In Part III of our interview, Speedie Date's Lorin Wertheimer offers his thoughts on the future of screen-based entertainment and some great advice for anyone considering producting for the web (here are Part I and Part II of the interview):
Q.
Do you have any prediction for the future of screen-based entertainment? How is the web drama series going to change film and TV? Where do you think we're going to end up?
A.
There is stuff I know and stuff I don't know. I know that entertainment will always be sought out. It is an essential part of being human, and it isn't going away. The medium is always changing. Television and film had a good run, and in all likelihood are not done yet. Will they be around in a hundred years? Probably not, at least not in a form we will recognize. Is the web the future of entertainment? Right now it looks like it is, at least until something else comes along. Will people figure out a way to make money from web based entertainment? Yes. Will it happen tomorrow? I don't know.
The most dramatic short-term effect the web drama series will have have on television and film will be that it will act as a breeding ground for talent. I don't mean that actors will have sex while in production (though that will happen, too), but that audiences and executives will increasingly discover actors, writers, directors and craftspeople online.
In the medium-term, web based entertainment will have more localized audiences (that means smaller, but also more specific), so that advertisers will be able to pitch products customized to the viewer.
From an artistic point of view, the web encourages a diversity of content that is invigorating. Neither the content nor the form is predetermined. I can write a series of one minute shorts about my hair, or have a 24-hour-a-day camera running on the street corner and hire actors to improvise a scene about crossing the street. And not every idea will be as bad as that. But I believe we are at the dawn of a renaissance. As more people are drawn to create dramatic content for the internet, there will be more and more gems. The real challenge is going to be for those artists to break out and find an audience for their series.
Where will we end up? I guess that's what I was trying to get at earlier: there is no end. The web will become the primary medium for entertainment, and then it will be replaced by something, like holographic virtual reality immersion, or five-senses-entertainment, or personalized performance-based shows. The web is a delivery vehicle, and will replace television as soon as the infrastructure is in place.
Will the internet kill the movies? No, I think something else will kill the movies. People enjoy seeing things in groups, so whatever replaces movies will probably involve an audience. Movies, too, are changing, though, and the studio system as we know it may not exist in ten years.
Q.
Which is your favourite episode? Anything else you'd like to add?
A.
I don't have a favorite episode: I don't have the objective distance to judge them. They are all my babies. Complicating this is residual emotions from the writing process, from production, from post-production. I'm so proud that they are no longer scripts! My favorite moment, though, might come at the end of the episode between Chad and Amanda (episode two).
If someone likes the series, and wants to emulate it, this would be my advice: make sure your script is as good as you can make it. Show it to lots of people whom you trust and who will feel free to tell you when they don't like something. This, like every other step of the process, is the most important step.
As a producer, the most important responsibility you have is to hire people who are good at what they do and then listen to them when they tell you what to do. The director is the most important crew position, as is the cinematographer, the sound mixer, the art director, the AD, and the grip. If your friends are talented, hire your friends. If your friends are not talented, make more friends. Quickly.
As anyone will tell you the most important step is casting. We didn't go for big name actors. If I was friends with Tom Cruise and he wanted to be in an episode, I'd be a fool not to use him. I think that talent is the most important attribute an actor has. If you're choosing between talent and looks, go for talent. This is especially true on a low-budget film. Talented people can be made beautiful. The reverse does not hold true. I also go for the talented actor over someone who is perfect for the part. After all, I wrote all twenty parts for myself. Allocate enough time for casting.
If you do all this, hire the right people, cast the right people, shoot the right script, then production will take care of itself. That is to say, you, the producer, will be making runs to the 99 cent store while everyone else is doing their job. As it turns out, the only dispensable job on set is the producer.
Take care of your people. When people feel taken care of, they will go above and beyond. Feed everyone well. God knows why, but the people, they like donuts.
Post-production is the most important step in creating filmed entertainment. The editor has more to do with the quality of the final product than anyone, bar none. Post-production always takes longer and costs more than you want, so plan for it to take a day and be free.
Get a good sound guy. Be ready to learn color correction, because that position is a bear to fill. People who do it make two hundred dollars a minute. Good luck trying to find someone to volunteer. If you do find someone, hold tight and never let go. They will make your picture look professional. Most people I know who make low-budget stuff end up spending half their budget on color correction. Alas, there is no way around it.
And know when the cut is finalized, and the sound is mixed, and the prints are printed, congratulations! You are halfway done. Now you have to distribute it, and promote it. Now don't you wish you had hired good looking, big-name actors? You idiot, why didn't you write a script that was more promotable? And what were you thinking when you blew your budget on color correction? You could have used that money for viral marketing!
