The pros and cons of networking

Here’s one of those Friday Questions that became an entire post when I drifted off and started talking about something else.

It’s from Jim S:

Networking. I've noticed that many writers often work on each other's projects. Do you ask Mr. X after seeing his show for job?  I recall reading about a showrunner who would give one assignment a year to his old mentor who had aged out of the business so that the mentor could keep his health insurance from the writer's guild.

Is that kind of loyalty common?

I don’t know if it’s common, but we gave our mentor an assignment in his later years. We were thrilled to do it. And we were rewarded with a great script. It’s not like athletes. Talent doesn’t fade with age.

Showrunners will often hire writers they’ve worked with and trust. It only makes sense. That said, openings do come up that require showrunners to hire people they have no history with. Lots of time these positions will be lower level thus allowing the showrunner to groom and mentor the new scribes.

One way that new writers can “audition” is to offer their services free to showrunners when they have a pilot in production and are looking to put together a temporary staff to help rewrite and punch up.

Personally, I’m not a fan of this practice. First of all, I feel the young writers are being taken advantage of. It’s one thing to ask a friend to help. We have a relationship, and I also feel I can reciprocate by helping out on his pilot somewhere down the road. But to ask someone I don’t know to come in for eight hours, help out, with no guarantees at all seems unfair. I would feel too guilty. I’m getting paid a lot of money; he's getting nothing but a lovely parting gift and cold Chinese food. It doesn’t seem right.

Yes, if you’re a young writer and you’re offered a chance to participate in a rewrite for a showrunner you don’t know I would say jump at it. You never know. You might impress him and ultimately get a job out of it. I will just say this tough: the odds are against it. Lots of things have to fall in place. But it does happen.  And even if chances are low, you gotta take it. 

My other concern is that when I have a pilot in production it is no time to break anybody in. I much prefer to surround myself with a smaller group of All-Star writers I know. We move quicker and more efficiently. We all have the same comic sensibility. No one is going to waste our time pitching completely inappropriate jokes. Everyone is rowing in the same direction.

I was in a room a couple of years ago for a pilot rewrite. I kid you not, there was no less than twenty writers – probably more. High level, mid level, newbies, maybe even a few people from the studio tour who just happened to wander in. And before that, at the table reading, there were five to ten more writers in attendance. It was nuts.

I’d say most of the writers in the rewrite never spoke a word. I don’t know why they were there other than to eat lunch or maybe hide out from the cops. Others were pitching drivel. Maybe four of the writers actually got jokes in. And they were primarily veterans. Most of the stuff came from the two showrunners themselves. And here’s the irony, they’re both terrific writers. If we had a pilot I would invite just the two of them to help. That’s all we’d need.

So for young writers, not only is it hard to stand out in normal circumstances, you’re trying to be noticed in a room of twenty. Depending on when you enter the room you might be stuck in the back corner – like having the farthest booth in the county fair.

What was the original question? I’ve gone off on a tangent and forgot what he asked. Oh yeah. Networking.


Networking is important. Showrunners help their mentors, friends who are down on their luck, writers’ assistants that have earned a shot, staffers they’ve worked with before, and newbies that dazzle in pilot rewrites.

The trick is getting in. And if free labor is one way then you’ve got to do it. But make no mistake -- you’re doing the showrunner a favor as much as he’s doing one for you.

Somewhere in all that I hope I answered Jim's question.  Or at least touched on it.

Previews

We’re now up and running. Here’s the latest installment on mounting my play, A OR B? – now playing at the Falcon Theatre in Burbank.

When we last left our heroes… tech work had been completed. Now it was time to prepare for the first preview, which was last Wednesday night.

The actors pretty much have the script memorized although more changes were expected once I heard preview audiences. The thing I’m stressing now is to hold for laughs (assuming there are any). When actors don’t hold for laughs two things happen. First, the audience misses the next line or joke because they’re laughing through it. And secondly, after that occurs a few times the audience will just stop laughing for fear of missing something. Of course it’s hard to know just what will get laughs so previews are very helpful.

We had a full dress rehearsal on Tuesday night for an invited audience of maybe 15. With that small a group I was pleased to get a few big titters. As I expected, it was also the NOISES OFF runthrough. In other words, there were wardrobe malfunctions, props not being where they were supposed to be, missed light cues, lines jumped, etc. Best to get all of that out of the way now.   Do you know there’s such a thing as zipper oil? If you’re doing a play with costume changes make sure you have some.

It’s amazing how you can watch rehearsals for four weeks and everything looks great but then you see it on its feet and there are moments you go "Yikes!"  So my routine this last week has been this: show up at the theatre at 4:00. Actors rehearse trouble spots or new material. The show at 8:00, notes at 10:00, and then I go home and rewrite until 2:30.

One thing I miss about being on staff on a TV show – writing material and seeing it performed the next day. Serving it while it’s hot.

Each night gets better. In fact, a new joke I wrote Thursday might get the biggest laugh in the play. And then of course there are the “Bono’s” (see yesterday’s post for explanation). There are a couple that I think I’ll be wrestling with until opening night. The actors are good sports, gamely delivering the new lines without complaint (at least within earshot).

Another difference between the theatre and TV: In TV I go down for a runthrough that consists of about 22 minutes of content. I then go back with seven or eight highly trained comedy writers to fix the script. Here it’s 90 minutes of material and just me. But I will say this – the TV training has been INVALUABLE. You learn to be facile and attack problems. There are a lot of excellent playwrights who happen to write very slowly. This is like catching a moving train. There’s also the temptation for thoughtful (i.e. slow) playwrights to keep things that should go because it took so long to write them in the first place.

I had one scene that felt too long. I couldn’t wait to get home and chop the shit out of it. Jokes I liked a week ago I couldn’t wait to cut. The next night the scene played sooo much better. That’s what often happens. You have a scene with say ten jokes and they all play okay. You cut five and the ones you keep get even bigger laughs. Don’t be afraid to cut.

I generally go into runthrough with some ideas of cuts I’d like to make. Same has been true with the play. There was one joke I was thinking of cutting because I’d like the scene a little shorter. But it got a good laugh. My first reaction was “damn, it worked.” And then I thought, “You idiot. It WORKED.” I’ll find a trim somewhere else.

We also made some lighting and blocking adjustments that quickened the pace.

The Wednesday and Thursdays previews played pretty well. The weekend was better. What’s always odd is that certain jokes that work one night don’t the next and vice versa. And from time to time straight lines will get laughs. Don’t ask me why. I’ll take it.

Something was nagging me however. I couldn’t put my finger on it until the weekend, but a lightbulb went off and the answer was clear. But it will require major light and sound cue adjustments, some new blocking, new wardrobe, and two existing scenes being intercut. It sounds more radical than it is, but still, it will take a little coordinated rehearsal time so we'll put it in this week. It’s not fair to the actors (or crew) to just throw them out there without proper preparation. Especially since I like them. But I’m excited to see the new stuff that goes in starting Wednesday.

