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Search Results for: beat sheet

Transitioning from comics to TV

March 22, 2011 Education, First Person, Television

Today’s First Person article comes from the open call. Jay Faerber is trying to transition from writing comics to writing TV, and is doing so with the help of the Warner Bros TV Writers Workshop.

——–

first personfaerberMy name’s Jay Faerber.

I’m 38 years old and I’ve been writing comic books professionally for the past 13 years.

It’s a great, fun job and incredibly fulfilling. But in addition to comics, I’ve got a great love for television, so I’m finally taking the plunge and becoming a TV writer.

This wasn’t a decision I made lightly. In fact, I spent considerable time coming up with reasons not to try my hand at TV writing. I guess I was a little afraid that working in TV could destroy my enjoyment of TV as a viewer. Because despite writing comic books, I read very few comic books these days. The late Robert B. Parker explained it well when he said, “I tend to look at books the way carpenters look at houses.”

My secret origin
—–

Because I didn’t want to ruin my love of TV by writing TV, I was content to let my manager shop around my comic books as movie and TV properties, and attach other writers. One of these writers was a baby feature writer who was adapting one of my comics as a feature spec.

Some writer friends of mine asked why I wasn’t writing the spec myself. After all, they were my characters and this baby writer wasn’t bringing a huge reputation to the table. So why not just do it myself?

And that’s what got me started. I remember very clearly the conversation that ensued, and by the end of it I was incredibly energized about trying to transition from comic books into features and TV. So I wrote a feature spec of my comic, Dynamo 5. Adapting my own work was a great way to make the jump into screenwriting. I was kind of intimidated by the format and “rules” of a screenplay, but the pressure was less because I already knew the characters and story so well. Nothing ever came of it, but it was a great exercise.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized my real interest was in TV, not features. I liked the chance to spend a lot of time — maybe years — with a set group of characters. I also liked that in TV, writers write. Feature writers take a lot more meetings and tinker with the same script for a huge chunk of time. With TV, you gotta get stuff done fast so it can be filmed a couple weeks later. I’m used to that kind of pace because of my comic book background, so it was more appealing to me.

Over the next summer I wrote a pilot that my manager showed to a few producers. We got good feedback on the writing, but we were told nobody would be interested in the premise. What was the premise, you may be asking? It was about Internal Affairs cops. And shortly after we decided to shelve it and try something else, Lifetime bought a pilot called Against the Wall, and it was about … Internal Affairs cops. Which proved that at least my instincts weren’t terrible.

Getting on the playing field
—-

The following spring I decided to try to get into one of the TV writing programs. Most networks and TV studios have them, including

* NBC/Universal’s [Writers on the Verge](http://www.nbcunicareers.com/earlycareerprograms/writersontheverge.shtml)
* The [ABC/Disney Writing Program](http://abctalentdevelopment.com/programs/programs_writings_fellowship.html)
* The Warner Bros [TV Writers Workshop](http://writersworkshop.warnerbros.com/), and
* The CBS Writers [Mentoring Program](http://diversity.cbscorporation.com/page.php?id=23).

I applied to the first three, because the CBS program is very diversity driven, and as a white guy, I didn’t see the point in applying.

I wrote a Burn Notice spec, just because it’s a show that’s been around long enough that most people at least have some familiarity with it, and it fits in with my sensibilities.

All three programs I applied to required not only a spec, but also some sort of essay question about my background, and what I’d bring to a writers room.

I leaned pretty heavily on my experience as a comic book writer, since there’s a lot of crossover between the two mediums. Both, for instance, involve telling stories visually. In comics, it’s drilled into us to avoid having two characters simply stand around talking. It’s much more visual if they’re doing something while they’re talking.

That’s why all those old Chris Claremont X-Men stories featured so many scenes of the X-Men in the Danger Room. Most of those scenes were really just exposition scenes, but they were much easier to swallow when the X-Men delivered them while fighting big robots or whatever. And while comics use caption boxes and, to a lesser extent these days, thought balloons, they’re still mainly dialogue driven — just like TV.