As I said, I'm still figuring all this stuff out.
Join Speedie Dating's Facebook fan page or visit them on MySpace. There is still more Speedie Date to come, so check their site or Strike TV for new episodes.
In the second part of my interview with Speedie Date's Lorin Wertheimer he reveals how difficult it is to find an audience for web series. He also talks about how exciting the experience of creating and producing a web series has been for him. He also discusses what he likes to watch/read/play. In the first part of the interview posted yesterday, Lorin talks in depth about the process of creating, writing and producing Speedie Date. In the third part of the interview, Lorin talks about the future of screen-based entertainment and offers advice to web producers.
Q.
How has the feedback been? What's your viewership like? The web brings us much closer to the audience than tv, film and print. Do you interact with the audience at all? Do they offer up story and character ideas and how do you respond? Has viewer response effected your process in anyway?
A.
The feedback has been pretty uniformly positive. We have gotten three reviews, two of which were very positive (one absolutely glowing from Tilzy.tv that was very gratifying, perhaps embarrassingly so). All the comments left by people and all the emails from friends are positive. People are surprised to find really good acting and writing on the web. And industry people are shocked at our high production values given the miniscule size of our budget (a 63 page script was done for under $10,000). My parents are fairly harsh critics, and will tell me when they don't like something. They both really like it.
One surprise has been the difficulty I've had getting the series to the public. Our first episode was featured on a German blog, and drew about 7,000 people to the site. A little over half watched the episode to its completion, credits and all. Our second episode, not featured on a blog, got about five hundred complete views (another 200-300 watched a portion of it. I like to tell myself they watched until at least the beginning of the credits). Still, this was disheartening when you read about millions of people watching cats bathe themselves on youtube. We're starting to get more hits, but we still have a lot of room for growth.
It turns out that marketing is just as important a function of producing a web series as casting. The old aphorism about a tree falling in the forest comes to mind. Well, in the world of web video, the tree needs an audience to make a sound.
I don't have a good sense of the viewership, though I suspect they are still primarily people I know. It reminds me of college, when I had trouble getting cast in plays, though I auditioned for everything. I was so excited when I finally got cast. I'm on my way to stardom, I thought, even if the role was a relatively minor one. My ego suffered a blow when I learned that only sixteen people had auditioned for seventeen parts – everyone had gotten cast. For years afterwards, whenever I was cast in something, I assumed it was because no one else auditioned. I hope that we reach a wider audience, and soon, but I continue to work on the assumption that the majority of hits are family members.
I haven't had much interaction with the viewers, though. I get the occasional email, which I answer. I have been monitoring the forums – an easy task, considering there are only two postings, one of them mine. And I read the comments. Engaging the audience is something I want to do more of. The first step, though, is finding that audience.
A couple of people have related dating stories to me, which I love to hear. One friend gave me the scenario which turned into episode six, in which a black man and a white woman get into a heated discussion about Toni Morrison.
Q.What has this experience been like for you? Do you think of the web as a medium you'd like to continue working in? Are people breaking down your doors to work with you now that you have this cutting edge experience under your belt?
A.
The experience of writing and producing my own series has been transformative. It is perhaps the defining event of my life, thus far. The week we were in production was the most exciting week of my life. Forgive the superlatives, but it is an amazing revelation when you realize that you have the power to create, that you don't need permission. You discover you have the power to change the world. We are only limited by our imaginations, in terms of what we can accomplish.
So, yes, I would love to do it again. And I will. Unfortunately, people have not been breaking down the door to work with me. It must be reinforced steel, or something, this door. Though I open it constantly, and it always turns out to be-- Wait, I think I hear someone. Hold on… No, just the wind. Again.
My image of the web as a democratic medium where artists can interact with their audience has been realized by some. I seek to emulate those series creators and figure out a way to connect with my audience.
And I think the possibilities of the web are largely unrealized. I would like to do a project that allows for greater viewer interaction. Maybe something that allows viewers to make choices, like the "Choose Your Own Adventure" books they had when I was growing up. But I'm excited to be part of the conversation as the web comes into its own as an entertainment medium.
Q.
What do you watch and read? What kinds of entertainment do you consume on the web?
A.
I read a lot of literary fiction and non-fiction books. When I get back to L.A., I am going to start to read the Doris Kearns Goodwin book on Lincoln, "Team of Rivals." I am a fan of authors such as Ian McEwan and Ann Patchett. Right now, I'm reading the Cormac McCarthy novel, "No Country for Old Men." I also plan on reading all of Jane Austin's novels this year.
