On the Beginnings of Scenes

Screenplays are a very formal type of writing with a highly specific format and rules. This is because they are not just a way to tell a story, they are blueprints for making a movie. Sure, spec scripts are sometimes more sales tools than blueprints – designed to interest executives, directors, and cast in making the film. But they still have to look like a plan for production of a movie. After all, that’s the ultimate goal.

With this in mind, today I want to focus on what the screenwriter must do when they open a scene. I read many scripts that fail to do this properly. Let’s start with the very first part of the scene: the slug line.

First, I should address when you need a new slug line. It can be more complicated than it seems. The simple answer is that you need a new slug line any time the location changes or there is a jump in time. This indicates a new scene. Occasionally, this can get tricky. What if the characters are walking from the bedroom of their house to the living room, talking continuously? Is this a new scene?

In order to make these decisions, it’s important to understand the purpose of a slug line. The slug line is really there to help the production manager schedule the shoot. Movies are often shot out of order. The production manager decides which scenes to shoot on which days, and they identify these scenes by slug line. So any time the crew might move to a new set, there should be a new slug line. Since the bedroom and the living room might actually be in different locations, moving from one to the other indicates a new scene.

Slug lines have three parts:

Part one is whether they are interior (INT.) or exterior (EXT.). Again, this is to help the production manager decide whether they require a location or could be built on a soundstage. Sometimes, of course, exterior locations are built on soundstages and interiors are shot on location, but this is not the screenwriter’s concern. There is also a designation (I/E.) for when the scene takes place both inside and outside at the same time, such as someone looking out their window into the yard.

Next is the location. Try to call the same location by the same name throughout the script. This not only makes the production manager’s job easier, it makes it easier for the reader to follow the script. So don’t call a single location SAM’S DINER in one scene, DINER in another scene, and THE COFFEE SHOP in a third scene.

Finally, slug lines indicate whether it is a day shoot (DAY) or night shoot (NIGHT). Again, this is for scheduling. Sometimes writers get cute here and say something like MORNING or 3 P.M. But how will we know what time of day it is on screen? Besides, like I said, the real purpose of the slug line is scheduling, and all the production manager cares about is whether it’s day or night. It is acceptable to use CONTINUOUS if we are moving from one location to another without a break in the action. And if you must, you can identify SUNSET or SUNRISE or GOLDEN HOUR – just be aware you are making the crew’s job hard, since they will have to film the scene in a very limited time frame!

You may read some scripts that don’t follow all the rules for slug lines. Perhaps they drop DAY at the end of the slug line until they change to NIGHT, for example. In a selling script, you might get away with that (it will be fixed for the shooting script). But if you are not an established screenwriter, I recommend sticking to proper slug lines. It shows that you know what you’re doing.

Next we have the description of the location. While perhaps not technically a rule, it’s generally considered a “best practice” to open every scene with some basic description of where we are, even if you’re just cutting back to a scene in progress after a cutaway. In those situations, put in something simple like, “Alicia and Kim continue their discussion.”

When describing the setting of the scene, you want to be brief and evocative, creating a picture of the room with a minimum of words. Here are some tips:

• Don’t repeat information that’s in the slug line. If the slug line is INT. ITALIAN RESTAURANT – NIGHT, you don’t need to start your scene with, “Fatimah is sitting in an Italian restaurant.
• Don’t describe everything in the room. Instead, pick one or two details that give the reader (and the production designer) the flavor of the setting.
• Be specific. Like almost anything else in writing, specific is better than general or vague.
• If possible, open with action – a character doing something that reveals the space. So rather than saying, “Fatimah is sitting at a table with white tablecloths and candles,” say, “The hostess seats Fatimah and lights the candle on the table, brushing a stray crumb from the white tablecloth.”

Probably the most common mistake I see is writers failing to identify who is in the room. Consider this scene opening:

INT. KITCHEN – DAY 

Alicia enters with a tray of used breakfast dishes. She loads the dishwasher.

            KIM 
     How did Dan like his breakfast? 

            ALICIA 
     Cleaned the plate.

            KIM 
     Good. I told you that recipe would work.

            STEVE 
     I still think you should have made French toast.


As you read along, you might be thinking, “Wait, where did Kim come from? Wait, Steve’s there too? Who else is in this kitchen?” The scene may be clear in the writer's head, but the reader will feel confused, and if it’s someone to whom you’re trying to sell your screenplay, you’ve probably just lost that sale. Always establish all the characters in the room at the start of the scene, and indicate when someone comes and goes.

This goes for unusual objects, too. If at some point in the above scene Kim uses a toaster, the reader won’t think twice. But if she hops on a riding lawnmower, the reader will be thoroughly confused. If there’s a riding lawnmower in the kitchen, you need to tell us up front!

This doesn’t mean you have to cram everything into the first paragraph. Especially when you are going to introduce characters for the first time, you might spread out the introductions. But they still shouldn’t come as a surprise. You need to indicate there are other people in the room. Here’s an example that would be okay:


INT. LOCKER ROOM – DAY

Arthur and Ali enter the locker room. Various boys are showering, changing, snapping towels at each other.
 
Arthur and Ali make their way to their lockers. Begin changing.

A skinny sophomore approaches. This is HOWARD.

            HOWARD 
     Do you guys have any extra clothes? 
     Someone stole mine.

Since you’ve established there are other boys in the locker room, there is no need to specifically mention Howard until he becomes important.

When your polishing your last draft, it pays to ensure your scene openings follow these guidelines. It will help the reader follow your story and show that you know how a screenplay works. And if your film should go to production, the production manager will be very grateful!


--

Get The Three Stages of Screenwriting

"I used to always recommend that new writers read Story as their first and most important introduction to the craft of screenwriting, but from now on, I’m going to recommend The Three Stages of Screenwriting."
-LA Screenwriter Review

Fixing Logic Holes in Your Screenplay

(Spoilers: Some Like It Hot, Little Miss Sunshine, The Godfather, Back to the Future)

Discovering a logic hole in a finished draft of your screenplay is upsetting. A great story with great characters can be completely undone by a big enough flaw in logic. At the very least, you risk taking the reader/audience out of the story. There are a variety of ways logic problems can seep into your screenplay, and a variety of ways to fix them (thankfully). But it can be challenging. Pull carelessly at the threads of logic and the whole story starts to unravel!

The first approach is preventative. If you create a solid outline for your screenplay, you can catch and fix logic flaws before you commit to a complete draft. Many of the techniques I’ll discuss below will be as useful for fixing logic problems in an outline as they will in a screenplay. The difference is that it’s easier to make big changes at the outline phase. Sometimes, though, a logic problem will slip past you. You may not recognize it until you give the script to a friend for feedback. Other times a structural change in a rewrite can introduce a logic flaw that must be dealt with.

Continuity errors are one type of logic flaw. They can be big or small. A small continuity error would be something like having a character draw a gun two scenes after we saw them throw their gun into the ocean. Sometimes you can just fix those by removing the later reference, but if it’s important that they draw the gun in the later scene, then you may have to add a scene where they somehow retrieve the gun from the ocean or acquire another gun. With a little brainstorming, it shouldn’t be hard to come up with a solution to smaller continuity issues.

Bigger continuity errors might be something like a character appearing in a scene after they’ve been killed. These usually arise when you restructure and move scenes around. You will likely have to restructure some more, or make bigger changes. Consider giving actions to different characters or changing the scene location. Maybe you can move a plot point or piece of exposition from one scene to another. The biggest challenge is usually letting go of how you previously imagined it. Try brainstorming five other ways the broken story beat could occur – even if your five ideas are ridiculous, you will start to open your mind to other approaches.

Character goal can be a powerful tool for solving logic problems. If you need something to happen in your story, but there is no reason that it would, look for a character who could make it happen and then give them a reason to act accordingly.

In Some Like It Hot (story by R. Thoeren and M. Logan, screenplay by Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond), there is a funny subplot where Jerry, disguised as a woman, agrees to go on a date with a millionaire named Osgood. But why would he do this? The answer is that Joe is pretending to be a millionaire to woo Sugar and convinces Jerry to accept the date so Joe can sneak on board Osgood’s yacht and act like he owns it. There are many ways Joe could have seduced Sugar, but the yacht scheme gives Jerry a reason to do something “illogical.” He wants to help his friend.

Another common type of logic problem is when there’s an obvious, easier solution to the character’s problem and they don’t take it. In essence, they aren’t acting in their best interest. You can fix this by giving the character a reason not to resort to that other solution.

