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.

Components Of A Logline

In his book, “The Art Of Dramatic Writing”, Lajos Egri presents an approach to premise that consists of two parts: “A leads to B”.

As I think through my premise for “Dead Religious”, I might start with this:

“Hardship leads to Faith” (A leads to B).

Good start, but it doesn’t focus sharply on what I’m after.

Andy Stein, whom I heard speak a number of years ago, presents the idea of a logline that consists of a sentence made up of three parts, with each part summarizing one of the three acts in the film. 

Maybe that’s too forced, but it’s getting closer to the design of a logline, which will be the motivating power behind everything I write, and will serve as my sales pitch once the script is done.

This was my first crack at a logline/premise for “Dead Religious”:

“When his impromptu prayer leads to disaster, a low-life entrepreneur seeks answers by enlisting a soothsayer to contact the dead founders of world religions.”

Okay, getting there. But it’s still vague. What do I mean by “seeks answers”?

Michael Hauge, author of “Writing Screenplays That Sell”, submits that a logline must include the word “wants” – because many beginning writers miss the importance of having the hero pursue a definite, clear goal.

With this in mind, I asked myself, “What does my hero really want, specifically, besides the ambiguous need for answers?

So I decided to make the guy an atheist who goes after something completely counter to what he believes.

Here’s my latest version (changes in italics):

“When a spontaneous prayer from a lonely atheist causes the death of a little boy’s mother, he seeks a spiritist to contact the dead founders of world religions in order to bring the woman back to life.”

Now the hero has a definite goal. And the logline hints at potential growth in the character.

So what are the components of a logline? How about this:

Define the hero.
Define the want.
Establish the arena of external conflict.
Hint at the arena of internal conflict.

I’ll probably continue to revise this as I go, but I think I have a good compass to guide me as I develop the story. Take the time to really think through your logline. It’s key!

Research: How To Make It Work For Your Script

For most of us, online sources are the number-one stop for details on subjects we are writing about. But here are some other options and thoughts to consider in terms of merging your research into your writing.

INTERVIEWS. When Melissa Mathison was developing her script for “E.T. The Extra Terrestrial”, she interviewed children and asked: “If you met a friendly alien, what powers would you want him to have?” A common answer was, “The power to heal.” Thus was born the healing touch from E.T.’s glowing fingertip! When I wrote “Traces In The Sand”, I interviewed a Dr. of Archaeology to get the official scoop on how a dig site is actually managed and run. In 90 minutes over lunch (my treat), I had all the answers I needed.

LOCATION SCOUTING. While Simon Beaufoy was writing “Slumdog Millionaire”, he realized he needed to make a trip to Mumbai, India, to see what it was really like. And what he saw completely changed his predispositions about life in the slums, the attitudes of the people, and how they treat outsiders. Beaufoy’s road trip was invaluable in shaping his story and screenplay. In writing “Cumberland’s Gold”, I traveled to Dover, Tennessee, to visit the real Cumberland River, historic Fort Donelson, and Dover itself. Understanding the geography impacted how I wrote several of the scenes.

LIBRARY: There’s nothing like a pile of library books to page through and study. Going to the library is a way to break your normal routine; it really can open up new parts of the brain. When I wrote “The Greatest Invention of Lazarus McFarren”, I checked out books and magazines on neurology, science, psychology, golf, and even massage therapy.

At some point, you realize you have enough knowledge to go on, and it’s time to start writing. You can always go back to research later for that little tidbit you are missing.

Research will lend an authenticity to your writing. But there comes a point when research could get in the way of story.

In other words, we are storytellers; we’re not here to please the experts.

Case in point: “Rain Man”. Screenwriter Ron Bass and director Barry Levinson did extensive research on autistic savants. That paid off in many little details. But they also discovered that someone at Raymond’s (Dustin Hoffman’s) level of the condition would never do some of the things that Raymond does in the script. Most notably, there would unlikely be any sense of affection for his brother Charlie (Tom Cruise) gained by the end of the film. But they wanted that moment at the end, when Raymond leans over and touches his head to Charlie’s, a slight indication that their relationship meant something to him. And it’s just enough to drive this moment home. It’s emotional satisfaction. It may not be true, but it works for the film.

So, do your research, and make the best choices for how to use it in your script.

What's Your Page Count?