I used to watch a lot of television, but I cancelled my cable a year and a half ago and haven't really kept up. I'm a lover of the greatest thing ever on television, aka The Wire. I like a lot of the HBO and Showtime series, actually. There's something about not being interrupted by commercials… On commercial television, I plan on catching up on the episodes of The Office and 30 Rock at some point. But it will probably be after I watch all the episodes of Arrested Development that I missed.
I love independent cinema, and am more likely to see a French thriller than a summer blockbuster. Some of my favorite films of the recent past: Before Sunset, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Children of Men, Shall We Kiss (a beautiful French romantic comedy)… That having been said, I loved Iron Man. A lot of the directors who are coming up now came from independent film, like Jon Favreau or Steven Soderbergh, whose work I adore.
I like to see movies without knowing what they are about, and that is easier when it doesn't have a multimillion dollar ad campaign. I love going to film festivals, though my experience is limited. There is a collection of French films shown in Los Angeles every year, the City of Lights, City of Angels festival, and it is just about my favorite thing in the world.
I seem to be into superlatives today.
On the web, I will watch an occasional television episode or clip of the Daily Show. Or a clip of a cat bathing itself. I am always on the hunt for a good series. I found a great show the other day, "The Midwest Teen Sex Show." I watch everything on Strike TV – and there are some great things, like "Joe and Kate." I'm pretty hard to please – very critical in general – though I can always find something positive or, at the very least, learn from other people's mistakes. It's difficult to keep track of all the series on the web, though. I really liked "You Suck at Photoshop," but haven't watched recent episodes. It got lost in the shuffle.
Where did the idea for Speedie Date come from? How did you hit upon the idea of doing an anthology series? Did you ever consider telling these stories in another medium (tv, film, novel e.g.)?
A.
I remember very clearly the genesis of Speedie Date. I was having coffee with a friend around 1999 in a Starbucks where a speed dating event was taking place. My friend and I marveled at the twenty or thirty people rotating from table to table and tried to come up with explanations as to what was happening. This was in the early years of speed dating, before it had permeated the general consciousness. I believe my friend had heard of it, but didn't know what it was, and brought it up as a possible explanation.
Witnessing speed dating without knowing what is going on is a bit of a surreal experience. Women are sitting at tables talking to men. A bell rings and the men all get up and move to another table. It was like a cult!
I was pursuing television work at the time, and my agents suggested I write a short play, as I was a self-identified playwright (partly because I loved the theater and partly because I was convinced it made me sound smarter and might help land a television job). I didn't have to think long to come up with a topic: by this time I was obsessed with speed dating. I wrote a fifteen minute play which was the basis for the first episode of Speedie Date.
At some point, I tried turning the fifteen minute play into a full length play. The original short and four other speed dating episodes comprised the first act. The second act saw all the characters from the five episodes intermingling. The concept was that two actors would play all the parts, making the second act very difficult to pull off.
As my ambitions turned from television to film, my sometime creative partner and then life partner, Kristiina Hackel, suggested I turn the full length play into a screenplay, which we could then possibly produce as a low-budget feature. Because it is so much easier for me to rewrite a completed work than it is to start something afresh, I threw myself into the project immediately.
During the writers' strike, a call went out for writers to come up with web series ideas that were easily producible. Brainstorming with Kris, now my ex-wife, I suggested using the episodes from the screenplay and combining them with new episodes. Kris loved the idea and I went to work, writing six and a half more in the next two weeks.
The original concept was, and given enough success still is, that we would play out the evening for everyone in the bar, so that there would be ten speed dates total for each character, or a hundred overall. That way, we would have both an anthology and a serialized series, where characters would reappear and recombine. As the series progressed, the emphasis would shift from the individual episode to the characters in it, and the journey they were going on in this evening.
As for the ideas for the individual episodes, usually I started with a premise or a question, and let the characters take the scene where they would. One episode started with the idea that people on speed dates have to present themselves, and that interferes with really being themselves. So I wanted to show the tension between these two states of being. Another started with the idea that I would have two people who had met on a previous speed date. The important thing was to make sure that the episode I was writing was different than the ones I had done before. This became a challenge with the later ones, but by then I had more of a sense of how to write them.
Q.
Talk about the process from concept to the web. Do you write outlines for the episodes? How many script drafts? Who else reads the scripts? Is there any approval process, anyone giving notes? What's the shooting schedule like -- how long do you shoot/episode? Are you block shooting or doing each one individually? How long does the edit take and are you involved in that process? How many people are on the crew? What is the Strike TV team like? Are you enjoying the experience of working with them?