In fact, I find certain aspects of screenwriting to be easier than comics. With a comic book script, you have to be constantly mindful of how much an artist can fit into a single panel, or a single page. With a screenplay, you don’t have those constraints.

But you have others. In comics, it doesn’t cost any more to show a planet exploding than it does to show two people talking. (In fact, your artist will likely have more fun drawing the exploding planet!) In film and TV, there’s a huge difference between the two.

Honestly, I kind of thought if I got into any of the programs, it would be the NBC/Universal Writers on the Verge. Two reasons: One, I wrote a Burn Notice, which is an NBC/Universal show. And two, one of my comics (Noble Causes) was optioned by NBC/Universal a few years ago. But the NBC/Universal notification period came and went and I never heard a peep.

A few weeks later, I was completely surprised by a phone call from Warner Bros, asking me to come in for an interview. I was living in Seattle at the time, so I hopped on a plane to LA, where I had an interview with Chris Mack, the head of the workshop. A WB Current Executive was also present in the interview. We talked for awhile about my background, and why I like TV, and what shows I watch, that kind of thing. All in all it was a pretty casual, low key kind of interview.

I flew back to Seattle the next day and spent the next two weeks ticking days off the calendar, since Chris had said to expect an answer in two weeks. And it was exactly two weeks later when he called to said I’d been accepted.

I then had another two weeks to get myself relocated to LA in time for the first workshop. I know John has had entire blog entries devoted to moving to LA, so I’ll keep this brief.

I think having such a time constraint actually helped in this case. I just threw my two cats in my car, packed a few things, and drove south. I jotted down a few addresses from Craigslist and literally took the second apartment I looked at on the day I arrived in LA. I settled in Sherman Oaks, since I have friends in the area and it’s an easy commute to Burbank. I attended the first workshop, then flew back up to Seattle the next morning, packed up the rest of my belongings, and made the long drive south again in a moving truck and was back here in time for the following week’s workshop.

How the workshop works
—–

The workshop meets once a week, on Wednesday evenings, for about three hours. There are nine of us in this year’s group, although there are really only eight spots (since two guys work as a writing team). There are seven men and two women, and we range in age from mid-20s to late 30s. We’re all white, except for one African-American.

In terms of backgrounds, it’s much more diverse. We have one former child actor. A few people have worked (or are working) as writers assistants on various shows. One has previously written and acted in a cable show. One is a playwright. Two people work as copywriters at an ad agency. One works as a producer on a reality TV show.

I’d say the one thing we all have in common, aside from our love of TV, is some sort of previous experience in entertainment or writing of some kind. I doubt that’s a coincidence. While the workshop doesn’t require previous experience, it sure looks like it’s helpful.

I’ll also point out that I’m the only one in the workshop who relocated from another part of the country. I don’t know how many applicants they received from across the country, and I don’t know if I’m considered an exception or not. But I made it abundantly clear in both my application materials and the interview that I was ready and willing to relocate.

Once the program got under way, each of us wrote a new spec in a simulated writers room-type environment. We got notes from everyone in the group, plus our instructors, and had to hit deadlines for our beat sheets, outlines, first draft, second draft, etc.

Writing our specs took up about half the time of the program. The other half has been lectures on all aspects of the TV industry, from various guest lecturers with firsthand experience.

We’re encouraged to go out for drinks each week after the workshop and bond as a group. And we really have bonded.

As I write this, we’re at the tail end of the program. It started the first week of November and ends the first week of April. We’re starting to get sent around on meetings (which are arranged by the head of the workshop).

One of my classmates has already been staffed, and I’ve been sent on one showrunner meeting and one general meeting so far. It’s an incredibly exciting time.

Sometimes I need to pinch myself when I think of how much my life has changed in the past four months. I went from sitting in my home office in cold, rainy Seattle, writing comic books, to driving onto the Warner Bros lot each week, where I get to talk TV with some amazingly talented writers.

Shouldn’t I get credit for the outline?

September 3, 2008 Film Industry, Psych 101, QandA, Rights and Copyright

questionmarkI work for a small European film company. On one project-in-development (based on historical events and characters), my boss verbally outlined the story of the entire screenplay while I took notes. I then went away and wrote a 35 page detailed outline based on her verbal instructions and incorporating my own much more detailed descriptions, scene settings, character nuances and several ideas.

