Читать книгу Writing the TV Drama Series 3rd edition - Pamela Douglas - Страница 10

HOW TO USE THIS BOOK

IF YOU’RE A WRITER…

The entire template is here. All you have to do is follow the chapters, step by step.

I recommend this process: First, read through the entire book for an overview. During this early read don’t worry about taking notes or writing your script. Understand the terrain and the many options. Chapter One, Chapter Eight, and all the interviews are especially helpful for this kind of survey.

Second: Prepare to write your own scripts. It’s a good idea to generate at least two — one spec episode for an existing show and one original pilot. It’s even better to have more than one of each, but you have to start somewhere. Of course, some of you are more advanced and already have scripts. In that case, use this process for revisions.

If you begin with a spec episode, it’s up to you to study your show on your own. That means watching every episode available and accessing all relevant websites. The systems in this book will work for any hour drama series, but some shows are better choices than others.

Rule One: Choose quality. Even the worst shows hire the best writers they can find, and by best I mean writers who deliver authentic characters and situations. Imitating weak or contrived writing will just make you look untalented. At the beginning of 2011, samples being widely read by agents and producers include Breaking Bad, Dexter, House, The Good Wife, and a few others. If you’re reading this in future years, you can figure out what’s worth speculating by following the most-current Writers Guild and Emmy award nominees for writing.

Rule Two: Choose a show in current production. This requires a bit of research because shows may be on the air but in a final season. So an excellent series like Friday Night Lights, which concluded production, would not be useful even though it’s still running. The reason is purely practical: writing contests tend to require current samples. But that absolutely does not mean you should avoid learning from great classic shows like The Sopranos. In fact, you must! Just don’t spec those shows.

Rule Three: Choose a show where you can bring a fresh insight or experience that fits its world. For example, if you don’t know the culture of New Orleans, don’t even think of writing for Treme; no matter how much research you might do, it will come out fake. On the other hand, you don’t have to be a psychopathic killer to write for Dexter — although you do need to understand how he thinks.

Once you’ve chosen the show and learned it well, turn to the book. Re-read Chapter Three. See the analysis of the classic series? Now go to the show you’ve chosen and see if you can break it down into scenes like this, or into sequences. Define the “A,” “B,” and “C” (and maybe “D”) stories. See if you can make a grid for an episode, even in very rough form. Then make a grid for your own episode.

Next, go on to Chapter Four and follow each step — Outline, First Draft, Second Draft, and Polish. While you’re working, check in with the scripts (or DVDs) from the show. Have you caught the voices? The rhythm of the scenes?

If you’re writing a pilot, start by re-reading the “Spotlight On Writing Your Pilot Script,” which is between Chapter Four and Chapter Five. Then go back to Chapter Four and follow all the development steps — Outline, First Draft, Second Draft, and Polish.

While you’re writing, be an artist and set aside your marketing head. After you’re done, you’ll be able to use Chapter Six on how to break in. And if you’re fortunate, you’ll be ready for Chapter Five about working on a staff. But take your mind off “Ka-Ching!” — at least until you have something worth offering. Pandering to a quick buck will sabotage your career. As I told you, even the worst shows try to hire the best writers.

IF YOU’RE A TEHCHER…

This book follows a syllabus I’ve honed over the years and I’m consistently using, so I know it works. Each student is required to have a copy of this book, and I’ve found it helps to refer students to specific pages to see how to pitch and outline, and to read about scene structure, act structure, and all the aspects of storytelling. That doesn’t eliminate the need to teach those subjects, but seeing examples makes life easier for everyone.

I teach the chapters in the same order they appear in the book, except that the class in writing spec episodes is separate from the class in writing pilots. My students spend a semester in the spec class to learn the essentials of writing for series, and at USC that class is a prerequisite to writing an original pilot. Both classes use this book, but I emphasize different chapters.

I also amplify the text by screening and analyzing episodes. The explications of two NYPD Blue segments in Chapter Three are examples of deconstructing scenes purely from a writing point of view. For the spec class I begin with a show they might write, and later in the term I screen clips from classic shows that demonstrate specific principles. I’ve found that students may learn better from a classic they’re not attempting so the techniques stand out. For instance, selected scenes from The Sopranos and The Wire are especially revealing though the students wouldn’t write those shows. For the pilot class I like to screen opening scenes from Lost and The West Wing because they demonstrate how to focus on character within a large ensemble. But you could choose clips from any drama series you admire. Your personal enthusiasm for the work will count.

One other difference between the book and the classroom is that I don’t use guest speakers in real life. In the book they add dimension and inspiration. But in my classes I give personal, direct feedback on whatever each student is writing, so we function like a workshop or writers room. Assuming that you are a professional writer, you know this process of notes all too well. The class will feel like every show you’ve ever worked on.

I do not use and I disagree with “exercises.” In my opinion, the practice of not-really-writing — doing some sort of literary calisthenics — trivializes the creative process and wastes time. Any principles that can be gleaned from some academic exercise are better absorbed when a student is motivated by building to a product. If the students are going to complete at least one (preferably two) drafts of a teleplay in a few short months, they need every writing moment to work on their scripts.

I hope that if you are teaching people to write, you are a writer yourself. But some of you who may offer workshops on TV series are from the business, marketing or administrative/executive sides instead, and I’d like to help you be successful too. In fact, this book might be even more vital to you because it includes voices and experiences of actual writers and reflects their process, which amplifies the different experience you bring. But I suggest that you vary your curriculum to present more about sales and careers and less involvement in the art of writing. The book can be adapted that way by emphasizing Chapters One, Two, Five, Six, and Eight, which place television drama in a socio-economic context and explain how the industry works.

In addition to teaching how to write for existing series and how to write a pilot, USC also offers a survey course in the history and analysis of television series, examining shows from the 1950s to the present from a screenwriting viewpoint. It’s taught by one of my colleagues in the Screenwriting Division of the School of Cinematic Arts, and has become a popular part of a liberal arts education.

I mention that to give perspective to your role as a teacher. I believe that we, as teachers, have an obligation to help people become educated in the larger sense. Television has a literature as extensive as theatrical films. No teacher of feature screenplays would ignore all Oscar-winning movies from the past five years (not to mention Casablanca, Chinatown, The Godfather, or the Hitchcock legacy) when presenting the art of screenwriting and instead limit all examples and aspirations to whatever movies happen to be selling tickets this month. Yet in television, you may feel pressure to deal with only this season’s fleeting hits. Resist.

Of course, you know to tell students to write for current shows and create sample scripts that will leverage their careers. But you also know that this season’s shows are probably not the ones that will matter in five years, maybe not even next year when your students graduate. How can you reconcile that contradiction? The solution is to communicate the approaches that will last. You can start your students on a solid path, but they have to keep going beyond their time with you.

So, writers and teachers, hold on to this book. You may return to it again and again as you write new scripts and your careers evolve. In this Third Edition, I hope I’ve given you something that will last.