A.
So many questions. Let's see…
The reason we hit on Speedie Date as appropriate for the web… Kris and I both knew that we wanted something that was easy to produce. It would have to be cheap, since we are both pretty poor, and technically feasible, since this was the first project we would be producing together (we had limited producing responsibilities individually in the past). So, one interior location, no costume changes – it seemed a perfect fit. It was a strange project for me, in a way, as I have been spending so much of the past ten years training myself to tell stories using visual tools, and here I was writing scripts without any visual elements.
The number of drafts for the scripts varied from episode to episode. Because the pieces are short, there was very little reenvisioning, or page one rewriting, once the episode was done. If I didn't like it, I would throw it out and start again.
The real challenge for me in writing these pieces was to get them down to an acceptable length. The first few scenes I wrote were two to three times as long as they are in their present form. I sometimes tend to write long.
I didn't write outlines for the individual episodes. An outline, which is all about structure, is a necessity when writing a screenplay or teleplay. For short pieces, I can intuit the structure. Each episode has a rise and fall, with the climax coming somewhere in the middle. Piece of cake.
As to who read the scripts… Kris would get the draft as soon as I was done writing. I would take her notes, then rewrite the script, then give it to another reader and get more notes. Sometimes I will put a script down for some time, then come back to it and act as my own reader. One of the last stages is having actors read the script aloud. This is once the structure is mostly in place, so I can listen for dialog adjustments (though, inevitably, I find that the script needs some structural work). This was the structure for the first five episodes. The second five I wrote, handed to Kris, and we shot them, more or less in first draft form.
One of the most interesting parts of this experiment (and there were a bunch of interesting aspects to this project, such as producing something with my ex-wife) was that Kris and I agreed to share final cut. Neither of us had total authority, which meant we had to work for consensus. Now, there were times that one or the other of us would take control. In the writing stages, I had final say. If I disagreed with Kris's objections, I would work hard to understand them, but ultimately I would decide on the script's final form. When it came to production, Kris had absolute control on set. I could make suggestions, but she would ignore them as she saw fit. In post-production, we are both equally in control.
As to production proper… We shot all ten episodes in four days. Originally, we had hoped for ten days, and were trying to get a restaurant to donate a space for ten shooting days, an absolutely unrealistic goal. When a sound stage became available for four days, we jumped on it, even though we would have to start shooting in three days and we hadn't done such essential preproduction things as finish casting or nail down a director of photography.
Ten episodes in four days meant we would shoot two or three episodes in a day. Our DP, Bernard Evans, was amazing, allowing us to get as much coverage as we did. One day I believe we shot twenty-two pages. It's also a testament to our first AD, Sona Stamboltsyan, who kept us on schedule, making sure we had everything we needed before the twelfth hour was up. We were very lucky, actually, that everything came together as it did. I'd like to credit our incredible producing skills, but things could have broken the other way just as easily. J.J. Rogers, the owner of the sound stage, said he had some flats we could throw up for a set, and I brought in my friend Jeremiah Greenblatt who was able to make a set out of them on the fly. But what if the owner had been wrong and the flats were unusable? Or if Jeremiah hadn't been available that day? I shudder at the thought.
Or here's a good example of luck: Nick Noce, my downstairs neighbor, works on commercials, in the art department. He's a great guy, and I like him a lot. And I had a sense about him, that he was good at what he did. I asked him if he would be our designer, and he said he would if he didn't have a job. So when production rolled around, he happened to be free on two crucial days, the day before we shot and the first day of shooting. And he did an incredible job with almost no budget, and even got his wife, Maiana Noce, to help out. But he could have just as easily not been free. Or been no good at art direction: after all, he had never run an art department, and never worked in film. Or he could have not been my neighbor, and we would have had to find an art director who would work for free (technically deferred payment, but with no guarantee of income). There were a lot of variables that broke our way.
Of course, I have to give some credit to preparation. We did some things right. Three days before the shoot, we lined up a DP, but she warned us that if she got a paying gig she would have to take it. Kris had the sense and resources to find a backup DP, who agreed to come in if something happened. Sure enough, the day before shooting, our DP got hired away and we frantically tried to reach our other DP to make sure he could do the project.
And the thing I feel we really succeeded at was casting. We found a lot of brilliant actors, and because of our lucky timing (at the end of the actors strike, when jobs were scarce), all our first choices were available and agreed to work with us. This was perhaps our greatest piece of luck.
