Being a Professional Writer and the Power of Rewrite
By Beth Brandon
Congratulations! You finished a draft! This is something to be very proud/excited/anxious/elated/thrilled/terrified about. By finishing this draft you have single handedly pushed yourself above the ranks of those who could not finish a draft. Take a deep breath. Pat your back. Or have someone pat it for you. There are far less of us who finish. Trust me. (Go check out the stats on the Script Frenzy website. I’ll wait.)
So. Now what? Where do you go from here?
Let’s face it first drafts are notoriously awful. Everyone writes bad first drafts. Even Paul Haggis and Diablo Cody (although I’ve never actually read a first draft of either of theirs, but I imagine they’re just like the rest of us.)
Here’s the good news: What you finished (and yay you finished it!) is by far the worst draft you will ever write. Why is this good news? Because you’re a professional writer and your script will only get better.
Maybe I should take a minute to define what I think a professional writer is.
- A professional writes every day. Sick. Tired. Drained of creativity. They still write.
- A professional does not have to have sold a script or even had one optioned.
- A professional does not need to live in Los Angles, or New York (although it's helpful down the line but that’s a whole other "How To.")
- A professional embraces the power of the rewrite.
- And most importantly, a professional writes every single day. Yes, I realize I’ve said this once already, but it’s so important that it needed to be said a second time. So suck it up.
I know what you’re thinking. What does being a "professional writer" have to do with my rewrite? Glad you asked.
Anyone can be a writer. All it takes is a pen and some paper and voila, you’re a writer. But professionals know it’s not that easy. If it was, then everyone with a pen and some paper would not only be published authors, but would also have studio deals, and Broadway openings.
I like to compare writers to surgeons because really when it comes down to it, a surgeon is just a chick with a knife. Right? But we all know (maybe because we’re addicted to Grey's Anatomy), that to become a surgeon takes years, sometimes decades of study and practice. I would never grab a scalpel, stroll into my local hospital, and sign myself up for the next scheduled surgery.
So if you are a writer, as you claim to be, you must commit, embrace, and live for the entire writing process, including the multitude of rewrites.
Enough about being "professional." How do I rewrite my crappy first draft!?
This is subjective, and in my experience, mostly discovered through trial and error. Some like to go page-by-page, word-by-word, and find/replace with new material. Others like to take chunks of scenes, break them apart from the script, and make sure each scene builds to a final climax. Some like to work with a partner or writing group, and receive notes and suggestions of how to improve the script.
The one truth across the board is that rewriting is the creation of new, better, and more suited material. If you’ve changed a line here, or a character’s name, you have not rewritten. You’ve adjusted. Tweaked. Polished. But not rewritten.
Before you dive into the rewrite take a minute to go through your script. Highlight what you like, cross out what’s not quite working yet, and brainstorm some new, original, fresh scenes to take their place. You will ultimately get rid of at least one scene that you've come to love. This is typical, and don't be afraid of it.
So your script isn’t going to rewrite itself. And thank goodness for that! Because, now, you get to be the coolest, most brilliant of professional writer's because you get to find the new material that hasn’t yet been written.
Good luck!
Five Screenwriting Pitfalls to Avoid
By Nathan Marshall
I spend a lot of time on my website, www.scriptfaze.com, talking about things writers SHOULD DO to improve their writing, and to make their scripts as snappy and sellable as possible. I’m also amazed by all the great tips and insight provided here on the Script Frenzy website—what an amazing resource! That said, I figured it was time someone went Debby Downer for just a minute, and covered a few pitfalls that all writers should be careful NOT TO DO while crafting their latest script.