The treatment was written mostly out of office hours and on my own personal computer without overtime pay. My boss didn’t write a word. The treatment was always intended to be sent to a more experienced screenplay writer, and I was always happy with this. I never had a special contract for this project (nor do I have any contract with this company), doing the work in good faith and expecting at the very least my name would remain on the treatment.

However, the treatment is about to be sent to the screenplay writer and I’ve noticed today that my ‘treatment written by’ has been taken off the treatment and my boss has left her name only with ‘story by’. When I asked about this I was told that it was not my film. I spent a huge amount of time on this and am quite upset, mostly by the blatant disregard for my work.

In this situation do I have copyright in the project? Should I insist on having my name included on the treatment and should I get any credit on the eventual film?

— Marley
London, UK

Not only am I not a lawyer, I’m not a British lawyer specializing in copyright. So my advice here isn’t as counsel, and shouldn’t be considered as part of any legal claim whatsoever.

That said, don’t pursue it. As frustrating as this is right now, you have the opportunity to learn from it. And so do the people reading your question.

Let me break down your statement into smaller chunks:

1. You’re employed by a film company in some sort of production executive or assistant role.
2. Your company is developing a project based on historical (and presumably public domain) material.
3. Your boss instructed you to take notes as she pitched the entire plot of the movie based on that material.
4. You wrote up this pitch as an outline, embellished with your own details. (It’s unclear whether you were instructed to embellish, or if you did this on your own.)
5. The result, a 35-page document, was sent to a screenwriter.
6. As sent to the screenwriter, that document did not have your name on it.

Let’s start from the top. You’re employed by a film company. Depending on British laws, anything you write on behalf of the company may be their property, just as a spreadsheet an accountant creates for a paper company is owned by the company. Again, I don’t know the specifics of how it works in the U.K., but in the U.S., this would certainly be a factor in any copyright claim. Writing the outline after hours on your own computer is unlikely to matter, since you were writing it on behalf of the company.

Second, the property is based on public domain sources. If this were based on a novel the producer had optioned, I doubt you would be writing in with this question, because you would recognize that the story belongs to someone else. It’s partly because the source material is “out in the wild” that you feel ownership to your creation.

In this case, the story belongs to the producer. You say she verbally outlined the story of the entire screenplay. So I ask you: if she had tape-recorded her pitch and asked you to transcribe it verbatim, would you still feel the pangs of authorship? Probably not. You’d see yourself as a typist.

Which raises the question, At what point in the embellishment did the outline become “yours”?

That’s a tough question for you to answer, and even tougher for a judge or jury.

I have some sympathy for your boss upon being handed a 35-page outline. ((I’m using “outline” and “treatment” interchangeably. Treatments tend to be longer than outlines, but at this length, either term makes sense.)) Here is the movie she pitched you, but with changes she couldn’t have anticipated. It’s her story, but suddenly your name is on the cover, and it’s not at all clear whether the extra work is meant to impress her or grab credit from her.

To put it bluntly, are you a brown-noser or a back-stabber? An over-achiever or an underminer?

If I were in her place, I would sit you down and have an uncomfortable conversation about your job description and the difference between what you do and what a paid screenwriter does. Because imagine the scenario in which you suddenly came back with a 120-page screenplay. She would rightly be furious. You would have taken her story without permission.

Which leads us to the last point. The outline you wrote was sent to a screenwriter — for whom I also feel sympathy, because an outline at that level of detail feels like a straightjacket. But assuming the movie gets made (a big assumption), how would you hope to defend what pieces of the final product are “yours”? You wrote the outline following the instructions of your producer, so every element would come down to you-said, she-said.

Again, I’m only responding to the facts as you presented them. I understand why your feelings are hurt, but I think pursuing them further is a mistake legally and professionally. Writing up notes, outlines and beat sheets is part of a creative exec’s job description. And so is not getting credit when credit is due.

When I was in film school, the president of production for Warner Bros. came in to talk about his job. He said that his buddies back home would see his movies and always ask, “Why isn’t your name on it?”