As to the blocking, that's something that you'll have to ask Kris about. I mean, I know there wasn't a lot of time for rehearsal. This is the biggest regret Kris and I have about such a tight schedule. Kris talked to the actors about their characters beforehand, then read through with the actors a couple of times on the day of, gave notes, and then we were shooting. And we had originally talked about shooting in more of a documentary style, with handheld cameras, but budgetary concerns made that approach impossible.
The crew was not large. We called in favors from a lot of friends, but there were still some holes. We had five people show up on the first day to construct the set and hang lights, which was great. The second day, though, was painting, and it was me and a friend of Kris's, who had to leave after four hours. I was there quite late painting the set by my lonesome. As producer, it fell on me to do everything that the crew didn't cover. I was craft services. I was the P.A., and did the shopping before the day started and after we wrapped.
But the crew that we did have was fairly incredible. Everyone was motivated and worked together. Kris's boyfriend, Kevin Brinn, was amazing, doing all of our electrical work, often working late into the night after a full day at his regular job. Perhaps more unbelievable were the friends of friends who stepped up, like Zee Hatley, who is credited as our second unit DP, but who made a lot of the lighting decisions with our DP and operated one of the two cameras we had (which he supplied). Zee, like a lot of people in Hollywood, is vastly overqualified for his day job, and is ready to take on greater responsibilities, but lacks the opportunity. Here, he worked for free because he wanted to build up his CV, because he liked the project, and because he's generous.
The post-production process was very frustrating at first because I didn't understand the complexity of work that needs to be done after production has been completed. You feel like, whew, that's done, let's put it up. But post-production, and particularly editing, is time-consuming and the decisions that get made have as great an effect on the film as anything else you do.
At first we brought on one editor, Josh Lawrence, who went through a number of versions of what became our third episode. Kris would give feedback and Josh would re-cut. And then I was brought in and had a very different take on the direction of the show. Kris and I had to reconcile our differences – she preferred more close-ups and more cuts, where I wanted to play out medium shots for longer periods. In the end, we compromised, playing out a lot more in close up, but eliminating some of the cuts, to produce a style we both feel serves the material. But it wasn't easy coming to consensus, especially given that neither of us could put our foot down and say, "I'm the boss, this is what I've decided."
Soon, it became apparent that we needed more editors. Josh helped us find a number of talented people, and one of them, Stephanie Hernstadt, stepped up to become our Post Production Supervisor, on top of editing three episodes. I had told Kris that I would act as PPS, not having any idea what a PPS did. Here's a hint to aspiring producers: if you don't know what the job entails, it is probable that you are not qualified to do it. Thank God for Stephanie. Though I am still not sure exactly what her job duties are, I am now extremely confident that I would have made a mess of it.
I love the Strike TV people. They are good people. I like that they are taking this initiative, to create this business and try and reshape the way Hollywood works, to give more power to the artists. I am doing everything I can to support them. I hope they all become rich off this venture.
As far as Speedie Date goes, Strike TV had little to do with the making of it, though they would do whatever they could to help out. We found our terrific still photographer, Damon D'Amato, through Strike TV. The most important thing Strike TV did was to inspire me, and a bunch of other writers, to get off our keisters and make art.
AdAge has an article about the trouble many web series are having holding and building their audience:
In the short history of web series, most have struggled to replicate the TV model where audiences come back -- and even build -- from the first episode. And retaining audiences is key, given that brands marketing around web video are paying according to that old TV model: for eyeballs.
Online audiences are spotty, fickle and distracted. Even the best web series have trouble getting numbers when they're not getting front-page promotion on a major video portal such as YouTube or MySpace Video.
They commissioned a study to find out how audience trends were playing out:
What it found is that the series lost 64% of their audiences, on aggregate, from the first to the second episode. The decline becomes less steep from there, but it shows why many series don't last past the 10th episode; by then there just aren't many viewers left. TubeMogul stats include the largest video sites such as YouTube, Dailymotion, Metacafe, MySpace and Yahoo, but don't include Hulu and iTunes sales.
Typical for a web series is a big first episode, partly because portals like to promote new series, followed by choppy up and down numbers. Take Mr. Eisner's "Prom Queen," which went from 405,000 views for episode one to a mere 38,000 for episode two.
According to Adage, in order to provide their advertisers with guaranteed audience numbers, many web series are turning to paid distribution:
It's a change in approach in part driven by the economic model for online video, where the video itself is as much an ad as it is entertainment. Brands are eager to underwrite a series that reaches the right audience, but they're asking for guaranteed audiences in return. "The basic principle is there aren't enough views to go around," said Tremor Media CEO Jason Glickman.