Your first draft may come in at 140 pages. That’s what my last spec landed at, “The Greatest Invention of Lazarus McFarren”. Subsequent re-writes whacked it down to 120.

Or, it may come in at 198 pages (!), like a novel adaptation I did with co-writer Scott Holmgren (which we trimmed to 135 by its fifth draft).

But: if you are writing a feature screenplay, what should you really shoot for, especially if you are trying to sell it?

Way back when, the rule was that a 75-minute film was considered “Feature Length”. This may get you into festivals if you are an independent producer and aren’t targeting a mainstream release. But if you turn in a 75-page screenplay to a producer, agent, or manager, they will surely think your story is under-developed. 

Syd Field, author of the classic book “Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting” (1979), suggests 120 pages, and uses that number as the basis of his paradigm.

But times have changed. Richard Walter, in his book, “Screenwriting: The Art, Craft, and Business of Film and Television Writing” (1988), suggests an aim of 110 pages.

In fact, Comedian/Actor/Writer Steve Martin has said that he targets less than 100 pages for his scripts. And Diablo Cody’s Oscar-winning “Juno” came in at just 94 pages!!

Make it tight; make every scene and every line COUNT.

The general perception “out there” is that if you are a new writer and your script is over 120 pages, you haven’t cut enough material. If you are less than 95, you haven’t developed your story enough. (Diablo Cody is the exception, not the rule).

So Richard Walter’s ideal of 110 pages seems about perfect. That’s what I shoot for in my work, give or take. I think it’s the perfect guideline.

As a reference, here are the page counts for a number of mainstream scripts from the last decade:

GLADIATOR (David Franzoni and John Logan): 105
LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE (Michael Arndt): 114
BABEL (Guillermo Arriaga): 123
CASINO ROYALE (Neal Purvis, Robert Wade, Paul Haggis): 116
THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA: (Aline Brosh McKenna): 116
STRANGER THAN FICTION (Zach Helm): 119
MICHAEL CLAYTON (Tony Gilroy): 129
OCEANS 13 (Brian Koppelman and David Levian): 127
GEORGIA RULE (Mark Andrus): 120
NIM’S ISLAND (Jennifer Flacket): 108
MILLION DOLLAR BABY (Paul Haggis): 119
CHICAGO (Bob Fosse): 127
LOST IN TRANSLATION (Sophia Coppola): 117
THE DARJEELING LIMITED (Wes Anderson, Roman Coppola, and Jason Schwartzman): 103
GRAN TORINO: (Nick Schenk): 118

So…. What’s you page count?

Know Your Genre

I’m developing ideas for my latest comedy spec, “Dead Religious”, about an atheist whose spontaneous prayer causes the death of a little boy’s mother, so he enlists a spiritist to seek out the dead founders of world religions in order to bring the woman back to life.

As I develop my key plot elements, themes, and characters, I need to know where I’m headed, at least in a general sense. And so should you, I suggest, if you are gearing up to start a new script.

We each have to find our own process for brainstorming and development. But here’s how I’m approaching “Dead Religious”, for what it’s worth:

I’ve selected five of my favorite comedies: “Ghostbusters”, “Crocodile Dundee”, “The Princess Bride”, “The Darjeeling Limited”, and “Evan Almighty”. I’ve chosen these films because of their treatment of spiritual and moral elements in the mainstream, and equally important (since I intend to sell this) how they make me feel: GOOD.

I’ve got their screenplays in front of me, and DVDs of each film. I’m reading the script, then comparing them to the film. I’m examining moments that ring funny, and asking myself, “Why?” and “How?”. Which moments ring dramatic? How do each of these comedies begin; how does each one end? How do they approach spiritual ideas? How eccentric are the characters? How ordinary? How do they treat romance? Action? Tension? Drama? What’s the ratio of comedy to drama?

I’m looking at a thousand things and finding what I like, and how it transposes from page to screen.

I’m also looking at Bill Maher’s docuganda, “Religulous”, the George Burns corny “Oh God”, the Whoopi Goldberg hit “Sister Act”, “Ghost” with Patrick Swayze, the brilliant “The Gods Must Be Crazy”, and the Cary Grant/Katherine Hepburn classic “Bringing Up Baby”.

There is great variation, of course, in this diverse list of comedies, and for good reason: to help me get in some frame of mind to write this new script. I want it to be funny, but I also want it to be moving, and to have a point at the end.

