I was doing ALMOST PERFECT, the CBS mid 90’s sitcom that starred Nancy Travis. In the show, Nancy’s character had a cat, “Charlie”. We used him in about five episodes. Then I get a call from the cat’s owner/trainer/agent. He tells me that Charlie has been offered the lead in the remake of THAT DARN CAT but I was not to fret. Charlie really liked working on the show and with us. So he’ll stay with our show if we would up his fee and guarantee him all episodes produced. Naturally I was touched by Charlie’s loyalty.
I said as much as we too loved working with Charlie and greatly admired his many talents, I would hate to stand in the way of his feature career so I passed on his offer.
Unbelievably, we somehow managed to find another gray cat that could sit in a chair.
But here’s the thing…
A year later ALMOST PERFECT gets cancelled. I’m driving home, feeling really bummed out and I gaze up at a billboard touting a certain movie. My entire cast is out of work and there’s Charlie, the fucking cat, starring in a major motion picture, staring down on me, his Cheshire-like face plastered on a HUGE billboard on the Sunset Strip.
I lost track of Charlie after that. To my knowledge he didn’t catch on in films. That business can be so cruel. He probably returned to television and if there’s any justice he’s doing ARSENIC & OLD LACE in dinner theatre somewhere in Iowa tonight.
The moral: Use a litter box because you never know who you’re going to meet on the way down.
Monday, August 7, 2006
Sunday, August 6, 2006
Unsolicited material
First off, the runthrough went great. The cast was sensational, and the show is less than four hours. More work to be done but at least I didn’t have to get out of town under the cover of darkness.
Now to the real post:
A question from reader Jeff about unsolicited material, in this case pilot ideas with outlines. He asks:
“How would I, without connections in the television industry, go about pitching these ideas to networks and cable? “
*********
First thing you should do is document on paper every facet of your idea. The more detailed the better. Then register everything with the WGA. Go to their website (listed in my links section) for instructions how. I’m not saying that people in Hollywood would rip off your idea, I’m saying they’d steal your girlfriend too.
Jeff, on the major network side, unsolicited material is a very tough sell. They rarely if ever consider it. However, with NBC snooping around internet TV sites, they may be relaxing that policy. And if one does it, the others will. But assuming at the end of the day networks say they want to look outside the box but then buy the box, more important to them than ideas are the people who will execute them. Usually writers have to be on network shows for a few years before invited to pitch pilot ideas.
That means you may have to team up with an approved writer or producer. And in all likelihood they will try to give you a buy out – a one time payoff, then tell you to go away, with no further involvement or credit. Is that okay with you? (It probably depends on how much of a payoff?)
Finding producers or show runners who will want to be attached to your project is another whole bailiwick. Connections, luck, legwork, luck, perseverance, luck.
But here’s the good news: Cable and the internet. The old rules don’t apply. No rules apply. There are so many specialized cable networks and internet services these days that they don’t have enough product to fill their schedule. (Proof of this is that there are FACTS OF LIFE marathons.) You probably won’t get rich. And your show budget may not be as high as a dinner for two at Appleby’s, but at least you’d make a sale. And from there, who knows? You could be sitting on the next DATE MY MOM.
How you get to the people in charge of programming these networks? See: how to find producers and show runners.
Jeff, if you had asked me this question five years ago I would have said you had no shot. But in today’s Chicken Little marketplace this may be the perfect time to beat the odds, sell an unsolicited pilot, and maybe even be allowed to stay with it. Best of luck. And I’ll be watching ANIMAL PLANET looking for your name.
Now to the real post:
A question from reader Jeff about unsolicited material, in this case pilot ideas with outlines. He asks:
“How would I, without connections in the television industry, go about pitching these ideas to networks and cable? “
*********
First thing you should do is document on paper every facet of your idea. The more detailed the better. Then register everything with the WGA. Go to their website (listed in my links section) for instructions how. I’m not saying that people in Hollywood would rip off your idea, I’m saying they’d steal your girlfriend too.
