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Picking names popular in their time

“Paul from LA” wrote in with this link to a site I kind of remember using when were picking a name for my daughter. It lets you type in any first name and graphs how popular it has been (in the U.S.) over the past 130 years. What’s less obvious is that if you hover over the graph at any point, it can show you a name’s rank in that year.

For example, here’s John, which has fallen from #1 to #20.

It’s worth a bit of time-wasting to see how names come and go.

Scene challenge winners

Y’know, I think we learned something today: Derivatives were maybe not the best choice for the third-ever scene challenge.

I deliberately picked something tough because in real life, screenwriters are often faced with challenging topics to explain. For example, last night I spoke with Ron Bass about the Einstein project he’s working on. Quick: Show special relativity.

But this wasn’t much easier. Readers tried hard to find a way to make these abstract financial instruments cinematically explicable, but it proved tougher than expected. First, you had to find a scenario in which derivatives would make sense. Then you needed to craft an explanation that didn’t read like a Wikipedia summary.

That’s assuming you really understood what derivative were, and after reading 84 entries, I think I understand them less. In the end, I was happy to accept any of the sub-categories (options, futures, forwards), but kept hoping for more entries where the concept of a derivative was really key to the story, and not a throwaway bit of dialogue. That’s why I threw in my own piece of Angel fan-fic.

That said, I was happy to see that most of the entries didn’t take place on Wall Street, but rather ranged from fantasy (Alan Scott) to bachelorhood (Andy).

“John August” was introduced as an element in a surprising number of scenarios, a meta-quality that helped break up the sameness, but didn’t win any ribbons.

Jonathan, however, brought up an interesting and obvious analogy I’d overlooked:

• ACCOUNTANT
• Why don’t you just ask your blog readers to explain it for you?
• JOHN
• I’ve already tried that. You should have seen the dreck they wrote back. Besides, what do I pay you for?
• ACCOUNTANT
• (sighing)
• When a studio wants to buy your script, but doesn’t want to risk all their money, what do they do?
• JOHN
• They option the script, so they can buy it at a future date. Crafty devils.

(Jonathan also put me in a jacuzzi with grape-feeding starlets, which suggests he might not know my biography that well.)

Juicy Lucy found a good example of a character whose entire existence seems to be a pitiful derivative:

• A COUGH from across the table causes Popeye and Olive Oyl both to look up, but their companion’s face hides behind his open newspaper, whose headline reads:
• PRICE OF BEEF EXPECTED TO PLUMMET BY THE END OF THIS WEEKEND
• The newspaper lowers to reveal WIMPY, his yellow top-hat perched precariously on his fat head, his already thin mustache stretching even further when he shoots a sh*t-eating grin at the approaching WAITRESS…
• WIMPY
• I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday, for a hamburger today.

I liked how Unkatrazz made the distinction between a stock and derivative:

• PAPERWEALTH
• Why buy an investment…when you can make a bet on an investment?

Having a character explain his job was a natural choice for many readers. The best of these was Jacob’s:

• Next date: Girish is animated. He holds a coffee cup and moves it around the table as he speaks.
• GIRISH
• Say there is a farmer growing coffee beans in Karala. It’s late July and harvest is still six months away. The problem is that market prices for coffee go up and down for reasons out of his control. In six months, prices could be higher than they are now, which would be lovely. But if prices are lower, he stands to lose his farm. In order to protect himself, he gets together with other farmers in the same position and signs a contract to sell tomorrow’s beans for today’s prices. He gets a little money now, and then when the contract comes due, he sells the beans to the buyer for the agreed-upon price.
• Girish pauses, then speaks with emphasis.
• GIRISH
• Betting that prices will rise, I am that buyer.

