This weekās rebroadcast looks back on two posts from 2010 and 2014 to remind writers about the golden rule (and libel laws).
Iām planning on writing a script about a character who is based heavily on somebody I know (a local comedienne), with a few other people thrown into the mix. As a character, I find her fascinating. Normally, I would just ask the person in question and they would most likely agree. However, the character in the new script is a big jerk, completely devoid of any empathy, tact, or manners, much like the real person. Iām not going to ask her if I can make a movie based on how big of an asshole she is, and Iām worried that sheās just the kind of asshole who would sue me if I did.
Iāve changed the name of the character, but I want her to be a comedienne, as this fits really well with the story. Most of the other aspects of the story are completely made-up, and Iāll probably only include a few situations based on real events.
Can I get in trouble for creating a character with the same personality and the same profession as the real person? How much can I get away with? Can I include things that this person has said in real life? This character is fascinating and needs to have her story told!
ā Lex
Calgary, Alberta
Yes, you can get in trouble. She could sue you for libel, defamation ā or the equivalent under Canadian law. By your description, she probably would sue, so youāve really answered your own question.
Donāt poke bears.
As a writer, youāre naturally going to be drawn towards real-life people who are fascinating. Thatās a good thing. Observe behavior. Figure out motivations and pathology. Then forget the real person.
Unless youāre writing a biopic, donāt base characters on anyone who actually exists. Not only are you exposing yourself to legal trouble, youāre ultimately shortchanging yourself as a writer. Real people are good in the real world, but you need characters that feel real in the universe of your story.
So stop thinking about this character as being the comedienne. Rip a photo out of a magazine and decide your character looks like this woman instead. What does her voice sound like? Where does she live? Is one of her neighbors stealing her mail? Is she trying to avoid her Bible-quoting brother?
Make her situation specific, and specifically different than the comedienne. Itās okay to admit to yourself that she inspired your character ā inspiration is free to the universe. But every detail should be something you created, discovered, or wove in from the hundreds of other people you have studied. Your story will be better for it.
Iāve been thinking back to an essay I wrote in 2006 entitled Are You Somebody?
As Iāve done more publicity, and talking-head interviews on various DVDs, Iāve found that random people are recognizing me and saying hello with increasing frequency. Itās once a month or so ā nothing alarming ā but it always comes when I least it expect it: shopping for strollers, in line at the movies, at breakfast with the woman carrying my baby.
The hand-shakers are invariably polite, so I can always genuinely say, āItās nice to meet you.ā But whatās fascinating is how everyone around us reacts. Remember: as a screenwriter, Iām not actually famous. Yet suddenly someone is treating me like I am. I love watching that double-take as bystanders try to figure out who I could possibly be.
Once a nearby woman actually asked me, āAre you somebody?ā
Almost apologetically, I said I was a screenwriter. Her face showed a combination of confusion and disappointment that would have been devastating at another point in my life.
That was 2006. Eight years later, Iām still not famous the way movie stars are famous.
Back then, I wrote:
Hereās an example of someone who is actually famous: Drew Barrymore. A few years ago, paparazzi took pictures of us having lunch. In the caption, I was the āunidentified companion.ā
This happened again last year in New York. This time I was carrying Drewās kid, and I didnāt even merit an āunidentified companion.ā So when I say Iām not famous, I have proof.
But over the last eight years, Iāve become more widely known within a subset of people, most of them writers and tech folks. Because of Scriptnotes, my voice is actually recognized as often as my face. Because of Twitter, I end up interacting with strangers much more often. And because of both outlets, people who recognize me know a lot more about me ā at least, a version of me who hosts a popular podcast about screenwriting.
That āversion of meā aspect can be challenging. Jason Kottke writes about his experience:
I realized fairly early on that me and the Jason Kottke who published online were actually two separate peopleā¦or to use Danskinās formulation, they were a person and a concept. (When you try to explain this to people, BTW, they think youāre a fucking narcissistic crazy person for talking about yourself in the third person. But youāre not actually talking about yourselfā¦youāre talking about a concept the audience has created. Those who think of you as a concept particularly hate this sort of behavior.)
Because I canāt hide behind my writing, Iām probably more āmyselfā on the podcast than I am in blog posts like this. I rewrote this sentence five times; on the show, I canāt ponder and perfect.
But the podcast is on some level a performance. Itās me with the dial turned up. Itās not who I am when Iām making dinner or struggling to make a scene work.
Kottke references Ian Danskin, whose video This is Phil Fish deftly explores how we treat āfamousā people more as concepts than as individuals. Even if notoriety hasnāt changed someoneās behavior at all, perception has:
The dynamic between these two people is viewed completely differently as soon as one of them becomes famous.
If thereās a takeaway from this ā and there needs to be, because John August is professorial ā itās that the time to think about how youād behave if you got famous is right now.
That fuck-you tweet to @RandomCelebrity may seem like no big deal ā hell, theyāre rich and famous. But if that rich-and-famous celebrity tweeted the same thing, youād think, āWow, what an asshole.ā
Hereās the mind-blowing truth: The person who sends the fuck-you tweet is an asshole, regardless of their pre-existing level of fame.
Tweet people ā even famous people ā the way youād want to be tweeted. Yes, this is basic Golden Rule stuff, but we always forget it in the world of internet fame.
Beyond that, be careful of internet pile-ons. People do stupid stuff, and itās often appropriate to call them out on it. But itās almost never a good idea to take a random person who said something stupid and hoist them up as a symbol. Youāre forcing fame ā infamy, really ā on someone who is likely no worse a person than you.
Internet fame has a multiplier effect thatās hard to anticipate. You can hurt people far more easily than you realize. And long after youāve forgotten your outrage, the focus of the blast is left picking up the pieces.
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