Jeff, on the major network side, unsolicited material is a very tough sell. They rarely if ever consider it. However, with NBC snooping around internet TV sites, they may be relaxing that policy. And if one does it, the others will. But assuming at the end of the day networks say they want to look outside the box but then buy the box, more important to them than ideas are the people who will execute them. Usually writers have to be on network shows for a few years before invited to pitch pilot ideas.
That means you may have to team up with an approved writer or producer. And in all likelihood they will try to give you a buy out – a one time payoff, then tell you to go away, with no further involvement or credit. Is that okay with you? (It probably depends on how much of a payoff?)
Finding producers or show runners who will want to be attached to your project is another whole bailiwick. Connections, luck, legwork, luck, perseverance, luck.
But here’s the good news: Cable and the internet. The old rules don’t apply. No rules apply. There are so many specialized cable networks and internet services these days that they don’t have enough product to fill their schedule. (Proof of this is that there are FACTS OF LIFE marathons.) You probably won’t get rich. And your show budget may not be as high as a dinner for two at Appleby’s, but at least you’d make a sale. And from there, who knows? You could be sitting on the next DATE MY MOM.
How you get to the people in charge of programming these networks? See: how to find producers and show runners.
Jeff, if you had asked me this question five years ago I would have said you had no shot. But in today’s Chicken Little marketplace this may be the perfect time to beat the odds, sell an unsolicited pilot, and maybe even be allowed to stay with it. Best of luck. And I’ll be watching ANIMAL PLANET looking for your name.
Saturday, August 5, 2006
Stand-in theatre
Progress report on the musical I’m co-writing, the 60’s PROJECT, due to open at the Goodspeed Theatre in fabulous Chester, Ct. on Thursday night. So far, so good. Today we have our first complete runthrough. It should give us a great indication of where we are. Especially since it’ll be in a rehearsal hall, without the band, lighting, costumes, visuals, and two of the actors are out sick.
It reminds me of the last few years working on CHEERS. By that time, practically every cast member had other things to do – projects, movies, golf tournaments, guesting on other shows, pedicures, buying real estate, speaking to acting classes on the value of rehearsal, etc. So it was not uncommon to go down to the stage for a runthrough and find it was Ted Danson, the script supervisor, First AD, Second AD, prop guy, and George Wendt. We’d come back to the office for the rewrite and say “How the fuck do we know what worked or didn’t?”
My favorite moment was when one of the cast members showed up the next day after missing a runthrough, saw that a favorite line had been cut, and screamed at the crew member stand-in for killing the joke.
The sad thing is that often times that crew member delivered lines better than the actor.
Wish us luck on the runthrough.
It reminds me of the last few years working on CHEERS. By that time, practically every cast member had other things to do – projects, movies, golf tournaments, guesting on other shows, pedicures, buying real estate, speaking to acting classes on the value of rehearsal, etc. So it was not uncommon to go down to the stage for a runthrough and find it was Ted Danson, the script supervisor, First AD, Second AD, prop guy, and George Wendt. We’d come back to the office for the rewrite and say “How the fuck do we know what worked or didn’t?”
My favorite moment was when one of the cast members showed up the next day after missing a runthrough, saw that a favorite line had been cut, and screamed at the crew member stand-in for killing the joke.
The sad thing is that often times that crew member delivered lines better than the actor.
Wish us luck on the runthrough.
Friday, August 4, 2006
There IS crying in baseball
Here’s why I love minor league baseball. Friday night the Newark Bears hosted a Britney Spears Baby Safety Night to spread the message of keeping babies safe while in cars. Remember, Mensa member, Britney was recently photographed driving with her baby on her lap? And then she was spotted putting her baby in a car seat facing the wrong way.
Fans attending the game received info on baby car safety (a BIG attraction to baseball fans), and one lucky fan won a free car seat. Not a free car – a free car seat.
