows to staff up, a notes meeting on the freelance script, galleys to proof on one of my novels, more pages of my book to write, and probably a whole lot more that I don’t even know about yet. 

The bottom line is, I am always writing something for pay, even if that check is miniscule and hustling for my next gig, whether it’s in TV, publishing, or something else.  Why? Because that is who I am… a professional writer. And I have a mortgage to pay, just like everybody else.

Reviewing the Script

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The LA Times did something today that newspapers and major magazines never do — they reviewed a published screenplay of a recent film, Akiva Goldsman’s adaptation of THE DAVINCI CODE. The book critic’s opinion of the script is  secondary to the extraordinary nature of the review itself, which probably never would been printed (or even assigned) if not for the fact that the film had one of the biggest opening weekends in movie history. Which, perhaps, is why the anonymous editor felt it necessary to preface the review with his rationale for publishing it:

"The Da Vinci Code" is not just a mega-selling book, not just a
crowd-drawing movie, it’s also, at $21.95, an "illustrated screenplay"
replete with storyboards, stills from the movie, musings by author Dan
Brown and the movie’s principals and boxes of production trivia (such
as " ‘The Da Vinci Code’ had 25 revisions over six months" and
"Twenty-four rue Haxo doesn’t actually exist in Paris.") At the heart
of the "official making-of-the-movie book," though, is Akiva Goldsman’s
script. The Times asked film and book critic Charles Taylor to consider
how it plays on the page.

Screenplays are published all the time but are never taken seriously (or noticed at all) by  the general media, only by the script-craft magazines. Does this mean we’ll start seeing more published screenplays reviewed by the LA Times? I doubt it. But still, in its own way, it’s something of a watershed event.

Nobody Wants to Read Your Adaptation of CHILDHOOD’S END

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I got this email the other day:

Suppose you adapt something that you love (a novel or a comic or short story) and it turns out very good. Would it be ethical to use this as a writing sample? Would it be a good idea? Would it demonstrate to a producer or agent your ability to adapt other materials?

On the one hand this seems to me very much like fanfic in that you’re using characters and a world created by some one to which you have no rights. On the other hand when you spec a TV show, which you do use as a writing sample, you’re doing the exact same thing.

I have to admit that these are questions nobody has ever asked me before.  The answer is no, you should not adapt someone else’s novel for your spec script.  And here’s why:

1) The point of a spec feature is to show off your unique voice and your ability to tell a compelling, original story. No producer is going to be impressed if you adapt THE DAVINCI CODE as your spec.

2) The point of an episodic spec is to show your ability to capture the structure, voice, characters, and tone of an existing TV series.  Basing your spec on a book, comic, or pre-existing movie tells a producer absolutely nothing about your grasp of the four-act structure or your ability to mimick the voice of a TV character.

3) You don’t own the book, comic book, or short story. It’s not yours to adapt. It’s stealing.

4) It’s not even remotely the same thing as writing a spec episode of an existing TV series. It’s accepted practice within the TV industry that it’s okay to write an episode of an existing series for the sole purpose of using it as a writing sample. You’re given a free pass, essentially, to play with characters you don’t own because there’s an understanding you’re not going to publish it, produce it, or sell it. A spec episodic script is a sample of your work, a way for producers to gauge if you can mimic the plotting, voice, structure, and tone of a TV series.

5) It’s an enormous cheat. Let’s be honest, you’re turning to a book, comic book, or other pre-existing property
because you’re too lazy to do the work involved in coming up with an
original story. Or you don’t have the skills to mimic an episode of a TV show. Or you’re so blinded by fanboy love of the material that
you can’t see what a stupid idea it is to send out your own adaptation.
Here are some of the least offensive things agents and producers will
think of you if you send out your unsolicited adaptation of  CATCHER IN
THE RYE or CAPTAIN MARVEL or your reimagining of SEAQUEST DSV:  "Loser,"
"geek," "never been laid," "speaks fluent Klingon," "talentless
amateur," "moron," "loves Real Person Slash Fic," "Collects unicorn
statuettes,"  "Lives with his Mother," "Dimwit," and "Longs for the return
of the original BATTLESTAR GALACTICA."

