John August

QandA

Researching and writing The Circle

QandA, Television

Question MarkI just finished reading [both episodes](http://johnaugust.com/library) of The Circle, and I was wondering if you could answer a few questions about writing for television.

  1. How much time did you spend doing research for each episode?
  2. How long did it take you to write an episode?
  3. Seeing as how you created the show, but would have not written every episode during the season how are the episodes handled by other writers?
  4. Do you as the creator set an outline for the season as to what each episode would center around and where you wanted to show to go?

Thanks for your time, I enjoyed reading them both.

-Josh
Federal Way, WA

I probably spent three weeks researching Alaska for The Circle, most of that before I started writing the pilot. By the time I started working on episode 2, there really wasn’t anything new I needed to research.

Television scripts are short, at least by feature standards. An hour-long drama will clock in below sixty pages, so it’s no big chore to write one in a week. Unfortunately, in the real world of television production, you often have to write one in a weekend, and that’s where it gets ugly.

Since The Circle never went to series, we didn’t end up hiring a writing staff, although [Matt Pyken](http://imdb.com/name/nm0701487/) and [Michael Berns](http://imdb.com/name/nm0076965/) did pen a follow-up episode. Had the show been picked up by ABC, we would have hired an executive producer to ultimately take the reins of the show. Although I would stay on to consult, he would have supervised the writing staff, setting the course for each episode and the series as a whole. This would include meeting with the writers (both individually and as a group); approving beat sheets, outlines and scripts; and rewriting scripts as needed.

This executive producer would be considered the showrunner, since all the creative decisions would ultimately rest with him. I knew this going in. I deliberately created a show I felt could flourish without my day-to-day involvement. Although I love TV, I prefer features. That’s where I make my living, and the time table is much more relaxed.

Four Seasons, Five Season or just some fancy hotel

QandA, Words on the page

questionmarkMy question involves specific locations. How specific can I get without it becoming a problem? For example, what if instead of a murder in a “nice city hotel”, I set it in the Four Seasons Chicago, for example, is it legally alright for me to do that?

I’m sure the Four Seasons wouldn’t appreciate a memorable murder scene set in their hotel lobby, but what’s my other choice? Create a fictional prestigious hotel called the Five Seasons to give me total creative license?

–Matthew Bradley
Chicago, IL

Standard advice applies: do whatever works best, and don’t worry about it. Let the lawyers decide whether it will need to be changed before production.

If it’s crucial to the scene, just say The Four Seasons. If you simply need to indicate that it’s a luxury hotel, say luxury hotel. Either way, remember that the burden is still on you to give enough flavor in your description.

You’re better off coming up with your own name for the hotel if a lot of your story will take place there. This way, you’re not competing with the reader’s expectations, and have wider latitude in creating the logistics you need.

Backing up is hard to do

QandA, So-Called Experts

questionmarkI just had the unfortunate happen: the dog pulled my laptop off the table by tripping across the power cord. Yeah. Anyhow, I lost a bunch of screenwriting materials because the fall damaged my harddrive beyond repair.

I’m learning the VERY hard way that backing up is not just a good “insurance policy” but a MUST. I thought it might be a subject you might shed some light on from your personal experience.

— Eric
Indiana

Like flossing, stretching, and updating your will, backing up your work is one of those unquestioned Good Ideas that’s pretty easy to ignore. It’s the law of delayed consequences: people tend to put off work that doesn’t have immediate gratification.

Honestly, I don’t back up nearly as much as I should. Or, “should.” If you read any computer magazine, they’re constantly harping on you to back up every night to a redundant RAID, then weekly to a tape drive, with off-site storage and whatnot.

Bah. My philosophy can be summarized in six words: What’s the worst that could happen?

It’s a revelation that came to me the last time I switched to a new computer. I dutifully dragged my files onto an external hard drive, ready to migrate them to their new home, when I realized that pretty much everything I needed on the new computer was either…

  • already installed, or
  • would need to be redownloaded for the most recent version.

The only item that needed to make the move was my “Projects” folder, a mere 500 megabytes. So why was I bothering with everything else? It was time to apply my new philosophy.

