Earlier this summer, my wife bought 12 general admission tickets to the Reading Phillies. 12 may seem excessive, but when you have 4 kids – that translates into 2 games. Problem is, we had 2-1/2 summers crammed into one this year between summer camps, vacations, remodeling the home, what have you. So, after the first trip, my pregnant wife, 4 kids and I went to, my wife turns to me and says, I’ve had enough, you and the boys can use the rest of the tickets. I quickly went to work, arranging games to with my 2 boys, co-workers, etc.

One of these games was several Saturday nights ago. My oldest son Luke is a sports fanatic to the highest level. At 8 years old, he has the ability to memorize standings, stats, and anything else on the sports page he can find. He loves all Philly teams and is especially fond of the Reading Phillies – as his hero Ryan Howard played for the R-Phils in First Energy Stadium.

Luke made a great friend in 9-year-old neighborhood kid Ethan, who is just as big a Phillies fan as Luke. Unfortunately, Ethan’s parents are going through a rough divorce that is understandably tough on him. When the surplus tickets came into play, both my wife and I agreed one R-Phils game we would go to would be just me, Luke and Ethan. No little brothers, no other friends, just us 3 fans – to give Ethan something to concentrate on other than life. To boot, Philadelphia Phillies pitcher Brett Myers – one of the 2008 World Series champions – was rehabbing on the R-Phils and slated to pitch Saturday night in a double-header, to be topped off with fireworks.

The weather’s been dicey for the past week, already thwarting another planned trip to Reading. So, come Saturday, I check the team’s website and accuweather.com to make sure the game is on. Of course, the team’s site says the game is on (when do they ever cancel a game?) and AccuWeather said there was a 50% chance of isolated thunderstorms come 8pm. Game time is 6:05pm, so that would give us at least 2 hours of baseball. Worth the trip.

Luke and I pick up Ethan at 5pm sharp. It takes 45 minutes to get there – we should be good. Now, I’ve been to Reading a few times, but still use faded MapQuest directions to get there…especially since their detours everywhere these days due to the excessive road work. Ethan, although a great kid, is a bit of a know-it-all and chimes in on the ride there, Don’t we have to take the highway to get there?  I calm him and Luke down, Relax, I know where I’m going. We’ll be on the highway soon enough.
            Once on the highway, I hear sighs of relief from the backseat. However, I take the wrong exit and wind up in West Reading. Not a nice place to be. So, I call home and ask my direction-bearing gifted wife for advice. I just took the wrong 422 exit, relax, take the next exit. And so, I only lost about a minute or so in travel.

I park miles away since there is never parking available right at the stadium. They’ve even roped off field parking behind the stadium – so, even less sports are available. The boys and I park and hike to the stadium; we enter the gates at 5:50pm. Not bad, I thought to myself foolishly. Again, I’m used to traveling with 4 kids and a pregnant wife – to get to a game BEFORE it starts is a miracle.

Yet, as I enter the turnstile and DO NOT get my FREE adult size hat giveaway for the night, I realize I’m too late on many levels. The park is PACKED. It’s Harley-Davison Day a sign proclaims, and the park is this weird mix of bikers, lost-and-confused suburbanites, white trash and other oddities.

Ethan has $20 burning a hole in his pocket and wants to buy baseballs for players to sign. I tell him that’s probably NOT going to happen – as the park is packed to the gills, but it’s his day and money – let him buy what he wants.

After that, we struggle to make our way to the MENS room. Both boys chime they don’t have to go. I don’t care: go now (as I DO NOT want to leave my seat once Myers starts pitching). We then head off to left field where the red General Seating seats are. After fighting the crowds I come to see all seats are either occupied or saved with programs, bags, hats, etc. I HATE the saving of seats. Those people are not there. I’m here. Give me the seat. It’s a terrible thing. So, we beg and barter for 3 seats to no avail. Okay boys, let’s go over to that sea of red seats high above home plate.

            I check with one of the ushers along the way. Can we sit up there in the red section? The ancient usher smiles, Of course. Red is General Seating.

            Great. Let’s roll. Ethan, Luke and I fight our way to the seats. A rather plump, older  woman who looks like she belongs in a casino, not a ballpark erupts as the boys and I are about to sit. You can’t sit here! You can’t sit here! These are RE-SERV-VED!

