The Emerging Writer

Collaborating on "Lazarus McFarren"

It’s been a long summer. I have been away from blogging for a bit, but hope to begin posting more regularly again.

I hope you have been writing and polishing your work, and always developing something new.

As I continue these days with my blog, it will for the most part center on a single project. By now some of you may have heard of the development of my latest project, “The Greatest Invention of Lazarus McFarren”. It began as a script I wrote on spec about two years ago. I went through several drafts, then hit some brick walls. I tucked it away to come back to it at a later date.

Well: that later date has come! My good friend, Director Zac Page, was intrigued with the idea. Zac has brilliantly directed a number of shorts films, including his latest, “American Cheese”, which premiered Sept 27 in Grand Rapids. Zac read my ninth draft of “Lazarus”, and, long story short, we decided to collaborate to bring this thing to the screen, with the agreement that this would be Zac’s debut as a feature film director.

And here’s where my decision to bring on some new writers began. I felt I had taken the script as far as I could go on my own. I felt I needed another perspective, someone with a different angle that could contribute the elements still missing in my work.

It’s humbling to admit that I felt I wasn’t quite there with “Lazarus”. And yet it is comforting to know that even in Hollywood, the ultimate vision for a screenplay is often the result of the work of several writers.

It’s faster, you get instant feedback, and it spreads out the work.

So I am excited to have Zac Page and Erin Krajewski (Dennis Louis and the Most Beautiful Picture Show) on board as co-writers for this latest draft of the script. We are shooting for the moon here. But our philosophy is to think big, do our best, and make this happen to the best of our abilities.

In further posts I will share about some of the adventures we face, not only in revising the script, but in the process of developing this into a feature film to be shot right here in West Michigan. Visit the official website here: www.lazarusmcfarren.com.

My Process For Rewriting

As I mentioned in an earlier post, rewriting is an exhausting process. It requires going over and over the story, both on the page and in your mind, in search of the best moments your characters can face, the best lines of dialog they can spurt, and tightly knit structure.

In rewriting my nine-page short, “The Envelope”, my process has been slow. It’s an abstract story with a minimum of expository information, and my challenge has been to build in just enough clues to give the reader some meaning to latch onto, in addition to the action and intrigue.

I began by making my own tweaks, but I’m at the point now of listening to my peers and implementing some of their suggestions.

Notes have come back to me in various forms: in emails, or scribbled in the margins of the printed pages, or on neatly typed observations.

What I have to do is weigh the value of each comment.  

Some notes are on format: experiments I’ve made with underlining, double dashes, revealing internal thought, or getting rather prosaic with my writing style. These I’ve decided to leave in. It’s my voice, and although not conventional, it’s my style. Most notes on format I set aside.

But other comments are more critical:

What aspects of the story are multiple readers not getting? If five out of eight readers are unable to connect a series of dots, then that thread of the script definitely needs attention. If only one out of eight readers misses a point, I might let that moment slide if others feel it plays fine.

What I do is sift through the pages of comments from my readers, and highlight the ones I feel I need to address. Then I write each of those points down separately on clean sheet of paper.

Now I have a bullet-point list of the problem areas in my script. 

Next, I prioritize them. I usually clean up simple things like word changes first. Then I work my way through the more complicated knots.

It can seem overwhelming; but the thing I keep in mind is to address only ONE comment at a time. Really work it, fix it, then move on to the next one.

Eventually, I’ll get through them all, and finish with a much improved draft that is ready to show again.

In my next post, I’ll discuss another strategy I am using to rewrite “The Envelope.”

What's A Rewrite?

When I first began writing scripts as a young teen, I thought that rewriting a script meant changing a line of dialog here and there. Or maybe adding a sentence or two of description. Changing the name of a character. Or a location.

I didn’t realize that when I typed “The End” it was really just the beginning; that what I had was a first draft that needed patience and tender loving care to craft into a tight, flowing story.

