THIS STORY IS SIX WORDS LONG

I so totally love Wired magazine. Yes, if I could marry it, I would. I'm sure it would be extremely beneficial. I know it makes more than I do. There might be some issues, but I'm sure we could work it out.

Inspired by a legend about Ernest Hemingway, they went and got noted writers from TV, comics, film and these things without pictures that they call books (though all notably skewed toward sci-fi/fantasy) and had them write some six-word stories. They also got noted designers like Chip Kidd to use them to design something not unlike book covers for those six word stories. As seen here.

I wanted to try it too. Not just the story, but the design thing. Allow me the hedge now. Obviously, I am not a professional designer and there is clearly a reason for this, but it's a fun diversion. Make with the clicky on the images for (slightly) larger versions.


It's a fun little exercise that doesn't take a lot of investment. If you can't evoke something (anything, an image, an idea, whatever) in six words, you're probably not going to be able to do it with more than six. (And if you can get your screenplay pitch down to six words, you fucking rawk).

My favorites from the Wired piece are fairly predictable, I suppose.

Gown removed carelessly. Head, less so.
- Joss Whedon

Machine. Unexpectedly, I’d invented a time
- Alan Moore

“I couldn’t believe she’d shoot me.”
- Howard Chaykin

Tick tock tick tock tick tick.
- Neal Stephenson

And, of course, we give...ahem...mad propz...to the greatest among us. The one who will stand when all others fall. The only guaranteed seat on the Doomsday Rocket. The speaker of truths. The master of the flying drop-kick. The doer of green chicks.

Failed SAT. Lost scholarship. Invented rocket.
- William Shatner

I know that Wired has a certain readership that gravitates toward a certain kind of writer, but I'd be really interested to see what six-word stories we'd get from the likes of David Mamet, Rob Thomas, Amy Sherman-Palladino, Chuck Palahniuk, John Swartzwelder or that one guy that umm...what was his name again *snap* *snap* oh, yeah...Aaron Sorkin.

BATTLESTAR GALACTICA 304

The writer's malady is that you eventually lose some of your ability to just sit back and enjoy something without analyzing it (and usually finding fault). I don't usually do this. I can generally get through the first viewing of anything without "thinking" about it (if I couldn't, I wouldn't be able to watch Prison Break). I just enjoy the ride (because that is the point). On a second or third viewing , if not the second the end credits roll, I start looking at things. I generally look at how things are functioning and why and not so much at what I might have done differently. If it was different, it wouldn't be what it is (if I may get a little discount Zen on you) and it frequently starts some dominoes to fall. There was a scene in Battlestar Galactica: "Exodus, Part Two" that did make me think about doing it differently and how it would change the way things fall. I decided to explore this a little and look at a couple of other things while I'm at it.

SPOILER ALERT
If you're going to try to read this post, you will simply have to have seen this episode. If you don't watch the show, I'm kinda wondering why you even come here. It's fantastic TV and great writing...and for aspiring writers, the podcast commentaries make this show a real education. Speaking of which...

Ron Moore's commentary on "Exodus, Part Two"

Episode written by
David Weddle & Bradley Thompson

I watched this episode of Battlestar Galactica twice, for a specific reason, but I would probably have rewatched this one anyway. It was good. Not that "oh, this is so-well crafted" good, but the "damn, that was kewl!" good. With the k and the w and everything.

The second viewing came at a friend's house as we had about 45 minutes to kill before meeting up with some people and he hadn't seen it yet. In watching it, I came to view the last scene of the teaser and first scene of act one a little differently than I had before. While I would have come to the same thought eventually, I think it's worth noting that I came to it now because I was watching it with someone who hadn't seen it yet and I had. When this happens, I often start thinking about how the other person is perceiving the scene. Are they seeing things differently than I had? Are they seeing the telegraph I didn't or vice versa? This, however, is not the point.

The point is about writing choices. I thought about how differently Saul's poisoning of Ellen would have played had Anders come to him about handling Ellen after he'd already taken care of the matter. As it plays, with Anders making the point that it would be better for her if Saul takes care of it himself, the first scene back becomes fairly obvious. I like a little element of the unexpected. It's wrong to say that something has to have that element to be good. It's still a fantastic scene. The difference is how you view that death. With an element of surprise, you're either close to Ellen's viewpoint (or right in it if you choose to believe she knows it's coming) or you're the fly. Knowing what Saul's going to do puts you more in his position. You are better able to empathize with him (though my viewing partner had a more cheerful reaction to the events). A little bit of the-journey-not-the-destination, you know.