All that said, I vaguely recall reading somewhere that John Irving gave a young director the rights to one of his books (perhaps A WIDOW FOR ONE YEAR or OWEN MEANY) based on an  screenplay adaptation of the novel that the film-maker wrote on spec to impress the novelist.  But that’s a unique situation and very different from what you’re proposing.

John August is my Hero

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Screenwriter John August pleads with writers to take a vow to stop having characters crawl around in air vents.  Why? Because it’s stupid, lazy, unrealistic… AND STUPID.  I’ve even seen people in movies crawl through the airvents in a house.  So I applaud John for waging war against this inane cliche:

Here’s what I’m proposing:  The Screenwriter’s Vow of Air Vent Chastity.

I, John August, hereby swear that I shall never place a
character inside an air duct, ventilation shaft, or any other euphemism
for a building system designed to move air around.

One day, I’d love to win an Oscar. An Emmy. A Tony Award. But if all
I accomplished in my screenwriting life were reducing the number of
times characters climbed through air vents, I’d consider my work
successful.

Good News For TV Writers

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The California State Supreme Court threw out a lawsuit by a writer’s assistant against the writers  and producers of FRIENDS. The assistant charged that the sexually explicit jokes and anecdotes shared among the writers in the writer’s room created a "hostile work environment." (You can read the full text of the decision here)

Because "Friends" was an "adult-oriented comedy show featuring sexual
themes," Lyle should have expected coarse language from writers producing jokes
and scripts for the show, the Supreme Court held in its ruling.

While the Fair Employment and Housing Act prohibits conduct that creates a
hostile or abusive workplace for women, it does not outlaw "sexually coarse and
vulgar language that merely offends," the high court said.

The case raised questions of how far TV comedy writers can go in pushing the
boundaries of taste in their private joke-writing sessions, with supporters of
the writers and producers arguing that Lyle’s suit infringed on their freedom of
speech.

The high court declined to address the free-speech issues raised in the
case.

"We have no occasion to determine whether liability for such language might
infringe on free speech rights," the court held.

The show’s writers claimed Lyle was fired because she was a slow typist who
often missed the jokes she was supposed to transcribe.

Story Bullshit

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Screenwriter Josh Friedman blogs about the time he was offered the chance by a good friend to write the screenplay for a "go" movie for an International Star.

All I had to do was meet the star, hear
the movie he wanted to make, and nod my head. The job was mine. That
was it. […]

After some small talk, I settled in to hear the movie. What happened
next was forty-five of the most entertaining and annoying minutes I
have ever spent in the film business. International Star stood across
from me and proceeded to act the movie out, giving me examples of
action scenes, stunts, sight gags, etc. He never stopped moving for the
better part of an hour.

And here’s what he kept saying the entire time:

INTERNATIONAL
STAR: So…we have a bar scene first. Maybe…a bar fight? Six men
against me…I’ll balance on a chair like this…take out all six…do
my funny International Star thing…maybe drink their drinks…then we
have some story bullshit…After that…I rescue this girl from…the
whorehouse? Maybe bandits…I’ll do my funny International Star
thing…like with this chair here…Then some story bullshit…and I
find this other girl tied up…there’s a chair gag…then some story
bullshit…

Here’s the conversation I have in the car with my friend afterwards.

FRIEND: So…you’re in, right? It’s fucking awesome, right?
ME: You’ve gotta be kidding me.
FRIEND: What?
ME: Story bullshit? STORY BULLSHIT? My part in all this is…story bullshit?
FRIEND: Oh don’t be so senstiive. That’s just International Star. He’s…international.
ME: He refers to my job as bullshit.
FRIEND: Which is exactly why I need you. You’ll make it better than bullshit.
ME: No way. Not doing it.
FRIEND: You HAVE TO.
ME: I don’t, actually.
FRIEND: I already told him you would.
ME: What!
FRIEND: I told him you’d do it. I told him you were perfect. He’ll take it as a personal affront.
ME: I don’t care.
FRIEND: I stuck my neck out for you. You can’t fuck me like this.
ME: I’m afraid I am fucking you like this.