So, here are five common mistakes that every screenwriter should AVOID:
1) SUPPORTING CHARACTERS AS SOUNDING BOARDS
It’s true. Your antagonist needs people to talk to, and there’s no better way to sneak in a little exposition than to craft a witty conversation between your hero and their best friend, their mom, or even that stranger they bump into on the subway. The problem many writers run into, however, is forgetting to make these supporting leads fully formed characters—and not just sounding boards for your protagonist. Now, I’m not saying every person with a line deserves ten pages of juicy scene work. Sometimes, you can relate everything an audience needs to know about what makes a character tick in just a couple lines. However—if you’ve chosen to write a character into your film, they can’t just be a blank slate that keeps asking your hero bunch of convenient questions. Every character must come off as a REAL PERSON, and their actions and dialogue should always appear to be motivated by their individual desires, goals, and attitudes.
2) OBVIOUS ENDINGS
This note might sound a little, well…obvious. And yet—it’s one of the more common mistakes that writers make while embarking upon a new career in screenwriting. The bottom line is this: Your audience is smarter than you think. If you drop a hint early-on in your screenplay about an upcoming wedding, contest, or apocalyptic stand-off, they will immediately ASSUME that this event will cap the end of your movie. And if your hero happens to be a skittish wife, struggling musician, or underdog super hero, they will also assume your antagonist’s ultimate OUTCOME during this climax. Setting specific expectations CAN be a good thing—but only if you later subvert them. Don’t make the mistake of leading your audience down an expected path to an expected conclusion.
3) TONE SHIFTS
Have you ever been sitting in a movie theatre watching a thriller or a serious drama, when suddenly the plot went loopy or the characters said something totally WRONG for the moment—and everything in the theatre started to LAUGH? If so, you’ve experienced a TONE SHIFT. TONE is fragile thing, and once you’ve locked down the specific FEEL of your script—be it a broad comedy, a serious thriller, a lighthearted drama, etc.—you must be careful to MAINTAIN this tone from start to finish. There is no better way to lose your audience than to pull the carpet out from under them mid-way through a script, and have your tone SHIFT from one genre to another. Now, I’m not saying there can’t be comedic moments in a dramatic movie, or a poignant scene in the middle of Superbad. Be careful, however, that these outside-the-norm scenes feel true to the movie you are writing.
4) RUN-ON DESCRIPTION
Screenwriting is all about characters, plot, and dialogue—NOT the details of a room’s décor, the minutiae of the changing seasons, or the blow-by-blow of every step a character makes. Novels are wondering things. And if you’d RATHER be writing a novel—NaNoWriMo will be here before you know it! Screenplays, however, ARE NOT NOVELS, and your description blocks should be as focused and minimalistic as possible. Before your movie graces the screen of a local multiplex, it must be picked out from BUNDLES of other scripts by interns, agents, and producers. You may have written the best jail house movie since Shawshank Redemption, but if you’ve spent the first two pages describing death row’s dust bunnies—no one is ever gonna read it.
5) WEAK PROTAGONIST
This one is the most important, and unfortunately—the most common. I’ve done it myself: Written a whole script full of awesome supporting roles, crazy unexpected plot twists, and death defying stunts—only to reread it, and realize my lead character was BARELY PRESENT. Sure—he’d be there in all the scenes, generally fulfilling his role as leading man—but everyone else around him was just… COOLER. Surprising, a lot of writers make this mistake. Smaller characters are easier to spice up, while the PROTAGONIST is often saddled with back story, subtext, and mixed motivations—all of which can make him withdrawn and uninteresting. To combat this, make sure your hero is always ACTIVE and that he INFLUENCES every scene he is a part of. And give him some personality! Sure, the vigilante soccer mom leading your story may be entirely based on YOU—but shouldn’t she be the funny, witty, zany version of yourself that usually only comes out on trips to Disneyland? I think so.
Nathan Marshall has written dozens of screenplays, and is presently developing an hour-long television show for CBS/Paramount. In 2008, Nathan created the website www.scriptfaze.com, which offers free tips and advice for screenwriters.
This Stopped Being Funny 3 Minutes Ago: Things I’ve Learned Writing Sketch Comedy.