But here’s my favorite part – those who came dressed as a baby got in free. How hard-up do you have to be to see a free baseball game that you’d to go out in public in a diaper? Tickets, by the way, cost $9.00,
Thank God there was no big call that went against the Bears. The crying and tantrums in the crowd would have gotten really ugly. The umpire might’ve been pummeled with rattles and teething rings.
Go see a minor league game…and please, strap in your children.
Fans attending the game received info on baby car safety (a BIG attraction to baseball fans), and one lucky fan won a free car seat. Not a free car – a free car seat.
But here’s my favorite part – those who came dressed as a baby got in free. How hard-up do you have to be to see a free baseball game that you’d to go out in public in a diaper? Tickets, by the way, cost $9.00,
Thank God there was no big call that went against the Bears. The crying and tantrums in the crowd would have gotten really ugly. The umpire might’ve been pummeled with rattles and teething rings.
Go see a minor league game…and please, strap in your children.
What actors hate
As mentioned in this space before, writers need to remember that actors perform their material. And there are certain things actors hate. As a public service, when writing your script, here are some of those traps that will make for unhappy actors and by extension, an unhappy you.
Actors hate having to give exposition. It’s dry, it’s informational, it’s not fun. Unfortunately, SOMEONE has deliver the exposition. The trick is to spread it around, find ways to hide it, and make it entertaining. Necessary information woven into a joke is a great solution. Exposition itself is a great topic for a later post.
Actors don’t like just asking questions in a scene. They didn’t spend four years finding their “inner center”, “emotional truth triggers” and portraying ice cream cones just to ask questions. But sometimes there is a great temptation to do that. Actor “A” knows all this information, Actor “B” needs to know it. In real life, it’s a simple conversation of Q&A. Not in actor-life. Massage the scene so that Actor “B” has some jokes or comments, or Actor “A” shares information without being prompted.
Similarly, actors don’t like just doing set-ups for other actors’ jokes. Bud Abbott is dead. Spread around the wealth. The tough thing here is knowing Actor “A” is funny and Actor “B” is a lox. Still, you have to throw him a bone or two. Or work in some jokes in the set ups themselves. Or re-cast.
Here’s a common rookie mistake: Having an actor in a scene and not giving him a line for a page or two…or four. If he’s in the scene he needs to have a purpose and needs to be a participant. If he has no purpose, find a way to get his ass out of there. You’d think actors want as much screen time as possible but they would MUCH rather be out of a scene than be a piece of furniture in it.
Here’s a biggie: parentheticals – those little bracketed indicators that suggest the intent of the line. Most actors are irritated, even offended by them. They feel it’s their job to discover the intent. And they like the freedom to interpret the lines as they choose. That’s fine to a point. I still use this device, albeit sparingly (same with underlining specific words I want stressed) because first and foremost I want my scene to be interpreted correctly. But like I said, I am very judicious. I never indicate (angry), (sad), or (jaundiced but insouciant).
That said, you’re probably writing your script to be READ not PERFORMED (actors hate capitol letters too.) So in the interest of having a reader better understand your script and maybe buying it, you can sprinkle in a few more parentheticals. (warning) But don’t go crazy.
Actors balk at thankless roles. The best friend, the harpy-wet blanket (see any ABC comedy wife except Rosanne), the “Ralph Bellamy” boring third guy in a triangle soon to be dumped (Ralph Bellamy played this role in HIS GIRL FRIDAY and 297 other movies), and any role played by Emily Mortimer. Find a way to make these characters interesting, complex, or maybe let Ralph Bellamy get the girl.
Long speeches: Actors like ‘em and hate ‘em. They like having a big juicy emotional speech and they hate having to memorize them. Forget that human beings don’t normally speak in long speeches, if you want to give a character a big speech, fine. Don’t give him six. And give him spots to breathe.
Actors protect their characters, as well they should. Writers sometimes have the tendency to sacrifice their characters’ integrity for the sake of a big joke. I gotta side with actors on this one. Once you’ve sacrificed a character you can’t go back. Find another joke.