Many entries took a glancing shot at derivatives, without really trying to explain them. Of these, Andy’s was a favorite:

• Scrawny BILL GATES (19) signs a contract in black ink.
• BILL GATES
• We’re in the 70s. Nobody signs in blood anymore.
• He smirks at SATAN (∞), who fidgets nervously.
• SATAN
• I don’t get it.
• BILL GATES
• It’s basic finance. Derivatives. By the time you get my soul, it could be worth a lot more.
• SATAN
• Or a lot less.
• BILL GATES
• But you’re getting it cheap now. Look, either way you get it. You’re covered.
• SATAN
• Erm… I don’t know…
• BILL GATES
• Tell you what. I’ll throw in some stocks to sweeten the deal.
• BILL GATES offers him the pen. Satan hesitates.
• SATAN
• Ah, fuck it.
• He signs, and at that very moment, a new Circle is carved into Hell.

Crimeland figures played a role in many entries. Mike Lavoie gets credit for working the most financial terms into a threat:

• BURGER
• There are four kinds of derivatives, Frank. Forwards, which is the direction we can move in now. Options, which you’re running out of. Futures, a couple of which you can decide now. And finally: swaps. As in: You give me my money and, in exchange, you get the rest of your wife.

The two top finishers come from the other side of the crime equation, with police-types investigating derivative wrongdoing. David Nemesis:

• INT. BRANT BUILDING LOBBY - DAY
• Eckes and Rosenfeld are walk-and-talking to Rosenfeld’s office.
• ECKES
• Stop, you lost me. What was Laszlo dabbling in?
• ROSENFELD
• Weather derivatives. Let’s say you’re Gruber Foods. Your bottom line depends on a good wheat harvest, there are any number of things that can mess that up, and you want to hedge your bets. So you buy up some weather futures.
• ECKES
• Okay. Wait, what?
• ROSENFELD
• Weather futures. They’re like an insurance policy on the weather, only no insurer would be crazy enough to put money on the weather. So you go to an options exchange and find someone who’ll sell you a contract that guarantees you a payout if certain things that aren’t likely to happen do happen.
• ECKES
• Like a snowstorm in the middle of Kansas in July?
• ROSENFELD
• Well…I’m sure they were thinking more along the lines of a few days of extra rainfall over a 60-day period. But yeah, pretty much. It’s all about variations from the norm. The seller’s taking a calculated risk that their forecasts will be close enough to accurate that they’ll get to keep all the money from the sale.
• ECKES
• So Laszlo was buying insurance policies which paid out if the weather did something unexpected?
• ROSENFELD
• Precisely. It’s a great investment opportunity if you just happen to be able to control the weather.
• ECKES
• Yeah, well, something tells me the folks in the derivatives market don’t know about super powers yet.

And this from Anthony:

• AGENT
• Your husband was leading something of a double life. Did you realize he was into derivatives?
• WOMAN
• (shocked)
• You mean … like transvestites or something?
• (a beat)
• AGENT
• No ma’am. Derivatives. They’re financial instruments - futures, forwards, options.
• (beat)
• Sort of like stocks, but you’re buying the right or the obligation to make a transaction in the future. Your husband was trading derivatives online. Mostly options.
• The woman stares blankly.
• The Agent picks up a book from the couch - “Taste of the Town 2008″. It’s one of those coupon books school kids sell for fundraisers.
• AGENT
• Like the coupons in this book.
• (shows her a page in the book)
• This Burger Bonanza coupon here - “Any sandwich for 99 cents during the month of December”. That’s like a derivative. When you bought this coupon book you purchased the option to buy an item for a set price at a set time in the future.
• WOMAN
• I think I liked it better when he was just surfing the Internet for porn. At least my furniture didn’t disappear then.

In the end, I’m giving the imaginary award to Anthony for the coupon book metaphor. Well done. He can claim his bragging rights in the comments section.

Thanks to everyone who entered. I promise next time, it will be something a little more fun.

• I’ve closed comments on the Derivative Challenge to begin judging the 84 entries. Should have a winner this afternoon. #

Does a working writer keep improving?