What’s the worst that could happen if I didn’t back up my applications and system software? Well, it would take a little more time to re-install them. But, I’d be saving a lot of time by not bothering to back them up every day/week/month.

What’s the worst that could happen if I didn’t back up my old projects? Well, I’d hate to lose them; they’re like old friends frozen in 12pt Courier. Beyond the emotional cost, I do occasionally need to refer back to them. So it’s worth the effort to periodically grab the folder off the server and copy it to my local hard drive. Likewise, every few months I burn a copy of the whole thing onto a CD-ROM and mail it to my mother in Colorado, figuring that if an asteroid wipes out California, at least future generations will be able to read what [SCOOBY-DOO](http://imdb.com/title/tt0267913/) was like before they cut it down to a PG rating. (Answer: much funnier.)

What’s the worst that could happen if I lost the current version of the project I’m working on? This is probably the worst-case scenario, because I’m generally on deadline and working for people with very little patience for technical difficulties. If I’m using my Powerbook, I’ll often email the file to myself as a backup, and also save it to my keychain drive. When I’m at home, I’ll often do the email trick, or copy items to my .Mac iDisk.

And then there’s the backups you don’t even plan. In Guns, Germs and Steel, Jared Diamond makes a convincing argument that the best place for a tribal chief to store his surplus food is in his neighbor’s stomach. The same is true for data. (Go with me here.) Most of the scripts I work on these days travel around as .pdfs. One side benefit of this digitalization is that for any given script, some friend or assistant will invariably have a copy sitting in her mail. I sleep a little more soundly knowing that I could simply ask her to send it back.

In conclusion: Backing up is a waste of time, except for the few items for which it’s crucial. So worry about those, and not the rest.

Optioning a screenplay

QandA, Rights and Copyright

What is the best method for optioning a script? I recently came across a script I’d like to develop, in hopes of pitching the project to production companies in L.A, and was wondering how this is actually done.

Do I offer the screenwriter monetary compensation for a one year’s option, with a second year option available if I want to keep working on developing the script? What happens after I option the screenplay? Can I make changes to the script?

–Arturo Tapia
Down To Earth Productions
Chicago, IL

Your assumptions are all correct. But for readers unfamiliar with options, a bit of explanation. From [Dictionary.com](http://dictionary.com):

>**option**
>The exclusive right, usually obtained for a fee, to buy or sell something within a specified time at a set price.

You often hear about options in terms of investments, but it means exactly the same thing in the film industry. When you option a script, a book, or some other piece of material, you’re making a deal that says basically:

* I’ll pay you X amount of dollars right now.
* In return, you promise that for a certain period of time (called the “option period”), you won’t sell this (script/book/whatever) to anyone else.
* At any point during this period, I can choose to buy all rights to the (script/book/whatever) for the pre-determined price of Y.
* At the end of the option period, I can elect to renew (or extend) the option for pre-determined amount of time, at a pre-determined price.

A sample option for a novel might be described like this: $5,000 for a two-year option, renewable twice at the same terms, with a buyout of $100,000. The details would be spelled out in full legalese in a contract known as an option agreement, signed by both the producer and the writer.

Why would a producer option a novel, rather than buy it outright? As you can see, it’s cheaper. In this case, for 1/20th the money, the producer has gotten the rights to the book he wanted. What’s different is that there’s a “ticking clock.” Unless he can get the movie set up within two years, he’ll have to pay another $5,000 to renew the option.

In Arturo’s case, he wants to option a script, then do some work on it — presumably with the original writer. That’s pretty common. Contracts would need to clarify who owns the new writing performed on the script in the event the option lapses. The most hard-core version might say that the producer owns any-and-all-revisions, while the more moderate version might allow the screenwriter to claim any work he or she did during the option period.

What if Arturo decides he needs to bring in another screenwriter for a rewrite? Well, unless he’s signed something stating otherwise, he can. He’s pretty much free to change anything he wants. That is, until the option lapses, and the original writer gets his original script back.

This is why a screenwriter needs to pay particular attention to the renewal clauses when signing option agreements. A one-year or two-year option with one chance to extend for a year should be adequate for most situations. You don’t want your script caught in an endless cycle of renewals with a producer who can’t get your movie made.