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.

Coincidence

There's a saying in screenwriting: coincidence that make your character's life more difficult is okay; coincidence that makes their life easier is bad.

Consider the example of a hero being chased through a ravine by bad guys. Imagine if a boulder suddenly toppled from the cliffs and blocked the bad guys, allowing the hero to escape. It seems weak - a contrivance to get the hero out of a tough spot. However if the boulder fell in front of the hero, trapping him with the bad guys and making his situation worse, it feels like good drama.

This is because on some subconscious level the audience is aware that someone is crafting this story. But they don't want to see the hand of that storyteller at work. There are unwritten rules that the audience expects the storyteller to abide by. A coincidence that saves the hero feels like the storyteller wrote themselves into a situation and couldn't figure a way out, so they made something random happen to solve their problem. It feels like cheating. If the writer is allowed to let anything happen at any time then there can be no tension.

That type of coincidence is pretty easy to spot. More insidious is when a story element is a little too convenient. It exists to make the writer's life easier rather than growing organically out of the premise. But sometimes it's possible to turn these types of coincidences into strong plot points.

That's a little confusing in the abstract. Let me give an example of what I mean. One benefit of teaching is that it gives me ample inspiration for blog posts. Recently a student turned in an outline where when the hero meets the villain, they discover they are old high school classmates. I asked why that was and the student said, "I wanted them to know each other so the hero would trust the villain."

That's a valid idea, but it's imposing the relationship on the characters because of a plot need, rather than growing the plot out of the relationship between the characters. Thus it seems a little convenient.

I suggested that maybe the high school relationship between the characters could be the reason they come together. Maybe the villain was seeking out this old classmate, rather than running into them coincidentally.

My student's eyes lit up. She immediately began spinning a backstory of high school jealousy and rejection. Suddenly there was a whole new subtext to her main story. A weakness had just become a strength. 

In good stories plot should grow out of the character's goals and relationships. But of course you need certain things to happen in order for your story to work. When you discover something happens in your story just because you, the writer, needs it to, try to think of a reason based in a character's goals for the plot point.

Let's go back to our falling boulder idea. The audience may accept a random boulder trapping the hero. It makes the scene more dramatic and exciting. But what if one of the villain's henchmen pushed the boulder down? Maybe they had been eavesdropping on the hero and knew his planned route. That feels more satisfying, doesn't it? Even when you could get away with a coincidence, motivating it with character is better.

The exception to this rule is when the entire story is based on some kind of random event. In these cases the randomness is part of the thematic underpinnings of the story. For example, what happens when a regular kid finds a bag of money? Or when two musicians witness a mob hit? Or when a businessman is mistaken for a criminal? The audience is willing to buy one "miracle" to set up the story. But every plot point after that should grow out of that random event and the characters. 

In real life random things happen all the time. But in drama we want things to progress logically. Thus the saying, "Truth is stranger than fiction." So turn your coincidences into plot points based on character motivation. It might just enliven your whole story.

Structure vs. Formula

A recent essay on Slate blamed the structural outline in Blake Snyder's book Save the Cat for the formulaic nature of Hollywood movies. The essay has been getting a lot of play lately. It's well written, but the assertion is frankly a little silly.

First, Save the Cat is a popular and widely read screenwriting book, but it's hardly the most popular and most widely read screenwriting book. Second, though Blake Snyder put his own spin on structure, he's basically offering a variation of the three-act structure laid out by Syd Field in Screenplay (originally published in 1979) - and Syd Field was working from ideas laid out by Aristotle. So no, Save the Cat is not the guidebook for every Hollywood movie.

There are other questionable assertions in the article. It implies that Blake Snyder is responsible for blockbusters being targeted toward teenage boys, when in fact that started in the late-70's after Jaws and Star Wars introduced the blockbuster era. Save the Cat was published in 2005. It also claims Snyder was the first to specify page numbers for structural beats when, again, Syd Field did just that in Screenplay. Finally, it repeatedly says Save the Cat's structural breakdown gives a "page-by-page" formula. In fact, Snyder identifies fifteen structural beats. Unless you're making fifteen-minute movies, it's obviously not a page-by-page formula.

The biggest logic hole in attributing Hollywood's originality problems to Save the Cat is the historic time line. Many older movies follow Snyder's structural beats perfectly. In fact, if you convert page numbers to percentages of pages, most of Shakespeare's work fits pretty well. Even the Slate essay uses The Matrix as an example despite the fact it came out six years before the book.

When I read the Slate article I debated whether it was worth mentioning in this blog. Who really cares if it's being trumpeted by wannabe writers and lazy critics to justify a feeling of superiority over people who actually make movies? And it probably helped sales of Save the Cat. After all, if you want to write Hollywood movies and someone told you there's a book that all professional screenwriters use as a guide, wouldn't you buy it? (For the record, I think the book is quite good, though the structural stuff is its weakest part.)