Another problem we had to address was costume changes. Our actors, Jules Willcox & Jason Dechert, have to make some quick ones. They do it under 30 seconds, but that’s still a long transition on stage with nothing happening. We tried covering it with music and visually interesting things going on on stage, but it wasn’t enough. Our director, Andy Barnicle, came up with the fix – voice over funny dialogue. So I went off into a corner, wrote them, and they were recorded that night.

So a few more days of tinkering and previews, and then Friday is Opening Night. I think we’ll be okay… as long as we have enough zipper oil.

It’s been a blast meeting some blog readers who’ve attended the previews. Thanks so much. Here’s where you go for tickets, and if you do attend a performance please flag me down. I’m the one in the corner of the lobby just rocking back and forth.

What's a "Bono?"

In between the time Sonny Bono wore fur vests and became a US Congressman he owned an Italian restaurant on Melrose Ave. in LA named “Bono’s.” He picked a bad location. Within months it went belly up. Since then, every time I drive by that place it’s something else – Japanese, Indian, American diner, etc.

When we’re in production on a show it seems that every week there is that one nagging joke that doesn’t work. It’s replaced on Tuesday. That joke doesn’t work. Wednesday, same story. On and on throughout the week.

That joke is called a “Bono”. And like I said, there’s ALWAYS one (at least one). The term was coined by Denise Moss, a fabulous writer on MURPHY BROWN.

What it teaches you is to stick with it, never settle, try new areas. And never just go for the easy joke…which is why I’m refraining from any reference to skiing.

This was a re-post from God knows when. 

What words kan't you spell?

Thank God for spellcheck. There are some words I just can’t spell. For whatever reason my brain refuses to learn the correct spelling of a few words – words that are fairly common and you dear readers have no problem with at all.

One is jeopardy. Even as I typed it just now the squiggly red line appeared underneath. I keep putting a’s where there should be o’s or o’s where there should be a’s. And again, it’s not an obscure word. I watch the TV show all the time. The word is displayed in giant letters.

Another is privilege. I don’t even come close on this word. At any given time I may write privlige, priviledge, priveledge, privlige, privelige. None of these look any more wrong that the actual spelling.

For a long time I wrestled with guarantee. Somehow I mastered it. And I’m afraid to list the ways I misspelled it for fear that that will confuse me again and I’ll be back at square one.

In the case of pigeon, I want to always write pidgeon. And don’t get me started on pidgin.

I’d like to think I’m not alone in this brain cramp. So let me ask you – what are words that you can’t spell?

Imagine losing the final round of the National Spelling Bee over jeopardy?

Friday Questions

Previews continue for my play A OR B? at the Falcon Theatre in Burbank.  Get your tickets and reward yourself with reading Friday Questions.  Thanks. 
 
First, my hold-over question from last week.  From Jeff:

What are your thoughts on the usage of cliffhangers? 

For the most part I think they're a waste of time.  Especially in sitcoms.  It's not like these characters are in any real jeopardy.  

One problem is that this convention has now been done to death.  Whatever impact it used to have has been greatly diminished by over-use.  Everyone's doing cliffhangers.  Plus, shows do limited series of six or eight episodes and then go off the air for nine months.  Who can keep track of what? 

And the real problem (that most showrunners are unwilling to accept) is that the audience is not nearly as invested in your show as you think they are.   To the showrunner and writing staff the show is the center of the universe.   Unless you're working on a series that is riding the crest of the zeitgeist, viewers don't really give a shit.  Out of sight; out of mind.  

We've come a long way since "Who killed J.R.?" on DALLAS.  
 
Dene 1971 asks:

Do you consider sitcom to be less artistically valid, for one of a better term, than a 1-hour drama? I recall reading an interview with a (brilliant) English TV/radio comedy writer, responsible for a first class sitcom which had come to an end: he intimated that he wanted to 'move on' from the 30m sitcom form to the 1hr comedy-drama.

Obviously it depends on the show. I would consider THE WIRE more artistically valid than TWO BROKE GIRLS. But there are quite a few comedies far richer than one hour dramas. And in many ways it’s much harder to do a quality comedy. To explore emotions, create characters and situations that are real, relatable, compelling, AND funny is much harder to accomplish than straight drama. Plus, in comedy you don’t have the luxury of just playing a song under a scene that expresses the emotion you’re trying to convey.  (a standard movie cheat)

But artistically speaking, I don’t think there are many hour dramas that come close to MASH. Maybe BAYWATCH.

Someone who wouldn’t leave his name wondered:

Ken, when writers do a script that includes unflattering jokes about a character's appearance, do you ever worry about how the actor or actress will personally react?

I recall episodes of MASH where Hawkeye insulted Hot Lip's weight, and an episode of All In The Family where Gloria came right out and said she was fat. More recently on Will & Grace, there were many jokes about how flat-chested Grace was.

Do actors just accept this as part of the game, or are there ever situations where the actor is too touchy about something and it's off-limits for the writers? And how can you know this until you've already ticked them off?

It really depends on the actor and how good a sport he is. No, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the phone call I’d get from Loretta Swit if we did Hot Lips fat jokes. On the other hand, Danny DeVito was fine with short jokes. And the great Jackie Gleason had no problem with fat jokes at his expense.

It’s best to diplomatically ask the actor how sensitive he might be to jokes about his appearance before he reads the script aloud in a room full of people.

The irony on CHEERS was that every character took shots at Lilith for how cold and severe she was, and off camera and out of costume Bebe Neuwirth (pictured at the top of this post) was the hottest woman on that set.

And finally, Jrge sent in this question from Spain (where they love this blog).

I've just started to watch the second season of Frasier on DVD (I know i'm late, but I was four when it went on TV).

That’s still no excuse!

I've realized that you appear as "creative consultant". Could you explain what was exactly you function?

Generally that title is assigned to a writer who comes in once a week, usually for rewrite night. Other names are “punch up guys”, “script doctors”, and “clients of agents who make sweet deals”.

They come to the runthrough then help the staff rewrite that night. Sometimes it’s very helpful to have a fresh set of eyes. A writing staff can get too close to a story and it’s great to get an objective opinion from someone you trust…AND can help actually solve the problems he identifies. That last part is the biggie. Anyone can say “this doesn’t work, go fix it”.

Ideally, the best creative consultants can also help you with jokes.

A good creative consultant is like the cavalry riding in to the rescue. A bad one is someone you’re paying a lot of money to eat your food.

I’ve worked with some great ones, notably David Lloyd and Jerry Belson. But bar none the best creative consultant that has ever been is Bob Ellison. I’m going to do an entire post on him soon. At one time he was working on four different shows a week. And not coincidentally, they were the four funniest shows on television.