In Little Miss Sunshine (written by Michael Arndt), the family runs through all alternative possibilities for getting Olive to the pageant other than having everyone pile in a van. In quick succession they eliminate each one. They don’t have money to fly, Sheryll can’t drive a stick, Frank’s suicidal and not to be left alone, etc. In The Godfather (screenplay by Mario Puzo and Francis Ford Coppola), Michael’s the least likely candidate to kill Sollozzo. But he’s also the only person Sollozzo is willing to meet with in person, so any other choice is no longer an option.

Planting is also a powerful way to solve logic problems. First, come up with an explanation for the logic hole. Even if that explanation sounds implausible, you can often sell it by effective planting the idea in an earlier scene. In Some Like It Hot, Joe’s plan to use Osgood’s yacht may seem overly complicated. So the writers establish in an earlier scene that Sugar’s vision of the ideal man includes someone who owns a yacht. Now the whole scheme makes perfect sense.

This is also an effective way to give a character a prop or piece of information they may need to close a logic hole. In Back to the Future (written by Robert Zemeckis & Bob Gale), it may be hard to believe that Marty would remember the exact date and time lightning struck the clock tower. So in an early scene, the writers have a woman hand Marty a flier for a fundraiser on the anniversary of that lightning strike. And then Marty’s girlfriend writes a number on the back of the flyer. Later in the movie, when Marty needs the information about the lightning strike for the story to make sense, voila – there it is in his pocket.

When faced with a logic hole you can either find a way to eliminate it or create a reason why it is actually not a hole. To do this, character motivation and planting will be your most effective tools.

--


Learn to pitch like a pro with The Hollywood Pitching Bible.

5 Tips for Organizing Your Rewrite

Approaching a rewrite can be daunting. Sometimes you have a ton of notes ranging from big structural changes to small line fixes, from character adjustments to plants and logic tweaks. You may have to move scenes around, write new scenes, or go through line-by-line to adjust a character’s dialogue.

There is no real universal method of organizing your rewrite. I’ve developed some procedures over the years that work well for me. Maybe you’ll find some of my ideas helpful for your rewrites.

1. Back to Treatment. I will often write a one-page treatment of the story as it will unfold in the new draft. If I’m making structural changes, this will help me to see how the story plays in broad strokes. If I’m keeping the major beats mostly the same, it will help me identify what the core of the story is, so I know what to protect as I cut and trim.

2. Divide the rewrites into stages. It’s usually better to fix the big problems first before delving into the small problems. Why noodle a line of dialogue in a scene you’ll ultimately cut? If I have a wide variety of notes, I’ll divide them into passes. Each pass creates a new draft of the script (I’m a bit obsessive about saving every iteration of my scripts in case I later want to go back to something I cut), but I won’t show the script to anyone until I’ve gone through all the passes. I would typically divide up the passes in this order:

• First Pass: Structural and plot changes, cutting and adding scenes, and cutting, combining, or adding characters.
• Second Pass: Major character changes (may be subdivided into multiple passes, handling a single character each time, if more than one character needs work).
• Third Pass: Scene fixes and dialogue revisions.

3. Create an outline for your rewrite. Just like I create an outline for my first draft, I often create a new outline for each major rewrite. I start by listing every scene in the current draft (often by editing my original outline to match the draft). I’ll add descriptions of any new scenes I have to write with big “NEW SCENE” labels before them. Then, I’ll list the changes under each scene that I plan to make to that scene. I can then use this as a checklist to make sure I’ve addressed all of the notes.

4. Track your structure. I will identify the major structural beats of the story in the outline – where’s the Catalyst? The Midpoint? The Act II Turning Point? That will help me make sure I’m executing each beat effectively when I reach that point in the rewrite. Sometimes I’ll also make a note under each scene as to the purpose of the scene in the plot.

5. Track the character beats. I will also identify the beats of the character arc(s), and of the changing relationships between characters, and note the scenes where these changes are dramatized. I will often color-code these in Word. For example, I might use red for a romance. The beats might be things like, “They meet,” “She reveals her big secret,” and “She feels betrayed and leaves.” Then I can make sure as I’m rewriting that I maintain the integrity of the emotional storylines. If I cut a scene that contains an important beat, I’ll know I have to replace it somewhere else. And I can see where I’m skipping or under-dramatizing emotional beats.

Here's an excerpt of an actual rewrite outline I did for a romantic comedy script. It starts with the paragraph from my original outline, followed by my notes for the rewrite:

INT. CAIRO MARKET - DAY

We meet KELSEY STONE, a war photographer, having an Egyptian street delicacy in a market. She has a friendly repartee with OMAR, the proprietor – she’s a regular. MARK BURTON, an A.P. BBC journalist, joins her. They banter and flirt, revealing Kelsey as a live-for-the-moment person, and Mark happy to participate in that lifestyle. Mark is trying to get Kelsey to come back to the hotel with him, but she makes him work for it. Mark: “Come on, nothing’s happening here.” Omar is protective of Kelsey, which also frustrates Mark’s attempts. However, when Omar suggests Kelsey ought to get married (and says, “What would your parents think of you running around over here?”), Kelsey suddenly agrees to leave with Mark. On their way out, Kelsey gives money to a poor woman – which draws a reprimand from Mark: “You can’t save these people that way; you’re here to document what’s going on.”

Purpose: Introduce Kelsey and her attitude about life, tone

-Make opening more exciting - actual danger, a serious protest.

-Plant Kelsey's skills that will pay off in wedding scenes.

-Make Mark British. Make him a BBC reporter.

-Kelsey is more anti-marriage. Mark suggests Omar set Kelsey up.

The rewrite outline then becomes a roadmap for the rewrite. You can go scene by scene, making the necessary changes, without having to worry about keeping the big picture in your head or worrying you’ll forget something.

--

Want to learn to pitch like a pro? Get The Hollywood Pitching Bible.

Beginning and Ending Your Scenes

(SPOILERS: The Godfather)

When discussing screenwriting techniques we often discuss the structure of the entire story. We also spend a lot of time analyzing how to make an individual scene dramatic. But we pay much less attention to the way one scene flows into another.

There’s a classic rule of fiction writing – enter the scene as late as you can and leave as early as you can. This applies doubly to the highly efficient practice of screenwriting. In the first draft, it’s natural to start the scene when a character enters a room and end when they leave. But this is usually not necessary. Try to begin your scenes at the start of the dramatic action and end them when that action concludes. Don’t waste time showing greetings and goodbyes if they aren’t crucial to the story.

Similarly, once the dramatic action of the scene is accomplished, it’s time to cut out. We usually don’t need to see everyone say goodbye and head for the door. If your ending can provide some kind of a cliffhanger, it will serve your overall screenplay well. By this I mean something happens at the end of the scene that introduces a question for the audience, something that makes them go, “Uh oh, how is that going to come out?”

Often good scenes end with what is known as a “button.” This is a final moment or bit of dialogue to tie up the scene. Often in comedies it’s one last joke. You may already have a natural button in your scene – you just haven’t cut the scene off where you should.

Another thing to consider: where are your characters coming from at the beginning of the scene? What happened just before we cut in? If you start mid-action, what happened before? If they are going to enter, are they rushing from somewhere else? We don’t want the characters to feel like they were standing just off stage waiting for the scene to start. Also consider where the characters are going to after the scene. What are they planning or fearing?

Scene transitions – the way one scene joins to another – are also important to consider. When we’re reading a screenplay, one scene looks pretty much like another – black words on a white page. But on film that connection is going to play differently.

Unless you’re going for some kind of effect such as claustrophobia, it’s usually a good idea to vary up your interior and exterior and night and day scenes. Cutting from exterior daytime to interior nighttime helps the audience process the transition quickly. If you cut from a daylight scene at a park, for example, to a daylight scene at a reservoir, visually it may look like cutting from trees and grass to trees and grass. The audience may not realize at first that it’s a new scene, necessitating time consuming establishing or traveling shots. Plus, visual variety is usually desirable in film.

An easy way to check for this is to look at your slug lines as a list. Most screenwriting software make that easy. If you see too many interior scenes together, or too many night scenes together, ask yourself if that’s for effect or just coincidence? Could you reorder scenes? Maybe set a dialogue scene outside? Believe me, directors think of these kinds of things.

Beyond just interior vs. exterior and night vs. day is the content of your setting. It’s usually stronger to cut from a small, dingy apartment to a big, elegant ballroom than from one average apartment to another. Look at the settings in your slug line list – can you make each more distinctive?

The opening twenty minutes of The Godfather (screenplay by Mario Puzo and Francis Ford Coppola) are all set at Connie’s wedding. But the scenes cut between dark, small rooms inside the Don’s house and loud, bright scenes outside, creating not just visual and audio variety, but a sense that the activities in the house are “behind the scenes.” Since those activities consist of Mafia business and Sonny’s infidelities, that’s a good metaphor.

