Foot in door

I got a question from a reader! I'm so pleased :)

I realized I don't think I've ever answered this question in the blog before, either, so I'll reprint part of my answer here in case anyone else was wondering.

When you say CBC put a drama series idea of yours into development - how did that come about? Did you submit to them yourself?

I had spoken with a local development person here in Halifax about a couple of show ideas but the thing that really earned attention both at the CBC in Halifax and in Toronto was getting into the NSI Totally Television program. I think that next to the Canadian Film Center, NSI is the most respected in the industry. (Or maybe NSI is in the lead? ;-) The project I'm working on got accepted for the '07-'08 year, and while at the workshops, we gave a panel of network execs our loglines - our very lovely CBC exec was on that panel, and from then on, CBC was interested.

NSI Totally Television is very market-driven, so they want shows and teams they believe can get development and production deals. Once you're in, they provide fantastic training and mentorship and open doors. The other great thing about their programs is that you don't have to move to Toronto or give up your day job to participate. We went to a one-week workshop in Toronto in September, and another the following spring, and the rest was done by phone and email. And sweat!

That's how I did it. I don't really know how successful it might be to go in cold -- everyone wants the next great project and it doesn't matter where it comes from -- but I know that it is much easier when there's someone who can help provide introductions, make sure your material is ready to go, etc.

One other important thing that got me to the point of working with CBC was that this project began specifically with a certain network and time slot in mind. I felt it belonged on CBC and had an idea what audience I was looking for - because CBC had told producers (including my father-in-law) what they were looking for. This information is not closely guarded - check it out on the network's website: What is the CBC looking for?

I don't think that this means you should design programs around what networks tell you they want - that's ass backwards - but for me it meant that when I had an idea I wanted to pursue, I knew where it belonged and that really kept me focused as I worked out the proposal.

I really can't rave enough about NSI and the huge leg up the Totally Television program gave the project. The only reason I haven't talked about it here before was that when I was in my rut I didn't want my failures to reflect badly on them! But now that I'm grooving, it's time for this and more:

Props to the National Screen Institute! Totally Television isn't the only thing they do - check out their full range of programs.

Another important thing about a premise

Further to my premise obsession, check out Carson Reeves' review of the script Brad Cutter Ruined My Life Again over at ScriptShadow this week. Reeves says that one of the things Brad Cutter does best is live up to its premise:

"The reason Brad Cutter works so well is it does one of the best jobs of exploiting its premise of any script I've ever read. Too many screenplays have these great premises, then midway through, drive off into who-cares field to explore some meaningless subplot that isn't half as interesting as its hook. I’ll give you an example.

A few weeks ago, a script called “Hello, I Love You” sold. It was described as a new take on Groundhog Day. Keep in mind this is a 2007 draft, and that they may have fixed this problem since then, but in the draft, a teenage girl who hates her family makes a wish for a new one. As a result, she begins waking up with a new family every day. A clever twist is that the families she wakes up in are families from the neighborhood she’s familiar with. This allows us to see these families in a completely different light. Lots of potential for comedy *and* drama there. The problem is, she stops waking up in the new families by page 40! The script then shifts to a love story between her and her neighbor. The hook, the reason we come to see the movie, is abandoned. And while the relationship between the two is cute, we can see it in any teen movie or TV show. The premise is why we showed up in the first place. So why aren't we exploring it?

On the opposite end of the spectrum is Brad Cutter. The premise of a guy being roped back into his high school days is milked in every single scene, in every single moment, in every single line. It’s a master class in that respect. From the “cool kids’ table” to a field trip on a school bus to “Picture Day” to a face rash that looks like acne, Brad Cutter gets everything and more out of its premise. And like any good comedy script, it weaves these moments in with a nice story."

A tv show that failed in this way for me was The Unusuals. After introducing their unusual detectives in the beginning of the pilot, the show reverted to fairly usual cop drama.

(Although this may not be a great example, when I think about it, because the show barely even established its "unusual" premise - it was what I hoped the hook would be based on the title.

ABC (via Futon Critic) described the show like this: "The Unusuals explores both the grounded drama and comic insanity of the world of New York City police detectives, where every cop has a secret. It also helps to have a twisted sense of humor, since every day could be your last." As well as being a little unfocused, I don't love this description because "every cop has a secret" doesn't seem that remarkable to me. Every character in everything should have some kind of secret, shouldn't they? So this actually may have been a joint failure of establishing a good premise and living up to it.)

Can anyone think of a better example of a movie or television show that disappointed you because it didn't fulfill the promise of its premise?

Write With Jane - 30 - Process

Jane discusses different approaches to moving from outline to script in this post from March '06. (Jane retired from her blog, by the way, but she can be found online on Twitter.)

A good thing to note here is that there are a variety of different ways of approaching the same task. If you're having difficulty or feel stuck, it can be useful to allow yourself to be flexible and try a new approach. As Jane says -

"The important thing is to realize that there's no correct way to go about this. It's like taking a bath. Afterwards, no one's going to know anything about the process, but they'll appreciate the result."

More, Part 3 - Character Premises

As promised, my one more post on things I'm doing to crank up the dial on my projects. So far, I suggested bringing separate scenes, characters, or plot points together to make a single stronger one; and thinking about writing in layers instead of "drafts."

The third thing I'm trying to do is be simple and purposeful. One way to do this is with character.

I'm interested in writing complex and realistic characters. But I'm starting to believe I've approached it the wrong way - that instead of starting out complicated, it's better to start out simple. Television, particularly broadcast tv, requires clarity. So when I first introduce a character, I want to be simple and clear: to show just one thing about my character - the single most important thing about them. This is a quality or internal conflict that will prevail throughout their part in the story - it's the character's premise.

