tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11467692932272972522024-03-13T00:11:27.678+00:00SCRIPT ADVISORY SERVICE - 'Who Prepares Wins'Professional Screenplay Consultancy for Scriptwriters.
Script Forum, screenwriting tips, advice, exercises and ideas.
Critiques and discussions, plus help for those who need it. Read on or contact script-doc@hotmail.comscript dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-15730490552353051242009-07-02T15:35:00.002+01:002009-07-02T15:59:12.769+01:00REWRITES - BLESSING OR CURSE?<span style="font-family:courier new;">I started my TV career on a long-running police drama series. During a tour of the studios, one of the show's police advisers was asked if there had been a cop show he had really admired. Quick as a flash, he said: 'The Sweeney. Those two guys could have walked straight out of any inner London police station in the mid-1970s.'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I was dead chuffed. 'The Sweeney' is one of my all-time personal favourites (and it was made by Euston Films, one of my very first employers). If you ever get chance to catch an episode, do - although you might be advised to avoid the one with Morecambe and Wise in it. The hard-living officers of the Flying Squad did not always get their man in 'The Sweeney'. It's thought of as unreconstructed male chauvinist fantasy, now, but in fact 'The Sweeney' was often deeper, more thoughtful, more complex and more emotional than you might imagine.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There's a book about Euston Films - I borrowed it from my local library once. Much of it is taken up with 'The Sweeney'.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Did you know that writers took an average of ten days to write an episode of 'The Sweeney'? Or that one wrote a whole episode once in just three days?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Did you know that a second draft of a script was a rarity - and a third draft suggested that something really had gone wrong?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The scripts were commissioned. They came in. The guys went out onto the streets of West London and shot it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Simple. Effective. Brilliant.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Some of the best TV ever.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Impossible now, though. Producers these days demand as many rewrites as they think they can get away with, and then some.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Have we lost our ability to write scripts? Or do producers not trust writers anymore?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Too many rewrites ruin perfectly good scripts. At best, we end up with homogenised pap masquerading as drama - no rough edges, no flashes of brilliance, just a gruel of cliches and predictable outcomes. At worst, the script collapses under the weight of its own contradictions. Game over.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I doubt that talented scriptwriters have disappeared. I also doubt TV's ability to spot, nurture and get the best out of that talent.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">You see, producers have let the rewrite thing go to their heads. And the sort of writer who can put up with that constant, unnecessary and counter-productive meddling and interference is not likely to be of the highest calibre. There's a big difference between a Writer and a Hack.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">In my experience, three drafts of a script is enough. One to explore the territory, one to reshape the original and one to polish it all off. If you haven't got it right by then, there's a fair-to-middling chance you never will.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Sometimes, it should be acknowledged, a rewrite makes massive improvements to a script. And sometimes, a rewrite takes the edge of the script altogether, or sends the script off in a stupid direction, or tears the heart right out of it. It takes care, subtlety and know-how to set up a good rewrite; it only takes a power-crazed, incompetent producer to make a total mess of it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The simple fact is - any producer who demands more than five drafts of a script simply hasn't got a clue what he, she or it is doing.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And if you find yourself working with a producer like that, good luck to you. Because there are plenty of them out there.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And, sadly, plenty of so-called writers willing to play that crazy game. And every one of them - every hack who happily writes a load of absolute bilge because their producer told them to - is putting a genuine writer out of work.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">'The Sweeney' is a classic. Always was, always will be.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But that's partly because the producers had the common sense, good taste and manners to let the writers get on with their jobs.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Wouldn't happen like that today.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-81038507940213271232009-06-30T12:48:00.002+01:002009-06-30T13:11:26.749+01:00REJECTION<span style="font-family:courier new;">Apart from death and taxes, one thing is certain in the life of the writer: bad crits.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">We all get them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">In some ways, whenever the odd bad review comes my way, I take it as a salutary experience. Having spent much of the past so-many-years reading and reporting on other people's scripts, it's kind of healthy to be reminded of how hurtful and harmful a savage crit can be.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Many reviewers seem to be unacquainted with the 'praise sandwich' principle, which argues that the best way to make a negative remark is to place it between two positives.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Knowing the pit of despair into which it is possible to sink after somebody, somewhere, has given a negative response to your work, I really do try my hardest not to be too cruel in my own script reports. One can be fair without being harsh.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Recently, a piece of my own work was 'assessed' by the moderator of a writers' website. I needn't bother recounting the substance of the crit, because there wasn't any. My effort had been rejected out of hand - which was a minor problem, simply because it seemed to me that the moderator had completely missed the point, treating my chapters as sample material for a novel when in fact it's a work of non-fiction.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Missing the point ... isn't that what we always accuse those who criticise our work of doing?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Ay, there's the rub. Because the fact is, reviewers and reporters are perfectly capable of missing the point.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">As recipients of these reports, we writers have to tread a fine line. Sometimes, the reviewers are right: we haven't done as good a job as we thought we had. Other times, the reviewers are plain wrong, or have simply done a dreadful job themselves.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It seems to me that a writer's life is taken up with soliciting reviews and reports now more than ever. One agent I worked with commissioned dozens of them, each from a different reviewer. This, I believe, was a mistake - too many cooks, and all that.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But what are we to do about reviews which are not just unhelpful, they actually undermine our self-confidence?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">First of all, every review or script report you receive should be read dispassionately, and scoured for useful tips. Try to get a sense of the overall thrust of the review, and do look out for the positive remarks (it's so easy to be swamped by the negatives).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Then remind yourself that this is only one person's opinion. It doesn't matter if that person is a first-class agent, a renowned editor or a shit-hot publisher. It's just one person's response.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Don't ignore it. Ask yourself, how can I improve what I've written?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But always remember that to err is human. Back in 1998, I wrote a speculative screenplay entitled 'TRISTAN AND ISOLDE'. There was a flurry of excitement at my then agency. Then nothing. The response kept coming back - no one's looking for this sort of thing, nobody wants it. So when, just a few years later, a film entitled 'TRISTAN AND ISOLDE' was released, I had the satisfaction of knowing that I had been right. Someone (Ridley Scott) had indeed been looking for that sort of thing. The doomsayers of the London media village had been wrong. Didn't help my bank balance, but hey - the experts had been talking out of their arses!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So, whatever you do, retain a balance. One bad review does not mean the end of your life's work.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Don't snap, don't answer back. Take whatever's useful from the crit and move on.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">After all, there's probably a circle in hell reserved exclusively for those know-it-alls who give out thoughtless crits. It'll be pretty crowded there. I just hope I end up somewhere else altogether.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-21177447966028197202009-05-10T13:39:00.002+01:002009-05-10T14:11:57.546+01:00WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE BBC?What TV really needs is more female directors<br /><br />Amy Jenkins (Comment, last week) is right to bemoan the fact that women are a minority on the cast lists of our television dramas but I think she's wagging her finger in the wrong direction.<br />I have worked in television drama for 20 years and seen many of my female peers rise to positions of power and influence to the point where they are the majority of decision-makers. However, if representation of women on screen is slower to improve, it is for complex, cultural reasons that have as much to do with the make-up of society as with deep story structure. But there has been progress. These days we don't have to "balance" a strong female lead with an entire cast of supporting men, as in Prime Suspect. Let's keep challenging all drama to cast women in depth and let's try to increase the number of female directors coming into the profession. That number really does seem to have been at a standstill for the last 20 years.<br /><br />Kate Harwood, Controller of series and serials, BBC Drama Production<br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">This letter appeared in the Observer newspaper back in March. I read it, and I was aghast. It's been bugging me ever since.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Let's analyse what Kate Harwood is saying here. First of all, she acknowledges that British television, and the BBC in particular, has become largely a female preserve. I can vouch for this, having noticed, roundabout the middle of the 1990s, that male producers were becoming ever more rare.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Secondly, she admits that, even though 'the majority of decision-makers' in BBC Drama are now female, there is still a dearth of strong female characters in the BBC's drama output.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">How come? Oh, well, because of 'complex, cultural reasons'. Nothing to do with the ineptitude of BBC producers. No, it's for reasons which are outside the BBC's control.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The reality, of course, is that it's not difficult to create strong female characters. Any halfway decent writer can do it. So what's the problem?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Is it really the case, as Kate Harwood suggests, that the 'make-up' of society prevents the BBC from developing good roles for female actors?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Or is it that editorial incompetence and second-guessing, constant interference, ideological bias and sheer bloody uselessness are what stand between the (mostly female) TV producers and a reasonable representation of women on screen?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Lastly, Harwood puts in a call for more female directors. The balance at the BBC has tipped, over the past fifteen years or so, increasingly in favour of female producers and female scriptwriters. Somehow or other, this has failed to result in better parts for women in BBC drama. So let's get some more female directors in. That'll make all the difference.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Actually, a director is a director is a director. Gender is immaterial. There are two kinds of director: one came up through theatre, and therefore understands actors; the other came up through cinematography, and therefore understands cameras. Beyond that, there really are only two kinds of director - good ones and bad ones. What's gender got to do with it?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Nothing at all, but in sustaining the myth that women are a suppressed minority (even though they form 'the majority of decision-makers' in BBC Drama), Harwood is both excusing herself and her fellow executives for their own failures, and seeking to extend the gender imbalance. It is difficult to see how an increase in the number of female directors will improve the quality of roles for women, if a preponderance of female producers and writers haven't managed to do so. And why are there so few female directors out there? Is it because they're discriminated against? No - how could it be, when most of the producers who hire directors are in fact female?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And where would Kate Harwood's argument go next? Let's suppose that she fast-tracks a host of female directors into the industry, and they somehow still can't come up with decent female roles. What will she blame then? Too many men watching TV?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The problem of strong female characters in TV drama has nothing to do with social conditioning. 'Coronation Street', for example, had some of the strongest female characters going, and that was years ago. No, the problem is that TV executives can't keep their bloody mitts off other people's scripts. Female characters in BBC drama have to be flawless. They must be plucky, honest, hard-working, long-suffering individuals who are invariably right, while the male characters around them are almost always weak, craven, corrupt and wrong. To create a female character with realistic human flaws would be seen as a betrayal of all those women - like the majority of decision-makers at the BBC - who like to imagine that they're struggling in a male dominated world.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The female characters in TV drama today are not, then, created to be real, or realistic, depictions, but rather to carry the burden of the wish-fulfilment and political ideologies of the TV executives. In the arse-about-face world of BBC Drama, women characters cannot be strong because they must be role-models, idealised versions of the female executives themselves.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The BBC Drama Department has made it impossible for strong female characters to be created, because they have to keep interfering in the scripts to ensure that their ideological image of women is constantly being reflected.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But far be it from Kate Harwood and her colleagues to notice their own rank inability to create convincing female characters. No, the fault isn't theirs: it's a cultural one, apparently. By which, presumably, Harwood means that there simply aren't that many strong women out there in the real world for characters to be based on. So the best that TV drama can do is to keep cloning their idealised, hard-done-by, shining examples of female virtue in the hope that enough real women out there will get the message.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The truth, of course, is that executives at the BBC are trapped in a vicious circle of their own incompetence and their out-dated ideological convictions.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The argument has moved on from the seventies and eighties. But not, apparently, at the BBC, where writers would be perfectly able to create strong, interesting, convincing roles for both men and women, if only the bloody executives would let them get on with their jobs.