What’s your question?

Different sitcom styles -- where do I fit in?

Here’s one of those Friday Questions that became a rambling rant about sitcom writing styles. Notice the irony that I take issue with lengthy speeches yet this post goes on way too long.

The question itself is even long. But stay with it. It’s from Mark.

I've noticed, Ken, that the scripts you and David write and the shows you work on rarely tackle social issues (in the Norman Lear manner) or engage in the kind of sometimes over-the-top preachiness that was common in 1980s-early '90s sitcoms. Nor are yours and David's characters even particularly inclined to learn anything. (It seems like almost every episode to come out of the Garry Marshall factory had to end with the scene where the principals in that night's episode discussed the lesson they'd learned, while a slow version of the show's theme music played softly in the background.)

Does this come from yours and David's personal tastes and preferences in comedy, or is it more a reflection of the kinds of shows you guys have tended to work on?

Both… although I would argue that we did get into social and political issues on MASH; the topics were just more universal than contemporary.

But our comic preference has always been focused on character – exploring human foibles and examining relatable behavior. How people deal with frustration, obstacles, absurdity, emotions, and each other. The “funny” comes from all of us.

People do learn lessons but rarely every week. We searched more for the truth in a given situation than the lesson to be derived from it.

But let’s be perfectly honest, we were incredibly lucky. We got hired on shows that encouraged that style. Were we hired on GOOD TIMES we would have been writing long speeches about urban decay. (Those speeches were so cringeworthy. They even had statistics in them. J.J. just happened to know that “34.7% of Americans made less than $22,500 a year.”) Ugh.

My other problem with long gooey speeches at the end of the show with the requisite soft music in the background is that the speeches were rarely earned.

WILL & GRACE was guilty of this all the time. 25 minutes of rollicking burlesque humor and suddenly this unbelievably sappy speech. The show just changed tones on a dime. The sentimentality came out of nowhere. So it always felt artificial.

Of course, no sitcom was more guilty of this than MAKE ROOM FOR DADDY. This was a series back in the late ‘50s/early ‘60s starring Danny Thomas.

 They’ve been running it again on one of those nostalgia channels. Every week Danny yells and screams and then has this long, maudlin, treachly speech that makes your teeth rattle. At least when Gleason got sappy on THE HONEYMOONERS it was only for a moment. “Alice, I’m a mope.” He didn’t deliver the State-of-the-Union.

David and I try to avoid long life lesson speeches at all costs. I know I’ve told the story before, but for “Goodbye Radar”, which we wrote, we purposely constructed the story to have casualties arrive just as Radar was departing. That way all the goodbyes were one or two lines delivered on the run. Otherwise, we felt the show would just be a series of graduation commencement speeches.

But I reiterate, we were lucky. Had we not landed on MASH early in our career we might have been writing for GOOD TIMES or THE SMURFS. Work is work, especially when you start out. I see bad shows today and often wonder if the next Larry Gelbart is a staff writer on that piece of shit. Writing stupid speeches is still better than the Dairy Queen. The fact that we were allowed to write what we write is a true blessing. There’s a lesson in that. I’ll wait until the soft music starts. Where’s the music? I gotta have music! It’s just not the same without the music.

What makes a good Warm-Up Man?

A key component to any multi-camera taping is the warm-up man. It’s a tough job. I did it the first year of CHEERS. Tapings can take four hours or more (I think they’re still in the middle of taping a FRIENDS episode from season five). You’re expected to fill a lot of downtime between scenes. And then there are costume changes that can take forever. (Again, I think Jennifer Aniston is trying things on for that FRIENDS taping that’s still going on.)

(Seriously, FRIENDS tapings took so long they literally had two audiences. The first came in at about 4 and the second around 9. No one wanted to stay for the eight or nine hours it took to film a single episode.)

You need to keep the audience focused on the show and in a heightened state of excitement. They have to be in such a good mood they’ll laugh twice or even three times at the same jokes depending on how many re-takes of a scene there are.

And God forbid the air conditioner goes off.  I've had that happen.  I've also had a power blackout.  Fun fun fun. 

A good warm-up man can have a major impact on a sitcom taping. A good crowd energizes the cast and performances can really be lifted.

But a bad warm-up man can have the opposite effect.

Different warm-up men have different styles. Some are stand-ups, some are just high-energy cheerleaders, and a few are dynamo entertainers. I hate the dynamos. I mostly hate the high-energy dudes. Why? Because they upstage the show. A recent warm-up guy I saw had the crowd dancing wildly in the aisles and was giving away prizes. and when the bell rang signaling it was time to film a scene, the entire audience groaned. The show became an imposition to the party that was going on in the bleachers.

As writer/blogger extraordinaire Earl Pomerantz so accurately says – the audience is not there to watch a television show. They’re there to watch the MAKING of a television show. (I passed on the CHEERS warm-up baton to Earl in season two.) The unique experience of watching a TV taping is to see all the behind-the-scenes shit – the cameras, the director, the confabs with the actors, the bustling going on on the stage. Writers huddle and suddenly new jokes are introduced. Based on instructions from the director, actors make acting adjustments. You’re privy to live bloopers. Actors go up on lines. How do they handle it? You’re on the inside. Create the “drama” behind-the-scenes. Have them watch a confab and be curious to see what the outcome is. Bring them into the loop. And remind them that they’re PART of the show because their laughter is recorded and becomes a permanent part of the soundtrack.

To me, a good warm-up man is a tour guide, explaining exactly what is happening down on the stage – who all those crew people are and what do they do? People can dance and win silly coffee mugs anywhere.

Before each scene Mr. Warm Up needs to recap where they are in the story. There may have been a ten-minute break since you saw the previous scene. He should know the cast’s resumes. He should know the history of the series. He should know the producer’s background, what shows he’s worked on in the past. Same with the writers, same with the director. Again, THE SHOW is the star; not the warm-up man because he can balance a table on his nose.

He should budget his time. If he's whipped up the audience into a mad frenzy at 7:00, what shape are they going to be in at 9:00 when you’re on the final scene? They’ll be gassed. Regulate the enthusiasm.

And finally, warm-up men have to be spontaneous. They can’t just rely on their forty-minutes of stand up material. They need to converse with the audience. Their patter should be humorous but more importantly, be engaging. They must put the audience at ease. Create a good mood. Convey the idea that the audience is getting a real treat. Very few people ever get the chance to see how a television show is made. It’s a rare privilege. And just like when you go to a baseball game you never know if you’re going to see a no-hitter; if you go to a TV taping you never know if you’re going to see the best show of the year, or the Pope makes a guest appearance. Bottom line: make the audience feel like they’re participating in a special experience (which they are).