The Godfather establishes sequences almost like chapters with its use of setting. Whenever we move from one city to another – New York to Chicago or Vegas – there is a fade out and then a montage of the new location. Also, there is contrast between the daytime California sequence, the night time sequence leading up to the Don’s assassination, the sunny exteriors of Michael’s Sicily stay, and so on. This helps separate each section.

You may also want to consider the beginning and ending images of each scene. You can add meaning by juxtaposing two images without really having to justify the connection logically, since they are in two different scenes. For example, you could cut from a close-up of a mobster who has just ratted on the mob to a dead bird that some children are poking with a stick in order to create a visual metaphor. The Godfather cuts from Michael’s wedding night with Apollonia to Kay coming to the Don’s house in New York looking for him, reminding us that Michael is betraying Kay.

Creating interesting juxtapositions from scene to scene can add depth to your story and will show your mastery of the film form.

--

Learn to pitch like a pro with The Hollywood Pitching Bible: A Practical Guide to Pitching Movies and Television by Ken Aguado and Douglas Eboch. Available in print, ebook or audiobook formats

Development Hell 3 - The Players

Development Hell is a series of occasional posts where I discuss the process by which an idea or spec screenplay becomes a movie either in Hollywood or in the independent world. Development is the bread and butter of the professional screenwriter’s life. This is the third post in the series.

Last week I talked about various events and stages of development. Today I want to discuss the people who are involved in the process, and their agendas within the process. You have to know the game and you have to know the players!

Writer(s)

The writer is the one component absolutely necessary to development. They are the person revising the screenplay based on the notes from whatever other players are involved. Obviously, they have to be skilled at writing. They also have to be skilled at taking notes and delivering solutions even better than those suggested to them. But perhaps most unexpectedly, they have to be master politicians.

The development process is filtered through the writer onto the page. The writer distills input from all of the other players, and these other players rarely agree on everything. Also, as you’ll see below, often the various players are concerned about specific issues relating to their job, which will influence the direction they give to the writer. So the poor writer is left to navigate and balance these sometimes-competing agendas and interests. And that requires monumental diplomacy. Meanwhile, the writer’s agenda is (or at least should be) to deliver the best possible version of the story given all these forces.

All of this applies to the first writer, the last writer, and all writers in between (see “The Writer is Replaced” in last week’s post.)

Producer 

The producer is the person shepherding the individual project. They typically work most closely with the writer, sometimes even giving feedback on drafts before they are officially turned in. Producer is a hard job to define as it can involve so many different things and few producers do all of those things. But typically the producer has two agendas: first, to get the best version of the story (just like the writer), and second, to get the movie made – meaning they deal with issues of castability, budget and marketability. Often the first agenda gets compromised for the second, though a good producer will try to find a balance between the two. A good producer can be a real ally to a writer, helping the writer navigate all the politics of development – assuming the producer and writer share a vision of the project and work well together.

Underlying Material Creator 

As you have no doubt noticed, most movies these days are based on pre-existing material of some kind. There is a wide range of this material – from comic books to plays, from novels to toys, from video games to board games to television shows to older movies.

Sometimes the creator of the underlying material has little input into the development of the movie, sometimes they have a great deal of control. Unknown playwrights and novelists seldom get any say in how the screenplay evolves. More famous novelists like J.K. Rowling or E.L. James can have a great deal of say. Even if a famous author doesn’t have contractual control over the material (e.g. script approval), often the producers will defer to them for fear they’ll badmouth the film to their fans.

Screenwriters working on movies based on TV shows or old movies typically don’t have to worry about the input of their original creators. However, screenwriters of movies based on toys or games may have to deal with a company concerned about protecting their brand. Lego was very hesitant to allow a movie to be made using their product, and it was only with considerable reassurance from the writer/directors that they agreed to license the brand.

In the case of comic books, independent creators usually get little say, while the big companies are intimately involved with the development of movies based on their characters.

Creative Executives and Other Executives

Various executives at the studio and/or production company will be involved in the development of any project they plan to make. This includes, of course, executives in the development department, but can also include marketing executives, production executives and senior executives. This is where the bulk of notes generally comes from in the development process. The executives will be concerned about creating a good story, but they will often be more concerned about creating a marketable movie. They will also be very concerned about budget. Their job isn’t dependent on the movie being good; it’s dependent on the movie making a profit. And, if the movie is part of a franchise, they will be concerned about protecting the brand.

The Director

When a director comes on board, they will typically take charge of development. Producers and executives generally defer creatively to the director (while still keeping a rein on the budget.) This can be advantageous for a writer – assuming the director’s vision of the story doesn’t clash too much with the writer’s vision – because the writer now only has to worry about pleasing one person. Directors' concerns will often be related to making the story more visual. They are concerned with how they are going to shoot things. Sometimes ego also comes into play when a director insists on “putting their stamp” on the screenplay, even when that stamp isn’t really needed.

Movie Stars

Many movie stars get involved in the development process, assuming they are famous enough to have that clout. They are mostly concerned with making sure their particular character is interesting and consistent (Sandra Bullock is said to have come up with the backstory for her character in Gravity, for example). They might also be concerned with their image. They are a brand, after all, and they have to protect the value of that brand.

Some movie stars have “pet writers” that they demand rewrite every screenplay the star commits to. Usually this is the writer who penned the star’s biggest hit or Oscar-winning movie. So sometimes when a star comes on board, a writer gets fired.


Television
Television has its own slightly different development player list. In general, all of the television development players want the same thing – a quality show with mass appeal (though budget and brand identity are important to the companies as well). If all the players agree on what constitutes the best, most appealing version of the concept, then they all work together to realize that vision. Unfortunately, it often happens that the various players have differing visions and the development process goes badly awry. Here are the players in television:

The Creator

The show’s creator is the person who came up with the idea and sold it as a pitch or, more rarely, as a spec pilot.

The Show Runner

The show runner is the person who will be running the show as it is being produced – supervising both the writers’ room and production. Often this is the creator, but not always. If the creator is inexperienced in television, they may be paired with an experienced show runner (and sometimes the creator is replaced on their own show).

The Production Company

The production company is the entity that is financing and actually making the show. They typically don’t make enough on licensing fees to pay for the show, which means they lose money on every episode in the initial broadcast run. They only make money if the show is successful enough to produce ancillary revenue – reruns, DVD box sets, and licensing for streaming. This can sometimes lead to conflicts when a production company is trying to hold down costs while a network wants a more spectacular show.

The Network (Broadcast, Cable or Online)

This is the entity that licenses the show from the production company. It is the distribution channel. These days, most networks own their own production companies so they can own the product that they air (this is mostly due to the impending over-the-top/cord-cutting revolution that will remake the business – a topic worthy of its own blog post). But, even if the network owns the production company, it doesn’t necessarily mean they both have the same vision of the show. They are separate entities with separate creative staffs that can have different opinions.

Non-writing Producers

Non-writing producers can also be involved in television (in television, writers typically double as producers). Non-writing producers facilitate putting the various parties together. They can have creative input on a show, but generally the primary creative forces in television are the production company, the network, and the show runner. Very rarely directors also serve as non-writing producers helping to develop a show. But in television, directors usually come in late in the game and work for the show runner, having little input into the scripting.

As you can likely see by now, there are many forces at play in the shaping of a screenplay or teleplay. It is part of the writer’s job to navigate those forces while protecting the core integrity of the story.

Development Hell 2 - The Stages of Development

Development Hell is a series of occasional posts where I discuss the process by which an idea or spec screenplay becomes a movie either in Hollywood or in the independent world. Development is the bread and butter of the professional screenwriter’s life. This is the second post in the series.

When a screenwriter is writing a script on their own, on spec, they are not in development. Development starts when someone else gets involved in the screenplay. Today I want to look at the various stages and events that can be part of the development process.

Development almost never proceeds in a smooth, straightforward fashion. So though I’m presenting these stages/events in a roughly chronological order, often a project will move backwards on this list, skip steps, jump around, etc.

Free Development
Some might not consider this technically development, but it is often the first step in the process. Free development typically occurs when a producer (or sometimes a director or actor) finds a script (or sometimes a pitch or underlying material – see below) that he or she likes, but is not willing or able to pay to acquire it and doesn’t feel it is ready to take to a studio yet. The producer may offer to work with the writer, giving them notes to hone the material. Of course the writer may turn down this offer, and in many cases probably should – such as when the producer has no track record or credibility. But if the producer is established and has a good vision for the project, this can be a big opportunity for the writer. (All of the foregoing also applies to a director or actor who might want to work with the writer on some spec material – also see attachments below.)