But there's a bigger subtext here that appears regularly among aspiring screenwriters (including, occasionally, students of mine): That structure is a restrictive formula that inhibits creativity. And the inverse of that is often promoted by screenwriting "gurus" - that good structure is the key to good movies. Both of these ideas are not only wrong, they're dangerous to new writers.

In fact, structure is an element of craft. Understanding it is no different than understanding exposition, character development, or even grammar and spelling. It's a tool to tell the story. The story you tell can be original or derivative, imaginative or trite - regardless of whether the underlying structure is solid or not.

The parallel in architecture would be knowing the engineering required to keep your building from collapsing. You can make a beautiful building or an ugly building, but first you need to make sure it's not going to fall down!

The fundamental concepts of three-act structure are found everywhere - in European films like Amelie and art films like Beasts of the Southern Wild and classic films like Casablanca. Even, as I mentioned, the work of Shakespeare. Would you call those "formulaic"?

In fact Shakespeare worked within very rigid ideas of what a play should be. He even had to write in iambic pentameter! And he obviously didn't do that accidentally. He was well-educated in his craft. (I wonder if the Shakespearean version of Slate proclaimed iambic pentameter as the reason for unimaginative playwriting.) But Shakespeare accepted the traditions and conventions of his craft and used them to tell stories that have stood the test of time.

The danger of ignoring structure is that if your story is not well structured, it will likely have dull parts and logic holes. Counter-intuitively, it will often be predictable. You might get lucky and instinctively give your story a solid structure. But if you resist learning this aspect of craft, you will not be able to fix a story when instinct fails you. And it will.

On the other side of the coin, the danger of believing structure is the sole requirement of a good screenplay is that you might fail to do all of the other things necessary: create dimensional and compelling characters, build dramatic scenes, and write sparkling dialogue. Not to mention have something of value to say! Solid structure is the beginning of the process, not the end.

And whatever source you go to in order to learn structure, I encourage you to apply your own critical thinking. I don't like assigning specific pages to structural beats, either. That doesn't mean there's nothing of value to learn from Save the Cat. Take what makes sense to you and ignore the rest.

--

The Hollywood Pitching Bible, is now available for purchase in print through Amazon, or as an ebook for Kindle and iTunes. You can learn more about the book at the Screenmaster Books website.

Screenwriting Lessons from San Diego Comic-Con 2013

Last weekend I went to Comic-Con in San Diego. If you haven't been, it's a crazy pop-culture circus with both fan and pro components. Among the pro components are panels on industry topics and parties hosted by agencies, studios, and groups like the WGA. Here are a couple of interesting screenwriting-related things I learned/heard during my three days at Comic-Con this year:

What Do You Bring to the Table?

I went to a panel on Pitching Creator Owned Comics that had valuable information for pitching any type of creative project. The main point could be summed up in one line: "Why should a publisher choose your comic over someone else's?" You could transpose that to, "Why should a producer choose your movie idea over someone else's?"

The panel discussed the need to prove your value as an artist. Simply being passionate about the media and your ideas is not enough, yet in creative industries aspiring artists seem to think simply loving something entitles them to create that thing. As one panelist said, "Guess what - everybody is passionate about their idea." The panel chair, Jim Zub, used this analogy about the restaurant business to illustrate (I'm paraphrasing):

Imagine an aspiring chef came into a restaurant and cornered the owner.
Aspiring chef: You should make me the chef of your restaurant!
Owner: Interesting. Why?
Aspiring chef: Because I love to cook! I cook all the time, I eat everything and I love food.
Owner: Have you ever run a restaurant? Or even worked in one?
Aspiring chef: No, but I've wanted to be a chef since I was five, I watch the Food Network all the time and I know the names of all the chefs and I really, really love food!

If you were the restaurant owner, would you give that guy a shot? Probably not. You need to put in the hard work to prove yourself before asking people to give you an opportunity.

Note Giving and Taking

The Writer's Room panel, featuring many TV writers and showrunners, including my friends Javi Grillo-Marxuach and Steve Melching, was fascinating, funny and informative for anyone interested in TV writing. Unfortunately there was too much good stuff for me to recap everything. But there were some particularly good points about giving and taking notes that I'll summarize.

On giving notes, the point was made that people have a limit for receiving criticism. The note-giver should focus on the macro and work toward the micro. If there are big issues, deal with those first and don't comment on specific lines of dialogue or grammar errors. When the big changes are made, much of that stuff will end up being changed anyway. (This came up in discussion about the way showrunners give notes to staff writers.)

