The Cassutt Files
The Speculative Slump

Ah, the speculative script.

It's not what readers of SF Weekly might logically expect ... a script that, well, speculates about life and adventures in the future, or on a planet in a galaxy far, far away.

A spec script is something you write on your own initiative, inspired by your own vision and not by a producer or executive's expectations.

Writing a spec is the closest a scriptwriter gets to living the life of a novelist ... you struggle to transfer your vision from brain to page, concerned only with how the whole thing works.

Then you try to sell it. Or, as happens in most cases, fail to sell it.

There have been famous sales, of course. In 1939, at the height of the studio system, Preston Sturges sold The Great McGinty to Paramount for $10—on the condition that he be allowed to direct. (Screenwriters weren't often allowed on movie sets in those days, much less hired as directors). William Goldman sold Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid for a potload of money in 1969 (the equivalent of about $1.5 million); the picture turned out pretty good, as I recall.

There have been dozens of big-buck sales since, including some well-known sci-fi and fantasy, such as The Sixth Sense by M. Night Shyamalan. From my unscientific but fairly well-informed vantage point, a good third of feature film deals these days involve spec scripts, as opposed to pitches or rewrites. (We're talking sales, not produced films.)

Even in television, specs have turned into wonderful series—Neal Marlens' The Wonder Years, for example ... or The Pretender by Steven Long Mitchell and Craig Van Sickle.

Or, most recently, Marc Cherry's Desperate Housewives. (With the looming end of the WGA strike—fingers crossed—you will see more series derived from spec pilots.)

All of the specs I cite here were created by established writers. But there is another subset of the spec script that gives us our subject this month: the speculative sample script, the one a writer creates as her calling card, his demo, her audition.

(OK, I could have titled the column "The Sample Dilemma" or something similar, but where's the fun in that?)

The slump is a sign of this dilemma: We don't have one for the world of sci-fi television.

Sampling sci-fi

Why is this important? Because when you see agents telling their fledgling writers which series to spec, it's the same as saying, "This is the best drama on the air."

Ten years ago it was ER. A few seasons later, it was The West Wing. Then it was The Sopranos. For the last year or so, it's been House or Grey's Anatomy. For those who want to work in procedurals, the choice for years has been Law & Order or CSI.

For many years, the ideal sci-fi sample spec was a Star Trek—which would not only introduce a writer to the business, but might actually sell to the series. With the demise—or at the very least, hiatus—in Trek series, the go-to sample has been Battlestar Galactica.

All of these series met the standard requirements for a worthwhile sample spec:

1. It has to be from a show that people watch and will still be watching for a season or two.

2. It has to be respected—nominated for awards.

3. It has to be comprehensible to a wide range of readers.

Since BSG's run, except for promised movies, is over, it's a poor choice for sample spec. Let's look at what's left of our sci-fi television universe. Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (which cries out for one of the Babylon 5 = B5 compressions, don't you think? T/SCC?) hasn't been on long enough, so it fails on #1. Ditto for Flash Gordon, Moonlight and the lovely Pushing Daisies.

SCI FI's Stargate Atlantis and Eureka have been on long enough to meet #1, but—fairly or not—lack awards and critical acclaim.

Heroes and Lost would seem to qualify easily on Rules #1 and #2 ... but what about #3, comprehensibility?

Even though West Wing and Sopranos were largely serialized, a writer could create a stand-alone episode. Because of the sci-fi/fantasy concepts that shape them, Heroes and Lost make this a real challenge. A writer is forced to pick some point in the narrative—note the relationships, characters and state of the universe—then swing for the fences and craft a stand-alone story.

The upside? You might come up with something so brilliant that no reader can deny your talents.

The downside? Unless you are in some sort of unknown telepathic union with the writing staff, you are going to diverge from the storyline to some degree—and those same studio or staff readers will be looking at your sample a year from now and saying, what, I don't remember that character from Lost? Which new Hero is this?

(I'm especially versed in the Heroes challenge, because last year I wrote my own spec, which required a "what has gone before" synopsis to enhance readability.)

You also find yourself in the paradoxical challenge of trying to show you can write sci-fi by not really writing sci-fi: Star Trek and BSG were spaceship shows. They took you into a different universe, exposed you to alien races.

A solid spec Lost will show that you can write interesting characters ... but might not show your true sci-fi skills with world-building or -destroying.

What's a writer to do?

The Doctor stands alone

Well, look beyond the obvious American-made products.

Look at Doctor Who, the brilliant adventures of the 900-year-old time traveler. While not a spaceship show, it has featured spaceships—and alien races.

And time travel. And robots. And humans from different time periods. In fact, Doctor Who gives a writer the broadest menu of sci-fi delights I've ever seen.

It has just been picked up for a fifth season, so even though its sheer number of episodes isn't comparable to a Lost or BSG, it will be around for at least a season or two ... possibly forever. (It is actually the longest-running TV series in history, dating back to 1963.)

Although its English provenance hurts it with American award-givers, it is acclaimed in the sci-fi field, winning the Hugo in 2006.

And it can be understood. A stand-alone Doctor Who is the rule.

So all you frustrated sci-fi television writers out there, step into the time booth.

You'll not only do your career some good, you'll be reminding the business that sci-fi does indeed have a current elite series.