Tremor, like Broadband Enterprises, has developed a side business of syndicating shows across their ad networks, making the ad unit a video player, much like Google is doing with "Family Guy" creator Seth McFarlane's web series "Cavalcade of Cartoon Comedy," which has racked up nearly 30 million views since July on Google's AdSense network. Broadband Enterprises recently entered the content-creation business as well to provide advertisers with both content and distribution.
The power went out for a sizeable chunk of downtown Toronto around ten pm last night. Eighteen hours later it still isn't back on and Twitter has been all a-Twitter about the event. Everyone's tweeting and retweeting the latest hyper local news about which block is still dark, who's offering a place to warm up and free wifi and which bus routes are slowest. All the conventional news gathering organizations have turned up to monitor the conversation.
I think the steady stream of tweets are in part due to the poetry of the hashtag that @ryankuder coined last night: #darkto. It's succinct and easy to type, even if your fingers are numb. It's got its comedy "K" to lighten the mood and the abbreviated "to" that makes it familiar and inside. But best of all is the choice of "dark" -- not "blackout" or "cold". It comes at the event from an oblique angle. You had to be there to get what it means.
@ryankuder joked in his twitter feed that he was opening a microblog tagging consultancy. In all seriousness, I think the perfection of #darkto is part of its success. It is so poetic that Twitters couldn't wait jump in and use it. Once the tag brought everyone's stream together the discussion became a torrent of tweets that has lasted many hours with no sign of tailing off yet.
This is the best of Twitter. Drawing us together to share a common event. A chance for strangers to exchange thoughts and information. Spreading rapidly and creating that new kind of community that makes us love the web so much.
Cold as Toronto may have been in the last few hours, its new personality shone through. The new wired Toronto has a strong community spirit speaking eloquently when many voices come together through the power of a single hash.
Once upon a time a long time ago, a man stood up in front I was in and held up a floppy disc, the old big floppy kind – remember those? The man waved the disk at the crowd of several hundred in a ballroom in Montreal and told us that one of these would meet our storage needs for a lifetime.
This week, I assembled a 1T hard drive to add my drive family. Not quite in the same price range as a pair of Manolos but twice as sexy, my newest drive is a Seagate Barracuda housed in Vantec NexStar CX case.
With a hat tip to Sex in the City, I named the drive Big and sat it next to Black (200 GB) and Blue (300GB). My G5 has a 250 gig internal drive.
Boston's Tim Letteney is telling a story 140 characters at a time. He's tweeting it under the handle @Spore_Story.
I have no idea who Tim is... his Twitter bio includes no link to a website, but there's some interesting prose here. I wish there were a little more action in the tale but I do like the relationship that's developing between our hero and the bookstore clerk. I must say I was a little surprised that she was ringing him up.
Here's a sample. Remember to read it from the bottom up.
Chapter two is barely begun so it's by no means too late to follow this work of Twitter fiction. I know there are some other examples of Twitter pose and poetry out there but I've lost track of them. Hook me up with links if you know of them. I'd love to post a list.
Indy Film Wisconsin and Blogtalk radio has an interview with Polly Frost and husband Ray Sawhill about her funny, horrifying and filthy filthy work. In addition to writing and producing The Fold, they have also released an "audio entertainment" called Sex Scenes.
The interview is a really interesting discussion about working and producing in the digital world:
Now the sad word from John that he hasn't been able to finance the series and doesn't see a way to make money on the web:
The web series business model has proved tough for everyone to figure out. Yes, Joss Whedon’s Dr. Horrible was fantastic, but even that couldn’t get the ad sponsors it should have. Selling through iTunes is an option for someone with Whedon’s name brand, but I don’t see it working for The Remnants, even given the recognizability of some of the cast members.
This is shitty news. If someone with John's talent and reach can't get her done, who can?
If you still think the answer is you, study John's pilot and his script. There's a lot here to learn.
Otherwise, join me in mourning the loss of a potentially terrific piece of entertainment by watching the pilot, below. (Click through to Vimeo to see it in HD.)
If you're a web creator and you haven't read Marc Hustvedt end of year call to action on Tubefilter, what are you waiting for?
Late-to-the-party being my middle name, I only just found it via Neil Mossey's excellent blog Story Gas (another must read for web creators).
Marc's important advice in a nutshell? Web creator promote thyself. Only he says it in detail with lots of good examples and suggestions:
Step Up
There is an explosion in web series out there. This is game changing. Don’t let me belittle this fact - we have a revolution on our hands.