And finally, most actors don’t want to be seen in an unflattering light. They may voice their objections in gobs of Byzantine actor-speech, but trust me, the real issue is they don’t want to look weak, or mean, or playing the girlfriend of the Elephant Man. They can have flaws but within reason. What you need to do here is either give the characters interesting shadings, multi-dimensions (not always weak, not always giving dogs caramels to eat) or make the parts so meaty that actors suddenly would kill to play them. Villains, in particular, can be delicious, despite how hateful and cruel they are. Is there a more fun character than J.R. Ewing? Or Simon Cowell? Or my favorite champagne villain, Alan Richman in DIE HARD?
By making a concerted effort to accommodate the actors’ needs (and most of these are just good general writing tips) you stand a much better chance that the actors will embrace your script and even add to it. Their wardrobe and make up issues? That’s someone else’s problem.
Actors hate having to give exposition. It’s dry, it’s informational, it’s not fun. Unfortunately, SOMEONE has deliver the exposition. The trick is to spread it around, find ways to hide it, and make it entertaining. Necessary information woven into a joke is a great solution. Exposition itself is a great topic for a later post.
Actors don’t like just asking questions in a scene. They didn’t spend four years finding their “inner center”, “emotional truth triggers” and portraying ice cream cones just to ask questions. But sometimes there is a great temptation to do that. Actor “A” knows all this information, Actor “B” needs to know it. In real life, it’s a simple conversation of Q&A. Not in actor-life. Massage the scene so that Actor “B” has some jokes or comments, or Actor “A” shares information without being prompted.
Similarly, actors don’t like just doing set-ups for other actors’ jokes. Bud Abbott is dead. Spread around the wealth. The tough thing here is knowing Actor “A” is funny and Actor “B” is a lox. Still, you have to throw him a bone or two. Or work in some jokes in the set ups themselves. Or re-cast.
Here’s a common rookie mistake: Having an actor in a scene and not giving him a line for a page or two…or four. If he’s in the scene he needs to have a purpose and needs to be a participant. If he has no purpose, find a way to get his ass out of there. You’d think actors want as much screen time as possible but they would MUCH rather be out of a scene than be a piece of furniture in it.
Here’s a biggie: parentheticals – those little bracketed indicators that suggest the intent of the line. Most actors are irritated, even offended by them. They feel it’s their job to discover the intent. And they like the freedom to interpret the lines as they choose. That’s fine to a point. I still use this device, albeit sparingly (same with underlining specific words I want stressed) because first and foremost I want my scene to be interpreted correctly. But like I said, I am very judicious. I never indicate (angry), (sad), or (jaundiced but insouciant).
That said, you’re probably writing your script to be READ not PERFORMED (actors hate capitol letters too.) So in the interest of having a reader better understand your script and maybe buying it, you can sprinkle in a few more parentheticals. (warning) But don’t go crazy.
Actors balk at thankless roles. The best friend, the harpy-wet blanket (see any ABC comedy wife except Rosanne), the “Ralph Bellamy” boring third guy in a triangle soon to be dumped (Ralph Bellamy played this role in HIS GIRL FRIDAY and 297 other movies), and any role played by Emily Mortimer. Find a way to make these characters interesting, complex, or maybe let Ralph Bellamy get the girl.
Long speeches: Actors like ‘em and hate ‘em. They like having a big juicy emotional speech and they hate having to memorize them. Forget that human beings don’t normally speak in long speeches, if you want to give a character a big speech, fine. Don’t give him six. And give him spots to breathe.
Actors protect their characters, as well they should. Writers sometimes have the tendency to sacrifice their characters’ integrity for the sake of a big joke. I gotta side with actors on this one. Once you’ve sacrificed a character you can’t go back. Find another joke.
