I promised a post about Chatsworth, didn’t I?

Chatsworth. Oh Chatsworth.

Chatsworth is as far north as you can get without actually leaving the city of Los Angeles. It’s a district, not a city or a neighborhood, so if you were to address something to me on Larwin Ave, Los Angeles 91311, it would still arrive.

Chatsworth is nestled in the foothills of the Santa Susana mountains.  It’s well and truly strange to wake up and see tiny little mountains (or great big foothills) within hiking distance (not that I hike. I mean, come on. The only way I could be more indoorsey is if I was like those kids in The Others and I was allergic to light).

Chatsworth is known for many things.  Roy Rogers used to live here. Kevin Spacey graduated from Chatsworth High. Oh, yeah, and it’s also the epicenter of the adult film industry.

No.  Really.

I came face to face with this unfortunate knowledge my first weekend here. I was hanging out with some Columbia kids and when I told them where I lived, someone said “Oh, where all the porn is filmed!” I wish I was kidding.

Adult Film Industry aside, Chatsworth is a cute little town. Very friendly, very pretty, very easy to navigate. I don’t plan on living here forever, since it’s very far away from every production company I would ever consider working for (I have standards), but for now, while I get my bearings, it’s a good place to call home.

Sometimes I am faced with the strange, unalterable fact that my celebrities are different from most (dare I say normal?) people’s celebrities. That isn’t to say that if Andrew Garfield waltzed into the office, said (in his British voice) “hello, I’m Spider-Man and you are?” I wouldn’t melt into a little puddley mess on the floor, because I totally would.

But it does mean that when I got the chance to run an errand to the house of an Oscar winning screenwriter (he was married to the woman who started the production company I’m interning at), I had the following urgent text conversation with my best friend:

Me: OMG I’m going to Santa Monica to drop something off with Laura’s ACADEMY AWARD WINNING SCREENWRITER OF A HUSBAND. I am dying. Right now. I am dying.
Elspeth: NO. WAY. [She gets me. She really gets me]
Me: Right?? Right?? Should I say something? If he draws me into conversation I think I’ll say something.

I didn’t get the chance to say what I wanted to (“Ordinary People was a brilliant adaptation and a stunning film; it is such an honor to meet you”) but he did ask me what I wanted to do. I told him I’m a writer, and I smiled and said something like “so it’s really awesome to meet you,” so that he knew that I knew who he is. He asked if I wrote everyday (I said yes, because what else can you say?).

And then.
And then.
And then.

He gave me writing advice.
I almost peed my pants. The man who wrote the screenplay for the movie that was the directoral debut of Robert Redford that Timothy Hutton, at 20 years old, became the youngest actor to win a Best Supporting Oscar for his performance in was giving. Me. Advice.

He told me to write behaviors. He said it’s all about writing behaviors and then putting characters into those situations to see how they behave.

You guys.
You guys.
You guys.

Today was the best day ever.

I’ve been in LA for four weeks now, and (counting the Glee kids), I’ve seen… five celebrities? Pretty good tally. Only two of those celeb sightings have been on the street (as it were), of these people going about their daily lives–not at work.

A couple of days ago I saw Reed Diamond at the Farmer’s Market on Fairfax. Reed Diamond isn’t as famous as, say, Jeff Goldblum (who my classmate saw, for which I am jealous). But he WAS a regular on Joss Whedon’s Dollhouse, which makes him 100 times more awesome than the Glee kids in my book.

Today I saw Sara Gilbert, who has racked up the following credentials of awesome: She was Darlene on Roseanne; she’s Leslie Winkle on Big Bang Theory; she is Melissa Gilbert’s younger sister (Melissa Gilbert played Laura Ingalls Wilder in the TV show, and since I was named after Laura Ingalls Wilder I’m genetically predisposed to love her entire family. It’s true.)

The Reed Diamond sighting was as I was entering/he was leaving a restroom, so that was really awkward. But the Sara Gilbert one was awkward in a different way. I was sitting outside a Starbucks with my friend Colleen, and this child goes running past. I automatically looked around for a parent, and I looked up and I saw her. I saw Leslie Winkle. And we made eye contact. For like 20 seconds. And this brief look passed her face–this look that said “why are you staring at me?”

So I looked away and desperately tried to continue my conversation with Colleen. Sara Gilbert (!!) and her son kept walking and sat further down the building. It was so, so weird. I sort of hissed at Colleen that she was in Big Bang Theory, and Colleen said she thought she recognized her from Roseanne.

And that was it. She and her son passed us a couple more times (that kid loved to run, and like a good mom, she never let him run far out of her sight), and then they sort of wandered away. It just made me realize why I’m so glad I’m a writer. I don’t like attention–certainly not attention from strangers–and if I were an actor and achieved any level of notoriety, people would recognize me! I mean Sara Gilbert isn’t Nicole Kidman or anything, and I still recognized her!

But I could have passed writers and directors and producers for my favorite shows ten times today (and may have, because we were in Studio City, where a lot of TV people live), and never recognize them.