Today I realize that rewriting is the most grueling aspect of screenwriting. The bursts of inspiration that got me through the first draft fade away, and I am faced with plot holes and illogics that aren’t going away unless I fix them. There might be pacing issues, or I’ve missed a beat or two in developing the arc of a character, or I haven’t left enough clues for the reader to get what I mean (as I illustrated in my last post, “Too Many Clues, or Too Few Clues?”).

Today I liken rewriting a script with demolition. Yes, sometimes I just have to reach into the script like a giant crane and tear out huge portions that aren’t working, or that don’t serve the story. Using the wrecking ball on a script is painful but necessary.

Many of these decisions I can make on my own, after I’ve tucked the first draft away for awhile, then come back to it fresh and see things instantly that need cleaning up. But many glaring holes are revealed to me through feedback from fellow writers who read my work.

I learn a lot about rewriting from reading produced scripts and comparing them to the finished films. I was shocked to observe that not one word of David Franzoni’s first draft of “Gladiator” made it to the silver screen. When John Logan and William Nicholson came on board for rewrites, they did a lot more than change a name from “Narcissus” to “Maximus”.

When I finally realized my own “Cumberland’s Gold” needed a major overhaul, I ended up tossing probably forty percent from the tenth draft in favor of new material. Better material.

And the only way I arrived at that better material was to force myself to concentrate on the story and think through a hundred ways one event could lead to another. Consider a dozen different lines of dialog that might be possible for a single moment. Or invent entirely new obstacles for my heroes to overcome.

Every draft brings you closer to a great script. In my next post I’ll explore this further. Now… go work on that rewrite! Guess I better, too.

Too Many Clues, or Too Few Clues?

I am working on a short script that I began several years ago, “The Envelope”. It’s a nine-pager, kind of a philosophical thriller, very abstract and ambiguous; not a genre I normally write. It’s another step in the refinement of my voice as a screenwriter.

The trouble spot I’m running into is:

Nobody who reads it has any idea what’s going on. Or what it’s about.

Ack. I guess that makes for more than just a “trouble spot”. Yet, I did this purposefully. Kind of.

You see, I pulled out ALL of the expository information. There is no backstory given, no explanations, no spoonfeeding. You are just kind of dropped into this unknown world in the middle of this drama between five characters, Wexler, Selena, Durgarian, Toland, and Fosse, and left to figure it out for yourself.

My true goal is to get the reader (and eventually the viewer) to somehow make enough sense of this to get something out of it.

Interpretations will vary from one end of the spectrum to the other. And that’s okay. I just don’t want people going, “Huh?”, at the end and feeling totally lost. I want there to be some closure, and the takeaway to be an introspective question.

The notes I’ve had from eight readers on the sixth draft are things like, “The writing is very engaging, well-written, and compelling”, and, "I particularly like how the story is constantly shrouded in mystery".

But also things like, “Who is the hero?”, and, “Not enough clues/threads”, and, “Too nebulous”.

Also, “Did I miss something?”, and, “Seems like the end is really just the middle”, and, "I can't piece everything together."

And my favorite: “A grand experiment. I accepted the format. But the dots aren’t connected.”

So I am left with a dilemma:

How many clues do I build back into the script so I don’t leave the reader totally confused? Not only how many, but which ones, and where do I put them?

Those are key questions that will make or break any script.

As writers, we have to build in just enough clues so the story makes sense, but not give everything away as to strip the story of suspense, anticipation, and surprise.

Just enough clues. Not too many, not too few. Finding the balance is the challenge for us all.

Setting Writing Goals For 2010

We all get discouraged sometimes, thinking we might never achieve our dreams or reach the level of success we envision for ourselves. Maybe sometimes the future looks bleak, and you feel hopeless. Maybe you even feel like giving up sometimes. I know I do.

Something that really helps me stay focused is to make an annual list of goals and track that as the months go by.

In early January of each year, I review a short list of goals. It’s only one page.

First, I sit down and make a list of all of last year’s accomplishments. I put that at the top half of the page. I review this list to remind myself of everything I actually got done. This is an extremely encouraging exercise. It’s so easy to forget all the hard work and sweat you put into your work. Making this short list of accomplishments can reassure you, “Hey, yeah, I did accomplish a lot to be proud of last year. Look how much further I’ve come!”

