John August

QandA

How to Listen

Episode - 438

Go to Archive

Assistants, Follow Up, QandA, Scriptnotes, Transcribed

John and Craig talk dialogue. How characters speak is an optimized version of real speech — but if you optimize too much you risk making your characters feel artificial. We listen to clips of real conversations to pick out patterns and tendencies you can incorporate to help improve written dialogue.

Then we dive into the mailbag for questions on perspective (48:03), submission agreements (51:40), and best practices for non-WGA writers during a strike (55:58).

In our bonus segment for premium subscribers (1:06:56), we get political and discuss the current state of the Democratic primary.

Email us at ask@johnaugust.com

You can download the episode here.

UPDATE 2-21-2020 The transcript for this episode can be found here.

Other Things Screenwriters Write

Follow Up, Highland, News, QandA, Scriptnotes, Transcribed, Treatments

John and Craig discuss the other stuff screenwriters write, from beat sheets to scriptments and everything in between. The differences are sometimes subtle, but each can have value — in the right circumstance.

After that, they dip into the mailbag (24:23) for questions on TV bibles, writing while traveling, and using “I” in titles.

Premium subscribers: stick around for a bonus segment (47:31) on the Meyers-Briggs Type Indicator and how its questions may be useful to screenwriters.

Email us at ask@johnaugust.com

You can download the episode here.

UPDATE 2-21-2020 The transcript for this episode can be found here.

Uncredited writing by a script coordinator

Assistants, Television

On Scriptnotes episode 432, a listener asked what could be done when a writers room assistant or script coordinator was doing actual writing but not getting writing credit. This morning, another listener wrote in with their own tales of uncredited work and how they pushed back.

As this listener makes clear, writing credit and low assistant pay are related issues. I believe there’s an ethical way to help assistants and script coordinators gain experience without having them do unpaid writing. This letter shows why it’s so important we address this issue.

I interviewed for a position as a script coordinator on a comedy. From the start, there were many red flags:

  • The current script coordinator was leaving before production,
  • There were severe miscommunication issues, and
  • People were already telling me about their own mistreatment

But I was coming off a five-month hiatus and needed a job. So I took it.

Before I started, I was told that most of the episodes were already written. When I got there, only three episodes were done, all of which would end up being heavily re-written and there were only five writers to break and write the rest of the season.

I was encouraged to pitch, as was the writers’ assistant. I was happy for the opportunity, but as we began shooting, I stepped up even more. Our showrunner was busy, so I’d get sent to rehearsals with directors and would be trusted to implement the rehearsal rewrites with little to no supervision. When it was clear that I was capable of writing in the voice of the show, I found myself re-writing chunks of episodes and full scenes in different corners of the stage, or at 1am, as well as implementing new scenes throughout multiple scripts.

Not all of the episodes had been assigned, so I thought that my hard work would be noticed. It was not.

Eventually, I realized I’d have to ask for a credit. But before I could, we found out that the showrunner had given an episode to a writer that was not on the show, had never been on the show and was not in the room when we broke the episode. And, in the end, the episode had to be completely rewritten.

By this point, I was exhausted. I was doing the work of a script coordinator, a staff writer, and navigating the manipulative and abusive work environment that was designed to keep people in lesser positions of power from speaking out because of fear of retaliation.

When the job ended, a weight was lifted. I came home and got a new job. The showrunner asked me to go onto the next show with them as a script coordinator, but I declined.

When the WGA reached out to confirm what other writers had told them about the showrunner’s behavior and the writing credits, I gave them the information they were looking for but declined to take anything further. I regret this now. I should have asked for credit; I should have spoken up for myself afterward and I should have never let it get as bad as it did.

But this industry is a dumpster fire that feeds off the lowest on the totem pole and tricks you into thinking that you deserve nothing. It’s a lie. I deserved to get credit for my contributions.

The show I’m currently on is a better environment, yet the same thing almost happened. The only difference this time was that I was annoyingly persistent and several writers had my back. It took weeks of convincing the showrunner to give me credit for an episode that I pitched to a room full of writers who all agreed that it was mine.

What it really comes down to is if you, as a showrunner, don’t want to give someone credit for their work, don’t let them contribute and certainly don’t take their ideas.

Yes, we’re apprentices, but apprentices work with the intention of moving up. It’s so hard to go from script coordinator or writers’ assistant to writer because the system feeds off free labor.

A showrunner once said to me that an assistant’s need for credit is purely driven by their want of compensation. Yes, money is important. But we’re trying to be writers. To be staffed. To turn this into a career.

That’s not going to happen if our work is never credited and we’re never seen as anything more than free labor. And, clearly, if we’re good enough to have you use our jokes and our ideas, we’re good enough to be staff writers. The problem is that we’re cheaper and taught to keep our mouths shut for fear of losing our job.