I am a reasonably successful screenwriter. A working writer. I’ve sold two pilots, gotten a freelance episode of a high-quality one-hour drama, done some comic book gigs, and just sold a feature with myself attached to direct at a production budget of $3M.

Not A-list, or B-list, but maybe C-minus working my way up. I’m in my early thirties and have been at this a couple years.

My problem/question is: I feel like I have hit a wall with respect to my sense of story. I feel like most of my success has been gotten on a combination of ability-to-pitch, charisma and the ability to turn a phrase inside a scene. But I have this real weakness when it comes to knowing what the right scenes are in the right order. Story. Plot. I can put two people in a room and have them riff in a pleasing and entertaining way and to the extent that my story supports this kind of loose, Kevin Smith-esque writing, I do well.

But I know that if I want my career to go to the next level, I need to improve my understanding of story and plot.

So I guess I have two questions…

1) Any ideas on how to do this on an intermediate/advanced-level? How can I go from a “B” understanding of story/plot to an “A” understanding of story/plot?

and

2) What are your thoughts on how to keep making breakthroughs in the quality of your work when you are at an intermediate/advanced level? Do you feel like you are constantly improving? How do you keep improving?

– Scott
Los Angeles

You’re already the envy of most of the readers of this site: you’re a working Hollywood writer. So congratulations, and don’t dismiss what you’ve accomplished. I’m happy to hear you attribute it your skills (pitching, wit) and not pure dumb luck.¹

So let me offer some good news. The stuff you’re not especially good at — story, structure, plot — can actually be learned. If you were writing in for advice about how to be funnier or more charismatic, I would have probably let your email sit in the growing folder of unanswerable questions, because those are pretty much inherent qualities.

My advice for you is to dedicate one day a week to disassembling good movies. Take existing films (and one-hour dramas) and break them down to cards. Think of yourself as an ordinary mechanic given the task of reverse-engineering a spaceship. Figure out what the pieces do, and why they were put together in that way.

Here are the questions you need to ask about each scene or sequence:

• As the audience, what am I expecting will happen next?
• What does the character want to do next?
• Is this a good moment to let the character achieve something, or knock him back?
• How long has it been since we checked in with other character and subplots?
• What would have happened if this scene had been cut? Or moved?

By asking these questions about other people’s movies, you can take some of the pressure off.

When it comes to your scripts, it might be worth writing something that’s deliberately outside of your comfort zone, a script that doesn’t let you rest on your scenework. Because to answer your second question, yes, I think you can keep making breakthroughs in your writing, but only by challenging your preconceived limitations.

I’m currently writing my first period movie, my first stage play, and my first stage musical. Part of the reason I’m enjoying them is because they scare the be-Zeus out of me. I’ve passed on some more obvious projects that I’m sure I could have written competently simply to stretch a little more.

Yes, I’m deeper in my career than you are. And my flitting from genre to genre has probably hurt me in some respects.² But a career isn’t one script, or ten, it’s the years of your life. You’re working. Your ability to turn clever phrases won’t go away. So you’re right to focus on the areas you think you can improve, if only to increase your confidence and enjoyment of the career you’ve chosen.

1. Luck accounts for a small but not unimportant part of success in screenwriting, or any career. Being ready to be lucky, and what you do with that good fortune, is a big part of how a career goes. I was lucky to get into my film school — I honestly didn’t know how competitive it was. I was lucky that Tim Burton happened to be looking for a project when Spielberg dropped off of Big Fish. And, of course, I was lucky to be born in an upper-middle class family in Colorado. ↩
2. Despite Big Fish, I rarely get sent the “big books” that sell out of New York. And it’s hard for me to set up a pricey original, because I don’t have a long track record in a specific genre. ↩

A somewhat derivative challenge

Following up on my article about How to Explain Quantum Mechanics, I think it’s high time for the third-ever Scene Challenge.