            Relax. I say, The usher over there said we could sit here.

            NO YOU CAN’T! USHER! USHER!

            Soon, I see an even older usher make his way up the long staircase. Now, I’m more worried he’ll have a heart attack then us getting in any kind of trouble. What’s the problem?

            The lady rattles off how we just stormed up here and tried to sit in her RE-serv-VED (that’s how she pronounced it, like 3 separate words) seats.

            This is a group, you can’t sit here.

            I’ve had it. Luke has had it. Ethan has had it.

            Look, I point to the usher miles away that said we could sit here, THAT GUY said WE could sit here.

            You can’t. the usher in front of me says. Other people sitting down are now chiming in with That’s right. Uh-huh. You tell him. Suddenly, I’m at some witness revival meeting with no God in sight.

            Defeated, I ask Okay, tell me where these boys and I can sit.

            Left field or Right field – red seats only.

            Oh, I say a la Ferris Bueller, like these RED seats.

            The irony was lost on him. Yes. He replied.

            Luke SIGHS the loudest SIGH ever. C’mon! We need seats.
            Out of the mouths of babes…I lean over and ask him to remain calm and confess, You’re too much like me. Don’t stress over this. We’ll get seats.

            So, we make our way to right field…we’re they usually sit handicap and mentally-challenged people. It also is right by the R-Phils bullpen and there’s Myers warming up. My boys are 10’ from him and in mild awe. Luke is stressing about the seats and I say to him, Look at Myers. This is the closest you’ll ever be to a World Champion. Ethan has his recently-purchased baseballs out and wants an autograph which never happens. No seats, so we make our way BACK to where we started left field.

            Luke points out they’re playing the National Anthem. I’m now beyond livid and tell him calmly, I know. Just keep walking.

            By the end of the anthem we reach left field. I pester more seat-savers to no avail. We stand on the steps. Luke asks me, Are we going to stand here the WHOLE game? No, I tell him, someone will leave.

            Sure enough, one woman with a newborn can’t calm the crying kid and berates her husband for picking these seats. They leave and the kind elderly lady on the end tells me, Quick, sit your boys down.

            Finally, we sit down…directly under the loudest PA system ever. Ethan says, These seats hurt my ears. Yeah, I feign to hear him, They’re great seats.

            Myers quickly gives up a homerun, then 2 hits. Luke frowns. Hey, at least we seats, right, Luke? He smiles.

            Then the first drop of rain falls. 6:30pm. The lady behind me, who has never been at a baseball game – or outside, apparently – starts to flip out. After using the Lord’s name in vain, she freaks out: is that rain, look at the lightning over there, there’s a storm coming, we’re in danger, I’m going to be hit by lightning, we could ALL be hit by lightning, what are we going to do?!...

            Luke looks at me, Are we going to be hit by lightning?!

            I calm him down, We ARE NOT going to be hit by lightning. Tell you what: if you get hit by lightning, I’ll give you a million dollars. How’s that?

            A million?! he smiles.

            I nod. He sits with a big smile on his face.

            The lady behind us continues to freak out. Her husband tries to calm her down. No effect. I shoot her a look. PLEASE SHUT UP.

            Now, the rain comes down. 6:45PM. Most leave including spaz lady behind us. I pull out an emergency poncho and wrap both boys in it. Throw a beach towel over my head. The ground crew covers the field and the PA says, This is a short storm. We should resume play shortly. Don’t go anywhere!

            I ask the boys: do want to hang out here or go get cover.

            They debate and say they want to stay. Okay, fine with me. Then, the downpour starts. Hard rain.

            Okay, let’s get cover.

            By now, the entire stadium minus idiots like us has either left the park or is huddled under the bleachers. It looks like a NY subway at rush hour under each bleacher. I push the kids into the mix. Luke is incredibly nervous. Ethan says, This stinks.

I try to remain optimistic. This shouldn’t last long besides you’ll always remember when you saw Brett Myers pitch for the Reading Phillies. Not because of the way he pitched, but because of this. This moment right now, as we’re huddled under these bleachers soaking wet. My dad always said that crap to me and, I found, he was right most of the time.

Low and behold, the rain seemed to slow. So, we venture back out to the seats. And, then it begins to rain even harder AGAIN. So, we go back under the bleachers one more time. My mind is racing. I need to do something fun with these kids.