So junk the hula hoop contest, leave the magic tricks at home, and turn around. There’s a television show going on behind your back. Tell the folks about THAT.

My latest rant

Even though I know I'm just howling at the moon...

Most network notes come out of fear. Networks are deathly afraid viewers are going to tune out if they're not captivated every second. Go four lines without a joke and networks believe half your audience will bail. Take a minute in your storytelling to breathe and have two characters just relate to each other and networks are certain it’s the same as the Great East Coast Blackout.

One thing the networks have always believed is that you must explain every moment and every little thing that is going on. And then, to be certain, explain it again. Today, more than ever, that is their mantra (because today, more than ever, they’re gripped with fear).

If a viewer is confused he will tune out, is their reasoning. But there is a difference between confusion and just asking the audience to work a little to figure out what is going on. If viewers are lost because they don’t know why a character is so upset or where a scene is taking place then I’m the first one to say that has to be addressed.

But does a character have to tell us he’s sad? Can’t we tell by his behavior? Does Jack Bauer have to remind Chloe six times that if she doesn’t get him the coordinates the Grand Canyon will blow up?

The bottom line is networks think we’re so stupid that we need to be spoon-fed every detail. It’s more than mildly insulting.

As a writer I always assume the audience is intelligent. I feel that if they have to work a little to follow the action they will be more engaged, more invested. They’ll also appreciate that I’m treating them with respect. That I give them a little credit. I’m saying they can read books without the benefits of pictures. They can figure out how to turn on a blender. They can see a guy in a surgical gown and surmise he’s a doctor.

It’s time for networks to trust writers again. It’s time to realize that someone who has been writing and producing comedy for years knows more about how to make a sitcom than a former business major at C.W. Post. And it’s time to stop running scared.

Comedy needs to be daring, subversive, challenging. Networks need to be safe, non-offensive, appealing to the lowest common denominator. No wonder new sitcoms are premiering with a 1.0 share. No wonder shows can’t build an audience even after three years on the air. The audience is not so dumb after all.

Hi Tech

Getting close. Previews of my play A OR B? begin Wednesday at the Falcon Theatre. This is my weekly report on the process of getting one of these bad boys mounted.

After three weeks in the rehearsal hall things shifted into high gear last week once the stage was ours. Construction began. As I said on my Facebook page -- I'm living every playwright's dream. They're building sets for my play and I don't have to pay for them.

Jason & Jules

The actors (Jules Willcox & Jason Dechert) have somehow memorized the script (which to me is a skill greater than tightroping over Niagara Falls.) and are now making it their own.

Tech rehearsal began last Thursday. This is the arduous part of the process. Literally twelve-hour days. All the logistic questions that have been tabled over the first three weeks now come to roost. How do props get on and off the stage between scenes? How long will costume changes actually take? That offstage sound we just assumed will sound great now gets put to the test.

Every light cue, every sound cue must be painstakingly locked in. There are a thousand decisions and problems that must be dealt with. What music? How loud? Will there be crowd noise? If so, how much and for how long? Where exactly will the props be backstage?

And as I’m sitting there watching this I’m thinking to myself, “Not my problem.”

Certain transitions from one scene to another are very complicated. One of the actors has to make a quick costume change, there are numerous sound and lighting cues, and it all has to happen in less than 30 seconds.

Not my problem.

The poor actors had to do the transition six or eight times until everybody got it right. It probably took a half hour. This is a 90-page script and at that rate tech would take a month. They only have so many hours over a few days.

Not my problem.

In television when we do multi-camera sitcoms in front of a studio audience we still have the luxury of stopping after every scene. You just say to the prop master one time that you need a coffee mug here or a statue of the Washington Monument in sugar cubes there and poof, they’re there. Not so in live thea-tuh.

So why am I even there?  Well, for one thing I got to see everyone in full wardrobe for the first time and a bright idea I had for one scene totally did not work.

Yes my problem.

Everyone continued to rehearse and I went off to rewrite the scene.

But the real reason I was there was to learn. It’s a treat to watch these highly professional technicians go about building a real theatre experience one sound cue and light adjustment at a time. I can’t imagine what tech is like on a Broadway musical. I have a cast of two and a play. What was LES MISERABLES like? They had to stage the entire French Revolution, not to mention all the sets, rotating stages, costumes, God knows how many actors, singers, and dancers, the orchestra, etc. In MISS SAIGON they also had to land a real helicopter on stage. Good luck when the Podunk Community Theatre does that one.

Not my problem.

Understudies Josh & Lori

Our understudies Josh Covitt and Lori Eve Marinacci were also on hand to help out. Why should they miss the fun of changing clothes in eight seconds and crashing into walls in the dark?

Late yesterday we had a full runthrough with all departments. As the saying goes: At some point the musicians all have to play together.  The problem scene is now way better (although I still have a couple things I'm going to change after I finish writing this).   Off day today, tomorrow a full runthrough and then a dress rehearsal for an invited audience.  Hopefully the play will be funny and touching.

Definitely my problem.

Fine tuning on Wednesday and then previews begin. Please come see the end result of all this mayhem.

Another difference between the theater and TV -- when our director, Andy decides to re-block something, it’s no big deal. As long as the actors aren’t upstaging each other and the moment works it’s done. When I direct television shows, if I re-block I always have to think of cameras. If my star walks around the other side of the couch then suddenly all four of my camera assignments need to be changed.  That gets very complicated.   I told this to Andy who gave me a smile that clearly said…

Not my problem.

"Beating" jokes

When is something funny enough? That’s a little hard to say since every example is different and every case is subjective. But as a general rule, whenever I write a joke I ask myself two questions.

Is it funny?

What would be funnier?

Just getting a yes on the first question is no easy task. And by funny I mean FUNNY. Not wry, not amusing, not lol, not smiley face, but something that will make people actually laugh. And not just people – strangers. It’s hard. It’s why they used to pay the big money.

So when you feel your joke has passed the rigorous mirth test it’s tempting to take a moment, pat yourself on the back for being a comic genius, and move on to the next triumph That’s what most comedy writers do.

Don’t be one of them. Ask the second question. How can you make the joke funnier? What’s a more offbeat reference that achieves the same result? What’s fresher? Is there a better set up? Is the wording just perfect? Or is there just a better line altogether?

Small example of a joke just to give you a sense of my thought process. When Manny Ramirez was suspended for violating baseball’s drug policy I was asked if I was surprised. My first thought was, “At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if Mother Teresa was a dope dealer.” The incongruity of Mother Teresa selling drugs seemed funny. But “is there something better than dope dealer? What I came up with is this: “I wouldn’t be surprised if Mother Teresa was a gun runner.” That seemed to suggest a funnier image, Mother Teresa haggling with terrorists over AK-47’s.