For the first one, Masturbating to Star Trek, you had to write an entire scene. For the second one, Make Your Introduction, you had to introduce one character. This time, it’s both simpler and more difficult:

Have a character explain derivatives, as used in the financial industry. (The thing that’s like a stock, not the thing that you learned in calculus.)

The speaker should be knowledgeable, and the listener should be a layman, i.e. a proxy for the audience. What are their names? What’s the story? What’s the genre? You decide, to the degree it matters. My suggestion would be to create a scenario in which the term needs to be explained — but only to the degree necessary. Metaphors and similes are powerful tools.

You’re welcome to write as much of the scene as you want, but the focus is on the explanation. The winning entry might be one sentence long. I strongly recommend you look at the original article for helpful suggestions.

Here are the rules:

1. Post your entry in the comments thread of this article. Please don’t attempt fancy formatting. It usually just screws up the margins.
2. All entries must be submitted by 8 a.m. PST on Thursday, May 8th, 2008. Remember that comments are sometimes held in moderation. Don’t submit twice. It will show up. Promise.
3. I’ll pick a winner later that day.
4. Winner receives hearty congratulations and a brief moment in the spotlight.

And…begin.

UPDATE: A reader asks a fair question: What if two explanations are very similar, and both great? Answer: The earlier entry wins. So there’s no benefit to waiting for the last minute, worrying that someone’s going to read your entry and do a knock-off version.

To summarize: Best entry first wins.

Secret history of the Kleinhardt Gambit

In the second Charlie’s Angels, where did the phrase “Kleinhardt gambit” come from?

– Duane
Mount Pleasant

Duane is referring to this scene, near the end of the movie:

• EXT. HIGH ROOF - NIGHT
• Madison finds herself alone on a high, empty roof. Reeling, confused. A giant, blinking “LOS ANGELES” SIGN flashes.
• A single telescope has been set up near the edge. Madison walks to it. Leans down to the eyepiece.
• HER P.O.V.
• On a distant rooftop, all of her gangster clients are being arrested by the F.B.I.
• CLOSE ON MADISON
• as she looks up from the eyepiece. Furious, but smiling. She speaks to the only ones who could be behind this:
• MADISON
• The Kleinhardt Gambit. Classic. Well done.
• WIDEN TO REVEAL the Angels, approaching behind her.
• NATALIE
• Thanks.
• SMASHCUT to a series of FAST FLASHBACKS:
• - THE SOUVENIR STORE. THE OLD SHOPKEEPER PEELS OFF HIS WIG AND LATEX MASK. REVEALING…ALEX.
• - MUSSO AND FRANK’S. SNAP ZOOM TO THE COAT CHECK ROOM. THE COAT CHECKER IS NATALIE, WITH BLACK HAIR AND SLINKY BLACK DRESS.
• - ROOSEVELT HOTEL, BATHROOM. THE HISPANIC DOORMAN QUICKLY RIPS OFF HIS LATEX FACE, REVEALING DYLAN.

(Those last three are separate scene numbers, by the way.)

Here, the “Kleinhardt Gambit” refers to the way the angels sent Madison’s buyers to the wrong rooftop through elaborate misdirection. The telescope is apparently not a key part of the gambit, but rather just to piss off Madison.

The action is pretty standard for Charlie’s Angels (or Mission: Impossible), so it makes sense that a fallen angel would recognize how she was duped, and would have a term for it. The term itself is completely invented, a ridiculous neologism. And believe me, there wasn’t a lot of deep thought going into it. The first combination of syllables that seemed reasonable got typed.

Science fiction does this constantly. What’s a flux capacitor? How did Kirk prevail in the un-winnable Kobayashi Maru? What are midi-chlorians, and how can we pretend we never heard of them?

Don’t be afraid to invent terms you think would exist in your fictional world. Done just right, jargon helps ground characters in their setting, much the way medical-ese makes you think those pretty people on TV could actually be doctors.

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