Okay, here’s the deal. I say, Ethan and Luke, let’s go get a pretzel. If it’s still raining after that, we’ll hit the road, okay?

Luke is already nodding yes and Ethan disagrees, I want to see the game.

Ethan, I gently say, I think the game isn’t going to happen. But let’s eat, and we’ll see.

So, we head out. Luke has now taken the plastic poncho half off and plastic is wrapped around his head. I run over to him and rip it off – fearful that’s he’ll suffocate himself to death. He complains about not having the poncho. You’re wet but alive, deal with it. I say to him.

Then, it hits. Somehow, God found a way to make it rain even harder. Water is literally pouring down like a waterfall. Okay! I yelled above the din of rain hitting the asphalt. Forget the pretzel, head up here for cover.
            We make our way to a private party deck. Standing room is by a makeshift bar. Bikers and inked up tramps are around us. It smells like bad beer and cheap perfume. What’s that smell? Luke asks. I just hope he doesn’t smell urine.

Exhausted, I admit defeat. Guys, we’re going home.

Awwwwwwwwwwwww. In stereo is their reply. 7:15pm

Okay, on the walk back to the car…in the rain…you need to decide something.

What? Ethan asks.

Doughnuts or Ice Cream. We’ll stop for doughnuts or ice cream on the way home.

Makes sense. Luke says to me. He knows me too well. He looks at Ethan, they reply together: Doughnuts.

I smile. I have coupons for Dunkin Doughnuts, we pass a Dunkin on the way out here, we should be good.

Think about it on the way back. And so, we walk, in pouring rain to my Saturn wagon blocks away.

Once there, they confirm that they’re wet, tired and want doughnuts. I can relate.

Problem is, it’s pouring rain and I take a different way home – where we DO NOT pass a Dunkin’ Donuts. Ugh. Worse yet, ever 5 minutes I hear, I’m hot or I’m cold. as I switch back and forth from AC to HEAT defroster to keep my windows from fogging up.

Now, there’s a DQ right by our neighborhood – a minute away at best. The nearest Dunkin’ open – 20 minutes away, opposite direction from where we’re coming from. 8:30pm.

Luke sees we’re close to home and blurts out indignantly, We’re going home?! His voice reeked of betrayal.

No, no! I calm him down, We can either get ice cream at the DQ right here, right now OR drive yet another 20 minutes in the rain. I pray they pick DQ.

Their answer is unanimous: DOUGHNUTS!

Really?! I ask them to reconsider.

DOUGHNUTS!

Okay, fine. They didn’t get their game and I’m determined for Ethan to have a night out, even if it is till 3am.

So, I get on the 30 Bypass and, guess what, the storm has caught up with us and it POURS, so bad that cars are either going 20mph or parking on the shoulder. I press on.

Luke whines, Why does it rain WHEREVER we go? Why is the rain FOLLOWING US?! He’s genuinely pissed.

Listen, Charlie Brown, I tease. It’s rain. It’s everywhere. Just think about what doughnuts you’re going to get.

I hear talk of glazed, double chocolate, that pink kind. All seems okay.

We make it to Dunkin and scramble under an umbrella to get inside. 9:15pm

It’s an icebox in Dunkin’ – the AC is WAY cranked up. The boys are shivering. The cashier is finishing throwing out the bagels. Oh no, I say aloud, please say we can get doughnuts.

He reassures me we can, but they close at 10pm. Fair enough, let’s order.

Guys, I encourage, let’s get hot chocolate and 2 doughnuts each. I offer the cashier a soggy coupon for a half dozen. He pities me and gives me a dozen for 3 bucks. I order myself a decaf coffee (he makes me a fresh pot), hot chocolate for the boys. Pay the bill, tip the cashier, take the boys to the restroom, set up chairs at a table (they were ready to close up with chairs on the tables). We sit down.

Now, Ethan, I start, the Hot Chocolate is…

Too late, he burns his mouth on the Hot Choc and complains a great deal about it.

It’s HOT chocolate, Ethan, I tell him, not COLD chocolate. Let it cool.

I’m freezing, he shares.

Luke reads my mind, We’re ALL freezing, Ethan.

Eat your doughnut, I order. We’ve all had it. Some fun.

Ethan eats his first doughnut. I think I’ve had enough.