Here’s what I’m asking of you all: to step it up this year and think big. This isn’t about celebrity. This is about leadership. I’m asking all of you to be leaders of your creative visions.
First of all, before you actually go down this path, I need you to ask yourself if you are ready for this. I mean really ready for this. It is going to fundamentally change your life. Anyone can make something and throw it up on the web, but building a successful web series franchise takes a whole other level of commitment.
In each episode, we spend six minutes at a different table during a speed dating event. The acting is strong and the writing is great. Each little vignette is sharp and fun -- a poignant short story.
Speedie Date is written and produced by Lorin Wertheimer, a playwright, former As the World Turns writer and -- if you can believe anything you read on Facebook -- a Brown alumni, like me. Five episodes are up so far with five more on the way.
You can wade through my long, long, last and very earnest post about community on the web or watch this video from Jonathan Mann of Rock Cookie Bottom, which is far more entertaining, funny and melodic.
I’ve been grappling of late with the concept of online community. It seems on the surface like it should be a good thing. I love the internet and community is a fine concept. Put them together and it should be excellent. Yes? No?
For the last four weeks, I've been getting death threat comments on this blog. But that's not what pushed me over the edge. What finally did it was some disturbing threats of violence and sex posted on two other blogs... blogs authored and/or owned by a group that includes prominent bloggers.
An online community of bloggers attacked her. Sierra, who’s blog was positive and beautiful, stopped blogging. I’m sure the impact on her non-virtual life has been enormous and long lasting.
Less dramatic, but similar in many ways is the recent Twittack on CBC producer Ira Basen. Basan was actually virtually slagged by some Twitterers while he was onstage giving a speech. An online community – of which he wasn’t a part – ganged up on him. There was a meanness to the attack. Maybe they didn’t like his ideas, but the words don’t feel like an intellectual challenge. They seem hostile.
Online communities can get vicious. And when two communities get mad at the same time, there can be a blog battle, like the one that took place after I presented Story2.OH at Case Camp last year, with the Jets/PR-types on one side and the artist/screenwriting Sharks on the other. To appreciate the scope of the virtual war, you have to scroll down on both links are read the comments, along with those below my original post on getting deleted by Facebook. It was the virtual version of a territorial war – no knives, but some colourful use of language. It certainly left lasting scars.
Speaking of wars, remember Color Wars, ze frank’s inventive collection of online community games for the Twitter community? Twitter bingo, online Rock, Paper, Scissors, Rap Battle Remix. I don’t think anyone argued with the judges or stamped their foot about losing. That was big time virtual fun. And what a great sense of community it developed. There wasn’t any bitterness between say Team Puce and the Off White Team. Color War built a sense of camaraderie.
The web has certainly created a sense of community for Canadian screenwriters. We began gathering virtually around Dead Things on Sticks, Ink Canada and Facebook, then expanded to add more blogs and Twitter to our realm as well as our non-virtual events. In my experience this is a warm, supportive, friendly, funny community that knows how to hoist a pint. This is an example of online community excellence.
But check out what smart Ivor Tossol has to say about Facebook. He says we’re all fakety-fake-fake when we’re online and there’s no room for depression in a status update.
Every status update, every comment, every little fart of consciousness that gets posted to that site sounds more or less like every other one: an attempt to look smart, sound detached, act aloof, as if life really were an endless series of caustic remarks and mild annoyances.
It's like being trapped in a nightmarish Oscar Wilde theme park, where everything is surface and snark and everybody has an animatronic smile fixed on their face. It's not what's said on Facebook that amazes me. It's what's left unsaid: Nobody is vulnerable or depressed. Nobody is on anti-depressants.
There’s extreme truth in what he’s saying.
When I interviewed Damian Kindler, creator of Sanctuary, which started out online and then became a tv series, he had plenty to say about community. A strong community had formed around Sanctuary when it launched on the web. And Damian came to hate them. He had hoped to harness their enthusiasm and turn them into ambassadors for the series. Instead they succumbed to petty in fighting and were a massive drain on his time and energy to the point that he had to close down most of his own online presence to get his life back. Online communities can be a pain in the fucking ass.
Yesterday on Twitter were all the people who noticed and tweeted #peace. We didn’t make a difference, didn’t bring any wars to an end or save lives and we probably didn’t even draw the attention of any politicians. But collectively, we called for peace. Can thinking about it, hoping for it, voicing our desire for it be wrong? Of course not. Online community can have a collective conscience; we can dream together.