For example, some of the goals I set for last year, and accomplished, include: “Get website updated, clear & focused”, and, “Get on Facebook”, and, “Study comedy scripts as research for new spec script, “Dead Religious”.

And at the bottom of the page, I make a new list of goals I hope to achieve during the current year. Some of these goals may carry over from the previous year, but many of them are new, based on where I’ve come in the last year. It’s my roadmap for the new year.

I make goals specific, realistic, and attainable: like, “Get on IMDBpro & research WGA agents”, or “Study five produced screenplays”, or “Attend Screenwriting Expo in November”; not “Sell a screenplay”, or “Win an Academy Award”.

Some of my goals for 2010 include, “Refine, rewrite, and rework ‘The Envelope’ for production in 2012”, and, “Write the first act of ‘Dead Religious’, and “Research producers, companies, and talent in regard to ‘Cumberland’s Gold’”.

My current list of goals shows 28 accomplishments from 2009, and 17 goals for 2010.

If you set realistic goals for yourself and put your mind to it, you can and will get them done!

Try it!

How To Indicate Time Passage In Your Screenplay

Your story can span as much time as you want. But generally it’s advisable to bracket your story within the shortest time frame possible. If you have a choice between 3 years, 3 weeks, or 3 days, you’ll always choose 3 days.

But some stories demand a longer timeframe; months, years, even decades (e.g. FORREST GUMP, DRIVING MISS DAISY, MR. HOLLAND’S OPUS).

My students already know I have a pet peeve for SUPERS in screenplays that say something like “2 Years Later”, or “3 Months From Now”, or “2 Weeks Ago”.

Alright, I concede sometimes there is just no getting around SUPERS.

But ask yourself, “Do I really NEED this SUPER?”

Why is this question relevant? Because SUPERS distance the audience.

SUPERS are not drama. They are technical. They interrupt story. In fact, they kill story.

As writers we don’t want to do anything that will remove your reader/audience (however brief) from your created reality (thank Robert Flaxman for that term).

Here are some things you can consider to help move your story visually through time:

Seasonal changes
Holidays
Styles of hair, clothes, glasses
Car Makes and Interior Décor
Signs and Banners
Historical and Social Events

In DRIVING MISS DAISY, the filmmakers use seasonal changes, Xmas cards, the advancement in the technology of the machines in Boolie’s shop, and Hoke’s glasses get thicker…

FORREST GUMP uses historical, political, and social events to suggest time passage…

In MR. HOLLAND’S OPUS, Glenn and Iris age noticeably, their son Cole is seen as an infant, toddler, young boy, and adult; banners announce “class of ‘65”...

There is not one SUPER in any of the above-mentioned films. So, why not allow your audience the opportunity to become involved in figuring out the passage of time in your story on their own, through the visual clues you give them in your script?

The Perfect Title For Your Screenplay

Dreaming up the right title for a screenplay is one of my favorite parts of writing. But it can also be a headache. Sometimes the right title eludes us.

I’m reminded of Peter Benchley (Jaws) and how tough it was for he and his publisher to agree on what to call his now-classic thriller. With the manuscript ready to go to print, they were still without a title. Many ideas were batted around. Among them:

A SILENCE IN THE WATER
GREAT WHITE
JAWS OF LEVIATHAN
JAWS OF DEATH

Eventually they settled on the short and obvious, “Jaws”.

We have to be sure our title communicates what we really intend it to communicate. The ideal title is short and catchy. It should suggest genre. It should incite curiosity.

