96 journal of film and video 65.1–2 / spring/summer 2013©2013 by the board of trustees of the university of illinois

RIDING THE ALLIGATOR: STRATEGIES FOR A CAREER IN SCREENPLAY WRITING (AND NOT GETTING EATEN)

Pen Densham. Studio City: Michael Wiese, 2011, 250 pp.

logue—the usual suspects. Densham assumes that in their passion for the craft, his readers have already explored these rudimentary skills. His goal is far more ambitious. He succeeds in making the reader dig deep and explore the entire creative screenwriting process. It is indicative of his holistic approach that in one of the opening chapters, “We All Have Doubts,” he prefaces his account of how he develops an idea into a complete screenplay by telling the reader to ignore everything Densham says if it inhibits the reader’s courage to create: “What works for one might disable another’s inspi-rational process” (25). In actual fact, I found his methods to be very much along the lines of those I employ myself, even down to using old-fashioned index cards spread out on a table rather than subscribing to one the many story management software programs available. In this chapter, he also imparts invaluable advice on that all-too-familiar bête noire of writers—writer’s block. This chapter is a perfect example of why this book is so helpful for writers at any level of achievement. There is sound practical advice combined with a penetrating examina-tion of the inner life of the screenwriter. I have been a member of the Writers Guild for over thirty years, and on a number of occasions throughout this book, I was forced to stop and examine my own writing methods, my own work ethic, and my own goals. This book is like a shot of truth serum for any writer, young or old. When Densham gets into the heart of his book, he really starts to excel. The phrase “character arc” has been tossed around for de-cades, to the point where it has become almost meaningless. In his chapter “How to Structure a Story,” he talks of giving the protagonist a nugget, “a dark and powerful life experience that affects how he or she navigates emotion-ally” (52). In other words, your protagonist’s

Around forty thousand screenplays are regis-tered with the Writers Guild of America every year. It seems like just as many books have been published on how to write a marketable screenplay. They range from the supremely practical—Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting by Syd Field—to the obsessively analytical tomes of the three Lindas: Aronson, Cowgill, and Seger. So do we need yet another book on screenwriting? I would have said no, until I was sent a copy of Pen Densham’s Rid-ing the Alligator. In the interests of disclosure, I have known Pen Densham since 1989, when he and his partner, John Watson, optioned a pilot of mine that had been picked up by ABC. The franchise concerned a beautiful Moscow detective who was forced to seek asylum in the United States and was close to being given a green light, but shortly after I handed in my sec-ond draft, the Berlin Wall fell. As always, timing is everything. Densham and I have worked on other projects over the years. What makes Riding the Alligator such an invaluable book for screenwriters? Well, it is one of the few books on the market that comes from a screenwriter who has actually been in the trenches. A quick look at Pen Densham’s accomplishments on IMDb.com reveals the breadth and longevity of his career. The title of the book springs from an incident in the author’s childhood, when his father filmed four-year-old Pen riding an alligator who be-longed to a rather eccentric woman in London’s Chelsea neighborhood. When Densham saw the results on a big screen, the magic of film became his lifelong obsession. Of course, the title is also a rather vivid metaphor for survival in a cutthroat industry. This is not a book with specific information about the fundamentals of screenwriting: for-matting, structure, character development, dia-

Copyright 2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. Complimentary copy--not for distribution

97journal of film and video 65.1–2 / spring/summer 2013©2013 by the board of trustees of the university of illinois

character arc is jumpstarted long before your screenplay begins. A perfect example of a nug-get would be Clarice Starling’s account of the slaughtering of the lambs. Your protagonist encounters obstacles in your screenplay that force him or her to confront and resolve issues from the past. This adds tremendous resonance to your character and to your plot. The idea is not new. It has been disparaged in the past, most notably by award-winning playwright and screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky, who called this approach the “Rubber Ducky” Freudian school of character development. When the villain was eight, his mother took away his rubber ducky from his bathtub, and that is why he grew up to be a savage serial killer who dresses in his mother’s outfits when he attacks his victims. I disagree with Chayefsky. This is tantamount to heresy, of course; writers have been flayed with their own quills for less. I have used the nugget in lectures, and I have found it to be a tremen-dously valuable tool, particularly for beginning screenwriters. It compels the writer to create a biography for the central character. The more you know about your protagonist’s past, the more equipped you will be to deal with the incidents the protagonist will encounter during the most crucial period of his or her life, which hopefully will be your screenplay.As previously noted, this chapter is titled “How to Structure a Story.” So Densham then pro-ceeds to illustrate how to structure a screenplay using the protagonist’s inner struggles as the building blocks for the external story. This is seamlessly done and has caused me to rethink how I teach structure in my lectures. Densham’s chapter on rewriting has also prompted me to pay more attention to this subject in my teach-ing. We guide the student toward the comple-tion of a screenplay, but as Densham states, “the deepest definition of a script comes from a process of etching and chipping away” (80). That second draft is even more important than the first, and often more difficult. One should try to view the screenplay objectively. This baby that you have nurtured will now be placed in the hands of readers who sometimes take home as many as a dozen scripts on a week-