By Jon Wolanske
I’ve written a lot of weird short humor pieces in my 8-plus years as a member of a sketch comedy group. Some have made it to the stage, while many, many more still lay dormant on thumb drives and in dark, dank file cabinets. This has, essentially, been all the training I’ve had in this genre. And you don’t really need training to do this kind of writing. You just need to know what you find funny. Then you need to commit to a vision that’s clear, has some kind of driving force behind it, and is short.
The last word in the above paragraph is the most important. And most of the advice I have to give about writing sketch has to do with this word. Writing sketch is not like writing plays or even full five-minute dramatic scenes where you have to dive deep into the characters and refine the arcs and chart all the intersecting plot points. Your audience not only knows your sketch is gonna be brief, they expect it to be brief. In fact, it’s what they paid for.
So that gives you permission to take certain liberties—be it voiceover or breaking the 4th wall or sudden blackouts or the hawk attacks. Whatever is going to up the stakes for your characters or push you to make bigger comedic choices. Your scene doesn’t even have to be completely linear in its storytelling. Just make sure what you have to say packs a quick punch; then run.
How Short Is Too Short?
I’ve heard a lot of criticism about my sketches over the years.
“Too weird.”
“You don’t need the first page.”
“Why a marmot?”
If there’s one comment I’ve never heard, especially if people have found the sketch funny, it’s this one: “That was too short.” No one has ever said that. On the other hand, I’ve heard the opposite plenty of times. I bet you’ve said the opposite plenty of times, too. How often have you been watching SNL or some other sketch show and said, “This sketch stopped being funny 3 minutes ago.” Make your sketches as concise as they tell you to be. Trust that it can be as short as a third of a page. It can be as short as a few seconds. (KML once did a show composed entirely of sketches that lasted as long as the amount of time it takes from one side of a wide doorway to another—and it’s one of the shows people talk about the most to this day). Basically, just think big and deliver short.
“I Have No Ideas.”
Whenever I feel like I have nothing to write about, I carry around a notebook and write down anything that makes me laugh. Really,anything. A joke. A horoscope. Something I overhear on MUNI (or smelled for that matter, it’s a ripe railway). I start a list and then try to plot out anything that still makes me laugh a few days later.
Can You Sum It Up In A Sentence?
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned writing sketch is that you need to know what it is that you find funny about your idea. If you don’t or somehow forget through the course of writing and revising it, that’s kind of a problem. It’s sounds like a “duh” comment, but it IS possible to lose your way when writing a scene that builds to be gradually more absurd and more absurd, with layer upon layer of filthy ridiculousness.
What’s your sketch’s elevator pitch? Sometimes I’ll write mine down and keep it within arms reach. If “It’s a Leave It To Beaver-style family scene where all the dialogue is made up entirely of Mike Tyson’s most offensive interview quotes.” “A police interrogation where all the essential clues are replaced with the word ‘smurf.’” “An ultra-conservative White House staff hires an improv teacher to help them develop new ideas.” If you can translate your idea simply in conversation, and stick to the simple comedic thread in execution, it’s more than likely you’ll create an effective piece of sketch comedy.
Get To It
Once you know what you want to write about, get into it quickly. Is it necessary to know which region of the country the uncle’s ferret was born? Probably not. Audiences care about exposition only to the extent to which that exposition makes them laugh. If it doesn’t do that, leave it out.
Write It Out Loud
Before you share your sketch with your writing group or whomever you’re working with, read it out loud. Comedic dialogue is all about rhythm and surprise, and you can’t always tell what’s working if you’re only reading it in your head. Reading your scene aloud will tell you if the rhythm is right. It’ll also bring some other things to light. Is there a funnier word you can use here? Do the characters sound too similar? Do you really need all those stage directions?