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-47367765247211455502009-05-02T15:27:00.003+01:002009-05-02T15:47:35.521+01:00NON-SUBMERSIBLE ELEMENTS<span style="font-family:courier new;">Genius or nutter? It's hard to say, really, but Stanley Kubrick knew how to make a movie.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">He was naturally obsessive, which is probably no bad thing when it comes to making movies. Even us writers ought to be obsessive about our scripts.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">One of Kubrick's obsessions was with Non-Submersible Elements.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, I'm sure you've all heard of these things. No? Weird.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Actually, Kubrick's 'Non-Submersible Elements' is just a fancy phrase for a fairly straightforward thing.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">No movie should be without its non-submersible elements. These are those stand-out moments which make the movie memorable.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A non-submersible element can be a sequence or a scene, it can be a moment, a line, a shot, an image. Whatever. It is one of those things which makes that particular movie unique.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And Kubrick seemed to be of the opinion that every movie should have roughly eight of these NSE's.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, how often, when we're devising, developing, writing and rewriting our screenplays, do we stop to consider the non-submersible elements? How often to we pause and ask ourselves, 'Which are the eight-or-so moments in my script that will really stand out?'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">We should do. Because it's those moments which matter. They are designed to stick in the mind. Non-submersible elements are what set your script, your movie, apart from all the others.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And they're something we ought to be bearing in mind right from the very start of the screenwriting process.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">What's a script (or a movie) without non-submersible elements? The chances are it's a fairly mundane piece of storytelling. You may well find that a particularly memorable line, exchange, moment or sequence happens naturally in your script. Whether you manage eight or so of those moments naturally, without thinking about them, is another matter.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But knowing that a script, or a movie, should have those stand-out moments is essential if you are going to make those moments shine.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">As you work on your screenplay, you should have a good idea about which moments, which elements, in your script are the non-submersible ones - and you should treat them with great care. They are the high points, the classic moments, which make your script unique. They need to be nurtured, polished, carefully set up and brilliantly executed.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Think about some of your favourite movies. What images, which moments, instantly spring to mind? Chances are, they're the non-submersible elements.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So - does your script have non-submersible elements? Does it have anything up to eight moments which stand out and shine? Is each one different, unique? Have you given each one of them its full impact and value?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">What's a screenplay without classic moments? It's probably a waste of time.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Remember your non-submersible elements, and send a little prayer of thanks up to Mr Kubrick for giving them such a useful if, at first glance, baffling name.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-78820094589516911112009-04-25T11:54:00.002+01:002009-04-25T12:18:19.549+01:00A PLAN<span style="font-family:courier new;">I've been meaning to do this for a while. Now that the gig I was supposed to be at tonight has been cancelled, I've started giving it some proper thought. And I'd be grateful for your help.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There are plenty of books out there - not to mention courses - which purport to lead the reader through the ins and outs of screenwriting. I've read quite a few of them. Some have interesting stuff in them, the odd nugget here and there, often surrounded by wads of less than useful information. Some are - to my mind, at least - absolutely bloody useless.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">One of the problems is that the expert author feels the need to parade their phenomenal knowledge of the subject at great length. Even on screenwriting courses, I've been shocked at the sense of sinking in a sea of 'How To's and 'What Not to Do's and ever deeper layers of complication.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Screenwriting is hard work, but it should also be fun. There's a lot to learn, yes, but if the balance between creative and prescriptive is all wrong, aren't we in danger of crushing the imaginative spirit and the individual voice of the writer?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I've been mulling over this for a long time, and wondering whether it wouldn't be possible to produce a guide to the art and craft of screenwriting which emphasised creativity, which takes the reader on an enjoyable journey round the pitfalls of scripts, presents practical know-how and makes the whole process reasonably clear.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And there's another dimension. This has something to do with the ways our lives are defined by stories. We're surrounded by them; they tell us what to think, what to believe. We live our lives according to the stories we've been told, and the stories we've told ourselves.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So, theoretically at least, we can devise better stories to tell ourselves (and others), and by doing so we can alter our attitudes to the world around us.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Isn't that what practically every self-help manual and self-improvement course sets out to do? To get you to change your inner story, to tell yourself a different story?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The journey of the script is the writer's journey. The writer undertakes the adventure, and lives through the long dark night of the soul which lies at the heart of the story. The writer returns with the secret of the script, the experience of the story, and, like the hero, acquires a new understanding.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I'm thinking that the time has come for me to start putting together some worksheets, along the lines of a step-by-step process, which look at the journey of the script from start to finish. I'd like to keep it as simple, as straightforward, and as stimulating as possible. I'd like to present it as a month-long plan.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The result, if it comes out all right, will be available as a PDF document.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I could do with any input you have to offer, though.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">What are the areas of screenwriting, or the issues involved, which interest or concern or confuse you the most?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">What could my guide do differently that would really help?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">What would you most like to know by the end of it?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And would you be interested in seeing these worksheets as they come rolling off the press?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Let me know what you think.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-9304829240821868212009-04-20T13:21:00.002+01:002009-04-20T13:52:04.242+01:00COMMON ERRORS<span style="font-family:courier new;">I'll let you in on a little secret. Sometimes, a part of me rebels against my own strictures.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It's a kind of teenage rebellion. Screenwriting, I tell myself, is a creative art. How can there be rules? How can I stipulate that this, that or the other must happen? Surely there are exceptions! Surely, a gifted writer can break all the rules and fashion an absolutely brilliant screenplay! Not all screenplays have to look the same.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And then I read yet another screenplay in which a basic 'rule' has been overlooked. And I realise that, these so-called 'rules' actually do mean something.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Let's take the antagonist, for example. Other names include Villain, Rival, Enemy, Nemesis, Shadow, Bad Guy ... but ultimately, they're all the same. The hero of a script tends to be the protagonist ('First Contestant' or 'First Actor' in the original Greek meaning of the word), and whoever he or she is up against is the antagonist.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It's rather surprising to find that, in script after script, it's hard to pin down an actual bad guy.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I reckon that would-be screenwriters often have a great idea. They then imagine themselves as the lead characters in the story and start spinning a yarn around that lead character - and a few other characters for ballast - making their way through that great idea.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But they haven't thought it through. They're creating a kind of daydream on paper. They've imagined themselves into the role of the lead actor of hero in the story, but they've forgotten to provide that hero with a shadow, a nemesis, a rival.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I don't think that this is a peculiarly British thing. But it does betray a lack of planning and preparation. No bad guy equals no drama. The essence of drama is ... no, not conflict ... it's struggle (or, rather, it's what happens to a character as they engage in that struggle). It is possible for the hero to struggle entirely against non-human factors, or against something within themselves, but a story tends to come alive when the struggle is personified. The hero wants something, they have the gall to go ahead and try to achieve it, but there's someone who's determined to beat them, to oppose them, to steal their triumph or to finish them off.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, I've given this post the title 'Common Errors', of which there are plenty. You come across them all the time: scenes which wander randomly from one precise location to another without a scene break; a lack of thought given to structure (script structure or story structure); a tendency to rely on dialogue to do all the work; too many characters who aren't introduced properly, so that the reader can't really tell who's who ... </span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But one of the most frequent errors I come across is the lack of a clear antagonist.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, as my last posting mentioned, there can be a great deal of fluidity about the four principal characters (HERO, VILLAIN, SIDEKICK and LOVE INTEREST). Any of these can turn out to be the antagonist (yes, even the hero can be revealed as the bad guy). Some great stories play games with our expectations in this respect.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Hitchcock's 'Psycho', for example. It's some way into the film before we discover that the bad guy isn't the man at the start with the stetson and the money, or the cop with the mirror sunglasses, but that nice young man at the motel.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Last night, I watched Ken Loach's 'The Wind That Shakes the Barley'. The antagonist, to begin with, is the British government, in the form of the notorious Black and Tans, or certain English landowners in Ireland, and only gradually does the hero's friend emerge as the antagonist.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So it's not necessary to establish your typical bad guy right from the outset. But your story does need one.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The more daunting the opposition, the greater the danger you're hero will find themselves in, and the greater the struggle they face. Which makes for a good story.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Hence the need to prepare, as you develop your project, rather than dreaming up an idea and launching yourself straight into the script. Because some things simply cannot be overlooked. And one of those things is the antagonist.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Some stories try to get by without the hero really wanting something. By and large, this doesn't work.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And some stories try to tell themselves without the hero facing any real opposition.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Where's the drama in that?</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-9951444172324426352009-04-16T13:16:00.002+01:002009-04-16T13:45:36.714+01:00DEVELOPMENT: 5<span style="font-family:courier new;">Okey-dokey ... so, your premise is being honed, refined and polished. You've got your basic set-up, you're paying attention to the genre and you've given some thought to the most appropriate format for the piece.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">You might even have a title (but don't get too attached to it just yet).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The development of your project now takes place along parallel lines.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">On the one hand, you'd be well advised to build your basic premise up in stages, aiming first for a half-page synopsis, then maybe a synopsis of a page or two, maybe making it to a five or six page outline after a little while.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">This is how a great deal of script development is carried out in television. It's a simple Cartesian process, starting with the most basic 'synopsis' - the premise - and progressing to ever more detailed outlines.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">('Synopsis' and 'outline' can mean the same thing; I tend to call the earlier stages synopses, and the more detailed story work outlines - the synopsis summarises the story, the outline goes into more plot detail.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">We'll worry about treatments separately. They are a blessing and a curse, and will need to be looked at shortly.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">For now, though, what do you need to be thinking about as you build up your story from the premise, through a synopsis or two, to an outline?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Let's start with your characters. You've already established who your main character is - the protagonist who wants something but will have to overcome obstacles to achieve or acquire it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">What about the other principal characters?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Have you begun to establish a clear antagonist? A villain, rival, nemesis or shadow?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Has your hero got a side-kick, a friend, ally or partner?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Is there a love interest anywhere in sight?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Not all stories need all four characters (HERO, SHADOW, SIDE-KICK and LOVE INTEREST). What is more, a character can quite easily shift from one role to another. A side-kick can turn into a love interest, or even into a rival or shadow. A love interest can become an enemy.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Giving some thought to these central characters at this stage is helpful. Too often, scripts have quite strong central characters, partly because the writer identifies with the hero, but the satellite characters are two-dimensional cardboard cut-outs who exist only to advance the plot or do what the hero requires them to do.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Urgh! Avoid that at all costs. The simplest way to do so is to remember a fundamental fact:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">WE ARE ALL THE HEROES OF OUR OWN STORIES.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Every character in a script, if they are going to feel at all real, must have his or her own agenda. Just like the hero, they want something, and something stands in their way.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So - while you're gradually building your story up from premise through synopsis to outline, do a little work on the side with your characters.