Writing Rule # 375

It's time.

I'm finally going to delve a bit into my other writing world. The one that's not usually displayed here in the slapdash blogging universe. I'll start to let you peek behind the curtain a bit. And I'll start with what I call "writing rules." How they are usually adhered to. And, frequently, how they are shamelessly broken.

Let's start with Rule # 375.

Don't overwrite when you find yourself with an actor and a character that have meshed perfectly.

Huh, you say?

You know what I'm talking about. There are times in television when a supporting actor blends so marvelously with a minor character that the show involved begins to shift focus and concentrate on that person. It's what "I Love Lucy" writer Madelyn Pugh Davis termed for me "serendipity." The words you write become even more special because they are coming out of a marriage that is so uniquely perfect in union. For a writer, it becomes a new toy that you refuse to put away. To the exclusion of every other plaything in your closet.

I know the feeling. It's like going through the quarters for your laundry and finding a rare gold coin. When we were doing table reads for a sitcom project we had, there was an incredibly minor and recurring character of a kitchen worker named Raul. He had two throwaway lines and exited stage left. One of our regular actresses brought her actor-friend along to read the part. As soon as he opened his mouth, Raul came to glorious life. We all looked at each other as if we had discovered a shoebox full of money in our closet. In subsequent episodes and table reads, we gave Raul more to do. Not so much that it upset the balance of the whole concept. And therein lies the writer's dilemma. When you fall in love with a minor character, how do you know when too much is too much?

It's a very fine line to walk. You want to go for the gusto, but, like rich chocolate, one piece too many could make you sick.

The writers of "The Golden Girls" dealt with it beautifully. As written in the pilot, the character of Sophia Petrillo was not a central figure amongst the ladies in that Florida house. But, Estelle Getty popped on that wig and hit her few lines right out of the park. Before you knew it, Sophia was popping into the action five or six times per episode. She'd say something outlandish and leave. Meanwhile, the audience was breathlessly waiting almost immediately for her very next entrance.

It would have been natural for the writers to start gravitating more and more toward Sophia. But, since the rest of the ensemble cast was so good as well, they never felt the need to hop on that crutch. They were confident that, even if Estelle Getty wasn't on screen, they still had Beatrice Arthur, Rue McClanahan, and the seemingly eternal Betty White to deliver the goods. They stayed true to their concept and used Sophia as an added weekly bonus. The writers got to have their cheesecake and eat it too.

Now, let's go the wrong way in the wrong direction. Remember the lamentable "Mary Tyler Moore" spin-off "Phyllis?" That was a mistake even before cameras rolled. As great as Cloris Leachman was in a terrific role, Phyllis was too annoying a character to be focused on every single week. Again, one chocolate nougat too many. But, early on in the program's two year run, the writers introduced the minor character of 87-year-old Mother Dexter, played delightly by veteran Broadway actress Judith Lowry. A foxy old broad who was always saying the most outrageous things. She showed up two or three times and you can actually hear the writers start to salivate off-camera.

I just revisited this series on one of those obscure cable networks that specialize in seldomly rerun sitcoms. You can see how the producers began to work in Mother Dexter more and more. Partly because the character was so much fun. Mainly because they had nothing else that was working with the show.

Eventually, the only reason to watch the show was to see Mother Dexter. A good thing and a bad thing. Because, sometime midway through the second season, Judith Lowry dropped dead on a Greenwich Village street and, consequently, the "Phyllis" series stopped breathing as well. There were a few Mother Dexter episodes still in the can. After that, America stopped watching all together and Phyllis Lindstrom might as well have moved back to Minneapolis and Mary Richards.

All of this comes to the forefront for me one more time because I see the telltale warning signs of overuse and overwriting right now on my current favorite sitcom, "The Big Bang Theory." I've written about that show here before. It is simply the smartest and more original television situation comedy in years with a runaway tour de force performance by Jim Parsons as Sheldon Cooper, the 21st Century ultra-mensa edition of Felix Unger.

From the very first frame of the series, Parsons began to steal the show in a way not even the producers probably imagined. When that fat load Alex Baldwin finally decides to quit acting and move Canada, Jim will begin to collect a healthy set of Emmy Awards for this mantlepiece.

But, as I watched the past third season of TBBT, I discovered that the almost impossible is happening. Ever so slightly, but happening nonetheless. As the writers tend to focus more and more and more on Sheldon, I am beginning to feel that the character is becoming a little annoying.

And it doesn't have to be that way.

Unlike as was the case on "Phyllis," there is plenty of other great arsenal on TBBT. The concept is still vital. The rest of the characters can be terrific and the casting is spot-on. With Parsons committing grand theft larceny on a weekly basis, Johnny Galecki as Leonard seems to get less to do. And I'm not sure the writers even realize what a godsend they have with Kaley Cuoco as Penny, who is the glue on this show much in the same way as Audrey Meadows held together "The Honeymooners" and Patricia Heaton kept the crowd in check on "Everybody Loves Raymond."

Now, I'm not advocating a total avoidance of Sheldon. Just temper it a bit. In the long run, it will be the difference whether "The Big Bang Theory" has a nine-year primetime life or one that fizzles out in Season 4 or 5.

All they have do is read this blog. And pay attention to Writing Rule # 375.

By the way, producers, we are available.

Dinner last night: Grilled bratwurst sandwich from Clementine's.