I think there’s great value in examining other works in the genre you are writing in. It arms you; it teaches you principles of the genre, and helps you apply them to your own work.

It ain’t easy, it ain’t quick. But it’s fun, and it’s worth it!

Where Are The Professionals?

Last week I worked a three-day gig for a production company I won’t name, who was working for an (out-of-state) advertising agency I won’t name, who has a contract with a major car dealer I won’t name.

My task was field producer: coordinate with the executive on location about what we needed to shoot. I was responsible for making sure we covered what the scripts called for. I got release forms signed, assisted the director with camera placement, and coordinated shot order and locations with the on-camera talent (call her Sue).

And let me tell you, this shoot was chaos.

It was chaos because, the scriptwriter and associate producers had no experience in the field. We repeatedly had to communicate with them via cell phone: they had mixed up script titles between their shooting schedule and the scripts, which led to mass confusion. The format of the scripts themselves was incorrect, and none of the shots were numbered. Script-template leftovers were scattered throughout the page. It was often unclear which shots were to be shot with which lines.

They gave us a total of nine 30-second scripts to shoot (!), plus a whole page of cutaway shots.

That’s four days of shooting. We had to cram it into less than three.

And: all this without a teleprompter. The big-wigs had cut that from the budget. Sue (and the director) had been issued the scripts the night before the shoot, which left Sue no time to memorize lines. I didn’t see the material until THE MORNING OF THE SHOOT.

To make matters worse, these guys had done zero pre-production communication with the seven locations (seven!), so the director and I had to anoint extras from whoever happened to be around, and who had no idea they would have to appear on camera that day.

Worse yet, it was completely unclear who was really in charge. The exec on-set would tell us one thing, the scriptwriter would tell us another, and the associate producers would tell us something else.

They had been told by their boss three weeks in advance to prepare for this shoot, yet they scrambled at the last minute to pull it together, then expected us to clean up the mess.

It was up to the director, me, and Sue to rescue this production from certain doom.

So, what could we do? We eliminated one of the scripts altogether, drastically reduced the cutaway list, and slashed the amount of Sue’s material in half.

This caused panic and screaming in the office.

Fortunately Sue, with fifteen years experience, was extremely professional. She helped save the shoot.

But I am amazed at the level of unprofessionalism coming from what is supposed to be a top ad agency. How do some of these people get those jobs?

Where are the professionals?

Top 10 Screenwriting Books Ever: The List

In my last post, I outlined my reasons for choosing the books that make up this list.

The list, as a whole, is all-encompassing: from craft to selling. I’ve put the list in the order I suggest reading them. At the top of the list are books for new and beginning writers. Books further down the list help you forge a path toward increased awareness, skill and creativity.