end. How can your baby stand out from the bunch in those first crucial pages? Densham has some excellent advice in this area. I par-ticularly enjoyed his comment that “words in a script are like sandbags in a hot air balloon. Every one that you toss overboard lets your project rise faster and soar higher” (81). This chapter on the so-often-ignored rewriting pro-cess is alone worth the price of the book. So you now have a draft of your screenplay ready for distribution. Densham spends a great deal of time on how you should prepare yourself to “enter the jungle.” This includes advice on selling a screenplay and on a much-overlooked aspect of the screenwriter’s craft: pitching. Many people imagine a writer’s life to be a solitary existence that a person spends locked up in an ivory tower while wrestling with the creative process. Not so. Sooner or later, you are going to have to go out and pitch your product. Perhaps the most important piece of advice in this section is something that I wish more students in my classes would heed. In a pitch, your job is to sell the story, not to tell it! The minute you start to bog down a pitch with too much story detail, you are going to see eyes glaze over. This is the kind of pragmatic counsel that is rarely found in some of the more intellec-tual tomes on screenwriting. The reason is not hard to find. Most of the writers of those books have not actually starved for a living. This is why Densham wraps up this portion of the book with motivating chapters on how to survive financially and emotionally until the first big sale. Again, he is delving into areas that are rarely addressed in books on screenwriting. I think these chapters can best be summed up by Densham’s quote from William Churchill: “If you are going through hell, keep going.” The next section of the book consists of short essays from established screenwriters such as Shane Black, Nia Vardalos, Ron Shelton, and Densham’s partner, John Watson. As Densham writes earlier in the book, “no two writers think about our process identically,” and he proves it by allowing friends and colleagues to offer their own personal insights. They are illuminating and encouraging. Densham also generously

Copyright 2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. Complimentary copy--not for distribution

98 journal of film and video 65.1–2 / spring/summer 2013©2013 by the board of trustees of the university of illinois

recommends ten other books on screenwrit-ing that offer different perspectives. I think his choices (there is nothing by Aronson, Cowgill, or Seger listed) are very appropriate. I can think of no finer reason to praise Riding the Alligator than how Densham answers the question “How do I write a screenplay?”—with another question, “Why do you want to write a

screenplay in the first place?” This book blends theory with practice seamlessly and should be read by anyone interested in the craft.

PHILIP J. TAYLORHerberger Institute for Design and the Arts, School of Theatre and Film, Arizona State University

WRITING THE DRAMA SERIES: HOW TO SUCCEED AS A PROFESSIONAL WRITER IN T V, 3RD ED.

Pamela Douglas. Studio City: Michael Wiese, 2011, 288 pp.

“Should I use a text in episodic writing class next semester?” I asked that question last year, and it sparked a book search on the Barnes & Noble Web site that yielded twenty-five-plus titles. Writing the TV Drama Series: How to Suc-ceed as a Professional Writer in TV (3rd ed.), by Pamela Douglas, was one of them. Its title promised the usual target market of wannabe writers, but it was the only one that also sold it-self to teachers. An author rarely reedits a book three times in less than ten years, but when I discovered the text was required reading in Pamela’s USC School of Cinematic Arts TV writ-ing course, this made perfect sense. Another discovery: she based that course’s syllabus on the book. Eureka! “The definitive work on dramatic TV writing just got more definitive,” says Jack Epps Jr., in an example of the many glowing notices on the book’s inside cover, which validate its recognition as the “the premier book on the subject world-wide” (4). Perusal of the content yields updated references and interviews in the core material (included in all three edi-tions), a more in-depth investigation of the future of TV drama and its potential delivery systems that will challenge the traditional pro-duction model, and a more global perspective of the series business than in previous edi-

tions. As expected, the author’s presentation is compelling and astute, but because of my bias toward the text’s adaptation to the class-room, this review focuses primarily on content malleable for teaching. “Spotlight on Dramedy” caught my eye because it deals with the current proliferation of single-camera series crossing boundaries between comedy and drama. In the author’s new interview with David Isaacs (producer of Mad Men), they discuss how “new writers have to understand what creates character and how it guides you to tell a story. Real drama and real comedy are about some condition that people are afflicted by, or an obstacle in their lives, and you eventually find some way for them to deal with that dilemma” (43). This demystifica-tion of dramedy offers teachers a provocative platform from which to workshop its parent genres and crossover properties. A subgenre that budding writers have tradi-tionally been told to avoid is the procedural—their lack of legal, medical, or police knowledge makes it an improbable match. Flying in the face of that decree, Douglas includes a section titled “Spotlight on Writing Procedurals,” in which she gives evidence of the reemergence of character concerns equaling those of plot and the impact on traditionally plot-driven procedural storytelling. She contrasts the broadcast networks’ CSI: Miami (pure police/detective procedural) and The Good Wife (legal

Copyright 2012 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. Complimentary copy--not for distribution