On receiving notes, a major point was that you are not hired to be a typist. One panelist said executives live in "ball-shriveling terror" of seeing a line of dialogue they suggested appearing verbatim in a script. Instead, you're supposed to interpret the note and deliver a good version of the idea.

The panelists also discussed the need to dig into the note behind the note, or as one panelist said, "There's a pony in the pile of s**t." So even if the note seems idiotic, the person reading was troubled by something at that point in the script. Try to figure out what it was and fix the underlying problem.

--

The Hollywood Pitching Bible is now available for purchase in print through Amazon, or as an ebook for Kindle and iTunes. You can learn more about the book at the Screenmaster Books website.

Interview with Producer Ken Aguado

Today I interview independent producer Ken Aguado, my co-writer on The Hollywood Pitching Bible. Ken's most recent film, Standing Up, was written and directed by DJ Caruso and will be released later this year. Ken has produced several other films including The Salton Sea for Warner Bros., Ticker, which premiered on USA Network, Crazy as Hell, which was distributed theatrically by Artistic License and Sexual Life, written and directed by Ken Kwapis for Showtime.

Prior to his producing career, Ken was a production executive for several companies including Kings Road Entertainment, Miller-Boyett Productions and The Badham/Cohen Group.

What is your role as a producer?

The old joke is that the definition of a Producer is someone who knows a writer. But traditionally a producer shepherds a film or TV project through various stages of the project's creation. In my case, I originated, developed, helped find financing and supervised the production of every film I have my name on.

What do you look for in a script?

One of the main advantages of being a producer is that you get to follow your passion, which means the scripts I look for need only be suited to my tastes, as opposed to – say - the currency of the marketplace or what an employer might want to make. That said, my taste in material is all over the place, but I always start by looking for a character that is sympathetic in a compelling situation. From there I look for scripts that are about something or speak to some relatable authentic aspect of the human condition.

What do you look for in a pitch idea?

The same things I look for in a script with the caveat that a pitch needs to be either very high concept or so well realized that the execution bludgeons you into submission, or both.

What is the biggest mistake that screenwriters make in pitches?

Do I have to pick just one? Most pitches fail because the story fails to pass muster in some way. The story is flawed. Few writers are great pitchers, but a great story will usually shine through. Buyers know this. But the more specific answer is that writers often make the mistake of picking an idea that is really inappropriate to pitch, not high-concept. The only time I can sell a non-high-concept pitch is when the pitch is based on well-known source material or when the pitch is incredibly well worked-out and moving.

How do you work with screenwriters to develop ideas?

If I originate the project, I like to start with source material, if possible. In this age of branding, it’s just easier to sell projects that are based on existing intellectual property. Sometimes writers will bring me their original project. But in either case it is not unusual for my development process to take months and even years of work. I am sure some writers feel that I am torturing them during this time frame, but the experienced writers know how ridiculously hard it is to sell anything today, and there is just no room for any mediocrity. It has to be great, and great can take a very long time to create.

What tips can you give screenwriters for working with a producer on developing a script or a pitch?

That’s tough. There are all kinds of producers out there. Some are good at development and some are good salespeople. Most established producers must have one or both of these qualities. But the best advice is to seek out producers you trust for their integrity and the quality of their ideas and make the effort to keep working with them. Working with the right producer means finding a valuable and trusted collaborator. This may sound obvious, but in practice many other unrelated priorities tend to intrude.

What things should a screenwriter do to maintain a career once they've gotten that first sale?

First of all, don’t stray too far from the kind of material you just sold. A long career will offer writer opportunities to reinvent themselves, and if your career stalls you may have to do it anyway. The second thing to do is make sure your next project is great. I like to tell writers that one good script is a fluke; two good scripts is a career. Hollywood is awash in writers who sold one script and then crashed and burned because their second script wasn’t great. Lastly, find your “voice” as a writer, but don’t fall in love with the sound of your own voice. The kiss of death in any career – writer or otherwise – is when you stop seeking out considered opinions because they tell you something you don’t want to hear.

How do you find new writers? What are you looking for from them?

I almost never seek out new writers. Working with new writers is a ton of work for me. No matter how much innate talent they might have, there is just so much they don’t know about the craft and the business. I don't try to avoid new writers, but I know plenty of experienced writers and I have no shortage of my own ideas and subjects for film and TV. When I do meet a new writer it’s almost always via a personal recommendation from a friend. Thereafter I need to see some seed of inspiration, and understanding of the craft, in their work. You can’t wing it as a writer, there’s too much you need to know. Read every good script you can, see every movie and TV show, know something about the history of cinema and TV, learn how to write clearly and effectively – then we’ll talk.

--

Ken and my book, The Hollywood Pitching Bible, is now available for purchase in print through Amazon, or as an ebook for Kindle and iTunes. You can learn more about the book at the Screenmaster Books website.