Online communities take many forms, kind of like offline communities. We humans are a varied and interesting bunch. We never cease to amaze me. Individuals want different things from the web and use it differently. Sometimes we hook up with a bunch of like-minded types and our grouping takes on a personality of its own.
In some ways, being on the web is like being back in high school. There are the emo kids and the goths, jocks and preppies, the hipsters and the nerds and many many more. There are definitely some mean kids out there. Beware of them. Despite the fact that their sticks and stones are only words, they can definitely hurt you.
But there are lots of other kids in the playground. Smart ones, fun ones, the ones who know all the best toys.
Recently I had a Twitter exchange with Karen Walton that turned into a blog post about what Twitter can do for writers. I had been floundering around in the dark trying to make sense of my obsession and Karen’s thoughts on the subject had been sort of an epiphany for me. But when I blogged about it, the comment gave me even great insight.
One of the comments I loved most was from MJ Reid, a member of my virtual posse – we met on Facebook and are Twee-pals as well, but have yet to meet in person:
Members of primate groups (bands? communities?) make efforts to connect with the other members of their groups, even just with a touch or a couple of seconds of togetherness in a task. This (apparently) fosters common purpose and belonging. The same happens with human groups, and always has. Getting together at meal-time; religious and / or social events; marriages, births, funerals; sport and games; art and music - all examples of social community building.
The big difference with Twitter and the like is it allows community building to be intentional and non-local. You’re not constrained by physical proximity. You can add and remove members of your intentional community at will. You can connect faster, wider, and more powerfully than ever before. Heady stuff.
That’s one of the things I love most about my online communities, how they’ll apply their minds to the problems that challenge me. Collectively, I have confidence we’ll figure it all out.
I get friended from time to time on Facebook by people I don’t remember meeting. Usually, I’ll poke around a bit to try to figure out who they are but I can’t always figure it out. I have a couple of blogs and an active internet life and so not all my virtual friends have had a presence in my actual life. I routinely decline the friendships of people with thousands of friends, but pretty much anyone else, I accept. I figure they know why we should be friends and all will become apparent to me in the fullness of time.
Usually I don’t think about it too much because I accept that the universe will unfold at its own pace. But when someone named Muffin MacGuffin friends you… well, you don’t forget. A name like that doesn’t come along by accident. If you’re a screenwriter (which I am), you have to figure that the owner of the name is too. Because a MacGuffin is a literary device used in screenwriting. The Maltese Falcon, R2D2 and Casablanca’s letters of transit are some of most famous MacGuffins of all time.
It seemed to me that Muffin MacGuffin friended me because of my screenwriting blog -- probably a tv writer. It also seemed to me that anyone named Muffin was female.
Then my niece, a freshman at Tufts University in Boston, mentioned a web series about campus life that runs on TUTV (Tufts TV). The guy who writes it, she said, is known as Muffin MacGuffin. "I know him," I shouted, even though we were in a public place and I whipped out my iPhone and found him among my Facebook friends. Then we loaded up YouTube and started watching the series.
It turns out Muffin is a Tufts student and of the male persuasion and he writes a terrific little web series called Mouthwash.
Mouthwash is a sexy soapy look at life on the campus of Tufts University, where MacGuffin is a student. But man, can the kid write. His dialogue, twisting plotlines and sense of humour are fantastic. The production values and acting aren’t quite as sharp, but not bad, not bad at all. This b>is a college production but way better than a whole lot of stuff that’s passing for pro on the web.
Take a little looksy at episode 9 below – the second season premiere. You’ll get a good look at my close personal Facebook friend Muffin.
Also very funny and clever are some these teasers.
According to Hitchcock, a MacGuffin is irrelevant. This one? Clearly not.
Did you resolve to get in shape this year? Looking for a new sport to get you there? Backjumping might just be the answer. This excellent mini-documentary on the up and coming sport of Backjumping comes from writer/director Jay Dahl and Black Dog Films.
Do you have any prediction for the future of screen-based entertainment? How is the web drama series going to change film and TV? Where do you think we're going to end up?
I don't have a favorite episode: I don't have the objective distance to judge them. They are all my babies. Complicating this is residual emotions from the writing process, from production, from post-production. I'm so proud that they are no longer scripts! My favorite moment, though, might come at the end of the episode between Chad and Amanda (episode two).
So, yes, I would love to do it again. And I will. Unfortunately, people have not been breaking down the door to work with me. It must be reinforced steel, or something, this door. Though I open it constantly, and it always turns out to be-- Wait, I think I hear someone. Hold on… No, just the wind. Again.
Boston's Tim Letteney is telling a story 140 characters at a time. He's tweeting it under the handle 