Okay, I tell him. Ask the cashier for a bag, put some doughnuts in it for your mom and little brother. We’ll take whatever’s left in the box.

Ethan struggles to get a bag from the cashier. Neither person can understand each other’s English. He gets a bag and takes a few doughnuts.

Luke is smiling, powder all over his face. At least I made him happy, I think.

We clean up the table, put the chairs back on top of the table.

A single guy leaving the Dunkin’ sees us, Guys night out?

Yeah. I reply miserably, Rain out at Reading.

Oh, he offers feebly.

What do you say to that, after all?

So, we climb in the car. I give Ethan his glove, bag of trinkets from the park, bag of doughnuts, everything that is his. I tell him, when we pull up to your home – you’re ready to go.

9:35pm We’re in the car on the bypass. 15 minutes from home.

I don’t feel well, Ethan groans. I don’t even need to see Luke to know he’s panicking. Luke’s greatest fear in life is seeing other people throw up.

What do you mean, Ethan, you don’t feel well? I ask.

Sure enough, he says, I think I’m going to throw up.

I DON’T WANT TO SEE IT! DAD! MAKE HIM STOP! Luke’s hit overdrive, so much for being happy.

Ethan, roll down your window.

He does.

Now, remember that bag of doughnuts for your mom?

Yes, he answers.

If you spew, spew in that.

Ewwwww! Luke chimes, He’ll RUIN the doughnuts.

I’m so happy my son knows how to prioritize.

Doesn’t matter. Ethan, just do that.

So, I start to talk to Ethan to occupy his mind. Ask him about his first day of school coming up on Monday, his school bus number, etc. With each question, he gets more and more aggravated with me and suddenly stops answering. I look in my rearview mirror to see Luke, sweatshirt pulled up to his eyesockets, peeking over the collar, eyes nervously pointed at Ethan. Ethan doesn’t move, he’s passed out.

Luke, I whisper, close your eyes and be quiet.

He does and I motor home.

I’m still holding my breath as we near the first entrance our neighborhood. I blow past it.

You missed your turn! Luke cries out.

The second entrance is closer to Ethan’s townhouse, I explained.

Oh, Luke offers. He can’t wait for this ride to be over. Me, too.

I pull up to his house, scramble to get his door, open.

Ethan, wake up- HE DARTS PAST FOR HIS HOME. No goodbye, just straight for his door. His mom opens the door and he plows past her to the bathroom.

She looks at me confused. He says he might be sick. Doughnuts. Sorry.

Thanks, she smiles. Oh boy, she says to herself as she closes the door.

I make my way back to the car. I did it. I got him home with no puke in my car.

Luke and I drive home. 30 seconds pass in total silence.

Luke? I ask.

Yes?

You okay?

Yeah, Dad. Am I going to get sick?

No, I offer. Ethan probably got carsick.

Am I going to get carsick?

No.

No?

No, I explain. When you were a baby, your mother and I drove you day and night to Michigan. So, you’re a traveler. You WON’T get carsick.

Oh, Luke offers.

Some silence until I offer up: I’m SOOOOO glad he didn’t throw up.

Luke sighed: Me, too!
            I was praying hard to Jesus he wouldn’t throw up, I share.

Me, too!, Luke confesses, I was praying IF he DID throw up it would fly up and out the window.

Luke, I explain, their child safety windows. They only roll half way down; that would never happen.

Suddenly, I’m in an argument with Luke about projectile vomiting. IT can happen, Dad!, he counters, I saw an episode of Hannah Montana where they threw up OUT the window.

Fair enough, I say. We get out of the car and hug each other.

Thanks for tonight, Dad…and the doughnuts, Luke offers.

I smile. I’m truly blessed with a good son.

Thanks for not throwing up, I tell him.

He laughs.

One of my all-time favorite movie quotes is from “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” (1952). Based on the short story by Ernest Hemmingway, screenwriter Casey Robinson eloquently portrays a writer’s first steps. On a lake at night, young Harry Street (played by the eternally suave Gregory Peck) has just abandoned a voluptuous girl on the shoreline and ventured towards a remote cabin where his wise, old Uncle Bill resides. As he approached the cabin, the girl makes it abundantly clear to Harry that if he enters, she will no longer be interested in him. Somewhere in the distance, a lively carnival plays “Ain’t We Got Fun”, echoing all the pleasure and enjoyment Harry is abandoning to become a writer. Uncle Bill (stoically portrayed by Leo G. Carroll) waxes philosophical on the subject, “Well, there’s different kinds of writer as there’s different kinds of everything. You can become another hack. It’s easy. Peddle soap to housewives. Nothing wrong with peddling soap. You can make a fortune.”