Fuck that. Ask for the credit. And don’t delete your emails.

Professionalism in the Age of the Influencer

Film Industry, Follow Up, General, International, Random Advice

On October 24, 2019, I presented the Hawley Foundation Lecture at Drake University. It was an update and reexamination of a 2006 speech on professionalism I originally gave at Trinity University, and later that year at Drake.

What follows is a pretty close approximation of my speech, but hardly a transcript. It’s long, around 14,000 words. My presentation originally had slides. I’ve included many of them, and swapped out others for links or embedded posts.

If you’re familiar with the earlier speech and want to jump to the new stuff, you can click here.

Back in 2006, I gave a speech here at Drake entitled “Professional Writing and the Rise of the Amateur.” In it, I presented my observations and arguments about how the emergence of the internet had made the old distinctions between amateurs and professionals largely irrelevant. Tonight I want to revisit that speech and look at what still makes sense in 2019, and more importantly, what I got wrong.

To do that, we need to start with a bit of time travel so we can all remember what 2006 looked like.

Here’s Facebook:

facebook 2006

Here’s Twitter:

twitter 2006

Here’s Netflix:

netflix home screen 2006

Here’s Reddit:

reddit 2006

Here’s Instagram:

instagram debuted in 2010

Oh, 2006 was a simpler time. The internet existed, but it wasn’t as all-consuming as it is now. We had blogs. We had MySpace. But we didn’t have the internet on our iPhones. Because iPhones wouldn’t come out for another year.

However, even in this innocent age, issues would arise that would feel very familiar today. We had fake news and trolls and pile-ons.

For example, back in 2006, I started my speech with this anecdote:

> On March 21, 2004, at about nine in the morning, I got an email from my friend James, saying, “Hey, congrats on the great review of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on Ain’t It Cool News!”

Let’s start by answering, What is Ain’t It Cool News? It was a movie website started by a guy named Harry Knowles. It looked like this:

aicn 2006

Ain’t It Cool News billed itself as a fan site. I’d argue that it was an incredibly significant step towards today’s fan-centered nerd culture, for better and for worse. Online fandom has brought forth the Avengers and fixed Sonic the Hedgehog’s teeth, but it’s also unleashed digital mobs upon actors and journalists, women in particular.

Back in 2006, the nexus of movie fandom was Ain’t It Cool News. It wasn’t just a barometer of what a certain class of movie fan would like; it could set expectations and buzz. Studio publicity departments checked it constantly.

So, back to my email from James. He’d written:

> “Hey, congrats on the great review of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on Ain’t It Cool News!”

This was troubling for a couple of reasons.

First off, the movie hadn’t been shot yet. We weren’t in production. So the review was actually a review of the script. Studios and filmmakers really, really don’t like it when scripts leak out and get reviewed on the internet, because it starts this cycle of conjecture and fuss about things that may or may not ever be shot. So I knew that no matter what, I was going to get panicked phone calls from Warner Bros.

I click through to Ain’t It Cool and read this “review.” And it’s immediately clear that it’s a complete work of fiction.

aicn article 2006

The author of the article, “Michael Marker,” claims to have read the script, but he definitely hasn’t. He’s just making it up. It is literally fake news.

Fortunately, back in 2004, I knew exactly one person at Ain’t It Cool News. His name was Jeremy, but he went by the handle “Mr. Beaks.” So I emailed him, and say, hey, that review of the Charlie script is bullshit.

Actually, I don’t say that. I say, “That guy is bullshitting you.” It’s not that I’m wronged, no. It’s that that guy, Michael Marker, is besmirching the good name of Ain’t It Cool News by trying to pass off his deluded ramblings as truth. How dare he!

And it works. Mr. Beaks talks to Harry Knowles, and Harry posts a new article saying that the review was bogus.

aicn article screenshot

They don’t pull the original article, but oh well. It’s basically resolved.

I can’t help but think — this article was wrong, but it was really, really positive. What if it had been negative? Would Mr. Beaks or Harry Knowles have believed me? Probably not. They would have said, “Oh, sour grapes.” My complaining would have made the readers believe the bogus review even more.

It might have led to the Streisand effect, where complaining about something just brings more attention to it.

Back in 2006, if you tried to really go after any of these film-related sites, criticizing them for say, running a review of a test screening or just outright making shit up, you’d get one standard response:

> Hey, we’re not professional journalists. We’re just a bunch of guys who really love movies.

Their defense is that they’re amateurs, so they can’t be held to the same standards of the New York Times or NBC.

That became the topic of my speech in 2006: the eroding distinction between professionals and amateurs.

The classic, easy distinction is that the professional gets paid for it, while the amateur doesn’t. For a lot of things, that works. You have a professional boxer versus an amateur. You have a professional astronomer versus an amateur — some guy with a telescope in his back yard.

[Read more…] about Professionalism in the Age of the Influencer