And finally, most actors don’t want to be seen in an unflattering light. They may voice their objections in gobs of Byzantine actor-speech, but trust me, the real issue is they don’t want to look weak, or mean, or playing the girlfriend of the Elephant Man. They can have flaws but within reason. What you need to do here is either give the characters interesting shadings, multi-dimensions (not always weak, not always giving dogs caramels to eat) or make the parts so meaty that actors suddenly would kill to play them. Villains, in particular, can be delicious, despite how hateful and cruel they are. Is there a more fun character than J.R. Ewing? Or Simon Cowell? Or my favorite champagne villain, Alan Richman in DIE HARD?
By making a concerted effort to accommodate the actors’ needs (and most of these are just good general writing tips) you stand a much better chance that the actors will embrace your script and even add to it. Their wardrobe and make up issues? That’s someone else’s problem.
Wednesday, August 2, 2006
Make 'em laugh AND cry
Thanks for your great response to my unsold spec, SATISFACTION. If only any of you had money. But almost as good as seeing my movie on the screen is posting segments of it on a blog.
I love writing serious emotional scenes and still sneaking in comedy. Making an audience laugh when they don’t expect it is a hoot. I’m not always successful but love the challenge. The key is that the comedy comes out of the characters. People react to stress and heartache in different ways, often unexpected, unpredictable, and sometimes funny. Finding that balance between comedy and drama can be tricky but when it works it’s really worth the effort. Here’s an attempt to do that from this script.
Set in the world of Bakersfield radio -- where contests and promotions are king -- longtime local oldies DJ, Jimmy Lizard (Steve Martin), has just died. His closest friend and former colleague is Barry (Jason Alexander). Lizard’s boss was Sandy, someone way too young to be running an oldies station.
********
INT. BARRY'S APARTMENT – DAY
Barry drags in, dumps his suitcase, hits the button on his message machine as he goes to the fridge for a beer. A BEEP, THEN:
LIZARD
Barry? It's Lizard. Thanks again for coming up. Listen, if I should, y'know ..."go", I left an envelope for you. This is my dying wish. You'll know because it says right on the front "dying wish". It's a gift to my listeners, and it would mean a lot to me. I hate to place this burden on you but hey, I can't get Halle Berry on the phone. Anyway, I really appreciate it, and hopefully you'll never have to open it. Thanks.
Another BEEP, then:
RAY
Barry, call me the minute you get this.
(can hardly say the words)
It's Lizard.
Barry falls into a chair, knowing.
INT. HOSPITAL RECEPTION STATION - LATER THAT DAY
Barry signs for Lizard's envelope. He dreads having to open it. He finally does. He shakes his head. How is he going to pull this off?
INT. SANDY'S OFFICE – DAY
Sandy and Barry. Sandy clutches the letter.
SANDY
I can't do this.
BARRY
But it's his dying wish, man.
SANDY
I'm sorry, Barry, no.
BARRY
Why do you think people listen to this radio station? For the same twelve records they've heard a jillion times? Bullshit. They listen for the connection, to when their lives were young and exciting and it was all still out there ahead of 'em. That's what Jimmy provided, man. He was their connection. For 32 years. As long as you heard Jimmy's voice there were still "Big Kahuna Luaus", and "Drumathons", and endless summers, and "Daddy could never take the T- Bird away". But now it's gone. We've lost a helluva lot more than just some schmoe who played old records.
(beat)
To honor his memory... and all of ours -- this is what he wanted.
Sandy looks down at the letter. Barry knows he's got him.
EXT. BAKERSFIELD – DAY
VARIOUS BEAUTY SHOTS OF THE CITY AS THIS PLAYS ON THE AIR:
SANDY
All of us at 88/KBF were saddened today by the death of our longtime friend and colleague, Jimmy Lizard. He was a great broadcaster, a greater human being, and this station will never be the same now that he's gone.
(beat)
In accordance with his last request, Jimmy would like you, his listeners to attend his funeral tomorrow. He realized that there wouldn't be room for everyone so, again -- according to his wishes -- when you hear Gabriel's horn blow be the first caller on the Bossline and you'll score two passes to the service.