1) “Screenplay: The Foundations Of Screenwriting”, by Syd Field. Simply the best introduction to the craft of screenwriting. All the basics, without getting you overwhelmed. Very practical. Pretty much universally acknowledged as THE starting point for new screenwriters.
2) “Making A Good Script Great: A Guide For Writing And Rewriting”, by Linda Seger. The perfect book to study after you’ve completed your first draft. Seger helps you make your script cohesive from beginning to end, focusing on subplot, commercial appeal, the hero’s journey, and character.
3) "The Art Of Dramatic Writing: Its Basis In The Creative Interpretations Of Human Motives”, by Lajos Egri. A gem of a book that makes you take a long hard look at your premise, character motivations, and conflict. An indispensable read. And reread! 
4) “20 Master Plots And How To Build Them”, by Ronald Tobias. No one can ever agree on how many plots exist, but this book covers 20 sure-fire plotlines that help you understand the conventions of plot. Not to be confused with genre. An eye-opening read.
5) “Story: Substance, Structure, Style, And The Principles Of Screenwriting”, by Robert McKee. This one is a real slugger. Once you have written a few screenplays and mastered Field, Seger, Egri, and Tobias, you are ready for Mr. McKee. But not before.
6) “World Mythology”, by Donna Rosenberg. A comprehensive anthology of myths from around the world from all times, continents, and cultures, including their historical basis and influence on our culture. This is where story all began.
7) “Your Screenplay Sucks!: 100 Ways To Make It Great”, by William M. Akers. This is Seger’s book on steroids. Akers gets into the nitty-gritty, fine-toothed-comb aspect of writing and rewriting, plain and simple. This is for after you have written your 9th draft and are moving to number 10 (and beyond). 
8) “Real Screenwriting: Strategies And Stories From The Trenches”, by Ron Suppa. Ron tells it like it is, no BS or pie-in-the-sky dreaming. This is the real-world business of screenwriting. Ron shares his nuts and bolts on craft, but most importantly: the marketing, selling, and positioning of yourself as a writer in the industry, and many of his own personal stories which help you understand the way the business works.
9) “The Real, Low Down, Dirty Truth About Hollywood Agenting”, by Rima Greer. Greer is a Hollywood Super-Star Agent. This is the first and only book (as far as I know) that is written by an actual agent. You HAVE to read this book when it’s time to find an agent. Sobering and most enlightening.
10) “Which Lie Did I Tell?: More Adventures In The Screen Trade”, by William Goldman. Goldman is considered by many to be the most iconic screenwriter in history. Writer of “Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid”, “Princess Bride”, “All The President’s Men”, and many more, Goldman’s anecdotes about his dealings with writing, researching, rewriting, and dealing with directors, producers, and stars is not only entertaining but immensely educational. The suggestion of this book implies you also read Goldman’s first installment: “Adventures In The Screen Trade”.
11) “The 101 Habits Of Highly Successful Screenwriters: Insider Secrets From Hollywood’s Top Writers”, by Karl Iglesias. This one’s about the daily grind: The beauty of this book is Iglesias’ interviews with some of the most successful screenwriters ever. There’s nothing like hearing from the ones who are actually in the trenches doing the work.

I know, that’s eleven. But I couldn’t drop a single one of them from the list.

You can find any of these books at WritersStore.com. And remember how to eat the elephant? In little burgers. Not all at once.

Top 10 Screenwriting Books Ever: An Intro

Online sources, like “The Hollywood Reporter", and magazines like “Creative Screenwriting”, are great go-to places for up-to-the-minute info on the movie industry. They supply the very latest tips and trends in the writing craft; they’re great monitors of the ever-changing marketplace of the serious screenwriter.

But for the essentials of screenwriting, storytelling, craft, and selling, I thought I’d share my list of favorite books that spell out the fundamentals.

I have read a lot of books on screenwriting. I started in 1988 at Columbia College in Chicago,  when I read Syd Field’s revolutionary (yet amazingly simple), “Screenplay”, which outlines the basics in clear, easy-to-follow prose. For me at the time, it was eye-opening: Field’s simple paradigm for the three-act structure gave me something to hang my story on. Many would agree: The principles outlined by Field form the very bedrock of screenwriting. First published in 1979, Syd Field’s “Screenplay” was one of the only books available on the art of screenwriting.

Today: a plethora. It’s overwhelming; how on earth do you choose which books to read? Many books on the craft are re-hashes of what’s been taught for decades, coming from a new voice (true) and, perhaps, a slightly new perspective. Yet not surprisingly, few offer truly new insight, and many are only moderately helpful.

The books that ultimately made my Top 10 had to pass these criteria:

1) Each book on the list offers significant, essential material that every screenwriter should know.
2) Each book offers its input with economy, covering their material in laser-focused pages.
3) Each book is a mine of golden goodies: you feel the urge to underline every other sentence, then have to reread in order to digest everything.
4 Each book is authored by someone who has written produced screenplays, and/or worked as a consultant for major studios and independents.
5) Each book is fun to read.

So in my next post: THE LIST, and what each book has to offer.

Comparing Field, Snyder, Leonard, & Coppola

In my last post, I discussed outlining vs. freewriting, and raised the question, “Which is better?” Here’s my conclusion to the matter:

Syd Field says, “Know your ending” (plan/outline). Elmore Leonard lets his characters guide him (character/freewriting) and somehow finds his way to a satisfying ending (Leonard’s novels, BTW, were adapted into screenplays by screenwriter Scott Frank. Here’s an exercise: compare novel, to script, to film, and learn more than you ever dreamed).

So, outlining vs. freewriting: Both approaches require lots of rewriting. Yeah. It’s absolutely true. No approach to writing leads to a wrinkle-free first draft.