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">You don't need to fill out a whole questionnaire about each character, but you should know what each character wants and what's preventing them from getting it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">This is essential for plotting your detailed storyline. It's also fundamental to the drama of your script. If everything's too easy for your hero (because that's the only character you care about), then there's likely to be too little drama. The struggle's not there.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But if every major character is acting as if they were the hero in their own story, wanting things, struggling to achieve them, facing obstacles, making decisions and taking action, then you'll get conflict of interest, stronger characters and a better plot.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And never forget that character is revealed through action. Character is what character does. So make sure that your characters are able and willing to do things. They're not pliant or dormant. They're not just there to do a bit of talking. They're real people, with needs, desires, fears and foibles. And they DO things.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-8022158368140392802009-04-14T12:25:00.003+01:002009-04-14T12:50:39.467+01:00DEVELOPMENT: 4<span style="font-family:courier new;">Many thanks to those who sent in their story premises after my last posting. Premises are great - such a simple task (maximum three sentences), and yet such a universe of possibilities! I do believe it's well worth taking the time and trouble to hone your premise until it really works: it says what you mean it to say, and you can hold it in your head like a mantra, ready to pitch it at a split second's notice.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But now that you've been mulling over your story premise for a little while, honing and refining it, it's time to step back a little ways and look at the idea from some new angles.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There are two things which need considering. The first is - what's the genre? The second - what's the format?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Genre first. It's a bit of a dirty word, genre, but it's more important than it looks. It might be worth checking back through the postings on this site to find the one about genre.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Take a good look at your premise and ask yourself, 'What kind of story is this going to be?' Is it a comedy? Fine - so you're sure that this is going to be funny, right?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If it's a character-based story (otherwise known as 'drama'), do you have sufficiently strong and interesting characters, and is the situation going to push them far enough? If it's a horror, is it going to be horrifying enough? A thriller? Better make sure that there are going to be some thrills, and that the premise feels like a good pitch for a thriller.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It is possible (and rather contemporary) to throw several genres together, but all in all it's best to choose your genre and then stick to it. And then immerse yourself in that genre - read books and scripts and watch movies from that genre. Soak up the implicit rules of that particular genre. And make sure that you're staying true to the rules of that genre from now on.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">You may find that your premise doesn't point to the sort of genre you have in mind (one writer I remember once tried to pitch a 'comedy' which, as a key plot point, involved a rape; she insisted that it would be a 'funny' rape, whatever that might be; part of the problem was that she wanted to write a comedy, and was trying to force the wrong story into that genre, so make sure that your story suits the genre you've decided on - if it doesn't, change one or the other, the story or the genre).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Next, format. How do you see your story developing - into a full feature-length screenplay? Into a TV mini-series, a single-strand TV drama, a sit-com, a short film, maybe even a short story or a novel ... Again, as with the story's genre, never try to force your story into the wrong pigeon-hole. You might have a great pitch for a short film, but that may not make it suitable for development as a theatrical feature.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Look long and hard at your story, and let your story tell you what if has to be - a full-length romantic comedy for cinematic release or a horror short lasting no longer than ten minutes; a three-part melodrama for television or an airport novel.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Don't try to force your story into the wrong format or genre.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And don't try to push a 'theme' or 'message'. In television drama, a lot of writers like to preface their premises or synopses with some pithy sort of rhetorical question. Actually, there only ever seems to be the one question, which goes something like: 'How far would you go to protect someone you love?' To which the only sensible answer is 'Inverness' or 'Addis Ababa'. Not only is a pert moral question like 'How far would you go to protect yadda yadda' unlikely to be answered in any depth during an episode of 'The Bill', but who's to say that your script will actually pose that question?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Did Shakespeare start work on 'Hamlet' by scribbling down the question: 'Is it right to want to kill your step-father?'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Probably not. Ignore questions about theme or message - they're an absolute waste of time and they lead to shallow thinking. It's up to a person reading your script, or watching the end result, to decide on what the 'theme' or 'message' of the story might be - it's certainly not your problem.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Trust your story to tell itself without imposing themes or messages on it, and let your story decide what genre it belongs to, and what format it's best suited to. There are times when you are the master of your material, and others when the material has to speak for itself. This is one of the latter occasions. Let the story choose its proper format and genre, or be prepared to alter the story if you have to fit a certain genre or format.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Don't try forcing a square peg into a round hole.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-86898936186717184172009-04-01T11:52:00.002+01:002009-04-01T12:49:48.849+01:00DEVELOPMENT: 3<span style="font-family:Courier New;">So now we know what a set-up involves - a character, a desire and an obstacle or two.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The chances are that, once you've got your set-up, you'll be imagining all sorts of exciting things which can happen in your script. Which is terrific - you need all that excitement and creative energy - but keep all those ideas to one side for now.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Don't get distracted by your bright ideas. The process of screenwriting is one of expansion and contraction - some of the time, you'll need to be expansive in your thinking, open and receptive to ideas; but some of the time, you'll need to focus, to be clear and precise, and not let all those ideas get in the way.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now is a time to focus. You've got your basic idea (set-up) and it's worth converting that into a short and pithy statement, something a little like a brief blurb on the back of a book.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The aim is to summarise your great idea, so that it can be easily and readily conveyed to a reader or listener. Also, the summary (or 'premise') will be something that you can memorise and hold onto when the going gets rough. One of the toughest things a screenwriter has to do is to remember at all times what you set out to do in the first place. Creating a succinct and enticing premise will be one way of remembering what got you going - what your original idea actually was.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">An alternative name for a premise is the 'pitch'. They both serve the same purpose - to convey your idea in a concise and engaging way.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A successful premise or pitch will give the reader or listener a good sense of what your story might be, where it might go, and whether they want to know more. So it's a sales pitch, basically. You're selling your idea: your character (or characters), your situation, your set-up.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Three simple sentences should be your absolute maximum. Arguably, two simple sentences are better. Two or three sentences should suffice to express your idea. If you can't get your idea across in three simple sentences - max - then you need a new idea.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">(This isn't quite 'high concept', that ghastly creation of the 1980s which gave us such awful pitches as 'Nurses in wet T-shirts', 'Whoopi Goldberg plays a nun' or 'Tom Cruise in a jet fighter'. When executives get lazy, and creatives pander to their laziness, you end up with dross like that. But no executive is so lazy that they can't get through a pitch expressed in two simple sentences. Writers can learn to organise their thoughts, and to express their idea succinctly, without stooping to the brainlessness of the 'high concept'.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, there is a kind of workshop situation which can be extremely useful when you're working on your premise. A group of writers hear or read your premise, take it in, and then comment on it. Does it work? Does it leave them confused? Does it leave them wanting more? Does it actually say what you think it says?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Most importantly, how might it be improved?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">This is really the start of your development process, and it's worth getting your premise to the point where it really does its job - it gets peoples' interest, it establishes the basics of the story, and it suggests a darn good script in the offing.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So - if anyone has a premise they want comments on, I would suggest that they leave it as a comment on this post, or email it to me, and we'll invite feedback. The feedback has to be constructive, of course. But as the best way to polish up your premise is to find out how other people receive it, what they make of it, and whether they think it's working or not, I think we should use this site for comments and feedback on premises.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There's your challenge. Express your script idea in two or three fairly straightforward sentences. Post it as a comment (or email it to me) and we'll 'workshop' it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">How neatly can you summarise your idea?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And can you avoid the dreaded dot-dot-dots ... ?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Over to you.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-83506647472749312182009-03-26T12:38:00.002+00:002009-03-26T13:19:51.829+00:00DEVELOPMENT: 2<span style="font-family:courier new;">Okay, so a script needs a good set-up if it's going to stand any chance of becoming a script (see previous post).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But how do you know if you've got a good set-up?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Well, you need three things:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">1) A character</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">2) A desire, objective or goal</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">3) An obstacle</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">When I'm leading screenwriting workshops, I'll often break the ice with a couple of games. The first requires everyone to write down, pretty quickly, five simple sentences starting with the words 'What if'. This usually provokes the 'right-brain' to throw up some story ideas. (When I'm in psycho-analytical mode, I also think of this exercise as 'Hopes and Fears', because the 'What ifs' really do offer an insight into the minds of the participants.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The next game is a bit like the old game of 'Consequences'.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Start the page with the words: 'The story is about'.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Then invent a character. Five words are usually enough to get the idea across.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Then write 'who wants'.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Then think of a goal, a dream or an objective. Again, five words will usually do the trick.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Then write 'but'.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now you need an obstacle, or several obstacles. No word limit, this time. What sort of thing can prevent somebody from achieving their goal?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Finally, write 'stands in the way'.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So, when you've finished, you should have a sentence which reads:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">'The story is about a CHARACTER who wants SOMETHING but SOMETHING OR OTHER stands in the way.'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">When there's a group of people, playing this game like 'Consequences', so that each new element is supplied by somebody who doesn't know what was written previously, usually generates some bizarre stories - so you end up with things like:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">'The story is about a tall, dark, introspective librarian who wants to combat global warming but self-esteem issues and a giant six-foot rabbit stand in the way.'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The game is just a bit of fun, but the outcome is invariably a set-up. The three vital ingredients are there: there's a CHARACTER, an OBJECTIVE and one or more OBSTACLES.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Rule of thumb: the grander the OBJECTIVE and, even more so, the bigger the OBSTACLES, the better the problem.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">This problem is what your protagonist (or 'hero') will spend much of the script trying to solve. The story revolves around the character's struggle to overcome or outmanoeuvre the OBSTACLES in order to achieve the OBJECTIVE.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">In the first quarter or so of the script (Act One), the CHARACTER, the OBJECTIVE and the OBSTACLE/S will be clearly established.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">In the middle half of the script (Act Two), the CHARACTER will pursue the OBJECTIVE in the face of OBSTACLES.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">In the final quarter or so of the script (Act Three), we will discover whether or not the CHARACTER finally deals with the OBSTACLES to achieve the OBJECTIVE.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So - for your set-up, ask yourself:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">1) have I got an interesting CHARACTER?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">2) does that character have a good, positive OBJECTIVE * ?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">3) are there sufficiently daunting OBSTACLES in the way?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">(* The OBJECTIVE should always be a positive. Don't come up with something like a character who doesn't want to do his homework - give them something they actively want to do instead. And don't make it a random objective based entirely on luck, like winning the lottery. We want to see the protagonist being pro-active, so whatever the objective is, it should be something that the character can achieve if they really put their mind to it, and not just something that might happen if they cross their fingers.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If in doubt, write down - without thinking about it too hard - some 'What ifs'. Then look at those what ifs and imagine a character in that situation.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Let's say that you wrote down: 'What if we ran out of water?'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">You might then think of someone - a twelve-year old boy, for example - who wants to find a source of clean water.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">What's the worst problem he could face? Is he a wheelchair user? Are brigands roaming the land, claiming all the water for themselves? Does he have a rival who will betray him at the first opportunity?