I would have written it with Anders coming in after the poisoning. I think Saul was resigned to doing it before Anders spoke to him, so I don't think I needed the scene to push him into action. I want to put the viewer through a different ride in Saul's head. Two rides. How does he react when Ellen tells him all the things she's done for him, including the things he didn't already know about? The poisoning comes as a more unexpected thing and gives the scene a second layer in review. Anders coming in after shows us that he didn't do it from anger, but from mercy and so is still needed.

Scene order isn't just about plot or continuity.

Another thing I want to hit in this episode is writing scenes without actors (in the conventional sense). Most shows, you just don't get to do this. In "Exodus, Part 2," there's a scene that relies on effects, but is intercut with actors (Galactica's descent into the atmosphere). Another scene...or shot...is entirely CGI (though preceded by a great Adama moment) and that's the one I'm looking at now. That's when the lone Battlestar, Galactica, is besieged by four basestars, taking hits from every angle and rocking with every impact. Slowly we pull away as the barrages become worse. We know that Pegasus will come to the rescue, but we keep pulling away until Galactica is very small and very damaged and in that striking shot, that one second, we consider (and this draws a little on the show's record of doing the unexpected) that maybe Galactica really is done for. Then that missile spins in from off-screen ahead of Pegasus.

There's a few elements at work here. The metahistory of the show for one. When you watch a show and they zig time after time, the zig becomes the zag and the zag is now zig (or other way around). It's the art of using the viewer's second-guessing you against him or herself. Can you use this in a spec script? I wouldn't advise it. Your spec is not the show and using a zig as a zag just comes off as a zig. If the show you spec usually zigs, then just zig. Or, you know, zag for zag.

There are, of course, actors in this scene. They're just not of the sort that appear on the screen and speak lines or express with their faces and bodies. The effects artists and editors have all the responsibility. Timing is crucial here, and you can't really script timing. You can try, but it's completely out of your hands. That's something worth remembering as you write. There's a lot that's out of your hands, no matter what you write.

The scene is what it is not because of the writer, but because of everyone who comes into contact with it.

Now, that Galactica descent scene. It reminds us that for all the emotion and the clever dialogue and the turns of plot, there's not much that can match up the just doing a really cool trick. My co-viewer had much the same reaction I did as the red-hot Galactica dropped like a brick through the atmosphere of New Caprica. "It can't fly in an atmosphere, can it? Naw!" The Vipers scream out of the smoking behemoth and we realize that the Galactica is by no means flying and is about to crush the "city" below like a big burning brick.


Adama gives the order.

"Jump."

My Gods, as Roslin might say. That was just cool for the sake of being cool and there is indescribable value in that. Anyone who didn't at least lurch in their seat, if not jump out of it, on the sheer awesome of that moment is dead inside. As much as writers might want to be able to get the moment of truth or whatever you want to call it in a story, equally as difficult and as noble a goal is to get that visceral reaction you only get from just doing...something...cool. Sometimes you can do it with words. Sometimes not so much.

Moving the viewer should be taken literally as much as figuratively.

FAVORITE TV SCENE(S)

It began here. I found it here. I liked it so...here it is. Like it says on the tin. Favorite scenes from television.

I'm using the Denis McGrath model here. Two scenes. One of them, a "commit moment" as he calls it. The moment where you are no longer trying a show on, you're paying for it at the counter and wearing it home.

Except I'm specifically using the commit and the non-commit. I do this for a reason. A lot of my favorite scenes are usually so strong to me because they build on years of character development. It's a part of what has drawn me to writing for television. They have their power because I know these people. They've come to my house over and over again for season after season. That will be the first scene.

I guarantee you, ask me tomorrow and I'll have two different favorite scenes.

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER: "The Gift" - ACT FOUR

My favorite character in this show, right from the beginning, was always Giles (librarian, trainer of vampire slayers and portrayed by Tony "No Pants" Head). The coolest parts of his character emerged so very rarely, but it was always in there. This man is a badass. He trains goddamn vampire slayers for fuck's sake, he has to be a badass. Generally, though, we see the somewhat stuttery, proper librarian. Second season, stuff started coming out. His past associations with black magic users like Ethan Rayne. His punk youth in the late seventies, early eighties.

To those who know their comics, it seems that Rupert Giles was once very much like John Constantine (and not the crappy Keanu Reeves version) of the Hellblazer comics.

For the most part, he's more father figure and researcher. He got a little more hip after he lost his job due to the high school exploding. It really hit me, though, at the end of Season Five, when he found Ben, the largely innocent (though not completely, but c'mon, he was in a tough spot) host to the evil god Glorificus. He lay damaged, but he'll live. And as long as he lives, Glorificus can wreak untold havoc on Earth.

The only way to make the world safe from "Glory" is to deny her that portal. Giles explains to him that Buffy is a hero. She won't take a human life. He reaches down with one hand and holds the struggling Ben's mouth and nose shut, ever so calmly.

"She's not like us."