Perhaps Francis Ford Coppola has the best idea: He creates his characters, then outlines, say, just the first act, and THEN starts writing. Based on what he gets, he maps out the next section of the script. He writes that, then outlines a little more, and so forth. This is the approach he is taking with his latest script, TETRO (his first original screenplay since THE CONVERSATION; hard to believe, isn’t it?).

I like Coppola’s approach: a combination of outlining and freewriting.

And that’s how I’m approaching my new spec, “Dead Religious”. I’m in the process of creating my hero, sidekick, heroine, and opponent. Then I’m going to make a general outline and start writing. I’ve posted 40 blank index cards on my writing board, where I’ll map the major elements of the story. I learned the card outline approach from Syd Field, but I’m using Blake Snyder’s recommendation of 40 cards total (as opposed to Field’s 56).

Both Field and Snyder propose that major story events should occur on certain page numbers. There are reasons for this, and they’re important to a degree. But to play the page number game literally can crush the imagination. Play it loose.

For me, like Coppola, there’s a delicate balance between outlining and freewriting. Find and utilize the strengths of both!

Interesting: Go to Elmore Leonard’s website, scroll down to “Tarantino: My job really is to create characters”.

Outline Vs. Freewriting: Which Is Better?

I’m sure you could point to the book that first opened your eyes to the craft of writing. I grew up on Syd Field. You know him: author of “Screenplay”, one of the first books to articulate form in screenwriting. Field revolutionized my approach to writing: THREE ACTS; and KNOW YOUR ENDING before you begin. Field’s book helped build my foundation for my first self-produced feature, “Dream Story”, in 1989.

But when I came to another of my features, “The Wellspring”, I ran into a dilemma. I had outlined my story: Act 1, Act 2, Act 3, which I composed on an airplane flight to California in 1993. But as I wrote the script, the characters seemed forced into situations that I didn’t feel were natural. They wanted to go one direction; and my story (per my outline) was predestined to end up someplace else. It left my characters in straight jackets.

And I hated it; it felt false.

Then I went to a writer’s convention in Detroit and heard from Michigan novelist Elmore Leonard (Get Shorty, Out Of Sight). Leonard writes with an approach I have come to call “freewriting”. Leonard creates a few unique characters and throws them in a situation to see what they will do. In short, he lets his characters guide the story. He doesn’t map out the whole story before he starts to write.

I loved the idea. So that’s what I did for “Marshall’s Hero” in 2001. But a novel allows more wandering than a screenplay, and since I am not the master Elmore Leonard is, the first draft of the script lacked a clear through line, and the story’s hero was ill-defined. It’s taken a slew of rewrites to fix that.

What I love about the freewriting approach is the creativity that comes during the actual writing. To see a story take shape right before your eyes is exciting. Freewriting offers tremendous opportunity for spontaneity during the writing process, and generates ideas you may never have if you plan it all out beforehand.

What I love about the outlining approach is the control you have over the design of the story: the chance to build your climax’s, to orchestrate the outcome, and to avoid the rabbit trails that often lead you astray in freewriting.

So: what do you do? Is one approach better than the other?

Think about it, and I’ll continue this discussion in my next post.

Don't Blow Your Contacts!

“Don’t blow your contacts!”, said Ron Suppa to me over the phone, frustrated, scolding me for my stupidity. The following experience is shining evidence of how dumb I was at the time:

A few years ago, I had sent one of my spec scripts to two different agents who had requested to read it. Let’s call them Agent A and Agent B.

Agent A called me, excited, said she loved the script (“It’s just what we’re looking for!”) and she had a buy-out opportunity for me right around the corner. I was on cloud nine.

Agent B also liked the script, and wanted to send it to some “colleagues” in LA.

Then, I waited. And waited. One week went by. Then two. Then three. Since nothing was happening, I decided to turn up the heat.

I emailed Agent A, and said I had another agent interested, so if she was really interested she needed to let me know soon.

Then I emailed Agent B and said I had another agent interested, so if she was really interested she needed to let me know soon.

I figured that would light a fire under one of them, and I’d be able to bag one of them for sure.

Guess what happened?

Agent B got back to me and said, “If you have another agent interested, by all means go with them.” Agent A also got back to me and said, “If you have another agent interested, by all means go with them.”

So I lost BOTH agents. I’d royally screwed myself! I was back to square one! What an absolute idiot!