And so I did.

Two weeks later I got this phone call from my friend:

FRIEND: So. I just wanted to give you an update on the International Star thing.
ME: Look, I’m sorry if I made you look bad–
FRIEND: Don’t worry. I fixed it. We hired someone else.
ME: Good. That’s great. How did you–?
FRIEND:
I told him that I had second thoughts about you. That after thinking
about it I decided you weren’t a good enough writer for the project.
ME: Wow. You’re fucking good.
FRIEND: Aren’t I?

His latest blog post, in late March, refers to his then-upcoming surgery for cancer.  It got him pondering some other "story bullshit" — what his eulogy might be:

I’ve spent the last twenty-five years composing my own eulogy. I’ve
never written it down, never even started it. But I’ve written it a
thousand times in my head. Ever since I was young I’ve been obsessed
with all aspects of my funeral. Who would speak, Who would be
there…What they would say…Where it would be held, what kind of
music would I choose…What kind of food would be served at the
afterparty…I’m an incredibly arrogant sonuvabitch, and it probably
won’t surprise you to know my funeral’s a pretty tough ticket it’s so
fucking crowded with mourners.

I’ve brought myself to tears
dozens of times with this masturbatory/fetishistic reimagining of my
final words washing out over the assembled masses. Sometimes funny,
chiding yet touching, my eulogy at all times insightful and peaceful
and reassuring to the thousands who have gathered to mark the passing
of one of the great unheard voices of a generation.

Words.

My ultimate words.

At the end of the day, why do we write? We write to remember, we write
to be remembered, we write to discover who we are, or determine it for
others. Our words will always outlive us, immortalizing us if not
always powerful enough to make us immortal. Although if we choose our
words well, there will always be a way back to life, a way to and fro
through time. Someone will always feel us like it was yesterday,
someone will smell our skin again, if we choose our words well.

If we choose our words well there need not always be a last. If we choose our words well there will always be a way to find us.

I have chosen my words. They are:

There are motherfucking snakes on the motherfucking plane.

I don’t know Josh, but I hope his surgery went well and I wish him the very best.

A Cautionary Tale

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The LA Times reported today about the tragic downfall of screenwriter Eric Monte… a story that could serve as a cautionary tale for both TV writers and vanity press authors. The once high-flying comedy writer, who had a tumultuous relationship with the Industry even during his heyday, is now living in a homeless shelter. Two big lessons from the article — stay away from crack cocaine and don’t flush your money down the vanity press toilet:

A year of crack cocaine abuse robbed him of money,
dignity and a circle of Hollywood friends. Attempts to sell a
self-published book drained the last of his savings.[…]

With $10,000 from a "Good Times" movie option, Monte self-published a book, "Blueprint for Peace." In it he wrote that peace could be achieved if humanity followed seven basic principles: merge all  nations into one, stop manufacturing weapons of war, adopt one  universal language, eliminate money as the medium of exchange, abandon  the concept of land ownership, abandon the concept of inheritance, and  control population growth. Monte rented a booth at last April’s Los Angeles Times Book Festival,  but he failed to sell a single copy of his book.

"I just have to figure out how to market it," he says. "I know that as  soon as it starts selling, it will sell for 1,000 years."

A Set of Jumper Cables for Your Script

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Here’s some great writing advice from Jane Espenson:

                                                                                        SHADY GUY
                                            I promised you a half-ton of frozen fish.  That’s a
                                            half-ton of frozen fish.

When
we hear that, we know that the previous line was some kind of protest
about whether or not Shady Guy met his end of the bargain. We’ve
established the attitude of both characters by the end of line.

As
you look through your own writing, you may very well discover that
you’ve been doing this automatically, too. If not, try knocking off a
few opening lines, see if it doesn’t jump-start the scene!