                While I’ve “peddled” many a thing in my own career of writing commercials, I’ve yet to see a financial boost that I would label a fortune. However, writing commercials and promotions is a worthwhile endeavor loaded with rewards I never could have imagined. Commercial scripts are to feature-length screenplays as poems are to novels; it’s a concentrated writing experience with just as much effort, if not more, making it the perfect screenwriting exercise. Its format asks you to play with characters, dialogue, camera direction – the works. Also, advertising is PITCHING, whether you’re selling a show, product, brand, or concept, and perfecting the pitch is essential for any screenwriter. Learning to pitch the entire history of a century old company can help develop skills that will make pitching your next idea for a measly 2-hour film that much easier. Plus, it has the potential benefit any gig has: it’s another resume piece, pays the bills and produces contacts that may be useful to your career. Marie Osmond made a cameo in one of my short films the day after she read an internet advertisement I wrote for her line of collectible dolls. The cameo was a nice perk for me on top of getting paid for the spot. Lastly, proving you are capable of small projects can lead to large projects and this truth has lasted the test of time. It’s biblical, as Matthew 25:21 points out: “Well done! You are an industrious and reliable servant. Since you were dependable in a small matter I will put you in charge of larger affairs.”

The Client

                It all starts with the client, the first essential ingredient that provides both the material and the paycheck. Clients surface from any walk of life: demanding studio executives wanting to hype their latest film or TV program, eager inventors in search of an infomercial or web ad, corporate PR directors that want to redefine their product’s image, or charities interested in educating the masses. The trick is to feel out the client and decide if you want to work for them. That may even include working for the client in another line of work, but voicing the interest to write for them. Years ago, I took a job moving couches on and off a rotating television set on QVC (yes, the shopping channel) because I was promised opportunities to write. Within 6 months, I was writing scripts for one of their secondary shopping channels. Today, I write all kinds of content for QVC with a concentration in on-air promotions and have had the pleasure of seeing Barry Manilow, Lainie Kazan, Teri Garr, Rocco DeSpirito, Ali Vincent, Martha Stewart and other personalities eloquently deliver words I put in their mouth.

                Once you know who you are writing for and what you are writing about, consider your venue. Day by day, ads invade our lives. They’re everywhere: television, pre-trailers shows at the movies, websites, direct email, digital billboards, movie rentals, and so on. Each venue needs a commercial and each commercial needs a writer. The venue will affect your vision and voice. In the end, it boils down to two things: length and type. While Super Bowl ads can be a long as two minutes, you’ll find that most television commercials will be considerably shorter. The old standard is thirty seconds per commercial, but now more than ever, airtime is precious and attention spans are fleeting. I mainly write twenty second promotions for QVC. Internet advertisements, which often run before short films, webisodes, or webcasts, can be ten seconds or less. Your client may have arranged where the commercial will run and that will make your work easier. If your client has no clue where to advertise, consider the material. What audience needs to see this product? Where might they see it? As a writer, your job is to write. If the client wants you to secure the venue, or even physically direct and produce the spot, that is an entirely different conversation. Focus on determining the length and the type of commercial.

There’s Different Kinds of Everything

                It’s just like Uncle Bill said in The Snows of Kilimanjaro, “Well, there’s different kinds of writer as there’s different kinds of everything.” There are many types of ads as the industry is constantly redefining itself to keep pace with fads, technology, and tastes. However, I find myself returning to four basic types and, most recently, combined types in a twenty second spot:

                Definition – This spot will explain or showcase the complete or partial history of the brand or product type, often in nostalgic terms. It will also hint that you should become part of their history. In other words, buy their product. Example: Honda Odyssey “Respect the Van” commercial. With music that clearly sounds like the theme to The A-Team, this commercial features various TV clips of police dramas from the last several decades. Each exciting clip shows a van crashing through gates, jumping over gorges, and other ridiculous stunts. The commercial ends with the Honda logo and 1970s-era graphics reading: Respect the Van and The Van’s Still Rockin’.