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Whatever ideas you might have for scripts, this should always be your starting-point. Do you have a strong main CHARACTER? Does the character have a clear OBJECTIVE? And are there definite OBSTACLES to be overcome?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If you have all three, then you've got your set-up.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-41384316549765515732009-03-24T12:46:00.002+00:002009-03-24T13:25:56.238+00:00DEVELOPMENT: 1<span style="font-family:courier new;">In a sweltering hell-hole the only work to be found is with an American oil company - and they're not hiring. But then, an opportunity arises. A fire at an inland oil rig demands action. Four men are selected to drive two truckloads of nitro-glycerine along treacherous mountain tracks, deep into the jungle. If they survive, they'll make enough money to be able to get out of the place ...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Henri-Georges Clouzot's 'Le Salaire de la Peur' (1953) is pretty well pure cinema. Once the characters and the situation have been set up, and those two huge trucks are rolling into the mountains with their explosive payloads, the suspense becomes intolerable. It's tough, it's brutal ... and it's great.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Four desperate men are hired to drive two truckloads of nitro-glycerine deep into the jungle to put out a fire at an oil rig. Will any of them make it?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Brilliant.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">What makes it work is something very simple. The set-up is established, and then we're off, into the world of adventure, that dangerous road crammed with obstacles and difficulties. Characters are tested to their limits.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I'm not going to tell you how it ends. But if you get a chance, watch it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">You can almost think of 'Le Salaire de la Peur' as two films. There's the first section, when we meet the characters who are stuck in a dreadful village in the middle of nowhere. Then there's the second section, when the 'lucky' few have a chance to earn their way out by undertaking a kind of suicide mission. The first part is the set-up. The second part is what we pay to see - it's the fun stuff.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I'm forever reading scripts in which the fun stuff never comes. We seem to be wading through set-up constantly. More information, more ideas, more background - but never a movie.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">With scripts like that, the writer is behaving just a like a hero in a story, but a hero who never commits to the adventure. The consequence is a script which never really gets out of Act One.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Act One is often a chore (the opening part of 'Le Salaire de la Peur' is rather slow), but it's necessary to set up the characters and the circumstances of the story. Act Two is the story. Act Two is where the writer (and the viewer) has fun. Act Three just rounds everything off.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If you don't organise a good enough set-up for yourself, you won't have a story.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And when you've got a good set-up, you have to discipline yourself. Set up the story and then GET ON WITH THE STORY. In other words, organise your set-up and then ENJOY YOURSELF.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Spend a certain amount of time establishing your characters and then SEND THEM OUT THERE WITH THE NITRO-GLYCERINE. And, what's more, MAKE IT AS HARD AS POSSIBLE FOR THEM TO SUCCEED.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And then you've got a story.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I've been thinking of this since my last post. One comment (thanks, Chelle) suggested that script development really is an issue. So I'm going to post a few blogs which examine the process of development. This post can be thought of as a preface, or an introduction to the 'Development' posts.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Before you even start working on a script, ask yourself: 'Have I got a good, strong set-up?'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">'Have I got good, strong characters and an interesting problem?'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">'Have I got a story?'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And let's be clear - the story is what happens after the set-up. In 'Le Salaire de la Peur', the story is four men, two trucks, a huge amount of nitro-glycerine and a dreadful journey along appalling roads. That's the story. Everything else is just setting up the story (Act One) or resolving the story (Act Three).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So - before you start, you need to know that you've got a great situation which you can really have fun with, torturing and testing your characters for up to an hour of screen time.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Next time, we'll look at how you create a good set-up. But for now, always bear this in mind -</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A lot of scripts fail because the story isn't there, and because there isn't a story, the writer spends the whole time trying to set one up. Which would be like 'Le Salaire de la Peur' never leaving the village, never setting out in those beat-up trucks, never facing the thrills of the mountain road.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If you haven't got a good set-up, you haven't got a story and you haven't got a script.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Here endeth the lesson.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-33382439760693364392009-03-17T13:04:00.002+00:002009-03-17T13:20:29.707+00:00YOUR THOUGHTS<span style="font-family:courier new;">I'm back!!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Have you missed me?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Anyway, now that I am back I'm going to canvas some opinions. Here's the thing. One of the agencies for which I occasionally work has raised the issue of some more workshops.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, I've been thinking about this one for some time. I've done umpteen zillion 'Introduction to Screenwriting' workshops, taster sessions, courses, blah blah blah.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But I've always worried that those who come on such courses then get kinda dumped. Where do they go from there? They've done their introduction, and then they're cut loose and left alone, without visible means of support.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So I started thinking about follow-up workshops or courses.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And I came up with two ideas. Let me run them by you, and then, if you'd be so find, I'd appreciate any thoughts and feedback ...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">One which I've long wanted to focus on is format.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Format.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The dreaded format.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A lot of people (students especially) seem to feel that screenwriting format isn't a problem, these days, because there's SOFTWARE that can do it all for you.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Ha! Couldn't be more wrong. Relying on screenwriting software is a BIG mistake.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Format is the essence of screenwriting. That's because the format requires you to think in a certain way. And if you can't do that, no amount of clever software is going to format your scripts properly. But if you can train yourself to THINK in screenplay format, then you can write a screenplay (without needing the software at all).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So that's one option. A Screenplay Format workshop (don't think that it's just about the layout on the page - script format is more a way of life).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And then, there's development.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There's a process that screenwriters usually go through (especially if they're working for television). It's a case of building your story up in several stages. The idea is that, by the time you come to write 'FADE IN:' at the top of your first page, you've already plotted your script.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, I'm a great believer in not over-plotting your script. Some development processes go too far. For example, in television, you're sometimes required to do a 'step-by-step', or 'scene-by-scene', treatment for your script.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">That might work for some. But I find it intolerable. Why?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It's unnecessarily hard work, and it takes all the fun out of writing the script.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So a development process which organises the script for you, sorting out certain story and structure problems before they arise, but leaves you free to enjoy the actually scripting process - that might be worth exploring, don't you think?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Those, then, are the options:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">1) FORMATTING (how to 'think' in scripts)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">2) DEVELOPMENT (how to plan your scripts most effectively)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Your thoughts, please, ladies and gents.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Which one do you think would be most useful to you?</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-66620751013055563302008-12-18T14:25:00.002+00:002008-12-18T14:41:27.863+00:00GENRE<span style="font-family:courier new;">I want to talk about genre.</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">I never used to want to talk about genre. In fact, genre seemed to be a subject well worth steering clear of. Especially after I spent a whole afternoon in a tutorial discussing the finer points of genre. 'Never again,' I thought.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But now I'm going to talk about genre, and for a very good reason.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A lot of writers seek to eschew the very concept of genre. They see it as unnecesarily restrictive, like they're being made to compartmentalise their work. 'My writing can't be pigeon-holed like that,' they seem to say, 'I'm a free spirit.'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Sorry, that won't wash.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Say you decided to watch a film. What kind of film do you fancy? Hmmnnn ... how about a romantic-comedy?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So you watch it. And it's not very romantic. And there's not much comedy in it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">How do you feel? Like you've been had? Do you feel cheated, let down, even maybe a little angry?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Maybe you went for a horror. Which wasn't very horrifying. Or a thriller, which was noticably short of thrills. Or a drama, which had very little drama in it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">See what I mean? Writers who insist that they don't adhere to genre are everso likely to upset their readers.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Genre is about rules. We come to every genre with a set of expectations. If you refuse to fulfil those expectations, you might well alienate your audience.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Sure, you can mingle genres. 'Shaun of the Dead' made a very good job of mixing horror and romantic comedy (or rather, 'slacker' comedy with romantic overtones) - but that was because it was horrific and funny.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Terrible things happen when a writer sets out without a clear notion of the genre he or she is writing in.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Or if they try to pick 'n' mix genres and end up making a mess.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Don't try and run away from genre. Don't pretend you're above it all.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Genre matters. It's important.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There aren't many (and you're highly unlikely to invent any new ones).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But if you're writing drama - make it dramatic.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If you're writing romance - make it romantic.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If you're writing comedy - make it funny.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If you're writing horror - make it horrific (NB: horror must have a supernatural component; believe it or not, 'The Texas Chainsaw Massacre' is not a horror - it's a thriller.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If you're writing a war movie - what do you need?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Figure out what genre you're going for and stick with it. USE the rules of the genre to make your script really shine. Look at your particular favourites in that genre. How do they work?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Don't try to buck the trend. Genre is not an enemy. It's there to help you and it's there to help the reader or viewer.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Genre is your friend.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-1135638635815873322008-12-15T14:08:00.002+00:002008-12-15T14:23:41.788+00:00THE STORY<span style="font-family:courier new;">I've discovered a dangerous new drug. It's called Authonomy (<a href="http://www.authonomy.com/">www.authonomy.com</a>). It's for books, not screenplays, but I uploaded part of my historical book about 'King' Arthur onto the site last week and since then I've been hooked.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If you want to read a helluva lot of free fiction, go there. It's also a great learning experience.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">One thread on the forum touched on the issue of how many stories there are in the world. A contributor announced that there were seven (perhaps he'd read Christopher Booker's 'The Seven Basic Plots').</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">At different times, I've been told that there are eight stories. Or ten.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But, actually, I think there's just one.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">That's right: one story, told over and over again, all over the world.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Basically, it's about a character who undergoes a challenge.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The character wants something. Something stands in the way. There's a struggle. The main character has to develop in order to overcome the obstacles. That's the story.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A more elaborate version of this was published many years ago by Joseph Campbell. His 'Hero With a Thousand Faces' boiled down hundreds of world myths to find the essential core, the regular pattern.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If Campbell's book seems a bit high-flown and esoteric, Christopher Vogler created a more user-friendly version of the theory, especially for the screen industry: it's 'The Writer's Journey'.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The thing about this story is that it's universal. It's the same pattern, in essence, as the journey undertaken by the initiate or the neurotic. In order to grow, to become more solid in ourselves, or to pass from one phase in life to the next, we have to undertake a journey - literal or otherwise.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">We have to suffer, one way or another. It might be as a candidate for Special Forces, it might be as teenager on the brink of adulthood, it might be love's pangs and heartache.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">We have to go down into the depths. We have to confront our demons. We have to keep going.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Dr Carl Jung once said of one of his patients: 'Thank God he made up his mind to become neurotic!'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">In screenwriting terms, that can be read as: 'Thank God he made up his mind to accept the Call and embark on the adventure!'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">All the other stories that writers and commentators try to make you believe in, in reality, merely variations on a theme.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">That theme being, character wants/needs something (although they may not, at the beginning, know that they want this) and has to suffer in order to achieve or acquire it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">That's the story. There is only one.