I love writing serious emotional scenes and still sneaking in comedy. Making an audience laugh when they don’t expect it is a hoot. I’m not always successful but love the challenge. The key is that the comedy comes out of the characters. People react to stress and heartache in different ways, often unexpected, unpredictable, and sometimes funny. Finding that balance between comedy and drama can be tricky but when it works it’s really worth the effort. Here’s an attempt to do that from this script.
Set in the world of Bakersfield radio -- where contests and promotions are king -- longtime local oldies DJ, Jimmy Lizard (Steve Martin), has just died. His closest friend and former colleague is Barry (Jason Alexander). Lizard’s boss was Sandy, someone way too young to be running an oldies station.
********
INT. BARRY'S APARTMENT – DAY
Barry drags in, dumps his suitcase, hits the button on his message machine as he goes to the fridge for a beer. A BEEP, THEN:
LIZARD
Barry? It's Lizard. Thanks again for coming up. Listen, if I should, y'know ..."go", I left an envelope for you. This is my dying wish. You'll know because it says right on the front "dying wish". It's a gift to my listeners, and it would mean a lot to me. I hate to place this burden on you but hey, I can't get Halle Berry on the phone. Anyway, I really appreciate it, and hopefully you'll never have to open it. Thanks.
Another BEEP, then:
RAY
Barry, call me the minute you get this.
(can hardly say the words)
It's Lizard.
Barry falls into a chair, knowing.
INT. HOSPITAL RECEPTION STATION - LATER THAT DAY
Barry signs for Lizard's envelope. He dreads having to open it. He finally does. He shakes his head. How is he going to pull this off?
INT. SANDY'S OFFICE – DAY
Sandy and Barry. Sandy clutches the letter.
SANDY
I can't do this.
BARRY
But it's his dying wish, man.
SANDY
I'm sorry, Barry, no.
BARRY
Why do you think people listen to this radio station? For the same twelve records they've heard a jillion times? Bullshit. They listen for the connection, to when their lives were young and exciting and it was all still out there ahead of 'em. That's what Jimmy provided, man. He was their connection. For 32 years. As long as you heard Jimmy's voice there were still "Big Kahuna Luaus", and "Drumathons", and endless summers, and "Daddy could never take the T- Bird away". But now it's gone. We've lost a helluva lot more than just some schmoe who played old records.
(beat)
To honor his memory... and all of ours -- this is what he wanted.
Sandy looks down at the letter. Barry knows he's got him.
EXT. BAKERSFIELD – DAY
VARIOUS BEAUTY SHOTS OF THE CITY AS THIS PLAYS ON THE AIR:
SANDY
All of us at 88/KBF were saddened today by the death of our longtime friend and colleague, Jimmy Lizard. He was a great broadcaster, a greater human being, and this station will never be the same now that he's gone.
(beat)
In accordance with his last request, Jimmy would like you, his listeners to attend his funeral tomorrow. He realized that there wouldn't be room for everyone so, again -- according to his wishes -- when you hear Gabriel's horn blow be the first caller on the Bossline and you'll score two passes to the service.
Tuesday, August 1, 2006
How do you guys write?
I’ve been lucky enough to be in the same partnership for 33 years. Some time ago I got a letter from a young writer named Ken Levine saying, since we had the same name, could I give him any advice? I said, “Yes, find a partner named David Isaacs.”
Writing teams all work differently. Here’s how we work and it’s a tad unusual. A lot of teams will split up the script – one takes one scene or act and the other takes the other. Then they switch. We write head to head and we dictate the script to a secretary who takes great shorthand. We never actually see the script while we’re writing it. This forces us not to obsess over a line. It frees us to pitch out a whole run knowing we can just go back and clean it up. We can juggle beats, move things around more easily. This process also allows us to volley lines back and forth. When people ask if a particular joke was mine and I say I don’t remember I’m not being coy. We shape practically every line together.
It now takes us four or five days to write a half hour. Two or three if we have to. When we started it took two weeks. That’s where 33 years of experience comes in handy.