“I’m the shield,” he would reply, referring to the Warner Bros. logo.

And that’s where you’re at, Marley. Your credit is the production company billing on the movie. If that’s not enough, take it as incentive to write or produce your own movies that will carry your name.

Are animated specs worth the time?

May 27, 2008 Corpse Bride, Genres, Projects, QandA

questionmarkI have been tossing around an idea for an animated feature film. I have a ton of notes, character breakdowns, beat sheets, outlines, etc., etc. Now its just a question of putting it down on the page. My question is fairly simple and straight-forward: Am I wasting my time?

I’ve read that writing specs for animation should be avoided, as the big animation studios typically take pitches, ideas, and submissions internally. Is this the case?

I know you are credited on Corpse Bride and Titan A.E. I’m assuming those were both work-for-hires. But what do you think about specs?

— Jack Mulligan

Go ahead and write it. It’s very unlikely that an animation spec will get sold and produced, but remember, that’s not the only goal of writing a spec. You write specs to get your *next* job, and if you can write a great animated spec, do it.

Both Titan A.E. and Corpse Bride were rewrites of movies already close to production. In both cases, I didn’t need to write at all differently than live-action. There were small semantic changes — in animation, you number for sequences rather than scenes — but when reading the script, you wouldn’t necessarily know that it was going to be animated rather than live-action. So don’t freak out about some special formatting you see in a printed script or guidebook. Just write it like a normal feature.

Last year, I had a meeting with Disney Animation, in which they talked through all of their upcoming projects. It’s clear they really develop in-house, and aren’t searching the town for new material. And I suspect that’s true for all of the majors.

But the animated spec you write could be a great sample for live action, particularly if it showcases comedy and set-pieces. If you write Shrek, you can write funny, and someone will want to hire you.

Organizing reality

June 21, 2005 Television

Yesterday, the WGA [announced plans](http://www.wga.org/subpage_newsevents.aspx?id=493) to begin organizing writers working on reality television shows. Unlike writers working on traditional dramas or sitcoms, these writers haven’t been covered by the guild, which means they receive no health insurance, no residuals, and no set pay minimums.

As WGAw president Daniel Petrie put it in the press release:

The secret about reality TV isn’t that it’s scripted, which it is; the secret is that reality TV is a 21st-century telecommunications industry sweatshop.

Most readers of this site are familiar with one kind of writing when it comes to film and television. It happens on three-holed paper, with uppercase scene headers and neatly indented blocks for dialogue and parentheticals. But the truth is that much of the work a professional writer does in Hollywood takes on other formats: treatments and beat sheets, outlines and season patterns. Even in non-reality shows, a lot of the writing takes place before you type “FADE IN:”. So it’s a mistake to confuse “unscripted” with “unwritten.”

Many of the people who the WGA would like to organize are currently called producers — which is the norm in television. Be it [The Simpsons](http://imdb.com/title/tt0096697/combined) or [The Sopranos](http://imdb.com/title/tt0141842/combined), many of the writers in television are called producers of some stripe: Executive Producer, Co-EP, Supervising Producer. Despite the title, there’s no doubt they’re writing. Every episode says “written by” or “teleplay by.”

In reality TV, there’s usually no “written by” credit. But it would be a mistake to think there’s no writing.

In addition to the obviously-scripted moments (someone has to tell Jeff Probst what to say), every episode needs writers to figure out what the hell the story is. Yes, video crews will capture the action, and a team of editors at Avids will ultimately cut the footage together, but the decisions about what actually happens in a given episode fall upon the writers, who have to tease plot, character development, comedy and tension out of hundreds of hours of “real life” taking place.

These people are, in fact, organizing reality. Which is why they deserve to be able to organize under the WGA umbrella. You can read more about the situation [here](http://www.wga.org/organizesub.aspx?id=1088).

UPDATE: After reading a note left in the comments section, I don’t want to understate the role editors often have shaping the “what happens” in reality TV. They’re often performing functions that would normally be the purview of writers; the question is, why aren’t they being compensated for it?

[Formatting a reality show proposal](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2004/formatting-a-reality-show-proposal)

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