DEVELOPMENT: 2

Okay, so a script needs a good set-up if it's going to stand any chance of becoming a script (see previous post).

But how do you know if you've got a good set-up?

Well, you need three things:

1) A character
2) A desire, objective or goal
3) An obstacle

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.)

The next game is a bit like the old game of 'Consequences'.

Start the page with the words: 'The story is about'.

Then invent a character. Five words are usually enough to get the idea across.

Then write 'who wants'.

Then think of a goal, a dream or an objective. Again, five words will usually do the trick.

Then write 'but'.

Now you need an obstacle, or several obstacles. No word limit, this time. What sort of thing can prevent somebody from achieving their goal?

Finally, write 'stands in the way'.

So, when you've finished, you should have a sentence which reads:

'The story is about a CHARACTER who wants SOMETHING but SOMETHING OR OTHER stands in the way.'

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:

'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.'

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.

Rule of thumb: the grander the OBJECTIVE and, even more so, the bigger the OBSTACLES, the better the problem.

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.

In the first quarter or so of the script (Act One), the CHARACTER, the OBJECTIVE and the OBSTACLE/S will be clearly established.

In the middle half of the script (Act Two), the CHARACTER will pursue the OBJECTIVE in the face of OBSTACLES.

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.

So - for your set-up, ask yourself:

1) have I got an interesting CHARACTER?
2) does that character have a good, positive OBJECTIVE * ?
3) are there sufficiently daunting OBSTACLES in the way?

(* 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.)

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.

Let's say that you wrote down: 'What if we ran out of water?'

You might then think of someone - a twelve-year old boy, for example - who wants to find a source of clean water.

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?

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?

If you have all three, then you've got your set-up.

DEVELOPMENT: 1

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 ...

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.

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?

Brilliant.

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.

I'm not going to tell you how it ends. But if you get a chance, watch it.

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.

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.

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.

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.

If you don't organise a good enough set-up for yourself, you won't have a story.

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.

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.

And then you've got a story.

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.

Before you even start working on a script, ask yourself: 'Have I got a good, strong set-up?'

'Have I got good, strong characters and an interesting problem?'

'Have I got a story?'

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).

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.

Next time, we'll look at how you create a good set-up. But for now, always bear this in mind -

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.

If you haven't got a good set-up, you haven't got a story and you haven't got a script.

Here endeth the lesson.

YOUR THOUGHTS

I'm back!!

Have you missed me?

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.

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.

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.

So I started thinking about follow-up workshops or courses.

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 ...

One which I've long wanted to focus on is format.

Format.

The dreaded format.

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.

Ha! Couldn't be more wrong. Relying on screenwriting software is a BIG mistake.

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).

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).

And then, there's development.

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.

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.

That might work for some. But I find it intolerable. Why?

It's unnecessarily hard work, and it takes all the fun out of writing the script.

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?

Those, then, are the options:

1) FORMATTING (how to 'think' in scripts)
2) DEVELOPMENT (how to plan your scripts most effectively)

Your thoughts, please, ladies and gents.

Which one do you think would be most useful to you?

GENRE

I want to talk about genre.

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.

But now I'm going to talk about genre, and for a very good reason.

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.'

Sorry, that won't wash.

Say you decided to watch a film. What kind of film do you fancy? Hmmnnn ... how about a romantic-comedy?

So you watch it. And it's not very romantic. And there's not much comedy in it.

How do you feel? Like you've been had? Do you feel cheated, let down, even maybe a little angry?

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.

See what I mean? Writers who insist that they don't adhere to genre are everso likely to upset their readers.

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.

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.

Terrible things happen when a writer sets out without a clear notion of the genre he or she is writing in.

Or if they try to pick 'n' mix genres and end up making a mess.

Don't try and run away from genre. Don't pretend you're above it all.

Genre matters. It's important.

There aren't many (and you're highly unlikely to invent any new ones).

But if you're writing drama - make it dramatic.

If you're writing romance - make it romantic.

If you're writing comedy - make it funny.

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.)

If you're writing a war movie - what do you need?

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?

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.

Genre is your friend.

THE STORY

I've discovered a dangerous new drug. It's called Authonomy (www.authonomy.com). 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.

If you want to read a helluva lot of free fiction, go there. It's also a great learning experience.

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').

At different times, I've been told that there are eight stories. Or ten.

But, actually, I think there's just one.

That's right: one story, told over and over again, all over the world.

Basically, it's about a character who undergoes a challenge.

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.

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.

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'.

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.

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.

We have to go down into the depths. We have to confront our demons. We have to keep going.

Dr Carl Jung once said of one of his patients: 'Thank God he made up his mind to become neurotic!'

In screenwriting terms, that can be read as: 'Thank God he made up his mind to accept the Call and embark on the adventure!'

All the other stories that writers and commentators try to make you believe in, in reality, merely variations on a theme.

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.

That's the story. There is only one.

Everything else is how you tell it.

DIALOGUE

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.

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.

There were systems which could sync sound with the picture, but they were expensive, and getting a decent edit was a nightmare.

So I learnt to make silent films.

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.

For most of my teens, I was hopeless with dialogue. I hadn't been learning to listen.

But I had been learning to SEE.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Now, there's a handy rule in screenwriting. It's called GILGOE.

That's 'Get In Late, Get Out Early'. GILGOE.

Start your scene at the latest possible moment and then end it as soon as you can.

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.

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.

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.

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.

He knew that the less a character talks, the more we might listen.

Be like Clint. Cut out at least half of your dialogue.

Then go back and cut some more.

And keep cutting, until all that remains is absolutely necessary.

Talking is for radio. On the screen, it's what we see that matters.

THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES

After watching one of my things on telly, I turned to a friend and said, 'Well, what did you think?'

'You could tell you wrote it,' he said.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, it had your fingerprints all over it,' he replied.

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.

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?

'All your character have memories,' he said.

Was that all?

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.

And no one, at the time, was probably more familiar with my work than he was.

So - one of the things that made my writing individual, apparently, was that my characters tended to have memories.

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'.

But memories? Don't all characters have memories? Surely they do.

Well, no, apparently not. Otherwise my friend wouldn't have pointed out that my characters tend to have memories.

How weird. I mean, if you think about it, memories are what we are. As individuals, we are the sum of our memories.

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.

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.

It's just a thought, but do your characters have memories?

Maybe they should. Because memories make us human.