For example, one of my main characters has the premise, "A powerful woman who's secretly afraid." This is her essential struggle - maintaining an external image of success and power while hiding her weakness and fears. I'm hoping this will be relatable and launch plenty of stories for her. (Like a story premise, it contains a conflict and a couple of adjectives.)

I try to have a one-liner like this that I can refer to for each character. Next, I want to make the first time you meet them the time when I really hit you over the head with it. If nothing else, the point of any character's first scene will be to communicate their premise.

This was done well with the singing quarterback, Finn, on Glee. In his first scene, Finn's premise is made clear when he stops the bullying football players from throwing Kurt in the dumpster - just long enough for Kurt to take off his designer jacket. So Finn wants to fit in with the jocks but he's got more sensitivity than the others. This internal kind of masculine-feminine conflict is still in play for Finn 9 episodes into the series, as his pregnant girlfriend urges him to man up and get a job, but Finn finds real comfort and help from the less popular but more accepting Rachel.

You'll notice when characters aren't set up well when a) you find yourself several scenes into their story and still casting around for ways to convince the audience they're likeable; and b) they seem like puppets moving at the will of the plot or the stronger characters around them.

But if you know one simple, true thing about your character that's communicated clearly right away, the audience can be hooked by that information - whether they like they character or not, they get them, they know who they're dealing with, which I think is actually more important than "likeability."

And when you know your character's premise, you'll always be able to test their actions against it, so that if the plot needs them to do something that doesn't fit with their premise, you know you're violating your character and have to find a different solution.

This gives your story more intensity because you're basically setting out to do one thing very well. This character will be clear and present - much stronger than a less-focused character. A clear character gives the audience a good, solid foothold as they enter the story. It doesn't mean your character won't become more complicated - instead, it creates a foundation to build everything else on.

Peevish

Here is a pet peeve I have: stories by Canadian writers set in glamorous (usually American) places. I saw it recently, no need to say where, because many new writers do this, and I did it, too. Several of my earlier works were set in New York City - even though I'd never actually been there.

I don't consider myself any exceptional patriot. I love Canada, I vote, and I haven't moved away. That's the extent of it most days. But this move offends my writer's sensibilities and my Canadian ones.

Because here's the way I interpret it: "All good movies/shows/books are set in exciting places like New York City, and Canada is boring, so I need a place that's better than Canada."

First, you can't actually learn everything you need to know about a place by watching other people's movies and tv shows. For example, even though NYPD Blue made me feel sometimes like I really knew The Job and the gritty 15th precinct, I can't take David Milch's NYC and make it my own. Film and tv settings are distillations - so from the movies, you're getting that filmmaker's version of a place. For your own setting, you need to start out with the real thing and boil it down to fit your story.

Second, Canada is not boring and if you aren't looking deep enough to see that, you really need to start. The idea that your story is too good for Canada is more than a little arrogant.

Yes, I am talking to 25-year-old Me here. Dumbass.

One exception is using a foreign setting (that you've actually been to) from the point of view of an expat or a traveler. Another exception is setting your story in outer space. I think you can go for that even if you've never visited. But plunking your story down in a different place just to gain glamour points ain't gonna cut it. Please don't do that.

Write Screenplays? Read Screenplays.

Do it.

More

Earlier this week, I talked about finding out how much more things have to be, which raises the good question (thanks, Erin) - how? How do you make things bigger, faster, stronger? When you've written the best thing you can, how do you make it better?

At the moment, I find two things are working for me.

The first is finding mashups. Two lackluster scenes may join up to make one strong one, for example. Or find two things that have to happen for your plot and make them both happen in the same event. Giving two previously unrelated characters a relationship all their own will add more dynamics to work with. And combining two characters into one often helps concentrate the action (and reduce casting requirements - added bonus your producer may appreciate).

If you're looking at a first draft in shock and horror, this idea might be comforting - it's possible you have more there than it seems - so try looking for mashups.

The second is a kind of a change in the language I'm using to think about writing and re-writing.

In The Way of the Screenwriter, Amnon Buchbinder says that the screenwriter works in layers. I find this a much more useful word than "draft." A draft is, for me, loaded with such expectations - maybe this time it will be finished. And it's so imprecise. A polish could make a new draft, and so can a complete page-one rewrite. And different people mean different things when they say "draft." The first draft in my mind will be the first time I get the whole thing down beginning-to-end. But that's not the "first draft" referred to in my contract - I won't get paid for that draft - I'll get paid for the draft, first or fiftieth, that my producer or network accepts. So there's a lot of variation there. Not so useful for process.

"Layers" I find useful for process. Like coats of paint. I put one down and then come back to it and add more. Significantly, no one coat has to do all the work. So, in practical terms, when I'm working in layers, I write down everything I know so far, and then I go back and add more - more detail in places where I've sketched out a general idea, for example. In this case, more doesn't mean longer, it just means closer to what I want the finished project to look like.

This is a shift for me because before this year, I somehow imagined that if I planned out my project properly ahead of time, if I had good ideas and good characters in mind, all of the more would come out in the first draft. But - at least for me - this absolutely did not happen. Screenwriting just involves too many balls to keep in the air - plot and character and theme and setting and tone, all at optimal levels, all working together - it was simply too much for me to figure out in one go.

But by taking it in layers, in passes, it's a pleasure. And sometimes these passes are just a few minutes apart - unlike "drafts," which I generally expect to be at least days apart - so the results can feel a bit more immediate.

Layers. I hope that makes sense.

Oh, I just thought of a third thing! But that'll be another post...