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Everything else is how you tell it.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-43529564750091734342008-12-10T09:48:00.002+00:002008-12-10T10:13:14.702+00:00DIALOGUE<span style="font-family:courier new;">There were no camcorders when I was a kid. Those of us who were odd enough to want to make our own movies had to use something called Super 8.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Super 8 had the advantage of being film - a lovelier medium than video. It came in cartridges lasting 3 minutes and a few seconds, which meant you were careful about how much footage you shot. And it was silent.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There were systems which could sync sound with the picture, but they were expensive, and getting a decent edit was a nightmare.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So I learnt to make silent films.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">After a while, the limitations of my home movie set-up became apparent. The original 'Star Wars' might have been made on a shoestring, but George Lucas wasn't obliged to cast his Mum as Princess Leia and to pay for it all out of the money he got for Christmas. So I drifted away from Super 8, but its legacy remained with me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">For most of my teens, I was hopeless with dialogue. I hadn't been learning to listen.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But I had been learning to SEE.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The screen is primarily a visual medium. There was even a theory, when sound was first married to the moving image, that this was a Bad Thing. It stopped cinema being a Universal Language. Sound detracted from the magic of the image.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, I don't think that's necessarily true. Great dialogue - a great soundtrack in general - can make a movie. But still, we go to SEE a film. We WATCH a movie. It is a story told with pictures.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A lot of writers, when they start writing for the screen, assume that it's all about dialogue. It isn't. In fact, I'm constantly trying to persuade my students that dialogue is the least effective weapon in the screenwriter's armoury.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Inherently, I think a lot of writers know this. Many scripts start with an excitingly visual opening sequence. But then the writer relaxes, and as the script continues the dialogue runs out of control. Page after page goes by, in which characters talk at one another incessantly.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A page of properly formatted script should equal roughly one minute of screen time. A page of dialogue, then, even if it is formatted properly, is a minute of talking. That's a whole minute of somebody's life, and you want them to spend that minute listening to the random thoughts of your characters, or hearing one of them explaining the plot to another.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, there's a handy rule in screenwriting. It's called GILGOE.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">That's 'Get In Late, Get Out Early'. GILGOE.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Start your scene at the latest possible moment and then end it as soon as you can.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Ask yourself, 'What is the function of the dialogue in this scene?' If its only function is to pass the time of day, GET RID OF IT.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Really good dialogue bears little or no similarity to the way people actually talk. Most human beings are incapable of expressing the simplest of concepts without warbling endlessly. But, as Hitchcock observed, film is life with the dull bits cut out.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It's our job to zone in on the crucial moment. Unless you're writing for a soap - in which case, banality is the remit and the talking-to-action ratio is entirely out of kilter - it's your duty to shut your characters up. Let them burble away to their heart's content if you must, but then go back and cut out the yakking.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Clint Eastwood might not be the best actor in the world, but he understands the screen. When he was cast as the Man With No Name, he did something truly remarkable - indeed, earth-shattering - for an actor. He cut at least half of his lines.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">He knew that the less a character talks, the more we might listen.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Be like Clint. Cut out at least half of your dialogue.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Then go back and cut some more.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And keep cutting, until all that remains is absolutely necessary.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Talking is for radio. On the screen, it's what we see that matters.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-89975650688952400822008-12-09T11:15:00.002+00:002008-12-09T11:32:07.555+00:00THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES<span style="font-family:courier new;">After watching one of my things on telly, I turned to a friend and said, 'Well, what did you think?'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">'You could tell you wrote it,' he said.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">'What do you mean?'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">'Well, it had your fingerprints all over it,' he replied.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I was intrigued. I tended to assume that the production process would remove all fingerprints from the script. So I pressed him for an example.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">What kind of fingerprints did I leave? How could he tell that it was a script that I, as opposed to anyone else, had written?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">'All your character have memories,' he said.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Was that all?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It got me thinking. My friend was a fairly sedentary creature. He knew what a television set looked like - he spent enough time in front of them. So, presumably, he was familiar with TV drama ... familiar enough to spot an anomaly, something that one particular writer might do that others might not.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And no one, at the time, was probably more familiar with my work than he was.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So - one of the things that made my writing individual, apparently, was that my characters tended to have memories.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I'm always fascinated by the little things we do that we're not necessarily conscious of doing. Not least of all because I suspect that 'art' is something that is only partially under conscious control. Writers, like poker players, have tics or 'tells'.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But memories? Don't all characters have memories? Surely they do.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Well, no, apparently not. Otherwise my friend wouldn't have pointed out that my characters tend to have memories.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">How weird. I mean, if you think about it, memories are what we are. As individuals, we are the sum of our memories.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But, seemingly, the world of drama is filled with characters who don't have memories (or, at least, are unlikely ever to refer to them). Which must mean that they enter, all nice and clean, without pasts or backgrounds, and then they do their thing, and then they disappear once more into the ether. They are transient. They have no real existence.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">To be honest, I never thought about my characters having memories (that is, I never did those naff character questionaires and noted down such quirks as 'This character's worst memory is ...') Their memories must have sprung spontaneously to the surface, sparked by something they had seen or heard, something that had happened in the plot.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It's just a thought, but do your characters have memories?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Maybe they should. Because memories make us human.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-1274246487396768362008-12-08T15:00:00.002+00:002008-12-08T15:31:36.288+00:00THE STUDY OF SCREENWRITING<span style="font-family:courier new;">I've a confession to make. No one ever taught me how to be a screenwriter. I taught myself.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Assiduous followers of this blog will have noted that I started by learning to copy the screenplay format from a sample page in the writer's directory. To be honest, I found the screenplay layout fascinating - it was so unlike anything I'd come across before. Over the years I learnt not to be experimental with the layout, not to customise it, but just to let it do its work. The screenplay is the format, the format is the screenplay.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There were no How To books that I knew of, and no courses to go on - if there had been, I'm not sure I'd have enrolled on one anyway. I just practised writing scripts in the proper format and, one day, I became a professional.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It was five years or more into my career, by which time I'd already won a Writers' Guild Award for my work on a 'Best Original Drama Series', that I decided to find out how I did what I was, apparently, already capable of doing.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I bought dozens of books on screenwriting, which had magically appeared in recent years, and set myself the task of learning how to do it better. I was already an experienced professional, but there's always room for improvement.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I guess I was lucky, in that I could weigh up everything I read against my own professional experience. If a writer was talking nonsense, I could tell. If a book had something useful to say, I'd be able to spot it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I'd say about 95 per cent of what I read was absolutely useless. No, it's worse than that. 95 per cent of what is taught in books and courses on screenwriting is actively damaging.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">These people are making money by trying to teach a chrysalis how to turn into a butterfly. You must do this, you must not to that ... It's a wonder that any newcomer survives this process, because the art of screenwriting is largely intuitive. It's like being taught how to tell a joke.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">You may have noticed that I had a go at Robert McKee in a recent posting. He's made a fortune, and a name for himself, out of telling people how to write for the screen.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A few years ago, I taught a short screenwriting course. At the end of it, one of the students emailed me, thanking me for making the process seem so clear. He'd read dozens of books, all of which merely mystified the process for him. 'Ever heard of Robert McKee?' he wrote, by way of illustration.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Some time later, I was staying with a film actor friend of mine whose girlfriend worked for the BBC. She had been called in to attend a weekend seminar led by the Great McKee. She was rapidly losing the will to live.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">What a bastard! I mean, seriously - he gets PAID to make the magic of screenwriting a bewildering and painful subject.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It was, sadly, typical of the BBC to fall for his snake oil. For a while (although I believe they've abandoned this) the BBC even ran its own 'Writers' Academy', in which poor lambs were instructed in BBC scriptwriting technique. In reality, I suspect that they were browbeaten into churning out the kind of meaningless drivel that the BBC prefers these days to meaningful drama.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">All of which makes me wonder - why is there now an industry devoted to teaching people how to write screenplays?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Get this: the cinema had been around for a hundred years before this self-help Teach Yourself Screenwriting industry appeared.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, I'm all for democracy and meritocracy, and I really enjoy helping would-be screenwriters to grasp the intricacies of the craft.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But I fear that so many of these books and courses don't really help. They either stuff your head with useless nonsense, making the task of screenwriting infinitely more difficult than it needs to be - that, or they encourage a kind of machine-like approach to the script.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And I daresay I've been guilty of that myself, every now and then.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So, are they helping, all these books, courses, seminars and festivals?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The short answer is: no. Scripts aren't getting any better. In some areas, they're getting worse.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The greatest screenwriters in history - people like Ben Hecht, Robert Towne, William Goldman - did not have tutors. They didn't learn their craft from books. Maybe, if they had, they'd have been as confused as anybody trying to become a screenwriter these days, and their scripts would have been as torturous and uninspired as so many now are.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If you can master the format, you can write a screenplay. We've all seen movies, we all watch TV. So we know what works and what doesn't.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Learn the format, and then write. And write. And write.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And bin all those books. And throw darts at a picture of Robert McKee.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Just do it.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-85042602344098814072008-12-06T13:26:00.003+00:002008-12-06T13:35:17.374+00:00PRAISE WHERE IT'S DUE<span style="font-family:courier new;">I have to say this.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I watched 'Mastermind' last night (yes, good old middle-class TV). One of the contestants - the winner, in fact - was answering questions on W.C. Fields.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It turned out that this guy had had his own minor brush with Hollywood. Once upon a time, he had been brought in to improve the dialogue for a film.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">This wasn't just any old movie. This was a schlock exploitation movie, one of those with a title like 'Lesbian Bikers Meet the Cannibal Zombies from Mars'. Something like that.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">As if that wasn't promising enough, it was revealed that our guy got kicked off the movie for trying to make one of the zombies a 'forlorn vegetarian'.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Sir - I salute you. Not only do you know quite a lot about W.C. Fields but you managed to have a whole screenwriting career in miniature.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">You were brought in to help polish up a turd, which is what screenwriters spend much of their lives doing.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">You were sacked because you brought to this eminently trashy production some genuine wit and originality.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Like all good screenwriters, you rose and fell according to the whims of some idiot calling himself a producer.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And you managed to do it in about five minutes flat.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Must be some sort of record.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-69642875632861732542008-12-05T16:50:00.002+00:002008-12-05T17:30:30.455+00:00FORMAT<span style="font-family:courier new;">At last! As promised - FORMAT! The downfall of many a budding screenwriter.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I love it. Screenplay format is great. It's what turns a screenplay into poetry (yes, really). Crack the format, and you're a screenwriter. Learn how to master the format and your scripts will be crisp, clean and tight.