Here are a few ideas I learned from Bart Gavigan of Spark Productions in one of his stellar seminars. Your title could be:

1) A super-compressed version of your premise or logline
(THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH, MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON, RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, THE VERDICT, THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK, WHEN HARRY MET SALLY, BACK TO THE FUTURE, IN THE LINE OF FIRE, GET SHORTY, THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER)

2) The name of the hero
(CROCODILE DUNDEE, FLETCH, GOOD WILL HUNTING, FORREST GUMP, BUTCH CASSIDY AND THE SUNDANCE KID, THE KARATE KID, BATMAN, NANCY DREW, SCHINDLER’S LIST, MICHAEL CLAYTON)

3) A phrase or word reflecting the theme
(LOST IN TRANSLATION, TENDER MERCIES, THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION, IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH, AS GOOD AS IT GETS, LOST, MR. HOLLAND’S OPUS, SHINE, BABEL)

4) A location where the central action occurs
(CASABLANCA, BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI, ON GOLDEN POND, ON THE WATERFRONT, PLANES TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES, TITANIC, THE AFRICAN QUEEN, CHICAGO, CASINO ROYALE, INDIANA JONES AND THE TEMPLE OF DOOM)

5) A major obstacle or prominent object the hero must overcome
(VERTIGO, GOLDFINGER, VOLCANO, TWISTER, PRIMAL FEAR, JAWS)

At least this gets us started. If you can brainstorm a dozen titles in each of these categories, eventually you’ll land on a real zinger. Have fun!

Look At This Pro Script: "Back To The Future"

It’s impossible to look at every tiny change from fourth draft to finished film, but here are a few notable differences:

Pages one and two describe Marty in the classroom of his High School, being a nuisance. There’s nothing endearing about this “Ferris Bueller-type” Marty of the fourth draft, and this scene was later cut from the script.

The clocks which appear at the beginning of the finished film, are in fact not seen until page 11 of the fourth draft. In a scene which spans pages 11-14, Marty and Doc meet in Doc’s RV on a downtown street. The scripted scene has Marty and Doc chatting face to face about their upcoming rendezvous at Twin Pines Mall. In the film, this information is conveyed through a phone call. Much better that way: it shrouds “Doc” in mystery and we don’t meet him until the much anticipated test of the time machine in the mall’s parking lot. The RV was eliminated in subsequent drafts in favor of the garage. And an eye-rolling joke from Marty in the script, “What’s Up, Doc?”, thankfully, never made it into the film.

Also, in this scene of the script, Doc grabs the clock tower flyer from Marty’s hand and writes down the time and place for their rendezvous. In the film, the flyer is grabbed by Marty’s girlfriend Jennifer, so she can write down her phone number (Doc is not present). This is a doubly good improvement over the fourth draft: not only does this moment solidify the importance of Marty’s relationship with Jennifer, and thus motivate him to get back to the future, it also provides a reason why he would carry the flyer with him and show it to Doc later in the film.  

Much of the dialogue from the first few pages of the fourth draft has been cut, retooled, and moved around. For example: in the script’s first four pages, Marty tries to set off the school fire alarm in an attempt to escape detention so he can make it to his band’s audition. But Marty is caught, and the High School principal, Strickland, chews out Marty in his office:

STRICKLAND:
You’ve got a real attitude problem, you know that? You’re a slacker, McFly. You’ve got aptitude, but
you don’t apply yourself. You remind me of your father. He was a slacker too.

In the film, this exchange has been moved to the hallway, after Strickland catches Marty and Jennifer walking to school late. Get it? LATE. Another hint at the importance of TIME in this film. Further, the film adds this exchange:
                    
STRICKLAND:
No McFly ever amounted to anything in the history of Hill Valley!
        
MARTY
Yeah well history is gonna change.

A perfect exchange that makes perfect sense in context, and also foreshadows the tremendous changes in history that will unfold in this story.

The changes from script to screen are significant, and I could site many more.

But the point I am trying to make is that rewriting is a constant state of experimentation: moving scenes around, cutting and improving dialogue, weaving in symbolism and foreshadowing, making the script tighter, leaner, and constantly forward-moving.

Look at whatever script you are working on and hack away.

A Brilliant Open: "Back To The Future"

As screenwriters, one of the most important parts of our work is the first ten pages of our feature script. Today I’ll examine just the first THREE MINUTES of one of the 80s’ most notable films.

On my next post, I’ll compare this finished scene to what was written in the screenplay.
 
In the 1985 blockbuster “Back To The Future”, written by Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale, we are treated to one of the greatest opens in cinema. First, we only hear a sound: a CLOCK TICKING.