At some point of course you've got to land on a joke and go with it otherwise you can spend the next fifty years trying to get Jess out of a room. But don't just automatically settle for the first thing you come up with. That sounds obvious but you'd be surprised how many writers do.

A better example comes from THE HANGOVER. How many bachelor party gone-bad-in-Vegas screenplays do you think there’ve been? A thousand? Ten? Four idiots getting shitfaced and in trouble in sin city is comic gold. But I bet none of those scripts had tigers, chickens, missing babies, and Mike Tyson. Okay, well most of them didn’t have Mike Tyson. But you catch my drift. Reach.

There’s an expression in the writing room – “Can we beat this joke?” Don’t settle. ESPECIALLY if you’re writing a spec script.

Eventually you’ll train yourself to automatically think that second question. It could be the subtle difference between good and “you’re hired”.

This was a re-post from the last decade.  But revised.

Did USA welcome our characters?

Here’s a question a reader posed yesterday that I thought I would address today.

Hamid asked:

When are we gonna hear about the new pilot you mentioned has been picked up?

We just learned the fate last week. David Isaacs and I had sold a pilot to the USA Network late last year.

Unlike broadcast networks that are on a pretty fixed yearly schedule (buy ideas and develop pilots in the late summer/fall, make the pilots in the winter, and decide their fall schedules in early spring, watch the all die in September), cable networks are under no such restrictive timetable. So things move at a leisurely pace (which is a nice way of saying “they take forever”).

So practically ten months to the day we sold the idea and wrote the script we learned USA decided not to go with any of their comedy pilots currently in development. They are changing direction and not focusing on comedy at the moment.

At least this is the explanation we’ve been given and we choose to believe it. Everyone at USA we’ve dealt with has been great and very straightforward. And they’ve all been wildly enthusiastic about the project (which we greatly appreciated).

But…

They’re not the ones making the final decision. This happens frequently. You work with executives for weeks or months, finally arrive at a polished script everyone is excited about, and then it goes up the ladder to the big boss (who, in many cases, is not even familiar with the project). And to paraphrase Harry Truman – the bucks stop here. The big boss has a different agenda, or changes his agenda, or has different taste than his underlings. For whatever reason, promising projects die.

It’s disappointing but after awhile you just used to it. I think we gave them a good script, it fit their needs (at the time), and if there’s one silver lining about this crazy process it’s that the same people who rejected you will court you to work for them again.

We had a great experience with USA. We’ll explore other options for the project, and now finally I can make vacation plans.

Besides, you guys wouldn’t want me running a television show. When would I have time to write the blog. You all dodged a bullet.

Friday Questions

It’s Friday. You have questions. Let’s go.

Les leads off.

You have mentioned in the past you cast Aaron Paul in a pilot (and Kat Dennings I believe for the same pilot). I do not recall if the network requested his part be re-cast or whether the show just did not get picked up but in any event, now I am sure every network exec would die for just a meeting with Mr. Paul. If/when you are casting for a new show and an executive gives you push back on one of your choices, do you ever just say -- 'hey I discovered "insert-name-here" years before and know what I am doing" or does it even matter?

To set the record straight: the network had reservations about Aaron Paul. But we were very insistent. The pilot didn’t go because the star of the show didn’t deliver, and he was the network’s call.

But to answer your questions, you could try to persuade the network to go your way based on your past discoveries but that rarely (if ever) works. Even though it’s an actor you found, brought to them, and they didn’t like, if the show is successful they think they discovered him, not you. Yes, it is maddening.

Marianne asks:

What exactly makes a really solid and funny pilot? It's quite astounding that writers can (sometimes) achieve this, it sounds like it's an incredibly difficult task!

You're right, Marianne. Pilot writing is a real art. In only 22 minutes you need to establish the premise, introduce all the characters, establish all of the relationships between them, get us to care about them and their plight, reveal any backstory, set the tone, tell a story, be consistently funny, clearly tell us where the series is going after the pilot and why we should come back.

And that’s just the script. You have to cast it perfectly, get the right director, and fend off network interference.

Little wonder there are so few good ones.

Stephen Robinson asks about writing jokes that depend on the actors’ delivery.

That's always inspired me as a writer when working on a play to write lines that I know could kill but will depend almost entirely on delivery. I think it results in a naturalism that doesn't feel like a sitcom where the cast is comprised of Henny Youngmans delivering one-liners. Do you do that intentionally? Or are you surprised as the audience by how the actor nails the line? I've always found it incredibly brave of a writer to trust so much in the actors and director (especially if they're not directing the script themselves).

That’s always the way I write because I write for characters. Most of the laughs come out of attitudes and the interplay between actors. Very few joke “jokes.” So I’m always at the mercy of actors. Their interpretation can either lift lines or kill them.

Yes, it’s treacherous. There are lots of reasons for souffles not rising. But when it works, it’s soooo much more rewarding.

I’m happily experiencing that now with my play.  Jason Dechert and Jules Willcox are hitting it out of the park. And I’ve been doing this long enough to appreciate that no matter how good the writing may be on the page, without good actors you got nothing. 

For most of my career I’ve been super spoiled. Getting to write for actors the caliber of Tom Hanks, Ted Danson, Shelley Long, Alan Alda, David Hyde Pierce, Nancy Travis, John Candy, Kelsey Grammer, Harry Morgan has made me seem like a way better writer than I am.

From Ed:

In the past you've reference several pilots you and your partner penned that didn't get picked up...

Was there one that didn't go that bothered you?

Yes. It was called MIDNIGHT and took place at a funky colorful all night diner. All of the stories were to take place between midnight and six. We had some very funny characters and unique situations. It had great potential.

But I’m more upset that ALMOST PERFECT and BIG WAVE DAVE’S didn’t get longer runs. I’m very proud of both of those series and still feel they would have been hits if given a fair chance.

That said, you’ve got to move on. Dwelling on past disappointments does no good. Every writer has projects that didn’t go or were cancelled prematurely. You just look ahead and hope that the next one clicks.

And finally, Jeff asks:

What are your thoughts on the usage of cliffhangers?

I’ll tell you next week.

Stop crying already!

Is it possible to do a reality show without having someone cry? It’s gotten beyond ridiculous.

In the early days of television there was a game show called QUEEN FOR A DAY. Women would compete for the saddest sob stories. It was one icky tear-jerker after another. Finally, a winner was crowned “Queen for a Day.” Destitute housewives were given washer-dryers and blenders.

Those contestants were amateurs compared to today. People have complete breakdowns over cake decorating. Men wail like little girls if they’re not selected for dates.

Clearly, most or all of it is for show. This country is a sucker for weep porn. The problem, of course, is that Reality has become the “Genre that Cried Wolf.” There’s so much emotion that none of it lands. And the result is that these shows all seem manipulative, bogus, and quite frankly insulting.