Option/Purchase
This is the point at which someone acquires spec material or a pitch from a writer. An option is a temporary acquisition – the buyer has the exclusive right for a limited time to purchase the material (for more on what an option is, read this post). With a purchase, the buyer now owns the copyright. At this point it is the buyer’s project to do with as they like.

Underlying Material
If you look at the films currently in the theaters, you will discover that most movies these days are not made based on screenwriters’ original ideas. Instead, the producer or studio acquires some type of “intellectual property” – a comic book, novel, video game, play, etc. A writer is then hired to adapt that underlying material into a screenplay. This is also development and plays out very similarly to what happens to a spec script.

Development Drafts
Once a spec screenplay or underlying material is acquired, it is rare that the buyer immediately proceeds to production. Instead, they first commission new drafts from the writer to shape the material to the buyer’s needs and vision. Under WGA rules, the writer is to be paid for these drafts, but often they are pressured to do extra free drafts. This is a complex and nuanced issue beyond the scope of today’s post – perhaps I’ll cover it in the future.

Notes Sessions 
Before each new draft, the writer gets notes on the previous draft. These notes will come from the producer and development executives involved in the project, and may also come from a director or star(s) attached to the project. They may even come from a marketing executive. Notes may be delivered in person in a meeting, over the phone, or in writing. The writer is expected to address these notes in the next draft. (I’ll definitely go into more detail on this process in a future post.)

The Writer is Replaced
In Hollywood, it is exceedingly common for writers to be replaced by new writers on a project. There could be many reasons for this. Perhaps the current writer is not capable of fixing certain problems in the current draft. Perhaps the producer can’t figure out why the screenplay isn’t working and wants new creative input. Perhaps the writer and producer have different visions of what the film should be. Perhaps the writer is not a good team player. Perhaps the producer is not a good team player. In any event, the writer is fired and a new writer is brought on to do the next draft. Rinse, repeat, sometimes with more than a dozen writers. It may not be the best system, but it helps many writers pay their mortgages!

The Option Lapses 
As I mentioned above, often a producer or studio will option the right to buy a script for a particular period of time. If that time expires and they don’t acquire it (by “exercising their option”), the rights of the original script return to the writer. The rights to any drafts done while the script is under option do NOT necessarily go to the writer… that’s a more complicated legal question that depends on the wording of the contract and whether the writer was paid for those drafts. If the writer reacquires his script, he is free to start the development process all over again with a new buyer.

Turnaround 
Turnaround is when a studio has actually purchased a screenplay but decides they no longer want to make the movie. Turnaround is actually a specific legal situation having to do with tax write-offs, though the term is sometimes used in a broader sense. When a project is put in turnaround, it can be acquired by another studio, but that studio would have to reimburse the initial studio for all development costs (this can be negotiated, of course, but usually it’s the full cost). Those costs can run to tens of millions of dollars if many drafts have been commissioned.

Attachments
When a script is in development, other creative talent – typically directors and movie stars – may become attached. “Attached” often has a fuzzy definition. Sometimes it means a mere expression of interest; sometimes there is a contractual element with hefty financial penalties. But when a director or star becomes attached, they often become another participant in the development of the screenplay. In fact, it is not unusual for a major attachment to initiate a new creative direction for the project.

Green Light/Flashing Green Light
When a movie is given a green light, it officially leaves development. A green light means the studio has decided to make the movie and the project proceeds to pre-production. This is supposed to be a hard line, but sometimes projects get what is referred to as a “flashing green light,” meaning the studio is starting pre-production but might still back out of the project. Also, some producers claim something has a green light before it really meets that criterion. Even when a movie enters pre-production, however, development often continues with more rewrites. Sometimes the script is being rewritten even as the movie is being produced – usually not an ideal situation.

Going through these stages and events should give you a good idea of how the development process functions – and perhaps how it sometimes malfunctions. Next week I’ll dig more deeply into the players involved in the process, what they do, and what their concerns are. After all, if you want to be a professional screenwriter, you need to know how the game is played and who the players are!

Thirty Minutes for the Last Line

Recently I was in a notes meeting for a screenplay I had been hired to rewrite. In addition to myself, the producer and a development exec were in the meeting (I’m going to avoid using names because I’m not sure if I’m really allowed to talk about the project). The script in question is a romantic comedy.

At one point the development exec pointed out that the last line in the script was delivered by the love interest instead of the main character, and wondered if that was a problem. What followed was a half hour discussion about the last line of the movie. Half an hour – about a single line of dialog.

The first question was, does the last line actually need to go to the main character? The general consensus was “not necessarily.” Giving the last line in a romantic comedy to the love interest didn’t seem inappropriate. But, we kicked around ideas for what the main character could say as a last line, just to see what we could come up with.

Or rather the producer and development exec kicked around ideas. I mostly sat and listened and thought. Finally I threw out a suggestion – a call back and twist to an earlier line that served as a thematic tag on the story and the character’s arc. It went over so well the other two people actually applauded. It was the first time I’ve gotten applause in a notes meeting!

I’m not telling you this to brag (well, maybe a little), but because I think most aspiring writers would be surprised to find that we would spend this much time in a meeting discussing a single line of dialog. I think there are a few things this anecdote reveals about the real world of professional screenwriting.

First, they care a lot. True, I’ve had many more meetings where someone gave me notes who only read the coverage and a couple pages of the actual script. Which is frustrating. But this screenplay is about to go out to movie stars, and everyone knows they only get one shot at any given star, so they want the script to be perfect. And this producer and exec are experienced filmmakers who know the importance of the final moments of a movie. So if they are unsure about the last line of dialog, they will work on it until they are sure.

Second, details matter. Students often grumble when I criticize them for formatting, grammar or spelling errors, but those little mistakes send a signal that you are sloppy about the details. And the people who hire writers care about the details.

Third, screenwriting is a collaborative business even though 98% of the time you are in a room by yourself staring at your computer. You never get to just hand in the final script and walk away – unless they’re going to replace you with another writer. You have to work with your fellow collaborators on the movie. And that’s good, because often those people are smart and experienced.

A corollary to this is that a great screenplay does more than just follow the structural outlines described in “how to write a screenplay” books. You need to have a sense for how movies work. That means understanding what final emotion you want to leave the audience with and how to achieve that emotion. It means understanding that the ending should be about the main character because that’s satisfying, not because someone gave you a “rule” that the main character should get the last line.

Fourth, a big part of your job is finding the best solutions to these kinds of problems. I’m really glad I came up with the perfect last line – because that’s why they hired me! You have to know your craft better than the other people in the room. This doesn’t mean I (or you) will always be the one to come up with that great line. I have been given terrific bits of dialog during notes sessions, ones where I was kicking myself for not having thought of it. But if they’re giving me all the best stuff, pretty soon they’re going to wonder if they really need me at all.

It’s extremely hard to write a good screenplay. But the job of screenwriter actually requires more than just that ability. Hopefully this little anecdote makes clear why that is.

Five Common Reasons for Dull Scenes

Sometimes I’ll be reading a script and the story seems like it should be working… yet I’m bored. The scenes lie on the page without energy. The situation is dramatic, but the scenes aren’t. Today I want to discuss five common reasons for dull scenes and some possible solutions. Often we apply these solutions in the rewrite process, but many of the problems can be avoided with proper outlining and a little thought before you begin to write the first draft of the scene.

1. The scene doesn’t serve any purpose. This is probably the easiest to fix but the hardest to identify. Ask yourself what has changed in your story from the beginning to the end of the scene. If the answer is nothing (or very little), the scene should go. Another test is whether the story will still function when you cut the scene. If the answer is yes, cut it.

Sometimes there will be one thing in the scene necessary to the story – a bit of exposition, say – but it’s not enough to justify a whole scene. Try to find a different scene where you can move that important beat. Other times there will be something in the scene that you dearly love. You will be working very hard to justify keeping it. Don’t. Perhaps you can use that beloved element in another, more vital scene. Or perhaps this is a time to remember the old saying, “Kill your darlings.” It may be great, but it still may not fit in this screenplay.

2. Everyone wants the same thing – there’s no conflict. Drama is conflict. Scenes without conflict are boring. Every scene should be about a character who wants something having difficulty getting it. This means, first of all, there needs to be a character in the scene who actually wants something. And second, there needs to be some kind of obstacle to their getting that thing.

Obstacles can come from the environment (something physically impedes the character, such as a robber trying to infiltrate a highly secured building) or from within the character themselves (some fear or conflicting need stands in the way of the goal, such as someone with a fear of heights needing to retrieve an object from their roof). But most commonly the primary source of obstacles is other characters.