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And you know what - it's bloody easy. Nothing to it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Actually, I'm misleading you a bit, here. It is easy, but only when you figure out that it's not really about how the words are arranged on the page. It's about how the thoughts are arranged in your head.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Screenplay format is a way of thinking.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">When I started out, there weren't any books about screenwriting (or if there were, nobody told me where to find them). No: the massive global industry of self-help screenwriting tutelage exploded in the 90s - strangely, at about the same time that executives started distancing themselves from writers and became REMOTE and UNREACHABLE.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So how did I get to learn format? Well, there was a book called The Writers and Artists Yearbook (all good retailers), and back then it had a page - ONE page - of standard screenplay format for you to copy.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">That's how I started learning format. You can bin all those books that tell you how to do it because they'll just mess with your head. Most books on screenwriting make the whole process far too complicated. And Robert McKee is a charlatan. He knows nothing.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">(There - I've said it; tee-hee-hee).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Format is about three things. Because the script contains three kinds of information.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">1): The Scene Heading (where we are, what time of day)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">2): Action/Scene description (what's happening - what we see)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">3): Dialogue (what is said)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">That's all. Nothing else. Don't worry about all those 'CONTINUED:' or 'CONT'D:' or 'CUT TO:'s because they're irrelevant. Just remember to use Courier New 12-point, black ink, white paper (A4) and to write on just one side of the page.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Oh, and if you submit a handwritten screenplay you will be taken out and shot by the Writers Guild, and rightly so.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So - three different kinds of information. And, to make things nice and clear, each one is laid out in a slightly different way.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">1) SCENE HEADING. Always in capitals. Don't bother numbering your scenes - somebody else can do that.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Generally, a scene heading will start with INT or EXT, then a dash or full-stop, then a quick name for the LOCATION (which will be the same every time you return to that same place), then another dash, then some idea of the lighting conditions (DAY or NIGHT).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">That's the scene heading:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">INT. OFFICE - DAY</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Couldn't be simpler.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now double space.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">2) Action / Scene Description. This stuff is not in capitals and should be written in short, single-spaced paragraphs, preferably of no more than four lines each.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It should be justified to the left-hand margin. Do not justify to the right (that's sound political sense as well).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Please do describe what we are seeing. So many writers introduce a CHARACTER (capital letters) without telling us anything about them. Please think about your poor reader and throw 'em a bone, yeah? They need to visualise what you're writing about.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">All action should be written in.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Double-space between paragraphs of action or scene description.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">In fact, rule of thumb: every time you switch from one kind of information (say, action) to another (say, dialogue), double-space.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Scripts like it when you double-space. It gives them room to breathe and makes the page look nice and uncluttered.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So, you've written a paragraph or two of action. Then you</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Double-space ...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">3) Dialogue. Boy, does this cause problems.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The name of the person who is speaking is written in CAPITALS roughly in the centre of the page. Do not 'centre', though - use the tab key. The same number of tabs each time (I find, on my Word default setting, five tabs does fine).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Single-space.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If you need to explain how the CHARACTER is saying something (parenthesis), put it in brackets on the line below the CHARACTER's name. Better still, don't. Actors think they know how to speak lines and don't like being told what to do - not by a writer, at any rate (secretly, actors hate writers, because we're clever and, generally speaking, they're not).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If you must use (parentheses) then use to them indicate the CHARACTER's emotional state. Don't put actions in here - they count as action.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Single-space.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Dialogue is single-spaced, written normally (lower and upper case type as appropriate - you know all this) and occupies a column in the centre of the page.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Do not 'centre'. Use the tabs. Five tabs for the CHARACTER name. Four for (parenthesis), which you don't really need. Three for the dialogue.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Keep it neat and for God's sake don't let it sprawl right across the page. Nothing looks less professional than dialogue that doesn't know it's place. Down the centre of the page, please, in a nice, neat column.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Double-space between snatches of dialogue. Double-space between dialogue and action.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If you wish, you can write FADE IN: at the top of your script (left margin, then double-space). But it's not obligatory.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Don't write TITLES in your script.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And that's about it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It's so simple, and yet so often it goes wrong. Writers try to cheat. They put too many words on the page (fatal mistake). They forget to change scene when a CHARACTER goes from one space to another. Their dialogue wanders all over the page. Everything's too cramped and messy.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If your format is chaotic, then your thoughts are too. Which means you haven't got a screenplay - you've got a mess.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Training yourself to write good, clean, clear format will teach you how to write a screenplay.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It's all about WHERE WE ARE, What we see, and WHO says what.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Keep it to that, keep the three things separate, make your page look nice and neat, and you can't go wrong.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">(COMING SOON: Rocket Science - a piece of piss.)</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-45127946652654517082008-11-30T13:20:00.002+00:002008-11-30T13:53:22.450+00:00PRODUCERS<span style="font-family:courier new;">Between ten and fifteen years ago, something terrible happened.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">(I'm talking about the UK here - the US has specialised in terrible things for a great deal longer than that.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">What happened was unnecessary. Worse than that, it was completely counter-productive.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It was a power battle between producers and writers.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">This was a pretty one-sided battle, and it was initiated by the producers. And it was a BIG mistake.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Let's start with a basic fact. A screenwriter without a producer is like a novelist without a publisher. You can spend all your time creating wonderful stuff, but if you're not paired with a producer, it's just paper with scribbles on.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">At the same time, of course, a producer without a screenwriter is a mere wannabe.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It's a symbiotic relationship. Writers need producers to turn their brilliant ideas into a kind of reality. Producers need writers to give them those brilliant ideas.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">They're the Yin and the Yang of the industry. As such, they're inseparable.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Except that producers forgot that fact. A new breed entered the industry. They were ambitious, they were keen to get on. And they didn't want any lowdown writers stealing their glory. They wanted complete control.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Nowadays, it's almost impossible to consider writers and producers as equals. We're programmed to see producers as god-like individuals with the power of life and death.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But let's remember what a producer without a script looks like. A bit naked, really.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Traditionally, a producer would seek out a writer whose work he or she admired. There would then be a meeting - possibly even an agreeable lunch - and ideas might be batted to and fro.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Between them, the writer and the producer would agree on a plan, a story they wanted to develop. And the producer would say, 'Right, then, off you go, write that script; we'll stay off your back, but if you want us you know where we are. See you in a few weeks.'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">That's how scripts happened. Basically, the producer accepted that writing a script is what scriptwriters do. That's why they hired them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But then came the Cult of Management, along with a trickier environment (commissioning editors were scared, knowing that if they made a mistake they'd be laughed at, and somebody younger with a smarter suit would possibly take their place). The industry ground to a halt. Decisions weren't being taken.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Enter the new producers. The new bunch saw the writer as a problem. These damned writers were, unfortunately, necessary. So to stop them getting ideas above their stations, the producers decided to mess with their scripts and their heads. The idea, I guess, was that the producer would be able to say, 'Well, realistically, I wrote that script: the writer was really just a glorified typist.'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Inevitably, perhaps, there was a massive cull of writers. Projects were damaged because producers who knew nothing about scripts had started interfering, and then some.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Producers began to believe that actors were more important. After all, if you're trying to impress somebody, isn't it better to say 'I'm working with so-and-so, the famous actor', than, 'I'm doing this thing with a writer you've probably never heard of.'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">As more and more writers were forced out of the industry, a new crisis arose. No writers! Of course, this meant there were opportunities for newcomers. And these newbies, being young and innocent, had to be steered through the script process by producers. They didn't realise that it's the Writer's Job to Write the Script and it's the Producer's Job to Produce the Damn Thing.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Which is why writers these days are expected to write draft after draft, revising and revising, until the producer accidentally stumbles across whatever it was they were after in the first place.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">This is a most unhappy state of affairs, and it will not improve until two things happen.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">First - producers have to realise that the relationship between the writer and the producer is not one of hired hand and demanding client. It's more equitable than that. It is, in fact, one expert going into business with another.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Second - writers have to remember that they are the gifted children. Yes: they need producers, because otherwise they may not eat. But they must never forget that producers need them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It's time for writers to hold their heads up high. The Writers' Guild has been working on a Writers' Manifesto. That in itself is proof of the fact that the relationship between writers and producers has deteriorated - and it is all the fault of the producers.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So - writers of the world, unite! You have nothing to lose but drafts 4 to 11 of your wonderful script.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Let's remind producers of where they'd be without us, the ungrateful bastards.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-64844442191703301812008-11-28T11:58:00.002+00:002008-11-28T12:45:29.815+00:00THE CALL<span style="font-family:courier new;">I think it was Francis Bacon who effectively said that there's no such thing as learning - only remembering.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I'm reminded of that idea time and again when I read screenplays. The reason being that the basic laws of screenwriting should be embedded in practically all of us.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There are, if you will, two aspects to screenplays. There's the stuff that does need to be learnt. Formatting, for example - that takes some learning. And then there's the stuff that really we just need to remember.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Like how a story works.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Unfortunately, just as many writers stumble over the problems of format (really should address that one, some time), so the basics of story elude them. We should all be masters of story. It should be second nature - like remembering to breathe. After all, it's not as if we've never come across stories before, is it?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">What happens, in my experience, is that the essential elements of story make it into the script, but in a muted, unconscious sort of way. This in itself is revealing. The fact is, we know how to write stories. We just don't know that we know.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So I'm going to look today at one of the first thing that happens in any story: the Call.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Okay, so a story has to start somewhere. And where that story starts is a place we can call the Ordinary World. The writer sets up a situation, showing us what life is like for our main character (or characters).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The 'Ordinary World' is just that. It's our starting point. We need to see what everyday life is like for our hero, before the adventure starts.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">One thing we can be pretty sure of is that the Ordinary World is lacking in something. It's not ideal. The hero is bored, restless.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Then comes the Call.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It can come in many forms. A chance encounter, a summons to the boss's office, an incident witnessed on the street ...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">This Call represents an invitation, from the World of Adventure, for the hero to make a move. On the one hand, it's an intrusion. Life had been trundling along, as per normal, in the Ordinary World - and now this. Something has happened, and life may never be the same again.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A good script sorts this out pretty early on. The sooner, the better.