I see at least three lessons here: First: don’t submit your material on your own. Get an entertainment attorney and have him/her submit on your behalf. Second: never let an agent send your script to their “colleagues” unless you have an official agreement with them, and your attorney knows about it, and the agent knows your attorney knows. Three: don’t push agents, or managers, or producers. Give them three weeks and send a patient follow-up. No one is in a hurry in Hollywood unless they have the next “Twilight” or “Harry Potter”. Don’t blow you contacts!

Big Accomplishments. Then Again, Are They Really?

Here’s the reality: I have (somehow) managed to scrape together a career as a writer, director, production manager, and editor for about the last twenty years. That’s a mix of full time and part time, staffer and freelancer.

I’ve worked on all kinds of projects. Cable, web, home video, countless promotional videos. I directed seven fitness DVDs that have sold to a broad audience. I didn’t get rich but I made my money back.

I’ve directed theme park products that have sold bookoo and paid my salary several times over. I helmed three low-bud indie features (less than 50G); one screened to a sold-out, cheering crowd.

I co-wrote a documentary that’s earned kudos from The Smithsonian Institution. I had fun doing a little Star Wars fan movie that’s somehow garnered over 10,000 hits on YouTube and earns raves.

I’ve been paid good money to adapt two novels into screenplays. Two of my spec scripts have placed in the top four percent in prominent screenwriting contests.

I’ve worked in Africa, England, Israel, and in multiple US states.

My work has earned me hugs and kisses, and for my audiences inspired hope, understanding, laughs, tears, healing, and escapism.

To my students and those breaking into the industry, I’m something of a veteran. Some even consider me a mentor.

But get this (and this is what scares me): In Hollywood, I’m still a zilch. That’s right. Downtown, I hover at absolute zero.

Yeah, in Tinsel town I’m considered an “Emerging Writer”. That’s humbling. All that experience. All those projects. All those successes. And yet there is another level to shoot for. Only a handful of people even know my name, let alone believe I have something to sell.

If there’s anything I’ve learned about marketing my spec material, it’s this: it all starts with a really, truly good script that makes a profound impact on one person, and that’s not as easy as it seems.

To aspire to reach a level that has the capacity to touch more people than I have touched with everything I’ve worked on in the last 20 years combined is an awesome thought.

So here’s to plugging away, and if you are working on your passion project right now, your cherished screenplay, keep at it until it is the very best it can be. And I do mean, the very, very best you can do.

I think I first heard the term “emerging writer” from Pilar Allesandra. I highly recommend her free pod casts. They’re great to listen to over your lunch break: www.onthepage.tv

"So I Have An Agent. Now What?"

Hello, and welcome to my new screenwriting blog. For all of you in the midst of developing your skills as a screenwriter, with hopes of getting it optioned, sold, and (maybe even) produced, this blog is for you. It’s also for me, to help me think my way through the screenwriting career maze.

I’ve been at this screenwriting thing for a long time. I’m excited to share my experiences with you here: my process, strategies, fears. Things I did right, things I goofed up. What I’m trying, what is working. What is not working. Things I’ve learned along the way; things I’ll learn in the days to come.

I am fortunate to have earned my living in the film/video industry for about the last twenty years. But now I’ve finally turned that one corner that I thought I may never round: I’ve moved from being an unrepresented screenwriter, to a writer whose work has been acknowledged by at least one person in the club who believes I can be sold: I have an agent.

Big step. I’m excited. And somewhat nervous. But I’m certainly not thinking “I’ve made it”. Many more corridors in the maze lie ahead, waiting to be successfully navigated. And to get through them, I’m counting on – yes my agent, my attorney, and my publicist – but mostly I’m counting on my own initiative, and the quality of my material. I need to work harder than ever. Because having an agent does not relieve me of the responsibility to sell myself. That’s the wisdom from downtown, like from Ron Suppa (“Real Screenwriting”; check it out here: http://bit.ly/EMCxq). I’m thankful to Ron for patiently guiding me for a few precious hours from his office on the West Coast. This is not the time to lie back and wait: It’s time to go full speed ahead and keep cranking out new material.

Please don’t take anything I write here as gospel, but if your craft is screenwriting, maybe you can pick up a tip or two from what I’ve been through. If you have something to share, I invite you to chime in. Let’s all help each other out.

And if there’s one rule I’d like to bring to the forefront, it’s this axiom from screenwriting icon William Goldman: “Nobody knows anything.”