I watched the season premier of SHARK TANK. I tune in to see idiots try to sell their squirrel stun guns and hear the Sharks offer sound business advice. In a recent rerun, Shark Robert Herjavec became a blubbering imbecile recalling his father’s night watchman job. And then in the season premier, a contestant broke down and bawled uncontrollably because his fiance wouldn’t come to America unless his ersatz idea took off. To make matters worse, the Sharks were visibly moved. Kevin O’Leary was overcome with grief, dabbing his tearing eyes.

I don’t mean to be a cynic, but Jesus, what a load of BULLSHIT.

Like I said, all this manufactured heightened emotion just cheapens genuine emotion. What’s sad is you’d think the public would catch on. You’d think they’d be pissed that reality producers think so little of us that they can serve up this palaver and think we’d believe it. But I guess enough of them do believe it.

Now THAT makes me cry.

Come on, America. Man up. It’s just a blender. A fucking blender.

Dealing with horrible bosses

Great article in GQ about horrible bosses in Hollywood. It centers on writers/showrunners (although to be fair, the worst writer boss is Mother Teresa compared to the way some agents treat their assistants. Picture: 12 YEARS A SLAVE but more degrading.). Still, the point made by author Jim Nelson is that there are a lot of insecure, insensitive, unfunny assholes who find themselves in enviable positions and treat their staff like shit. And to that I would say he is correct.

I would also say I find this behavior unconscionable. Writers assistants and P.A.’s have incredibly hard jobs. You hear about all the hours writers work. The support staff puts in way more. Once the rewrite is over at 2 in the morning and the writers stagger home, the assistants stay behind to type, print, and distribute the scripts. In some cases, actors still require a hard copy on their front porch. An emailed file won’t do it. So someone has to drive to the star’s home in a winding canyon at 4 in the a.m.

There was one star a few years ago who demanded the script be on her left night table when she woke up. The P.A. would have to enter the house, tiptoe into her bedroom, and gently leave the script in the assigned spot. If he woke her up he was dead. One day, for some reason, she awoke to find no script. World War III broke out. Killing her in her sleep would be too good for her. She needs to know she’s being killed and why.

The support staff is also woefully underpaid, generally has to park three miles from the lot, and is on call 24-7 to be their masters’ personal gofer. A writer I know who was based in Hollywood demanded her assistant drive to Malibu to pick up her birth control prescription. Another made his assistant take traffic school for him.  More than once I’ve seen a P.A. in a garbage dumpster rooting around in search of something the showrunner thought he might have mistakenly thrown out. A major television star who was quitting smoking by chewing nicotine gum would call over her assistant and every time she had to go on camera to film a scene he had to hold out his hand so she could deposit the chewed gum in his palm. When the scene was over she put the gum back in her mouth. This poor assistant also had to follow behind the star as she walked her dog on the lot. He would be required to clean up the shit.  (Sounds like that old joke right?  "So why do you clean up after the circus elephants?  Quit."  "What?  And leave show business?")

In the article, Nelson worked for an insecure comedy writing team. He didn’t identify them by name but sprinkled enough clues that a quick trip to IMDB easily outs them if you’re interested. The point is they were monsters.

Here’s one of those irrefutable laws of the universe: If a comedy writer has to constantly tell you how funny he is, he’s not funny.

The concept of gravity can be debated before this truth. Truly funny people don’t have to announce it to the world (or to his writers assistants). There’s not enough indignity in working for one of these jackals that you’re expected to actually laugh at his cringeworthy material?  Dumpter diving suddenly seems less appalling.

The truth is showrunners are under a lot of stress. Some handle it better than others. Writing and management are two very different skill sets. And today the job is even harder because there is way more network and studio interference. Anger and even tantrums are not uncommon. I’ve had them myself. But there’s no reason to take out your frustration on the support staff. None. It’s just a matter of simple human decency.

And here’s the thing – if you treat people well they’ll work harder for you. You don’t have to buy them cars. Just appreciate them. Thank them. Not take them for granted. Let them take off early one night to witness the birth of their child. Stock up on extra packages of nicotine gum.

My heart goes out to anyone working for a horrible boss. Sometimes karma comes into play. This author is now an editor-in-chief of GQ. The last writing credit from the team he worked for is 1995. Often times P.A.’s and writers assistants rise among the ranks. One of our P.A.’s on CHEERS later became the VP of Comedy Development at NBC. Good luck to any of the writers who sent her back all the way across town because there were onions on their patty melt. So hang in there. Not every boss is horrible. And better jobs are coming.

But most off all, if and when you do reach a position of power don’t you become an asshole. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen this. Abused workers feel they can now be the abusers. Break the string. Be a mensch. Just because Hollywood indulges bad behavior doesn’t mean you have to practice it.  Remember -- you’re a human being first, in the industry second. It’s not the other way around.

THE EQUALIZER: My review

It’s hard to believe that Edward Woodward and Denzel Washington would be playing the same role. But such is the case with THE EQUALIZER. The movie version is in theaters now.

It’s based on the TV series of the same name and basic premise from the mid-80’s. So first of all, the movie’s target audience was probably not born during the series run on CBS. So their expectations going into the Cineplex is just Denzel’s smile and explosions.

But as someone a tad older and a big fan of the TV version I couldn’t help but compare one with the other.

The movie is a fun ride. Denzel blows a lot of things up. He’s a super bad ass who can outthink and outkill any evil doer. So lots of audience-pleasing scenes of him single-handedly taking down the entire Russian mafia. He’s a human Vegematic -- slicing and dicing all in one easy motion.

And of course, since it’s Denzel, he’s also incredibly charming, good-hearted, and down-to-earth. He can suffocate my nemesis any day. Denzel plays Robert McCall (same name as the TV version – they were faithful to that at least), a former CIA agent (who probably roomed in spy school with Jason Bourne) now working at a big box home improvement store in Boston. At one point there’s a major action sequence there. Lots of fun with power drills, etc. All during it I kept thinking – good thing he didn’t work at Staples. He’s be thwarting the bad guys with stickers and dymo label makers.

So I enjoyed the film, but it never captured the essence of what made the TV show so unique and truly great in my opinion. Edward Woodward, at the time he was making the show, was already a distinguished British actor but in failing health. As a result, he was the most sedentary action hero in history. Bob Newhart is more active. Scott Caan is Jackie Chan by comparison. I think in one episode Woodward did a little judo chop move, although I suspect they used a stand-in. And yet, he could walk into a room of the scariest tatted motherfuckers you’ve ever seen and they would all cower at just his presence. It was hilarious. The entire underworld was intimidated by a fop in an overcoat.

So as much as I love Denzel, when I heard they were making a movie version I was hoping for Stephen Fry. Still, if you’re in the mood for a good by-the-numbers cry vengeance movie THE EQUALIZER fills the bill. And as a bonus, you learn new ways to use a club hammer.