                Concept – You know the funny commercial everybody is talking about, but they can’t remember the product? That’s a concept spot. In essence you’re tying an idea to the product, but not necessarily showing the product or subject you’re showcasing in the spot.  Remember “This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs.” No drug abuse was shown in the commercial, or even the ill effects of drug abuse, just the frying of an egg. Who knew a frying egg could send the message to stop smoking pot? These spots can be powerful and popular. But if the audience remembers only the concept and not the “thing” being plugged, it is debatable whether they’re successful. The commercial can resemble a short film, mood piece, even an avant-garde video. Right now, companies trying to prove that they are “green” are scrambling to make concept commercials advertising their eco-friendliness. 

                Product Demo – This certainly is not the most popular type of commercial, but the most recognizable. A product demo is a spot that hits you over the head with claims of the product advantages. Think of OxiClean or any mini-infomercial featuring the late, great pitchman Billy Mays.

                Teaser – Similar to concept ads, a teaser hints at the product or idea it’s plugging and may or may not feature it. Whether you are promoting a sneak peak at this week’s episode of America’s favorite television program, the next blockbuster, or even a new flavor of scented hair gel, the teaser gives the audience just enough to whet their appetite so that they will tune in, get out to the event, or buy the product. Often, these spots are loaded with on-screen graphics, showing little to no product images or video footage whatsoever. Thanksgiving Day is loaded with these teaser commercials from Kohl’s, Macy’s, Kmart and many other brick-and-mortar stores giving shoppers multiple reasons in bright, bold graphics to show up at their store at ungodly hours on Black Friday. Shoppers respond to these ads, showing up in droves at the store the next morning, even though they are not fully aware of the merchandise being offered.

Script Format

                When it comes to script format, the basic rule is to use a format your director and producer can follow. If the script requires client approval, KEEP IT SIMPLE.  No one has time to learn a complicated script format – no matter how organized you regard a certain format.  Make sure the client can follow the action, voiceover, graphics, and additional elements within the spot. Often, a client will review the scripts with storyboards. Let the director and producer worry about storyboards, your concern is the script.

The split screen format is the one that’s worked for the best for me. At the top of the page you list all pertinent info: production company, project, draft number, major players that need to be included in the approval process, any vital data you, the director and producer could use at any given moment. I try to limit the data listed since notes received in email, meetings, etc. change too frequently. Below that, I split the page into two columns. in the left column: WHAT YOU SEE ON SCREEN including graphics, models/actors stage directions, locations, product types, transition types and so on. In the right column: WHAT YOU HEAR including music, voiceover, personality talking to camera (either pre-recorded or to be filmed), provided clips/sound bites, and sound effects. In some cases, I’ll move a left column element to the right column and vice versa IF it makes the script easier to read. Here is a sample of a split screen script I recently wrote for Nolan Miller Glamour Collection, a QVC program featuring jewelry designed by Hollywood icon Nolan Miller and his design partner Marc Zunino.

This is my aforementioned “combined” 20 second spot. The first part of the promotion is concept, setting the new direction of the Nolan Miller Glamour Collection. The later part of the commercial is teaser/product demo – showcasing the pretty, must-have jewelry. Also, note that I left some question marks and alternate voiceover readings on certain elements within the script. This is the resulting luxury of being both a writer and a producer who has a good relationship with the client. Since I know all involved parties, I can show suggestions I’m willing to try on set, on location, or in post-production.  In most cases, a writer does not have this luxury and needs to commit to everything down to single word choices before submitting the script to all involved parties. Keep any stray ideas handy as they may be used down the line on this production or the next one.

Other Things

                It never fails. You get a nice, big, juicy assignment. The client wraps the initial meeting and then waves a huge carrot in front of you. The carrot may be something you’d like to have, something that may or may not enhance the production, or simply the promise of another free lunch. In one of my meetings, my client spent 90 minutes listing all his product’s details that would make his mini-infomercial superb. We agreed on length, type, and points we needed to stress. It was all locked down. Then, as we get up to leave, he shares with me that he wants a professional football player to be the on-camera spokesperson. He “knows” people and is pretty sure we can get a guy.  Ugh. “Other Things” are always capable of entering the mix. Here are some to keep in mind.