The second, the "commit" one, builds on nothing (save perhaps the episode it is a part of, but let's not pick nits). It is what it is in the here and now (or the there and then).

THE SHIELD: "Pilot" - ACT FOUR

Some series get you in the first hour. Firefly. The West Wing. This. And if for some bizarre reason you haven't gotten around to this in the last five years, I feel no pity for you in spoiling the pilot here.

Terry Crowley has been assigned to tough cop Vic Mackey's Strike Team. Vic knows something's up, so when they go on a raid (crooked, but achieving a just goal), after they've taken down their target, killing him in a shower, Terry walks up to Vic. "Good job," and all that. Vic turns around and shoots him dead. Right in the face. A fellow officer.

That's the whole series right there. The beginning and the end and the promise of an amazing ride. It's everything you need to know in one determined flash.

ZOMGWTFBBQ! My favorite scenes involve the good guys killin' folks.

Contenders for these scenes during the 15 minutes or so I was thinking about it were:

• The Wire: "Old Cases" - The "fuck" scene
• Homicide: Life on the Street: "Crosetti" - Pembleton salutes Crosetti's funeral procession in dress blues
• The West Wing: "Two Cathedrals" - Bartlet's ranting at God in Latin
• Doctor Who: "Doomsday" - The Doctor's farewell to Rose
• Rescue Me: "Guts" - Tommy tells the psychiatrist about the little girl and the cat
• Firefly: "The Train Job" - Convincing the thugs to take the money back
• Homicide: The Movie (still TV) - Gee sees Adena Watson skipping through the squad room
• Deep Space Nine: "In The Pale Moonlight" - Sisko confesses to the station computer then erases it
• M*A*S*H: "Abysinnia, Henry" - Radar reports Col. Blake's death
• Veronica Mars: "Ain't No Magic Mountain High Enough" - V extracts the copy machine confession

See how I cheated and just did a dozen. I'm so fucking clever.

WARNER BROS WRITERS WORKSHOP

got dink?

I guess I just suck.

SCATTERBRAINED (ME, NOT YOU (WELL, MAYBE YOU, SOME))

Wherein I engage in some writing that is about as focused as a coked-out
nine-year-old with ADHD (or whatever it's being called this week),
trying to explain the plot to the first Mission: Impossible flick.

There are certain advantages to not starting a show right from the beginning, as it seems is now the only way what with these new-fangled DVD sets.

I've seen a lot of comments lately about a number of returning shows where, despite them being absolutely amazing, viewers still feel the need to rag on them for having the temerity to grow and move forward. I especially see a lot of complaints that Veronica Mars isn't just like it was in the first season. Well, that's because time passes, doesn't it? Things change. Hell, the very fact that the first season happened means you can't have it just like the first season again.

That's not the point (so easily do I get sidetracked).

Where was I? Right. Not starting at the beginning. Now the mass of uber-serialization seemingly started by the likes of 24 (I don't blame them, I blame the copycatism. Most other series fail this miserably) makes it a little more difficult to jump into something, but people don't give themselves enough credit anymore, to be able to pick up a thread and figure out what's happening. A good "previously on" or some deftly handled exposition (easier said than done, I know) should take care of it, but that's not what I'm on about either.

Picking up on a series late gives you a unique viewpoint. One where you don't necessarily think you know the show better than the people who've been creating it for two or three years already. One where you don't take all the goodwill the writers have built up with you and throw it all away over a three-second shot at the end of an episode that you really don't know what is going to happen with it (I'm looking at some snarky BG fans).

you jump on a show late and you really dig the frak out of it, you think it's amazing, but it's at a point where maybe the long time fans think the quality has suffered. You don't you just got here. You love it and you want more (enter the DVD sets).

I first started watching Homicide: Life on the Street quite late (to my great shame, because I now regard it as one of my favorite TV series ever). By the time I got there, fans where dissing cast changes, writing quality, even the opening credits. I thought nothing of this. I still don't. I went back and saw the preceding seasons and found them amazing, but not a better or lesser amazing...just a different amazing. As such, I think I get more enjoyment from my entire collection of Homicide DVDs than people who came in at the beginning and perceived some decline.

Now, the requisite Sorkin reference.

To sidetrack some more before I get where I think I'm going, I thought Studio 60: "The West Coast" delay was significantly better than the preceeding episodes. It was less trying to impose importance on an unimportant setting and more about making a TV show and being those people. More like Sports Night. As maybe it should be.

I saw a lot of whining from West Wing fans going into the third season (seemingly the most frequent point where fans take greater ownership of the show than they really have a right to). I'd been with the show from the start and thought that the third and fourth seasons where just as astounding as the first two. A different astounding, as it was no longer a rookie presidency. There was growth. There was change. If that change wasn't there, I'm sure those same grousers would be arguing that the show had become static.

