By the time prolific novelist Terry Pratchett and former comic book scribe Neil Gaiman wrote the 1990 novel Good Omens together, both men had earned considerable acclaim for their imaginative styles. Working in tandem, they contrived a whimsical fantasy about an angel and a demon who befriend each other in the Garden of Eden, and subsequently join forces to prevent the apocalypse. The story overflows with wild ideas; from altruistic witchfinders and cuddly hellhounds to Satanic nuns. What’s more, flashbacks to significant moments throughout human history give the narrative a massive scope.

If breadth is the obvious reason why the novel was an unlikely candidate for screen adaptation, then tone is the less obvious reason. For these stories, the specificity of authorial voice is so essential that passing the material to other writers defies reason. (Note that Douglas Adams cowrote the script for the 2005 film version of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, arguably the definitive whimsical fantasy of the modern era.) In that context, it’s heartening to report that Gaiman wrote all six episodes of Good Omens, continuing the legacy he began with Pratchett, who died in 2015.

This context also explains why other writers should resist emulating Good Omens—at least overtly. Trying to copy the show’s idiosyncratic milieu would lead to disaster. Leaning on Good Omens for inspiration, on the other hand, is highly recommended, especially for writers whose story ideas are unconventional.

Tell Me a Story

The easiest way to transpose an author’s literary voice to a cinematic adaptation is to use narration, as Gaiman does throughout Good Omens. Narration remains a somewhat controversial topic among screenwriters, because somewhere along the way, the device gained a bad reputation. Detractors suggest that only lazy writers use narration, whereas diligent writers weave context and theme into dialogue and visuals. Given the sheer quantity of great movies and TV shows that use narration, obviously the criticism is not always valid. Still, there’s a kernel worth considering. If narration is used as a crutch, it’s a weakness. But if narration adds something that can’t be added by any other means, then it’s as legitimate as any other storytelling device.

What does narration add to Good Omens? Quite a bit.

The narrator is none other than God (voiced by Frances McDormand), taking the notion of “omniscient narration” to a new level. Her all-knowing voiceover allows Gaiman to easily shift between scenes in wildly disparate locations. He also uses title cards for the same purpose. These tools aren’t crutches in the sense of replacing hard work with cheap gimmicks. Instead, they are convenient methods for manipulating space and time, permitting Gaiman to cram in as many events, from as many historical periods, as six episodes of television can possibly contain. Most importantly, the narration provides dramatic unity, a quality that is always imperiled by the structure of ensemble shows. Whenever the voice of God sets up an event that’s about to happen or contextualizes one that just happened, we’re reminded that Good Omens has a larger purpose—even when it moves in mysterious ways.

Takeaway: Purposeful narration can help provide dramatic unity.

All the World’s a Stage

There’s a truism in Hollywood that writing about the past is a tricky business because of budgetary implications. That’s why, generally speaking, most period-piece features are war stories (read: easily marketed action movies) or biographical studies of noteworthy figures (read: awards-worthy projects). The financial considerations of writing period pieces for television are slightly different, because producers can ensure that many scenes occur in key locations (e.g., the ad agency in Mad Men). The cost of building a set that will be used dozens of times is easier to justify than the cost of building a set that might only be used once.

Good Omens ignores these rules in resourceful ways, because the series frequently shifts to such varied settings as World War II Europe, Shakespeare’s London, and even a medieval battlefield. On paper, this sprawling approach implies that Good Omens has a stratospheric budget. It does not. Special effects help control costs, thanks to the use of digitally generated environments and digitally generated background performers, but much of the frugality stems from Gaiman’s careful scripting.

Take the Shakespeare scene. It’s shot in a modern-day replica of the Globe Theatre, and only a few people are present for an early performance of Hamlet. Fewer actors means fewer costumes. Similarly, the World War II sequence happens inside a nearly empty church. The medieval vignette is shrouded in fog, so the suits of armor worn by actors represent the biggest one-time expense. Gaiman, who is also the showrunner of Good Omens, clearly considered which elements were essential to each scene, then included only those elements.

When writing a spec, demonstrating production savvy communicates to readers that you understand what is required to make movies and television. And when writing for Hollywood employers, scaling your scenes to the size of the corresponding movie or TV show is a job requirement. Learn this lesson well.

Takeaway: Consider budgetary realities while writing.

Don’t Stop Believin’

Religion is one of the toughest topics to explore in popular entertainment. Projects that blatantly proselytize get relegated to the faith-cinema circuit, and conversely projects that attack a particular faith, alienate large segments of the public. In the same way that many people avoid talking about religion at family gatherings, most movies avoid the subject matter of religion entirely.

Given the nature of its storyline, Good Omens cannot avoid dealing with concepts related to Christianity. In fact, it’s possible to interpret the entire series as a satire of organized religion generally, and Christianity specifically. But here’s the thing—not all satire is created equal. Whereas deliberately provocative projects such as, say, Monty Python’s Life of Brian challenge aspects of faith that the filmmakers consider problematic, Good Omens is largely neutral. Gaiman’s scripts have a bit of cheeky fun with religion, but the jokes are not mean-spirited. Quite to the contrary, Good Omens affirms the value of spirituality by suggesting that a demon can become a benevolent being after sustained exposure to kindness.

To be clear, some viewers will find Good Omens unpalatable because of its comic extremes. Remember the Satanic nuns? However, viewers willing to roll with jokes made at the expense of organized religion will soon discover that Gaiman’s humor is mischievous instead of malicious. Not every joke in a comedic movie or TV show needs to leave a scar, even if that joke is about a topic that some people consider sacrosanct. More importantly, when satire comes from a gentle place, it has a better chance of reaching people who would reject messages embedded within nasty satire.

Takeaway: Not all satire is acidic.