                Existing collateral may be pre-existing logos, slogans, art, spokespeople, movie footage, TV recordings, audio bites, anything. Can you use it? Do you have access to it? Is the celebrity on board with doing the commercial? Who owns the rights? Are lawyers involved? Does anything need a trademark, copyright or lower-third fine print? I let the lawyers and legal departments fight these details out, but tell the client and producer that someone needs to look after these details quickly and notify the writer as to what can and cannot be incorporated into the spot.

                While no one may want to talk about budget, you should definitely bring it up. Your client may be promising New York City, but your producer is only promising Walla Walla, Washington. Your client may think he can lure a Hollywood A-list actor to endorse his product, while the producer is asking the local community theater for any good recommendations on actors. Be very direct in asking all controlling parties how much money is available to the production and what resources are locked in. Get a clear deadline. Based on honest answers, write an honest script.

                “Previous looks” also factor in your spot. Previously-produced commercials, websites, billboards or anything else the public has seen will affect what you write. When a company decides to go in a new direction, they’re legitimately nervous. They may not want an entire overhaul, simply an update. Listen to them and write accordingly.

                We all cringe when our know-it-all relative chimes in with “You know what would make a good movie?” Same goes for commercials. There are plenty of solid ideas for advertising that come from left field. There are also stinkers. Even a good idea for a short film may make a horrible commercial. My rule of thumb is if it’s catchy and the client likes it, it’s a home run. If either the catchiness or the client’s approval is lacking, it’s a strike out. Similar to television and film screenwriting, commercial writing requires you to abandon ideas left and right.

Bathroom Breaks

                Commercial breaks are bathroom breaks. The only time people are excited about watching commercials is the Super Bowl. Sure, there’s “Funniest Commercials from Wherever” – but I know few people that watch these programs from beginning to end. Yet, when a commercial connects with an audience, regardless of whether or not that audience actually consumes the product, it’s astounding. Remember California Raisin ads with the stop-motion raisins singing “I Heard It Through the Grapevine”? That phenomenon sparked countless toys and merchandise and even a television series. Similarly, there was the Geico phenomenon. The caveman sitcom may have failed, but the Geico commercials will continue to be imprinted on our minds despite switching back and forth from various looks and themes, namely cavemen, talking geckos and piles of money leering at us. I started listening to jazz when I was twelve due to my fascination with some car commercial that used Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five” as its background music.

The fact that a commercial inspired a life-long love of jazz speaks volumes to the potential of advertising. Since I’ve started writing promotions, I’ve had a lot of unique experiences, made rock solid contacts and great friends, improved my own writing and made enough dough to pay the mortgage and then some. It’s funded and supported my own independent films and other projects. Don’t get me wrong, it has challenges, too. Occasionally, you have to deal with fickle clients, lame products, or inept producers. But I chalk all that up to experience and fodder for screenplays, blogs, or my other writings. Together, the good and the bad of commercial writing create a bright, colorful carnival that is simply too enjoyable to ignore.

 

            The aliens proved to be valuable allies. Not only did they provide passage to the Martian Base, their ship was undetected by Lilith Corp and they were able to transport me directly into the base. As far as I could tell, no one else knew I was here.

Base personnel were a mix of Pirnico’s human or lizard minions. The humans wore armor and clothes similar to mine. Even their guns looks like replicas of my C-14. While this was incredibly convenient for me to blend in, it worried me. Pirnico must have a reason for her human soldiers’ weaponry and armor to be like mine. But that problem would need to be solved later. I quickly found my way to a computer console and accessed data on the structure of the base and other files. From there, I went to the main turbine room, armory, and any other spot I felt was worth photographing for analysis. I seemed to have what I needed. I headed to the cargo bay.

Inside the bay, I spied Sue Pirnico; her scanty battle suit was too tight to ignore. I slipped behind some crates and watched closely as she wagged a finger over and over again in a soldier’s face. He hung his head in shame.

At that moment, my Libbometer started to click. I quickly silenced it. As I looked its display, I smiled. Shaking off this pleasant discovery, I checked back on the guard situation. Luckily, my position was not revealed.

Pernico wrapped up her rebuke. After a final point, she walked away from the forlorn soldier, waving her hand dismissively. Several lizards pounced on him, tearing straight through his armor and devouring his flesh.

Having seen enough, I snuck onboard a shuttle.