The sole exception would probably be Joss, who I would be able to recognize by voice alone, as creepy as that may sound. And, to be honest, as much as I would love to see Joss, I’m afraid. Because there is no way I wouldn’t start to hyperventilate in front of that man.

I’m just glad I’m a behind-the-scenes person, so that I’ll never have to worry about making awkward eye contact with a 22 year old sitting outside a Starbucks while I’m chilling with my kid. Though, to my everlasting joy, I did not freak out about Sara Gilbert or ask for her autograph or a picture or say “oh my God, you’re Leslie Winkle!” So that’s something.

We had a speaker today who talked to us about writing coverage.  One of the first things he said was “coverage is a lot like writing an English paper.”  Well, let me tell you: my ears totally perked up!  English papers? I’ve been knocking those babies out of the park since my junior year of high school, when Ms. Elliot started giving us increasingly-longer essay tests on the books we read.  I am old hat at writing English papers.

Well, it turns out that coverage isn’t really like writing an English paper, but it does sound like something I would kick ass at.  Coverage is written by people like me–low on the totem pole–who read scripts so that the higher-ups don’t have to.  You read it, write the coverage, and then you recommend (“yes”), pass (“no”) or consider (“I’m too much of a chicken to say yes or no in case you fire me so I’m just going to say maybe”).  If you’re working with an agency, the recommend/pass/consider translates not to making a project, but to offering the writer representation.

One of the most helpful (and telling) pieces of advice our speaker gave us was this: the network/studio is always looking for a reason to pass.  They want you to tell them why the movie/TV show shouldn’t get made, because film and TV is expensive, and (in the words of Lee Zlotoff), it’s a business of failure, because there’s no formula for what shows and movies will be successful.

Coverage is like a blurb.  On the cover page you have all the details: the writer, the title, the genre, the medium (pilot, screenplay, whatever).  They want to know the genre, the sub-genre, any production value, etc.  Then you write the synopsis: what happened, what happened next, how did they get out of that enormous scrape? After the synopsis, you put your comments.

I’m not gonna lie, the comments is what I’m most excited about, because the comments are the closest coverage gets to being an English paper.  Comments are what worked?  What didn’t? How was the dialogue?  Was the protagonist strong?  What’s the central conflict?  And–the best part–give examples and details.  It’s basically analyzing a script in 3/4 of a page.  And you’re supposed to be blunt as anything, because the writers never read the coverage written of their own work.  I’m good at being blunt, especially when a) there are no ramifications, b) the piece is poorly done.

Writing coverage, and writing coverage well, is apparently an invaluable skill to get internships in development (the area of TV I’m looking to break into, and hopefully stay my entire career).  One of my classmates from Chicago is out here doing an internship at Jim Henson, and what does she do all day? Read and write coverage.  I mean, she’s been doing some PA work, also, but coverage, man.  It’s important and useful.

In script-news, I’ve written the first two acts of my script–only three acts left! Acts in hour-long TV are usually 9-11 pages, so you end up with a 50-odd page script and five acts.  If anyone would like to read what I have so far, comment here with your email and I’ll send it off to you! I’m always looking for constructive criticism :)

Yesterday my classmates and I went to Malibu to have class in our teacher’s house.  His commute is long and trying, so he wanted to have us come up and chill with him.  A drive to Malibu? That I don’t have to make myself? To a house with a view of Catalina Island? Yes please!

There, my teacher Lee gave us what he called “the sermon on the mount” of TV writing.  It all boiled down to three ideas:

1) Belief.  It sounds odd, but if you believe that you’re going to break in some day, that confidence (not arrogance) is going to come across to the people you’re pitching your stuff to.  Don’t ask anyone’s permission to be in the industry.  You’re in the industry, and the people that you’re pitching to can work with you, or someone else will work with you.  You don’t really mind who, because you’re just excited about your project.  That’s what you need to project.

2) Do your work. Lee said “homework,” but I’m going to shorten it to “work,” because dammit, after March I won’t have any homework anymore, thank you very much.  This went along with the idea of not asking permission to enter the industry.  If you’re writing–spec scripts, original pilots, screenplays, whatever–even if no one is paying you, you’re just building up to the day when someone does pay you.

So keep doing your work and becoming a better writer, so that when someone asks you what you’re working on you can say “well, I have a Big Bang spec and one for Leverage.  I also have a show bible for a one hour drama and an original pilot for a 30 minute single camera sit-com.”  How much more impressive is than than “Yeah, I have a couple original ideas and a treatment for a Modern Family spec.” Answer: so much more impressive.

3) Don’t worry about where your break will come (because it won’t come from the place you expect).  As long as you believe and you do your work (which includes getting out and meeting people and making connections), something will happen.  Eventually.  So don’t worry!  Because it won’t come from where you expect, but you have to be prepared when it does.

He just makes it sound so easy.

Ah, and the funny story! So this will probably only be interesting to my mother and her small group, but Lee wrote for Remington Steele.  And the first episode I ever saw happened to be an episode that Lee wrote.  I didn’t know it at the time, and when I looked up his credits later I didn’t connect the two.  But yesterday he was talking about the odd ways that stories come about, and he started to talk about the set of Remington Steele.