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">In previous postings I've banged on and on about the three Acts of a script. The Ordinary World and the Call are (quite bleedin' obviously) elements of the first Act. And we need to get them out of the way for the first Act to work towards its conclusion, so that we can then get on with the fun stuff, otherwise known as Act Two or 'The Story'.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So we've met the hero and the hero has received the Call. Then what?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Let me ask you: have you ever been asked to do something quite out of the ordinary and found that you had doubts about the whole thing?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Isn't it easier to stay in your comfort zone?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I mean, after all, life in the Ordinary World might not be everything, but it's a damn sight safer than wandering off into the unknown, yeah?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So what does the hero do?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">He, she or it REFUSES the Call.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Adventure comes calling, and the hero tries to avoid it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">(There are, of course, circumstances wherein the hero is not really in a position to refuse the Call. It would be unseemly of James Bond to tell M, no thanks, I'm quite happy doing what I'm doing, send somebody else. In such circumstances, the Refusal of the Call takes another form. Sometimes, he won't head straight off on the assignment because there's some woman for him to dally with. At least Moneypenny will give him a wistful look when she says goodbye, which indicates that, although Bond can't refuse the Call, somebody else might wish that he would.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">(Alternatively, there's the 'Where Eagles Dare' option. Richard Burton can't refuse a Call. But one of his (shortlived) fellow soldiers can, by questioning the point of the exercise.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">(One way or another, the Call must be refused.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Often enough, at this point, screenwriting mirrors life. I've read many a screenplay in which - usually unknowingly - the writer has got the Call in there. At which point, it's not their hero who refuses the Call - it's the writer themselves. A lot of writers, I've found, are happier fiddling around in Act One than actually committing to the story of the script. Result - the script never gets on with it. Which is bad, bad, bad.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">After the hero has refused the Call, usually by finding reasons not to go off on some madcap adventure, something else then has to happen.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The decision has to be taken out of the hero's hands.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Some kind of enemy action or divine intervention is needed to give our reluctant hero a kick up the arse. Because, for there to be a story at all, the hero must cross that threshold into the World of Adventure (the Story).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So - in the simplest terms:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">1) The hero is bored in the Ordinary World;</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">2) Adventure calls;</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">3) The hero tries to avoid going on the adventure;</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">4) Something else happens - now the hero has no choice;</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">5) And we're off ...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">These are the bare bones of any Act One. This is how pretty well every story ever told begins. It's a tried and trusted formula. It's practically unavoidable.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So why fight it? Make sure that your story, after a quick set-up of the Ordinary World, has a Call. A moment when the riskier World of Adventure irrupts into your hero's settled existence.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Then make sure that your hero has doubts, second thoughts, or simply appreciates that adventures can be scary things.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And then give them such a boot up the arse that they're left with no choice in the matter. Adventure, here we come.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And for heaven's sake, get all this over with before your script starts dragging on and going nowhere. Both heroes and writers need that lightning bolt which propels them into the story, somewhere towards the end of Act One (and Act One, please remember, should be a quarter of the script - no more).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">This isn't learning - it's remembering. We all know this.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But so many writers spend so long refusing the Call themselves that they end up with a script without a story.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Which is a shame, to say the least.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-13510609437606199312008-11-19T13:49:00.002+00:002008-11-19T14:21:22.282+00:00LESS IS MORE<span style="font-family:courier new;">What's the sexiest moment in movie history?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">That's a tough call, but for my money it just might be in Hitchcock's 'Rear Window'. Grace Kelly holds up a nightdress and tells Jimmy Stewart (who has broken his leg), 'Preview of coming attractions.'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There. Not a nipple on show. Not a glimpse of buttock. But it worked for me when I first saw it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But why? I mean, okay, Grace Kelly was moderately attractive, and the thought of her wearing a negligee could drive a man to distraction. In fact, that's just it. Sure, I'd like to have seen her wearing it. But the THOUGHT of her wearing it - the IDEA that, when they got married, lucky Jimmy Stewart would get to see her wearing it EVERY NIGHT - well, wow, there's a thought.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Like they say, it's the thought that counts.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, say what you like about Alfred Hitchcock, I think he was a genius. There's a lot we can learn from his movies. Beyond the camera trickery and the odd quirks, Hitch really understood cinema. And so what if most of his movies turn on the same plot (male victim of mistaken identity goes on the run and encounters a cool blonde)? He knew his audience.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And one of the things he knew is that sometimes it's better not to show things.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, there's a conundrum. The screen is a visual medium, and now I'm suggesting we shouldn't show things. Hmmnnn ...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The imagination is an exceptional tool. As screenwriters, we're supposed to go where our imaginations lead us. And we live in an age when, if we're lucky to have an indulgent producer with unlimited funds, we can show whatever our imagination comes up with.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">This is largely thanks to a process known as CGI or 'Computer Generated Idiocy'. When it first appeared (think back to 'Jurassic Park' and 'Terminator 2') it was amazing. Now, I think it's a bit tired. But it seems to appeal to the juvenile among us. That's why movies and TV are obsessed with it. It's expensive, it's not convincing, but the kids love it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">(I suspect that the kids love it because they've grown up in a virtual world.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">However, just because we can show giant monsters destroying New York City, or flying dragons attacking a castle, or people having their skulls blown apart, the real question is - should we show these things? This is the great moral quandary - call it the problem of science: just because we CAN do something doesn't mean that we SHOULD do it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">How many werewolf movies have you seen which completely fall apart the moment you see the monster?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Maybe the real problem is that while screenwriters indulge their own imaginations and budgets go through the roof, what about the audience's imagination?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">If the audience has to imagine the monster, the horror, the ghastly injuries, they'll often do a better job of it than our special effects experts can. It's called 'fear of the dark', or 'fear of the unknown'.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">One of the scariest films I ever saw was a black-and-white adaptation of Henry James's 'Turn of the Screw'. It's called 'The Innocents', and I've been lucky enough to work with the cinematographer (the legendary Freddie Francis) and to befriend the first AD. Not much happens in the movie. There's no gore. There are no giant monsters. They only just manage to show us a ghost. But it's chilling, terrifying, and absolutely brilliant.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A well-known British producer (Tony Garnett) had something of a catchphrase, as I remember. It went 'There's nothing less sexy that a shot of heaving buttocks'. I suppose much would depend on whose buttocks were doing the heaving, but in fact I think he's right.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The juvenile, 'I want' part of the audience maybe only wants to see shots of heaving buttocks, between computer generated images of mass destruction. The most juvenile culture in the world is that of the United States, which means that America produces metric tonnes of this shit every week.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And while the BBC keeps trying to attract younger viewers, we'll have to put up with more of this expensive, unimaginative toss on our small screens.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But let's remember that, if you want to reach a mature audience, or an audience that might actually read books, or an audience that doesn't feel the need to stuff its face with junk while whooping at the screen, we need to use our imagination.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Which also means letting the audience use theirs.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">'Preview of coming attractions.' I'd take Grace Kelly saying that over a load of CGI nonsense anyday.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-18921494186458135952008-11-15T11:38:00.002+00:002008-11-15T12:31:21.601+00:00FOUR CHARACTERS<span style="font-family:courier new;">The range of characters available to the screenwriter is unlimited. But, as with anything to do with screenwriting, in practice it's pretty simple.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I'm not going to talk about background characters, here. If anything, I'm going to talk about character function.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Characters exist for a reason - and, if they don't, they shouldn't be there in the script. They must be doing things, fulfilling a purpose, adding to the brew. Always ask yourself: is this character important? Vital? Really adding to the script? Or have I simply found a character I like, but who may not belong in this story?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Certain character types are indispensable. They keep cropping up. There are four of them, and while it isn't necessary to have all four in a script, it's difficult to avoid having at least two of them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">These four more-or-less essential characters are:-</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">HERO</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">SHADOW</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">SIDEKICK</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">LOVE INTEREST</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So - looking at them in turn ...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">1. THE HERO. Try telling a story without this one.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now, first of all, the HERO and the PROTAGONIST are not always one and the same. Usually, but not always.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The word PROTAGONIST comes from the Greek: it means 'first actor' or 'first contestant' (a memory of the time when drama was a competitive sport, as well as the struggle that lies at the heart of drama). The PROTAGONIST is simply the main player or lead character.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There are certain rules governing heroes, however. First, the word HERO. It again derives from the Greek and means, essentially, one who protects and serves. A PROTAGONIST does not need to engage in self-sacrifice; a HERO does.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">In fact, the story of the HERO is universal. There is often something unusual or miraculous about their birth. They are often raised apart from their parents. They answer a certain 'call'. They make the journey into the World of Adventure for the good of their society. They struggle, they suffer, they bring back the magical key, the secret, the vital clue. They make their world a better place and, as a result of their endeavours, they GROW. They CHANGE. Their personality becomes stronger, fuller, more complete, as a direct result of the journey they've undertaken and the struggles they have undergone along the way.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">2. SHADOW. Or, if you prefer, the VILLAIN, NEMESIS, RIVAL or BADDIE. But I prefer SHADOW. Thanks to Dr Carl Jung we know that every individual personality has a Shadow, which is composed of those elements of our psychological make-up that we don't like. We project them onto other people, or even other races.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">When somebody takes an instant dislike to somebody else, that's usually the Shadow at work. For example, I don't want to think of myself as a conceited show-off, so when I meet someone who seems to be a conceited show-off I don't like that person. Why? Because, deep down, they remind me too much of my darker self.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">As we know from 'Star Wars' (in fact, 'The Empire Strikes Back'), the SHADOW is not necessarily the polar opposite of the HERO. Psychologically, the SHADOW consists of those elements in the HERO's personality which have not been integrated. Thus, when we discover that Lord Vader is Luke's father (shock! horror! hold the front page!) what we're really learning is that the Dark Side has been present in Luke all along. He can resist it or he can assimilate it. Luke is a goodie (boringly so) because he opposes the evil forces. But the SHADOW is a function of the HERO's personality. Fighting it is not always the answer. Turning the negative aspects of the SHADOW into positive ones (making a friend of the SHADOW) creates psychological completeness.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But, of course, that seldom happens. In our shoot-'em-up world, the SHADOW must be destroyed. (What a better world it would be if our stories taught us to integrate the SHADOW side of ourselves, rather than projecting it onto others and then destroying them: the War On Terror is, in many ways, a war between the West and its Shadow, and wars like that can never be won).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So, the SHADOW is the HERO's 'opposite', the Yin to the HERO's Yang.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">3. SIDEKICK. Sometimes called REFLECTION or ECHO. But SIDEKICK is better, because we all know what that means.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A SIDEKICK is usually the HERO's friend. They exist to make the HERO look better at what they do. Think of Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson: Watson is a clever guy, but Holmes is miles ahead of him.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">In many movies, the SIDEKICK doesn't make it to the end. This, again, is part of demonstrating how amazing the HERO is. The HERO survives, the SIDEKICK doesn't. Ergo, the HERO is better than the SIDEKICK.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The SIDEKICK can be thought of as a representative of the audience. They get us closer to the HERO, and show us how much better/braver/cleverer the HERO is than we are. Because of their friendship, the SIDEKICK can have conversations with the HERO that others can't. So the SIDEKICK sheds a new light on the HERO.