The biggest problem in these situations, I think, is that the show isn't new anymore. You can't get that back. Just like a relationship (unless you find a way to induce some kind of amnesia in your girlfriend). Though sometimes, she's just gone psycho on you gotta break it off (Nip/Tuck in my case).

It's that eternal struggle between comfort and variety. They don't coexist much. Like my friends who won't try a new restaurant because they might not like it. "Well, what if you did like it? More?"

Man, talk about unfocused.

So, if you haven't watched Veronica Mars, don't put season 1 on your NetFlix, just watch the next one that comes on (and put on your NetFlix. Or just buy it. Buy it).

Of course, I don't really recommend this with The Wire, for instance.

SMITH CANCELLED

CBS PROGRAMMING ADVISORY

The following replaces previously announced programming for Tuesdays at 10:00 PM until further notice on the CBS Television Network. SMITH has been pulled from the schedule.

Tuesday, October 10 - 10:00-11:00 PM CSI: CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION (R)
Tuesday, Oct. 17 - 10:00-11:00 PM CRIMINAL MINDS (R)
Tuesday, Oct. 24 - 10:00-11:00 PM CRIMINAL MINDS (R)
Tuesday, Oct. 31 - 10:00-11:00 PM TBA

CUE MUSIC (SONG TBD PENDING LICENSING)

There seems to have been a lot of discussion about concerning music montages on television shows of late. That's it's overdone. It's sloppy or lazy writing. The music is bad. Like that. Like most things, I don't see it in black and white. I see it in red and green.

I dig a really well-done montage-thingy. They are not terribly frequent, though. I agree, it's overdone. Some shows, it's part of the formula and they do it every damn week. Some, like The O.C. do it because they're a source for breaking new music. It's that heavy teen demo. Fine. Let 'em. There's actually something to that demo thing. Others, like House, seem to be doing it just to do it. It worked really well for them once or twice so they're trying to hit that good one every time. It's as hit or miss as House and his team's first two or three diagnoses every week.
Then there's something like Veronica Mars, which uses a lot of music in the b.g., but occasionally does a montage. One featuring a song by Air in the episode "Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner" had an effect on a friend of mine (though that's not so much a montage as it's just conventional soundtracking).

For the most part, I don't think it is sloppy or lazy writing. Being a writer means, yes, putting words in someone's mouth. It doesn't mean you have to put those words in and sometimes the scene calls for everyone to just shut up. Maybe silence would be better, maybe some music would work. Not really my call.

Though, I'm sure that, from time to time, it really is a case of lazy writing, just not as often as the casual observer might think. I'm sure that more often than not, this doesn't even fall into the purview of the writer. Some are producers and different shows have different levels of involvement, but a script that calls for a song is a thing I have seen very rarely.

Is it overdone. Has it become a cliche? Yeah. It has. Something being a cliche is not a reason not to do it though. Doing it when it really works well is not cliche. Doing it at any other time for any other reason is. Some cliches though become so prevelant, you scarcely notice them anymore. When a music montage in a show isn't really effective or powerful, I barely notice that it's even happening. The audio is so inconsequential that I guess I just disregard it entirely until someone speaks.

Then there's the issue of the over-licensed song. That song that just keeps showing up. Longtime readers of Red Right Hand will perhaps recall that we've cited the Jeff Buckley version of "Hallelujah" (by Leonard Cohen) as the winner of that award. Ironically (or not so much, as it's gets over0used for a reason) this song is at the center of one of the best montages of this particular decade. In fact Sorkin (you knew I was going there, didn't you) called for it specifically in the script for "Posse Comitatus" and even wrote in the lyrics at certain junctures.


In the interest of sustaining a fraction of objectivity, the "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow" (by I don't know who) montage at the end of "The Focus Group" did absolutely nothing for me.

I really enjoyed the use of "Hide & Seek" by Imogen Heap in the Smith pilot. I was unaware of it's alleged overuse (though as far as I can tell, it's nowhere near Jeff Buckley level yet). That's a thing about the songs in these montages. It maybe overused, but if you haven't seen the crap it was attached to, then it's new to you.

Then there's the "music is bad music" argument. The only correct response to that is...whatever.

TV is audio and visual. You have to have it all, and music is a strong audio element. If it can acheive something, use it. Hesitiate though. Think twice about whether this licensed song is the right one. Would score work better here (though it be less commerical)? Would silence? So often, the scenes are written, then music is chosen from the stuff they can afford. Perhaps the music should be more often called for in the script (though there are issues with whether or not something can be cleared and affect the writing of the scene in that way) rather than in production. Those seem to work better. Not that nothing will come from the catalog approach. After all, House always gets the diagnosis eventually.


Personally, I prefer the Bono version of "Hallelujah"