Often dull scenes result because none of the characters are really opposed to the other character(s)’ goals. Even in a scene of people talking calmly, each character must have an agenda, and at least two of those agendas should be in conflict.

The characters don’t have to be angry and yelling. Let’s say you have a scene of a man and a woman on a date. You want them to get along. Perfectly reasonable, but the scene is boring. Try giving them different agendas. Perhaps the woman’s goal is to seduce the man, while the man’s goal is to prove he’s a gentleman. That will lead to a much more fun scene than if both of them are “trying to get to know each other.” This is sometimes known as “mutually exclusive goals.”

3. Everything is too easy. You have a character with a goal and there are obstacles to that goal… but the character overcomes the obstacles easily. The bigger the obstacle, the bigger the drama. The solution may be as simple as putting more obstacles in the way of the character’s goal. Or possibly it’s adding a different kind of obstacle. In our date scene, you could try adding a physical obstacle to the scene in addition to the character obstacle. Perhaps the man has forgotten his wallet, for example.

Another approach is to increase the stakes for the opposing characters. The more important it is for the other character to achieve their (mutually exclusive) goal, the harder they will fight for it and the better opponent they will be for the main character. And make sure the opposing characters are well equipped to achieve their goal. If the man on the date is our main character and he’s trying to resist the woman’s seductions, she better be sexy as hell!

4. The premise of the scene isn’t fully exploited. Sometimes the concept of the scene is fine, but it isn’t fully exploited. You’re not having as much fun with the scene as you could be. This is particularly important for your set piece scenes – those scenes that pay off the genre of your story (action scenes in an action movie, scary scenes in a horror movie, emotional scenes in a drama). If the character faces and overcomes a single obstacle in the scene, you are probably not doing as much as you could with the situation.

Ask yourself what else could happen given the scenario you’ve concocted. What elements have you placed in the scene? What more could you do with them? Try sketching out the most outrageous version of the scene. Unless you are doing an outrageous comedy it may not fit your tone, but it might give you ideas. Another technique is “out of the frying pan, into the fire.” Look for a way that, by overcoming one obstacle, the character creates an even bigger obstacle for themselves.

5. The scene is predictable – there are no twists or turns. This is a very easy mistake to make. The scene could have a lot of drama – the character has a strong want, there are significant obstacles, you’re really exploiting your premise – but everything plays out the way we expect from the set up. The burglar avoids the guards, breaks into the safe, escapes with the jewels. It was exciting but it was also exactly what we thought was going to happen.

Good scenes surprise us. Often you need the scene to end up at a certain place (the burglar gets the jewels). Okay, you know the ending… don’t broadcast it to the audience. Give the character an obstacle they weren’t expecting. Maybe the burglar is a careful planner, but tonight the security guard got delayed by a call from his girlfriend and didn’t follow his regular routine. The guard checks the safe room late, catching the burglar in the act and forcing a change of plans. If this pushes your character to find a more clever way to achieve their goal, all the better!

Another tool is “preparation in opposition.” This is when you set the audience up to expect a different outcome than what actually occurs. Is the main character going to get fired in the scene? Set it up so that we think they are going to get promoted. It will make the outcome much more powerful.

My late teacher Frank Daniel was fond of saying, “There is only one rule in screenwriting: Don’t be boring.” Make sure your scenes are full of purpose, conflict and surprises and your writing will be anything but boring!

The Draft Cycle

Today I’m going to respond to a reader question about rewriting, feedback and drafts. Joel Myers asks:

I was wondering what your revision process was once you got to where you had a presentable script but no one else has read it. Do you usually present it to a few friend readers for feedback before sending it in to producers/more "official" send-outs? How many rounds do you do of that back and forth? Etc. I think a sort of general overview of the whole draft cycle from start to finish might be interesting.

Good question – or rather several questions. Let me start with how many drafts I might do overall on a spec. The answer depends a lot on the project. I’ve done as few as three and as many as forty-seven before showing a script to potential buyers. As I’ve gained experience, the average number of drafts I need has come down. These days eight to ten drafts is pretty common. Also, I’ve learned not to start draft one without a fairly extensive outline. That probably cuts the total drafts in half.

The corollary question here could be: what counts as a draft? I’m a little obsessive about saving all my work. I also tend to keep moving forward on a draft rather than going back and rewriting scenes. If I realize on page 60 that I want to make a change in Act One, I’ll make a note for myself to do that next draft rather than going backwards. Some drafts are obviously bigger changes than others, but most contain some changes throughout the script.

Doing it this way makes it easier to keep track of what I’ve done – and I maintain a document listing the drafts, the major changes or purpose of the draft (“character dialogue pass” for example, or “moved third act setting to the winery”), and anyone who read it and gave notes.

I definitely show scripts to trusted friends for feedback before presenting it to buyers or even my representation. I want to hear of any problems from my friends, rather than from the potential buyers when my career is on the line.

Agents also don't usually have time to give a client extensive notes – though that depends on the agent’s personality. Most split into two camps: Those that don’t want to give notes (this is known as the “sell it don’t smell it” approach) and those that will give a single set of notes. A very few enjoy developing material with their clients and might go through two or three drafts with you, especially when you’re starting out.

Managers tend to be more into helping develop material (my current manager is an exception in this regard, though). Still, you don’t want to waste your manager’s time giving you notes you could have gotten from your friends. And I don’t even ask my friends to give me their time until I feel like the script is in pretty good shape.

Picking who gives you feedback is important. Here are my guidelines:

1. They have to be intelligent and have good taste. Well, duh.

2. They have to like the genre. If you give a horror script to someone who hates scary movies, chances are they will give you notes to turn it into something less scary. But the people who might buy the script will be looking for the horror, so that’s not good. On the other hand, someone who knows the genre will be better equipped to flag clichés and offer useful suggestions. Personal taste does matter in this business.

3. They have to be willing to be honest and brutal. The point is not to get pats on the back, though those are nice. I want the readers to tell me honestly what sucks so I can fix it before sending it out. Most people don’t like to do this. This is one reason showing it to other writers can be helpful. They understand what you need, and that being brutal is actually doing you a favor. Be sure to thank them for their brutality, and never get upset about it!

4. At least some of the readers should understand story and writing. It can also be helpful to get feedback from “civilians” – they can give you the audience perspective, a more gut reaction, that sometimes writers and producers don’t see as clearly. But you will get much better notes from fellow writers. They will be better able to understand why something isn’t working and make useful suggestions. Producers and directors are sometimes also good at getting at the “why” but usually less able to give good suggestions to fix it.

I will solicit reads from friends as many times as I feel I need to. If I make major structural or character changes, I will probably want another set of feedback. On a typical spec this means two or three waves of feedback (maybe 3-4 people per wave, mostly different people each time so they have a fresh perspective).

I also really like to have a live reading in my living room at some point. I’ll invite people to read each part. Just hearing the dialogue out loud will tell you a lot. You’ll also quickly sense where the pace lags, or when people get confused. If you’re doing comedy, you’ll see which jokes land and which don’t (I make a check or an X next to the line accordingly).

I try to mix up the readers – some writers, some actors, maybe a director or two – in order to get a variety of perspectives. (The actors are invariably shocked at how harsh the writer criticism is, which amuses me.) Pizza and beer are a big part of this process.

As I mentioned above, your last set of notes may come from your agent and/or manager. But this should probably be the last set, and will depend on their style and your relationship with them.

How you process all this feedback is another issue. Sometimes people prefer to give feedback by email; others I will take to lunch and get it in person (and of course in the live reading it’s all in person). I write down everything they say and I’m careful not to defend or explain. You won’t be able to go around to the screenings of the movie and explain what you meant afterwards. But I do ask questions if I don’t understand a note, or if there’s something specific I want feedback on.

You should not necessarily do every note or suggestion you get, of course. You know the story better than anyone, and people have personal taste things that not everyone shares. However, you need to be open to change. If more than one person trips on something, you better figure out a way to fix it.

Finally, all of the above assumed we were talking about a spec script. A screenplay written or revised under contract is a different animal. I will still solicit responses from friends if it is first draft of an adaptation or an original idea before turning it in, but probably only one round and seldom will I ask my representatives to read it.

The friend feedback process for a paid gig is mostly to catch any egregious problems or tiny logic/grammar/dialogue flaws. The people whose creative notes you most need to be concerned with are the producer(s) and executive(s) who hired you. How to take notes from these people is a whole other blog post!

Thanks for the question, Joel. For all my readers, if there’s something you would like me to write about, please feel free to ask. I don’t promise to do every request, but I’m always looking for ideas for posts.