UPDATE: Thanks to my readers, here's an awesome parody of the TV EQUALIZER from the Dave Thomas Show. Dave was a member of SCTV.

What I'm up to this week

Here’s the latest installment of the development of my play, A OR B? as it goes from script to full production. We begin previews on Wednesday, October 15th at the Falcon Theatre in Burbank. Tickets are still available. Would love for you to see it. But if you’re not nearby I understand. So if you’re 4,000 miles or more away from Burbank you’re excused.

Today’s the day we get to build our sets in the theatre. The previous production ended last night. And since my play is set in contemporary Manhattan and not the old west we can’t use the same sets.

But that meant that until today we were working out of the rehearsal hall. I’ll be very interested to see what the play looks like for real. In a rehearsal hall you have no idea of theatrically, lights, sound, music, effects – y’kow, those little things like mood and magic. Imagine a royal wedding in a harshly lit gym.

By now the actors, Jules Willcox and Jason Dechert, have pretty much memorized the script so I’m driving them nuts by continuing to change things. (Once a TV writer always a TV writer)

But even if you add just a couple of new jokes a day – after a few weeks that’s a lot more laughs. 
 
The hard part is not coming up with new jokes or fixes to moments that are still fuzzy; it’s dealing with Final Draft. I still don’t know what I’m doing in revision mode. I’m sure any current thirteen-year-old could master this in ten seconds though.

Last Thursday we had our designer runthrough. The sound, lighting, wardrobe, prop, set people all get a chance to see the full play and preview what they’re in for. I told the cast not to be expecting laughs. This audience is watching to see where to place lights and how many olives are needed in the martinis. We did get a surprising number of laughs. I now have deemed those jokes bulletproof.

After the runthrough we held a production meeting. I’ve presided over many of these as a TV director and producer but for this one I was pretty much lost. Technical issues of lights and scrims, etc. I’m glad the director has a vision for all this and the tech people seem to be on his wavelength. I was able to answer the olive question however.

But all that goes into play today. As a writer I never get over the amazement that I dream up something in my head and seventeen guys are scurrying around with hammers and buzz saws making it actually appear.

Today is also the first understudy rehearsal. Our stage manager, Dale will walk Lori Marinacci and Josh Covitt through the blocking. Again, I can’t thank our understudies enough. I just hope what happened to Sutton Foster happens to them. She was the understudy for THOROUGHLY MODERN MILLIE on Broadway and wound up winning a Tony. (Although, realistically, I think the chances or Lori and Justin winning Tonys for this play are hampered by the fact that we’re in Burbank.)

Long hours and sawdust awaits. I look forward to sharing it all with you next week. Thanks for following the saga, and again, would love for you to see the final results.

Okay, I'm weird, but everybody is weird.

I've been tagged. Challenged to list five of my weird habits. The real challenge is to hold it down to five.  I stopped at nine. 

1) I watch HOUSE and believe I have whatever mystery ailment the patient of the week has. My doctor then assures me that bleeding out of my eyes is normal, just drink a glass of water.

2) I don’t like anyone looking over my shoulder when I’m writing, be it a script, email, or love letters to Jessica Alba or Sandy Koufax.

3) I listen to 60s music when I write. And this includes radio station jingles from the era and Joanie Sommers Pepsi commercials. I love Joanie Sommers.

4) I can’t watch an old black and white movie from the 30’s or 40’s without thinking “everyone I’m looking at is dead”. Not that this spoils my enjoyment.

5) I go through breakfast phases. I eat the same thing every day for a couple of years and then switch. Currently it’s macadamia nuts and raisins. If I ever switch to Lucky Charms get “old Betsy” off the wall and shoot me.

6) I have no blood so I always dress warm. Stop making fun of Cosby for wearing those sweaters. They look cool.

7) I'm afraid if I install any computer program I'm going to hit the wrong button and crash every computer on the planet. I call this Y2Ken.

8) As a former disc jockey, I still talk-up records in my car. Right up to the vocal. I’m a master at this. It’s maybe my greatest skill…which is unfortunate since it’s also utterly useless. KHJ Boss Radio is not coming back anytime soon.

9) I can't leave a baseball game until it's over. This quirk has served me well when I was announcing them.

Okay, so what are some of yours?   This is a revised re-post, by the way.

David Hyde Pierce: guest blogger

Even though it's Saturday, here's a Friday Question comes from reader Alyson:

I recently rewatched Frasier - great show, even better than I remembered. I'm curious about the fencing scene in "An Affair to Forget" from season 2. Awhile back, you wrote a nice post about Jane Leeves and how she learned how to shoot pool for an episode. So my question is: We all know David Hyde Pierce is a great physical comedian. Did he learn how to fence for that episode, did he already know, or was he just winging it?

Not knowing the answer to this I asked someone who does – David Hyde Pierce. Alyson, here is his response:

As I recall, the writers asked me about my fencing experience before they wrote the episode. I’d been trained in stage combat by a guy named B.H. Barry, and I’d done two big sword fights for B.H., one in Cyrano and one in Kevin Kline’s Hamlet. ( In each case I both fought with and understudied the lead, which meant I had to learn both sides of the fight So, theoretically I could challenge myself to a duel and lose.) Coincidentally the actor who played Maris’ fencing instructor had also trained with B.H., so since we spoke the same language fencing-wise, we were able to learn a fairly elaborate fight in a relatively short time.

Hope that’s helpful.
Dhp

Many thanks to David Hyde Pierce along with David Lee. 

This has been a repost.  But do you care?  I mean, David Hyde Pierce!

Friday Questions

Friday Questions coming at ya:

Mark has one about TV directors:

Certain highly visual gags need good direction. Does knowing that an (Andy) Ackerman or a (James) Burrows is directing affect the way you write? Does not knowing who will be directing make you less likely to include a gag that requires just the right staging?

To a degree, yes. If we know there’s a complicated show – if someone is driving a car through a set, or there’s a big wedding scene with lots of extras – we will often wait until the weeks Jimmy or Andy is available.

At CHEERS, where Burrows directed the lion’s share of episodes, we would be in the writers room, someone would pitch an elaborate physical gag, someone else would say “how would we shoot that” and everyone else in the room would chime in, “That’s Jimmy magic.”

“Jimmy magic” became the catchword when we were just too lazy to really work things out ourselves.  By the way, he always made them work.  "Jimmy magic" indeed.

But the one factor that makes Jimmy, Andy, and few other directors really tops in their field is not their ability to stage complicated stunts or shoot from amazing angles. It’s the performances they get out of the actors. That’s a true gift.

Jim S. has a question about actors’ ability to match behavior for continuity. Old time actors really learned that and also mastered a variety of skills like horseback riding or fencing.