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">(The lighting image is quite a good one. The standard lighting set-up involves three light sources. Imagine the HERO as the subject. The HERO's confrontation with the SHADOW, the struggle between them, acts like the key light, thrusting our HERO into the spotlight and casting a large shadow. The SIDEKICK provides the backlight, lighting up the HERO from another angle. The LOVE INTEREST acts like the fill light, removing much of the shadow and giving us a somewhat softer, more rounded image of the HERO. Technical stuff, but a good mental image to hold in your head: the three satellite characters exist to 'light' the main character beautifully.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">4. LOVE INTEREST. Or ROMANCE. If the SHADOW is the enemy, the rival, and the SIDEKICK is a friend, the LOVE INTEREST is the lover, the prize, the object of desire. Attaining the love of the LOVE INTEREST is often the HERO's reward for having successfully undertaken the adventure.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So, we can picture our HERO in the centre of a space. The SHADOW stands before them in apparent confrontation (remembering, of course, that the SHADOW is composed of those elements of the HERO's psychology that the HERO doesn't like or want to know about). The SIDEKICK stands behind the HERO, making the HERO look braver, more romantic. The LOVE INTEREST stands to the side of the HERO, and slightly in front, showing us the HERO's softer side.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">As I said, all four are not compulsory. Sherlock Holmes was seldom bothered by love interests. What is more - and here's the fun part - in the weird World of Adventure where the story happens, a character can switch from one function to another:</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A SIDEKICK can become the LOVE INTEREST, or the SHADOW. The SHADOW might turn out to be the LOVE INTEREST (I think Jung would have loved that). In some stories, the main character is merely a Protagonist, and it is the LOVE INTEREST, or the SIDEKICK, or even the SHADOW, who turns out to be the HERO (undergoing tests and trials and emerging as a new, improved person).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">So there's plenty of fun to be had with these four. You may not need them all in your story, but it's not a bad idea to have all four.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Remembering, of course, that the HERO, the SHADOW, the SIDEKICK and the LOVE INTEREST all have their own stories. Each of them has OBJECTIVES and OBSTACLES (yes, and INNER and OUTER ones).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Create four interesting major characters. Make sure they each have their own story (OBJECTIVE and OBSTACLE). Be prepared for them to change their function during the script. And ensure that the satellite characters exist to reveal the HERO, giving us three different angles on the HERO's character.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And then, you should have a pretty solid constellation of characters at the heart if your script.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-79339115340944417962008-11-10T12:30:00.003+00:002008-11-10T13:28:44.766+00:00CUT TO:<span style="font-family:courier new;">Why write CUT TO: at the end of a scene? Why do it?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I mean, how else is the editor to get from one scene to another? They don't need us to tell them to cut from one scene to the next.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And what the hell, exactly, does QUICK CUT TO: mean?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Not so long ago, it was common practice to have loads of neat CUT TO:s lining the right-hand margin of the screenplay. But, little by little, we began to realise a couple of things.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">1) the producer knows that we're going to be cutting - it's not as if an experienced script reader will get to the end of a scene and then stop, wondering 'But how do we get to the next scene? How?'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">2) how much space is taken up by writing CUT TO: after every scene?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It is a paradox of screenwriting that, while 100 to 120 pages feels like a great wilderness of space to be filled, on each page of script the space is severely limited.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">One page of script = one minute of time. The script has to keep moving. Every time we stop to write CUT TO: we are depriving ourselves of script space. We are wasting a precious commodity.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There ARE occasions when it can be useful, if not indeed necessary, to give the reader a break and drop in a CUT TO:. But they can be few and far between.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Let's think of a script not as a succession of scenes but as a number of sequences. To be honest, I'm not a great fan of scenes. Of course they're the building blocks of drama. But they can often be short and stumpy. In television (that great monster) they can also be clumpy. The format in which TV scripts tend to be written (not the same as screenplay format) tends towards scenes which function as blocks of action. One block of action comes to an end, and everything stops. CUT TO: And we're off into another block.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I always like interweaving my scenes. It creates a sense of pace. It allows the boring parts of scenes to be politely dropped. It makes separate actions seem concurrent. It can build tension.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But this means that the concept of the scene dwindles. The scene can cease to be a discrete block of action and become something more fluid. Which means that each scene is really just an integral part of a sequence.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">At the end of a sequence of scenes it can be beneficial to write CUT TO: almost as a punctuation mark. It's as good as saying 'End of Sequence; take a breath'. This way, instead of breaking the script up into literally dozens of tiny bits (scenes) we get a handful of more substantial sequences.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The script moves quicker. We're not wasting space. And each scene, instead of being a lump of action, becomes a thread in the overall tapestry.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But we still have to move from one scene to another.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Dropping all those CUT TO:s allows us to focus on the art of screenwriting.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Because if there is one thing which can distinguish a professionally-written screenplay from an amateur one, it is the quality of the transitions between scenes.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Thinking more in terms of sequences than scenes tends to help the forward momentum of the script. And a screenplay is all about forward momentum. We can break at the end of a sequence in order to acknowledge that a new sequence is about to start, but during each sequence the emphasis is on keeping things moving. Seamlessly.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">One of the smartest ways of moving from one scene to another is the question-and-answer approach. This is particularly appropriate because, one way or another, all scripts rely on questions and answers.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The audience starts posing questions in their minds from the very outset. The screenwriter's job is to prompt those questions and to answer them as and when. For the script to work, the reader must be asking questions constantly (if unconsciously) and the writer must provide only enough information to keep the reader glued to the script and the unconscious questioning to develop. Only by the end of the script should all the questions be answered.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">(A lot of producers and script editors, reading scripts in offices, question EVERYTHING in the script. They lose sight of the fact that, on screen, the forward momentum of the story should negate a whole lot of questions. The problem comes from being too picky, and leads to the kind of drama in which every question is answered without the story maintaining momentum - result: dull drama.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Question and answer. This goes to the heart of drama. It's a kind of 'will they, won't they'? Will they find the secret? Will they survive? Will the cavalry arrive in the nick of time?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">One way of getting from a scene to the next is to pose a question, which is immediately answered at the start of the next scene.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">This links the two scenes. In TV drama, cutting from one scene to another often slows the momentum. But stitching the scenes together using the Q-and-A technique keeps the thing moving.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There's another form of transition I like. It's a bit tricksy, but it can work beautifully. Technically speaking, it involves cutting the picture and the dialogue at different moments. So that the dialogue from the first scene continues, briefly, over the start of the second scene, or the other way round. The dialogue from the top of the second scene can start while the image of the first scene is still being played on the screen.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Again, just like the Q-and-A technique, this approach knits scenes together. The act of cutting between scenes does not then create a 'jump', as it might otherwise. Instead, one scene flows relatively smoothly into the next. If you will, the reader or viewer is carried over the transition, either because the two scenes are linked by an idea (or question/answer) or because the break between scenes has been staggered.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Obviously, one must exercise caution. Too many fancy transitions between scenes could make for a script which is just too darn clever-clever for its own good.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But surely devising innovative and satisfying transitions between scenes is better than cluttering up a script with loads of redundant CUT TO:s.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And besides - it makes the script feel more professional. So what's not to like?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">P.S.: All those 'jargon' terms for interesting cuts - QUICK CUT, JUMP CUT, TIME CUT, DISSOLVE, FADE, MIX, etc. - are kinda pointless. You can embed brilliant transitions in your script without scattering this kind of rubbish throughout. As with all 'tricks', like flashback or voice-over, try it without them, and then only put them in if there really is no better way.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">P.P.S.: Hi Ted!</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1146769293227297252.post-20794484107579902432008-11-05T12:55:00.002+00:002008-11-05T13:44:40.711+00:00CHANGE WE NEED<span style="font-family:courier new;">At four o'clock this morning, British time, I found myself laughing. Others cried. Some danced. I laughed.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The forty-fourth president of the United States of America had just been elected. A historic moment.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">I laughed for sheer joy. I speak as a man who managed to smuggle the words 'Vote Barack Obama' into a rendition of 'Sweet Home Alabama' this summer, sadly to a bunch of Brits who were not eligible to vote in the US election, but hey - I did my bit. The whole world wanted Obama. Thank you, America. Thank you.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The past eight years have been characterised by everything that is wrong with human nature and, in particular, with right-wing politics. It has been a period of lies and misrepresentations. Of obscene wealth and escalating despair. Of cynicism and mistrust. Let's face it, the twenty-first century has not started well.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Obama's victory sends out a signal. America and the world wanted change.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But what has this got to do with screenwriting? Possibly, everything. Change is now in the wind. And, as screenwriters, change is what we need.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">There are signs of good news. The BBC is assessing how much it pays, not only to its top 'celebrities' but also to its overpaid, overpromoted executives. That's good. The truth is that between one half and three quarters of BBC management could disappear tomorrow and nobody would notice - except that, a year or so down the line, the quality of programming would show a phenomenal improvement.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">He wasn't solely responsible - he was more of a figurehead, a poster-boy for the self-centred opportunists - but there is no doubt that George W. Bush poisoned everything. His adminstration gave out a simple message: if you're rich, get richer; if you're poor, fuck off. And don't, for a single moment, imagine that the truth means anything. There is no truth anymore. Just verbiage. Soundbites and lies.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">All that has now changed, thank Goddess.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">A shift is taking place. American voters have rejected the lies, the arrogance, the plain old stupidity and cupidity of the Bush years. The world now wants genuine leadership. Change. Hope.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">This cannot be ignored, not even by those who have ridden the gravy train of the past decade, acquiring bullshit job titles and rolling in money while simultaneously demonstrating their uselessness. The tide is turning. I truly hope that the end of the Bush nightmare will also spell the end of the cult of managerialism, the end of the contempt those at the top have been showing for those at the bottom, the end of a culture based on spin, gloss, and the celebrity freakshow. I truly hope that we may now begin to get back to what really matters. Systems that work. Management that is there to facilitate, rather than to obstruct (and to pay itself vast dividends as it does so). The acknowledgement that we are all in this together.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Not so long ago, I came across an article which asked: 'Why didn't popular culture warn us about what was about to happen in the global economy? Where were the Gordon Ghekkos of the noughties? Why was this obscenity allowed to run riot without writers - the conscience of their societies - bringing such excesses to our attention? Where were the siren voices?'</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">The fact is that, during the past decade or so, those who control broadcasting have preferred to pump out meaningless nonsense, asinine froth, rather than tackle serious subjects. I said that writers are the conscience of their societies. We are the Cassandras who warn of dire consequences. But if the powers that be deny us the chance to serve our true calling, if they fuck up our scripts and prevent us from reaching our audience, if they force us to write soapy pap rather than genuine drama, then they are colluding in the Great Lie that has characterised the Bush years.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">That Great Lie is now in its death throes, and the world is looking towards a new era.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It may not last. Bush and his cronies might have damaged the US and world economies beyond repair. Some right-wing nut might assassinate Obama. Things might be about to get a whole lot worse.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">But the tide has turned. The worst kind of censorship is the kind which doesn't announce itself, which pretends that it doesn't exist. There has been censorship of an extraordinary kind at work over the past decade. It has been necessary to protect the interests of those who have made their fortunes, mostly by raiding the public purse and/or inventing phoney finances. Censorship of the kind that calls itself 'responding to market forces' is what has allowed a non-stop stream of empty-headed drivel to replace true culture, true drama, true debate. That kind of censorship has sold us all short. Dumbing down was its way of hiding what was really going on, of drawing a veil over boardroom greed and managerial incompetence.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Now the people have spoken. A grassroots movement has rejected the politics of greed and slander. America has voted for change and the rest of the world is cheering.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Soon, let us hope, we may get on with the task of telling it like it is, without fear or intimidation. Yesterday's vote may be the best news we writers have had in years.</span>script dochttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02184710178706727399noreply@blogger.com2