--

In other news: Hollywood Journal has published the first in a series of articles about The Hollywood Pitching Bible. Check it out!

Using Planting and Payoff

(Spoilers: Gravity, Jaws, Raiders of the Lost Ark)

Planting and payoff is a powerful tool in the screenwriter’s toolbox. Simply put, planting is setting up an object, idea, or piece of information early in the story (the plant) for use later (the payoff).

One big purpose of this tool is to avoid the cheat of convenience. For example, if a woman has been chased into her attic by a serial killer and finds a loaded gun in an old suitcase, it seems too convenient. The audience will feel like the writer is cheating. But if five scenes earlier we saw the woman put the gun in the suitcase in the attic because it belonged to her deceased husband and she is afraid of it, we don’t bat an eye when she pulls it out with the killer closing in.

Gravity (written by Alfonso Cuaron & Jonas Cuaron) offers us a good example of this. Early on, Ryan says she sees the Chinese space station, then corrects herself to say it’s the International Space Station. This subtly tells the audience that both space stations are in the area. This is particularly important for the Chinese station. After Ryan discovers she can’t reenter the atmosphere with the escape vehicle in the International Space Station, she makes a new plan to get to the Chinese station. It might seem awfully convenient that a second station is nearby if it hadn’t been established earlier.

Another use of planting is to set up information for the climactic scenes so you don’t have to stop the action to explain everything. Jaws (screenplay by Peter Benchley and Carl Gottlieb) provides a good example of this kind of set up. Somewhere about the middle of the movie Brody accidentally releases the rope holding the SCUBA tanks in place, causing them to roll across the boat’s deck. Hooper chastises him, warning him that the tanks contain pressurized air and can explode if punctured. This gives us the information we need for the big ending when Brody shoots a SCUBA tank in the shark’s mouth, causing it to explode and kill the beast.

What’s great about this is how the writers hide the plant in another context. The first scene with the SCUBA tanks is about Brody’s lack of experience on boats. It’s meant to show us how out of place he is. But the bit of info about the possibility of explosion is slyly slipped in there as well. We get the information we need, but aren’t tipped off that it will come into play later, which might make the ending feel predictable.

Or consider the payoff of Indiana Jones’ fear of snakes in Raiders of the Lost Ark (story by George Lucas and Philip Kaufman, screenplay by Lawrence Kasdan). Indy opens the Well of Souls and discovers it’s filled with snakes. He rolls over and says, “Snakes… why did it have to be snakes?” That’s only funny because way back in the beginning of the movie they planted his fear of snakes with the pet boa constrictor on the plane. Imagine if they hadn’t done that. Indy would have to say something like, “Snakes… I’m afraid of snakes.” It’s a small change, but it would weaken the joke and feel a little forced.

Planting and payoff builds trust with the audience. If you do some early plants and pay them off quickly, the audience will come to believe they are in good hands. Then if something is not explained right away they will stay with the movie, figuring it will undoubtedly be taken care of before the credits roll. Planting and payoff ties your story together and makes it feel cohesive and logical.

You will place many of your plants in the rewriting process. Often you don’t know what you need to plant until you write the scene with the payoff. As I write my first draft, I always keep a sheet for notes of things from earlier scenes I know I’ll want to go back and change in the second draft. That way I can keep moving forward rather than jumping back to older scenes. It is not uncommon for half the notes I make to be things I need to plant.

You should also look for opportunities to use the things you’ve already introduced. For example in Gravity, Ryan uses a fire extinguisher to fight the fire in the International Space Station. That’s not really a plant – it’s a key part of a scene that’s dramatic in its own right. When she has to pull the fire extinguisher into the escape pod because it blocks the hatch, that is a plant. And it’s paid off later when she uses the extinguisher to propel her to the Chinese station. There’s an elegance to the multiple uses of that prop that makes the story feel organic and unified.

And ultimately that’s the most important reason for using planting and payoff. It helps binds the story together into a single narrative, rather than just a series of scenes.

--

In other news, I wanted to share a really nice endorsement we got for The Hollywood Pitching Bible from director John Badham (Director of Saturday Night Fever, War Games and Stakeouts): 

"Are you Crazy? Don't wait. Buy this book now! Ken Aguado and Doug Eboch are guys who walk the walk, and here they talk the talk. They know as well as anyone how to navigate the trickiest waters on the continent: Hollywood's pitching process. Demystifying the secrets of what works and what doesn't for the not-so-brave new world of corporate Movie Biz. It's on my top shelf of books I can't be without."

Techniques for Tightening Your Screenplay

When I was discussing how to fix a screenplay that was too long a couple weeks back, I promised to give some tips on how to tighten your writing. Here they are!

One of the most common problems in beginner scripts is overwriting. Overwriting is when you use more words than you need to in order to do the job. It’s easy to overwrite because as you write, you are imagining the scene and putting down what you imagine. But now that you’re rewriting, you need to make sure every sentence is working properly and moving the story forward. You want to eliminate that extra padding that the reader might not even notice but that slows down the pace unnecessarily.

I personally have a bad habit of writing the character “turns around” and does something, because as the scene plays out in my head the character turns. But that’s almost always unnecessary to write. If the character is picking up a knife, for example, I can just write, “He picks up the knife.” If on the set the knife is behind the actor, I can trust he will figure out he has to turn around to get it.
Keep your action simple and spare. Only describe what’s needed to understand the scene. Give just enough carefully chosen, specific detail to make the scene come alive and if there’s something you want to emphasize, make sure you hit it hard. Instead of:

There is a KNOCK at the door. Steve stands up and goes over to open it. Megan is on the other side. She enters.

Just write:

There is a KNOCK. Steve opens the door for Megan.

Cut any action or dialogue that doesn’t really advance plot or character. Sometimes you’ll need a line of transitory dialogue to move a scene forward, but make these as efficient as possible. Let’s say you have two characters at a barbecue and you need them to go inside. You might write something like (please forgive improper formatting - difficult to get screenplay format in Blogger):

WAYNE 
I’m thirsty. Is there any more beer?

CHARLOTTE 
It’s in the fridge.

WAYNE 
Do you want to come with me?

CHARLOTTE 
Sure.

They go inside

There’s nothing awful about that dialogue on the surface. It’s reasonably realistic. But it’s also boring. You could get the same result with:

WAYNE 
Let’s go get another drink.

They go inside

Even better, you could probably just cut to them inside getting their beers. Would the audience really be confused?

Particularly watch out for the dreaded “greetings, introductions and farewells.” Too many weak scripts begin scenes with characters entering, greeting each other, introducing friends, asking how each other is doing, etc. It’s boring! Cut into the scene at the meat of the conversation. The same rule applies to leaving. We don’t need long goodbyes, just cut out of the scene. And definitely avoid having someone introducing a group of characters to each other. It takes lots of space and the audience probably won’t remember the names anyway.

Watch for overly detailed descriptions. Many new writers start a scene by describing everything in the room. That’s unnecessary. If the slug line says we’re in a classroom we have a pretty good idea of what we’ll find in there. Pick a few specific things to point out that tell us what kind of classroom it is and let us fill in the rest. If the chalkboard at the front of the room is just an ordinary chalkboard you don’t need to mention it.

Something that will help here is specificity. Try to pick specific, evocative words and details. Consider this description:

INT. CLASSROOM – DAY

The walls are painted grey. There are pictures of Presidents above the chalkboard. There are a dozen old desks arranged in three rows and a big teacher’s desk at the front. One wall has dirty windows overlooking the ball field. There is a tattered flag in the corner. The fluorescent lights cast a greenish hue.

Now try this version:

INT. CLASSROOM – DAY

More of a prison than a learning environment. The peeling grey paint was applied at least a decade ago. Some of the graffiti carved into the desktops dates back five times as long.

Doesn’t the second give you a much stronger impression of the environment in a lot fewer words? And yet even that is probably too much for most scenes. Usually all you need is:

INT. CLASSROOM – DAY
 
A worn and decrepit prison of education.

...and get started on the drama. There are exceptions – sometimes you need to establish a mood. Or sometimes a key location needs more detail to provide context for the scene. But far more often a classroom is just a classroom.

It’s not always easy to ignore the forest and focus on the trees. You have to force yourself to go slow and evaluate every line and even every word. But if you are ruthless with your cutting, you will not only significantly reduce page count, you’ll have a breezy, faster paced screenplay.

Help! My Screenplay is Too Short

(Spoilers: Ocean’s Eleven, There’s Something About Mary, E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial)

As I mentioned last post, spec feature screenplays should be a minimum of 90 pages, though you might get away with as few as 85 for a low budget indie. Fewer than that and your script will feel slight. It won’t feel like a movie. Assuming your structure is working, you are going to have to find a way to bulk it up. And you don’t want to pad or add filler – that will just make your script feel bloated and slow.