We work off of an outline, talk out what we’re going to do then just take a shot at it. Next day we see the typed version of what we wrote, proof it, blame the medication, and keep going. After the rough draft is finished we each take a copy, make notes, joke suggestions, cuts, etc. and reconvene for one more pass. Once that’s completed, more often than not we turn it in.
Do we have arguments? Sure. But we never let them get personal. And if we ever have a disagreement over a particular joke and can’t reach a consensus quickly we just toss it out and write something else. It takes less time to come up with a new line than to argue and have one of us ultimately pissed.
And you can't be defensive. The best idea wins even if its the other guy's.
We’re also not afraid to throw stuff out – a line, a run, a whole scene. And I mentioned last week, scripts can ALWAYS be trimmed.
Although the head to head process works well for us (which isn’t to say it works for everybody) early on in our career we began a practice whereby once a year we took an assignment and divided it up. The purpose was to feel confident that we could write on our own if we had to. We’re partners out of choice not dependency. And it’s amazing – we’ve been writing together so long that when we do split up a script I defy anyone to tell who wrote which act. They’re equally in need of major work.
There are many advantages to having a partner. The obvious ones you know. It’s more social, you have someone to share the burden/blame with, and it’s nice to get feedback (especially in comedy) – in our case not only from each other but our secretary, Lana. On more than one occasion we’ll laugh uproariously at a pitch, I’ll say to Lana, proudly, “Put that in” and she’ll say “Really???”
But here’s the biggest advantage to being in a team -- when you have to bring your car into the shop you know you can always get a ride.
A good partnership is like a marriage except you give up half your money before you get divorced.
Writing teams all work differently. Here’s how we work and it’s a tad unusual. A lot of teams will split up the script – one takes one scene or act and the other takes the other. Then they switch. We write head to head and we dictate the script to a secretary who takes great shorthand. We never actually see the script while we’re writing it. This forces us not to obsess over a line. It frees us to pitch out a whole run knowing we can just go back and clean it up. We can juggle beats, move things around more easily. This process also allows us to volley lines back and forth. When people ask if a particular joke was mine and I say I don’t remember I’m not being coy. We shape practically every line together.
It now takes us four or five days to write a half hour. Two or three if we have to. When we started it took two weeks. That’s where 33 years of experience comes in handy.
We work off of an outline, talk out what we’re going to do then just take a shot at it. Next day we see the typed version of what we wrote, proof it, blame the medication, and keep going. After the rough draft is finished we each take a copy, make notes, joke suggestions, cuts, etc. and reconvene for one more pass. Once that’s completed, more often than not we turn it in.
Do we have arguments? Sure. But we never let them get personal. And if we ever have a disagreement over a particular joke and can’t reach a consensus quickly we just toss it out and write something else. It takes less time to come up with a new line than to argue and have one of us ultimately pissed.
And you can't be defensive. The best idea wins even if its the other guy's.
We’re also not afraid to throw stuff out – a line, a run, a whole scene. And I mentioned last week, scripts can ALWAYS be trimmed.
Although the head to head process works well for us (which isn’t to say it works for everybody) early on in our career we began a practice whereby once a year we took an assignment and divided it up. The purpose was to feel confident that we could write on our own if we had to. We’re partners out of choice not dependency. And it’s amazing – we’ve been writing together so long that when we do split up a script I defy anyone to tell who wrote which act. They’re equally in need of major work.
There are many advantages to having a partner. The obvious ones you know. It’s more social, you have someone to share the burden/blame with, and it’s nice to get feedback (especially in comedy) – in our case not only from each other but our secretary, Lana. On more than one occasion we’ll laugh uproariously at a pitch, I’ll say to Lana, proudly, “Put that in” and she’ll say “Really???”
But here’s the biggest advantage to being in a team -- when you have to bring your car into the shop you know you can always get a ride.
A good partnership is like a marriage except you give up half your money before you get divorced.
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