At fade in, we see them: dozens and dozens of clocks, ticking in perfect sync; symbols of what is going to be on the line in this film, time itself, getting Marty McFly (Michael J. Fox) back to the future. One of those ticking clocks sports a dangling Harold Lloyd, foreshadowing the gripping climax when Doc Brown himself (Christopher Lloyd) will hang on for dear life to the clock tower downtown. Masterful.

Besides the symbolic clocks, numerous other significant moments are embedded here. Let’s walk through this scene moment by moment and see what else we find.

The camera floats past the clocks, to photographs of Ben Franklin and Thomas Edison, which we later see in Doc’s Mansion of 1955.

We see the video camera on Doc’s bed, which will later record the historic first test of the time machine.

We float past a coffee maker. The timer goes off,  spilling coffee where there should be a cup. We pass a toaster that pops toast right on time but has burned it to a crisp.

I’d also note that these images make us chuckle, indicating the genre we are in: a comedy.

Perhaps most significantly, we now learn about the stolen plutonium through a TV news report.

And now we come to a robotic dog food can opener, which comically automates the opening of a can of Kal Kan, then dumps its contents into the perfectly placed dog food bowl below.

Okay, we are in the workshop of an inventor. And he must have a dog, (Einstein), who later will in fact become the first time traveler.

Now Marty walks in, skateboard in hand: another setup for the skateboard chase that will make us laugh in Act 2. Marty sets down the skateboard, taps it aside, and it rolls right into, yes, the case of stolen plutonium. So now the viewer is made curious: why is the stolen plutonium here?

Everything we see in this first scene brilliantly and cohesively sets up what is to come.

On my next post, I’ll compare this scene to the one scripted, and explore what some of the changes were. Should be a good exercise in rewriting!

Hint: This scene in the fourth draft of the script, dated October 1984, is completely different from what appears in the film!

Adventures In Deal Making

When I spoke at the Rochester Writers Conference last month, I had the privilege of meeting the keynote speaker, Chip St. Clair, author of the Bestseller: “The Butterfly Garden: Surviving Childhood On The Run With One Of America’s Most Wanted”.

When Chip approached me after my session about doing an adaptation of his book, I was, needless to say, thrilled. It was readily apparent that Chip is one of the kindest and warmest people I had ever met. Chip gave me a personalized, autographed copy of his book.

I informed my agent and attorney about my good fortune of having met Chip, then hopped on a plane to New Jersey where I directed a three-day show for a friend. While on the plane, I read Chip’s book.

Chip’s story is compelling, amazing, and inspiring. What’s great about his book is that, not only is it a page-turner, it’s movie material, and it’s truly an important story. His book is helping many people who have been victims of child abuse to find strength to move on and “soar”.

Over the next several days, Chip and I shared a few phone conversations, which cemented our desire to work together.

Then, suddenly, the opportunity of a lifetime came up for Chip: his publisher called to inform him that he had been selected to appear on OPRAH. Oprah’s crew would come to Michigan to shoot B-Roll, then fly Chip and his wife to Chicago to tape the interview.

In the meantime, my agent, my attorney, and I considered what should be included in a simple deal letter to present to Chip (he doesn’t have a producer yet, but I am willing to begin work on a first draft, having the confidence that this amazing story will likely be snapped up in the near future). The agreement we came up with is simply between me and Chip, but is inclusive of Writers Guild of America “Minimum Basic Agreement”  (MBA) terms, reserving the fine points for a contract that would be developed between me and a producer at a later date. 

Then, another turn of events: due to logistical conflicts with Oprah’s camera crew, Chip got placed on standby and is now in the lineup to be taped for a future episode of Oprah’s show.

In the meantime, my agent and I had a chance to sit down at a lunch meeting with Chip and his wife. We came out of that meeting creatively fueled, and in agreement about the direction the adaptation would take.

So here’s where it stands now: Chip is happy with the agreement, and is meeting with his agent to discuss. Nothing is final yet, so the adventure continues. It’s an exciting place to be.