There are two basic reasons I’ve seen for screenplays to come in under length: either the scenes are underdeveloped or there isn’t enough story.

The easiest way to diagnose the first problem is to look at the length of your scenes. If most are under two pages, you probably haven’t adequately milked your scenes for maximum impact. You are being perfunctory and not dramatizing the action. Not every scene has to be long, but you should have at least eight juicy scenes (and usually many more) spread throughout your script. What do I mean by juicy? They have multiple obstacles, mounting tension, and twists. They are like miniature movies unto themselves.

If your problem is underdeveloped scenes, identify the key moments in your film. Be sure to pick out at least eight scenes. Re-examine those scenes, treating them like short films. You know what has to happen in the scene, what’s the most interesting, dramatic way to get there?

Make sure there is adequate conflict in the scene. Can you add obstacles blocking the hero from achieving their goal? Can you throw in an unexpected obstacle somewhere in the middle? Good scenes, like good scripts, go up and down, with the character alternately getting close to their goal and then pulled farther away. You can also try the out-of-the-frying-pan-into-the-fire approach: a character overcomes one obstacle only to find himself in deeper trouble.

You should also ask yourself if the outcome of the scene is obvious from the opening of the scene. If so, can you revise the beginning so it appears things will head in a different direction, giving you a twist?

Sometimes underdeveloped scenes come from inadequate outlining. The writer is using the first draft to figure out their story and fails to pay enough attention to the scene work. Other times a writer will have a solid outline, but will do little more than convert the outline to screenplay format in the first draft, checking off plot points and not fully developing scenes. It’s important in your first draft to take the time to think about what will make your big scenes great.

If you have good scenes but you just don’t have enough of them, you probably don’t have enough story. The first thing to do is look at how your acts are balanced. Usually Act One takes up one fourth of your script, Act Two one half, and Act Three one fourth. Is your problem that your story overall is too short, or is one of the acts too short?

If you are short across the board, make sure you are properly tracking your character arc. Are the beats of the character’s change dramatized so the audience can see them? Also make sure that you’re not missing important preparation and aftermath scenes to allow us to touch base with the character’s emotion.

Another problem could be that you don’t have enough subplots. We look for about three subplots in addition to the main plot. If you need to add a subplot, consider if there’s another angle on your subject/theme that you could explore, maybe with a supporting character. For example, if you’re writing a love story, is there another relationship that illuminates an alternative experience to the main relationship?

If your problem is mostly in Act One it probably means you haven’t properly set up the character’s status quo before the Catalyst, or your character hasn’t eliminated alternate solutions before taking on the problem. Make sure that the stakes of the story are clear and that you’ve locked the character into the story.

A short Act One really isn’t bad unless it doesn’t adequately set up the rest of the film. Usually you’ll realize what you’re missing when you try to write Act Three. If you don’t have a list of things to add into Act One, look at Act Three and see if you’ve really established everything you need for your ending to hit with maximum impact.

If Act Two is short, first make sure that there are multiple stages to your hero achieving their goal. I’ve seen many bad mystery stories where the hero finds one clue that reveals everything. In a good mystery the clues need to be a path – one leading to the next and that one to the next until the truth is assembled like a jigsaw puzzle from all the multiple clues.

Similarly, if your movie is about a robbery then there better be several steps the character has to take to prepare. Consider the Ocean’s Eleven remake (screenplay by Ted Griffin). Before the big heist Danny has to get financing and recruit his team, which involves several mini-capers such as getting Basher out of jail. They also have to build a replica of the vault to work out the plan, and commit other tricks to get inside info on the casinos. All of this provides the meat for Act Two before we get to the heist in Act Three.

You also need to make sure you have multiple obstacles for the hero to overcome. In There’s Something About Mary (story by Ed Decter & John J. Strauss, screenplay by Ed Decter & John J. Strauss and Peter Farrelly & Bobby Farrelly), Ted wants to win Mary’s heart. That would be pretty easy to accomplish if it weren’t for Healy and Tucker trying to sabotage the relationship.

Escalation is key, as are reversals. If your character is simply checking off unrelated obstacles or to-do items on his plan, then your story will feel episodic and lack forward momentum. What you want is a feeling of “but… so…” instead of “and then.” The character does A but it causes B, so the character does C, but it causes D and so on.

Finally, take a good look at your midpoint. It’s a good idea to throw a new element into the story here and raise the stakes. Bringing in something new will generate more material to fill out the story.

It isn’t uncommon for Act Three to be a bit shorter than a quarter of your script. You’ve gotten all the exposition out, so everything in Act Three is go, go, go. But if your Act Three is significantly short, there are several things to look at:

Have you given an appropriate period of aftermath after the Act Two Turning Point so we see the impact of the character’s failure or success?

Is your Act Two Turning Point severe enough? At the end of Act Two we should think there is no way the ultimate resolution could possibly happen. A big Act Two Turning Point should provide lots of material for Act Three

Is the ending too easy? Perhaps you haven’t provided a big enough final conflict after the Epiphany. The Epiphany should give the character the key to overcoming their problem (assuming a successful ending) but there should still be big challenges to overcome. In E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (written by Melissa Mathison), when Elliot learns E.T. is alive, he still has to get the alien out of the house and past the cops. Think of what obstacles the character might face in executing the solution from the Epiphany.

The key to your next draft is to add heft to your story in the right way. You don’t want length for length’s sake; you want to add material that makes your story cooler and more powerful. That starts with properly diagnosing your problem.

Help! My Screenplay is Too Long

Spec feature screenplays ought to be between 95 and 110 pages long. In general comedies are on the shorter end of this, action on the longer end. Some big action or sci-fi films can go a little over this range and independent scripts can be shorter (but not less than 85 pages!)

The reason for this page range is that in a properly formatted screenplay, one page should equal approximately one minute of film time. Movie theaters and distributors want movies to run between ninety minutes and two hours. Yes, you've probably seen plenty of big tent pole films this summer that run well over two hours. But often the length of these films grew as the script was developed and action scenes and special effects were added in preproduction. The rules for spec scripts are different from these final films.

So what do you do when you finish your first draft and discover your script is too long? If it's ten or even twenty pages over the desired length, you probably shouldn't worry yet. Often first drafts are bloated, and as you trim and refine your scenes and dialog, you'll see that page count come down. Also, if you know you need to make major structural changes to fix the story, best to get those things done before worrying about length.

But if the story is working and you're page count is significantly over the norm, what do you do?

There are many possible reasons your script ran long and it can be difficult to diagnose the problem. There is no "right" number of scenes or "correct" scene length. Some scenes will be only a few lines, others will be several pages. Scenes longer than three pages are rare, but not unheard of. Action movies tend to have a lot of scenes, romantic comedies and dramas fewer... but not always.

If it seems like you have too many exceptionally long scenes, or that the pace of your scenes is dragging, perhaps you’re overwriting. The solution will be to tighten your writing (I'll offer some techniques for tightening your writing in a future post).

Or perhaps you are overdeveloping scenes that don't need it. Not every scene has to be long and dramatic with big obstacles and twists. Some can be quick, quarter page scenelets. Save the drama for significant plot points or character moments. Keep in mind, though, you usually shouldn't do more than two or three pages in a row of quick scenes like this.

If, on the other hand, your scenes are good but you just seem to have too many of them, you may have to cut some things out. It might be possible to cut scenes without compromising story. There are two possibilities:

One, you might have redundant scenes – multiple scenes demonstrating the same plot information. As I discussed last post, if you do something right once then you don’t have to repeat yourself. Pick the best scene for the task and cut the others. If the best scene doesn't do the job, make it better.

Two, you might be able to have scenes do double or triple duty. Often in the first draft you’ll have one scene advancing plot and another advancing character. Are there places where you can move the character stuff into a plot scene or vice versa?

If you still have a length problem, it might be an indication that your story is too big. Perhaps you have too many subplots. Most screenplays can sustain about four story lines - one main plot and three major subplots. If it seems like you’re tracking too many different things, rank your storylines in order of importance. Can you cut the ones that are on the bottom of that list?

You also might have too many characters. It is generally advisable to have only as many characters as you need to make the story work. Ask yourself what each character’s role is in the story. See if you can combine some of those functions. Does your rogue cop really need to be chewed out by his Lieutenant, the Captain AND the Mayor? Does he need six drinking buddies? Wouldn’t two suffice? Particularly look for characters who only appear in one or two scenes. Could a more significant character take on that part?