Laura’s (the main character) apartment was a copy of her actress’ apartment (Stephanie Zimbalist).  It was cramped and small, so it was difficult and time-consuming to shoot there, because you had to arrange the lights to “turn the room around” and make the audience believe that it’s an actual room and not a sound stage.  The directors would say “please, please don’t write me in that (effing) room.”

Also, no one on the set liked Stephanie’s choices for Laura’s wardrobe.  I mean, it was the 80s, so good clothing choices were few and far between, but apparently her clothes were just awful and completely unsexy, and they had a version of that scene in Black Swan when Thomas “I don’t want any boundaries between us” Leroy asked the prince if he would screw Nina and he was all “no.”

So! The first season ends and the second season begins and Lee is writing the season premier.  So he decided to blow up Laura’s apartment.  At this point in the story I gasped and said “I’ve seen that episode!” and he smiled and continued.  So they blew up Laura’s apartment and sent her to Remington’s house to stay (which allowed for some unresolved sexual tension, naturally).

It also gave an opening to a line that I had always remembered (and had no idea Lee had written).  Laura and Remington are in his house and she’s all sad and alone and upset because her damn apartment got blown up and she almost died, and she said to Remington (who has been trying to sleep with her for a year), “tonight, if you asked I couldn’t say no.”  and Remington said, “tonight, I couldn’t ask.” Swoon!

During the course of whatever case they were investigating, Laura and Remington went to a loft, and Laura promptly rented it and moved in.  A loft that was spacious and wide open and made it very easy for the directors to “turn the room around.”

And the explosion “destroyed” all of Laura’s clothes, so she got a new (sexier, apparently, though I still couldn’t tell) wardrobe. And the directors were happy.

The end.

(and other observations)

Tonight my classmates and I had the extreme fortune to attend an event at the WGA Theater.  It was a panel of screenwriters who had been nominated for WGA and Academy Awards.  It was, to put it simply, the most amazing experience in my short life.  It almost trumps the time I got to interview Diane Lane for 3 minutes on camera (only because she gave me lame answers).

Some of the writers in attendance were three guys who wrote The Fighter, the guy who wrote Black Swan, two writers who wrote The Kids Are All Right, and, oh yeah, Aaron Effing Sorkin, the guy who wrote one or two movies, like The Social Network, A Few Good Men, and Charlie Wilson’s War.  He’s also created a hugely popular TV show and may or may not have coined a cinematic style still used to this day. In other words, he’s a freaking genius.  I mean, I didn’t meet him or anything, and to be honest this entire experience would be almost as cool as if I was watching it from my living room (I say “almost” because every location ever is more interesting than the living room where you live, no matter how awesome my living room is).

It was just… amazing to listen to these people and hear about their writing styles and processes, and what it’s like working with a director when the director is also your writing partner (and what it’s like working with a director when the director is you).  Aaron Sorkin said, very humbly and kind of hesitantly, that the first draft of The Social Network that was submitted to the studio was the draft that was shot.

I need to repeat that, because it was all Whitney and I could say on the ride back home.  One draft, you guys.  One draft!  No cuts, no major studio revisions, no complete alterations of story arcs or character motivations… I mean, he probably tweaked lines of dialogue here and there, but one draft?  One draft that pleased the studio? That’s practically unheard of.

On the flip side, the director, David Fincher took anywhere from 50 to 100 takes to get the scenes right.  I mean, WHAT? Even in film that’s a shit ton (excuse my language) of takes.  Sorkin said that it was like listening to Yo-Yo Ma play the cello.  He said that musicians reach a point where they don’t even look at the notes anymore, and that’s what happens with actors after 50 takes (understandably so).  He said that they know the lines inside and out and that they can rattle them off like they’re breathing.  He said that it freed them up to do what they’re good at (that is, acting).

He said his primary job on set was to be a morale booster.  I found that weirdly hilarious, because Aaron Sorkin looks like such an imposing guy!  But maybe that’s just because I admire him so much.

I mean, I’ve heard less-than-favorable things about what it’s like to work with him, but knowing the personal issues he’s battled and that he’s come out on the other side–still able to produce amazing work–is stunning.  Coupled with the fact that he was sweet and humble to his fellow screenwriters (even though he’s a total shoo-in for the Oscar), I respect Sorkin so much more now, which is saying a lot, because I’ve respected this guy for a looong time!

Side note: There I was, sitting in my chair, when I saw this really tall guy with curly brown hair walk into a seat five or so rows ahead of me.  A little-known fact about Laura is that I am excellent (like, scary excellent) at identifying people by the backs of their heads.  Especially people I happened to spend four years with in high school, who also happened to be studying in LA!  So I cried out “Tim!” and he turned around and yeah.  It was Tim Baker.  So we exchanged numbers and promised to hang out.  I dunno if we’ll have time, since he’s here for producing, but we’ll see! It was a cool coincidence.