Do today's actors, who didn't go through the old Hollywood Machine, lack some of the basic skills. In the old days, when westerns were popular, actors were expected to know how to ride. They might take tap dancing because, hey musicals. Has that basic nuts and bolts technique stuff been lost?

Not at all. Today’s television and film actors are amazingly adept at matching behavior, hitting marks, cheating their angles occasionally for the camera, etc. They're very precise but make it look it easy. 

And if you read any actor’s resume, nine times out of ten you’ll see he or she has skills that include tap dancing, fencing, various accents, juggling, you name it. I always read their resumes when casting. A few are usually classics. Special skills: Can burp on cue. Can pack a suitcase. Has excellent handwriting.

Tomorrow I have a guest blogger talk about mastering a special skill.

From Nevin ":-)" Liber:

In season 7 of M*A*S*H BJ Hunnicutt grew a mustache. Was that something requested by the production team or by Mike Farrell? If the former, was it for looks, better humor/stories, etc.? If the latter, who has the final say-so: the actor or the production team?

I’ll be perfectly honest. Before the season we were looking for something to help differentiate B.J. from Hawkeye. Alan said, “I’ve got it. Let’s give B.J. a mustache!” We thought he was kidding. He wasn’t.

Mike could have nixed it, but instead went along like a good sport – although he never really knew why he was growing it. We just sort of accepted it and ignored it. What stories can you get from B.J. now has a mustache?

Good character development comes from within. Their attitude, their personality, their worldview, their wants and needs. Not something you can just paste on.

And finally, from John:

Hi Ken, just wondering how you feel about the 10/90 deals that are being made for shows? I noticed Kelsey was doing it with Partners and it seems to be working for Anger Management.

Do you think it's good for showrunners to know that their show will run for a set amount of episodes, or is it just a comedy sweatshop?

Yes, it’s good for showrunners and writers in general to know they've got an order of a hundred shows. Especially in a landscape where network shows are getting picked up for only six or eight. Certainly a lot more job security on ANGER MANAGEMENT than SELIFE.

The trouble is, as you say, they have to really crank out these episodes like Lucy & Ethel in the chocolate factory.  The quality understandably suffers. These shows seem to be more for people who just like the rhythm of multi-camera shows. But I don’t know how you could turn out real quality episodes if you have to make a hundred in a relatively short period of time. Likewise, for performances – when you’re doing two shows a week, how do you have time to really find the moments? It becomes a conveyer belt. But writers and crew people and actors are working so I say “yay!”

What’s your question? Leave it in the comments section. Thanks.

Great advice for all writers (not just young ones)

This quote from Oscar, Tony, and probably Heisman Trophy winner, Mike Nichols:

Every scene is either a fight, seduction, or negotiation.

Now you could say he’s stretching it, and you could argue that at times seductions are negotiations, but the real point here is that every effective scene needs some dynamic.

Two baseball fans in the stands just talking about the weather isn’t interesting. Umpires trying to decide whether the rain is coming down hard enough to stop a World Series game is.

A couple agreeing on what color to paint the house is boring. A couple throwing paint at each other is not.

Your scene needs some conflict, or one of the characters has a specific goal. There’s a dramatic reason for the scene.

It may be subtle. People are always looking for that little edge, couples are consciously or subconsciously trying to be in the power position in their relationship. Although a union contract might not be the topic on the table, this is still negotiation. Trying to get someone to agree with you is a form of seduction. The truth is in our daily lives we use most of these conventions all the time in our interactions; we just don’t recognize it. But for writers, they're the fuel that makes the engine go.

Rule of thumb: if you can just lift a scene out of a screenplay or TV show, or whatever without anyone missing it then it didn’t belong in the first place. We’re in a golden age of TV drama. Watch the good shows. See how every scene, every moment has a purpose, and is integral to the narrative.

A fight, seduction, or negotiation may be a little simplistic. But it gives you a good starting point. If you’ve written a scene that is just flat you can check it against those three dynamics. If it has none, or one but very mild, suddenly it’s no longer a mystery why your scene doesn’t work. Pick one or two or strengthen one or two.

Use Nichols’ quote as a guide. It may not be perfect, but it’s much more eloquent than mine.

A scene has to have… stuff.

And that’s why he is who he is and I am who I am.

Did I really say that?

Natalie Wood -- since I can't find an appropriate photo

Radio program directors always preach preparation for air talent. Spend the time, put in the effort, and know what you’re going to say before going on the air. Make sure beforehand that when you turn that mic on you’re going to say something entertaining, informative, or at the very least, of specific interest to the listener.

I did none of that when I was a disc jockey. No preparation whatsoever. I always felt that the prepared jocks lacked spontaneity. Their material seemed forced and lame. I always wanted to be in the moment. I always felt that if I couldn’t come up with one funny thing to say when given three minutes (the time of most records) there was something wrong. So I lived on the edge. But I felt extremely comfortable working this way.

I never had a program director scold me for being lazy or unprepared. Sometimes they told me to just shut up because I wasn’t funny, but no one ever accused me of phoning it in.

Once I said a funny line I never wrote it down. A few I have used more than once (always on different stations – I got fired a lot), but most of the time I’d say something and never give it another thought.

Recently I uncovered a tape of one of my shows from TenQ in Los Angeles from 1977 (when I was going by the distinguished moniker Beaver Cleaver). I hadn’t listened to this tape in damn near forty years.

I was floored by what I heard.

It’s like I was listening to someone I had never met. I didn’t remember any of the jokes I told. In some cases they were pretty good and I thought to myself, “Wow. Where did that come from?” Full disclosure: there were also some terrible jokes and one-liners of very questionable taste.

But it was very disconcerting to encounter yourself in a younger state and not even recognize that person. I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of memory. What we selectively choose to remember and what we forget (whether we choose to or not). I pride myself on having a very good memory. Lots of it useless. I can tell you artist, titles, and record labels from most records that made the charts from 1959-1979. I remember baseball games and players and plays that stretch back years. I watch a rerun of CHEERS and can remember how late the rewrite night went and who pitched specific jokes. But as I listened to that TenQ broadcast, the “me” I recall from that period was clearly not the “me” coming out of that speaker.

I’m sure a number of you have had essentially the same experience. How many of you kept diaries and journals when you were young and you revisit them now and are appalled.  

But if you’re like me, you also miss that person a little. “Beaver Cleaver” was more fearless than I am. He was brimming with passion for what he was doing. He was silly. He was tapped into what was cool.

And yet, a lot of his characteristics wouldn’t fit today. Just as wearing clothes from that period wouldn’t.

Like I said, he was a different person. Looking back, I liked “Beaver Cleaver” and would hope that if he could look into the future he’d like me too. Although I imagine he’d say, “What’s with the fucking Natalie Wood fixation? What are you? Thirteen?”