Often this is toughest to do when you are dealing with a true story. You know there were actually three lawyers representing the defendant. Or that the crucial clue came from a random neighbor. This is where you may have to let go of the facts and focus on truth… with fewer characters.

It may be hard to cut scenes and characters that you love, but this is what they mean when they say, “kill your babies” or "kill your darlings." The guiding principal here should be to serve the needs of the story first and foremost. You have to cut the things that don't serve the story... no matter how much you like them. And yes, that can be painful.

Some of you are probably now saying, "That's great, but what if my first draft is too short?" Ah, a perfect topic for my next post!

--

The Hollywood Pitching Bible - Now available on Amazon and iTunes.

Do It Once Well

Since I'm currently rewriting a new spec script, my mind is on rewriting a lot lately. So, I thought I'd do a series of posts on rewriting. Today I want to talk about the screenwriting saying, "Do it once well." This isn't purely a rewriting concept, but it often comes into play in your second and third drafts.

The idea here is if you do something well in a script, you only have to do it once. For example, if you want to establish that a character is afraid of water, you are better off creating one scene that clearly and dramatically shows this rather than vaguely hinting at it three times.

(The exception here is when you don't want something to be clear to the audience. Also, once you've established a character trait, you need to be consistent with it or explain why it's changed. Once you've shown a character is afraid of water, if they encounter water again they should still be afraid of it - that doesn't violate the principle.)

There are two ways this idea can be helpful in rewriting. First, if you are creating repetitive scenes, your screenplay may be running long, the pace may be slow, or it may seem on-the-nose. Second, if you need multiple scenes or beats to establish something, it may be a sign you are not properly dramatizing it.

So with our character who is afraid of the water, three consecutive scenes of him walking near the ocean, a swimming pool and a fountain and looking at the water nervously would both take a lot of words (and production time) and possibly still fail to make the point. You're relying on the actor to properly convey fear and on the audience to infer the source of the fear is the water.

Much better to do one scene that dramatizes the fear. Perhaps the character slips and falls in a shallow fountain, and freaks out, screaming for help. An old lady pulls him out and wonders what all the fuss is about - it's only a few inches deep. The character mumbles that he doesn't like water.

Of course knowing this principle and spotting repetition in your own work are two different things. That's one of the challenges of rewriting. It can help to step back and think of the various storylines in your screenplay.

What is the main character's emotional arc? What does the audience need to know about the character at the beginning of the script? Which scene establishes those facts? Where does the character change? Is there a single, effective scene establishing each change? Repeat this thought exercise for each relationship, the main plot and each subplot.

To organize this process, I often make a "rewrite plan" when I'm starting my second draft. This is very similar to the outline I made before the first draft - sometimes I can even just cut and paste large sections of the outline. I'll list every scene* and a few sentences of what happens in each. Then I'll list the changes I want to make in that scene. (Often there will also be new scenes to add, or a few scenes that are rearranged.)

I then identify the purpose of each scene in the story. Valid purposes for a scene are establishing/advancing character, advancing plot, or scenes of preparation and aftermath. I also grudgingly allow myself one or two scenes of exposition, and a couple set pieces that are just there for genre payoff (a funny set piece in a comedy, scary set piece in a horror film, etc.). **

I make these things specific. So a scene's purpose is not "advancing character," it's "Megan gives up hope." If I see two scenes with roughly the same purpose in close proximity, it's a sign I'm not doing something "once well" and I should probably either cut one scene or combine them.

A good outline reduces the amount of work you have to do in rewriting, but it's impossible to perfectly predict how the script will go in the first draft. Things won't work as well as you thought and characters will demand to go in directions you didn't anticipate. That's why when rewriting you have to let go of some of your preconceptions and be willing to make changes.

After all, "writing is rewriting."

--

*For these purposes sometimes a grouping of scenes may count for a single dramatic scene. A chase that moves through various locations may be multiple technical scenes but is really just one dramatic beat of the story.

**Ideally most scenes do multiple things. So a set piece could also advance plot, or an exposition scene could also reveal character.

How to Take Notes

(Part Two of Two on Notes Sessions)

Last post I discussed the politics behind a professional notes session. This week I’ll discuss how you, the writer, should behave when receiving notes and some strategies for dealing with bad notes. Be aware, notes sessions can be in person in a meeting or over the phone. Notes may be delivered verbally or in writing.

Write Everything Down

The first rule of taking notes is don’t react immediately to the note. This is true whether the note is coming from a producer or from a member of your writers' group. The best thing to do is simply write the comment down. In fact, in a studio notes meeting, not writing the note down could be seen as unprofessional or even insulting.

There are a couple good reasons not to react immediately. First of all, you are likely to have an emotional response, and if this response is that the note is stupid, then you might say something unwise. Second, it can take a while to wrap your head around a bigger change. Your initial reaction might be that the suggestion can’t possibly work, whereas if you think about it for a while it may actually dramatically improve the script. Third, the stress of a notes session may not be the best place to evaluate the quality of a note.

Finally, if the notes are delivered verbally, sometimes people start coming up with things off the top of their heads. And when they’re doing this, sometimes they’ll blurt out something dumb. They may know it’s dumb the moment it leaves their mouth and are hoping everyone will just kind of forget they said it. But if you point out the dumbness, you force them to defend it, particularly if their boss is in the room. Now they will insist that you must do the dumb idea.

So write everything down. If you don’t fully understand a comment, feel free to ask for clarification. But turn off your judgment for the moment and just record the notes. Later you can ponder them at your leisure and decide how to address them.

Sometimes you’ll get a suggestion that is so right on and so clear and that will so obviously make the script better, you smack your head because you didn’t think of it yourself. But that, unfortunately, is the exception. It can take a little work to evaluate notes. Sometimes the note-giver will have identified a problem but offer the wrong solution. Other times it may be difficult to even figure out what problem they stumbled over. When I get a note that doesn’t seem to make sense, the first thing I do is try to figure out what prompted it.

This is key because most of the time the producer or executive isn’t so concerned that you do exactly what they say, but rather that you address the issue they brought up in some form. If you come up with a better solution than what they suggested, they will usually be delighted. Sometimes, however, they will insist that you make the change exactly as they said. In those cases, you have to decide how important it is to make them happy – which may amount to how important it is that you keep the job.

Pick Your Battles

Obviously if a suggestion will improve the script, you should do it. You should also do the suggestions that are neutral – those that don’t make the script better, but they don’t make it particularly worse. Why fight over something that doesn’t really matter? If the note makes the script only slightly worse, you probably want to do that, too. Save your resistance for the notes that really hurt the script. The more suggestions you take, the easier it will be to fight the ones you hate.

And what do you do with the bad notes? As I mentioned earlier, sometimes you can just ignore them, especially if they were delivered verbally and there is no real record of them other than what you wrote down. If, however, you ignore a note and then it comes up again in the next meeting, you’re probably going to have to do it.

A for Effort

Usually you have a certain latitude to say, “I tried it and it didn’t work.” You might be able to use this on up to 20% of the smaller notes, the ones that only impact a scene or two.

Now, I recommend that you really do try these notes. Maybe the producer or executive is actually right and you’re wrong. Shocking, I know, but it does happen. Sometimes when you try a note you think is off base, you’ll find it actually does make the scene better. Or perhaps it will give you a different idea that improves the scene. And if it turns out it doesn’t work, then you can honestly justify why you didn’t do it.

If you’re collaborative, if you make a serious attempt to execute most of the notes, then usually the executives will accept that the handful of notes you rejected really didn’t work. But it’s important to make it clear that you listened and took them seriously. I find this to be the best way to deal with conflicting notes. You can say you tried both approaches and you picked the one that worked best.

When I am faced with the prospect of executing a note that I disagree with, the first thing I will do is try to come up with an even better change. I will give credit to the note-giver for inspiring this new idea. Hopefully they will agree it’s better than what they suggested.

Lipstick for a Pig

There will be times, though, when you are instructed in no uncertain terms to make a change that you disagree with. You’re only choice here is to do it or quit. Quitting is hard, both on your spirit and on your career, but occasionally it’s really the best choice for your long-term success and happiness. Most of the time you’ll want to hold your nose and make the change.

And when that happens, I recommend doing your very best to make the change work. As I said last time, it’s your name on the script. You don’t get to assign blame to the person who made the awful suggestion. So try like hell to make the note work.

I know some writer believe “if they are paying you, you should do whatever they say.” I disagree. Sometimes your job is to save them from themselves. If the script improves, everyone benefits. The trick is to build a good relationship with the people you’re working for, and to be willing to make changes – if not always every change or the exact change they suggested.

And remember, there are a lot worse jobs than screenwriting!