To take it a step further, sometimes if you write sketch out loud—that is, if you speak the lines literally as you type them—it can lead to funnier, less expected dialogue. This trick can also backfire; if you’re at a hip cafe, people might just think you’re crazy. Then again that may cause them to finally leave and cede more table space to you, which would be a major victory.
Make Sure Its Relatable
Kerning is hilarious. But only if you know what it is. If your sketch show were exclusively for graphic designers or typesetters, they’d love the sketch, “Dr. Kerning meets Professor Dumpydrawers.” So that it works for an audience of strangers, pick subject matter (even if you use it metaphorically) that your widest audience can follow.
When To End
If you’re having finding an ending, locate your scene’s biggest joke and plan your exit strategy accordingly. There’s no point going beyond the comedic apex of a scene if the characters don’t absolutely have to do that one more thing. And you don’t necessarily need a clever button or explanation for why the scene is ending.
Watch Monty Python enough and you’ll see that they rarely ended a sketch well—often they just cut to an animation or to another scene. Mr. Show also did this, and did it well. And SNL overuses the classic “that’s all the time we have for today” ending. The stuff before the ending should be what concerns you most. A “fade to black” or sudden bee attack is a perfectly acceptable ending—especially if your actors are committed.
Is Your Idea Even A Sketch Idea?
If you find that your scene just keeps going and going way beyond your intended page limit, it might be announcing itself not as a sketch but as a short story. Or a one-act play. Or a comedic adaptation of The Satanic Verses. Know if the thing you’re writing is best served by the sketch format. If it is, commit to it hard and keep it simple.
Use What Works
If you’re struggling with an idea or just wondering how to make your sketch better, you can always try any of ye olde tricks of the trade:
--Is it sane man/crazy world or crazy world/sane man? Often with sketch, it’s one or the other, and for good reason. Either of these two premises creates a ton of comedic tension and conflict potential for the scene. Just make it about one person being different from the world—and have that person’s bargaining with the world be the focus.
--Go for maximum destruction. Escalate your idea by starting off small and ending in chaos. Just keep making the situation worse and worse for your hero in every possible way you can imagine.
--Juxtapose new with old, big with small, bald with hairy. A lot of the humor of sketch comes from people feeling out of place or from the tension created from weird pairings.
--Put an ancient character in a new context, or vice versa. Have Queen Victoria guest judge US Weekly’s “hot or not” column. Could James Bond exist in medieval times? There’s a lot of fun you can have with the fish-out-of-water scenario.
--Place your characters in dangerous or improbable situations. Don’t just automatically choose a living room for a family scenario or an office for a workplace scene. Your choice of place can bring out a lot in your characters.
--If your scene isn’t working as a piece for live actors, use puppets. Would your sketch be funnier in animation? Try it as an audio piece, where you can supplement the dialogue with sound effects. Does removing something and reframing things help you at all?
There really are no rules to this kind of writing. That’s why people keep finding new ways to do it and break the doors down. Compare The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour with The Tim and Eric Awesome Show—that’s some crazy evolution.
If you’re feeling confined by your scene, remove one element and see how things improve. If you hate page 3, end on page 2. If you want to write an interpretive dance to a transcript of last night’s local news, give it a shot. The only guiding rule is if it makes you laugh (and you keep laughing while writing it), it will make someone else laugh. And that makes it completely worth trying.
Jon Wolanske is a longtime member of San Francisco sketch comedy group Killing My Lobster. During the day, he is a writer at ad agency Goodby, Silverstein and Partners. He has a weakness for bad puns and homemade baked goods.
I Have the Best Idea for a Script!....Err, So Now What?
By Beth Brandon
So you have an idea for this amazing script. (Don’t we all?) What do you do with this idea? Where do you begin? Do you outline? Do you just dive in? The hardest part to writing a script is really, well, writing.
To decide what to do with your nugget of an idea, simply start writing. Get it all out of your system and fast before it passes you by. Quickly write down all of your thoughts and ideas on the subject. What could happen in the story and what may never see the actual final draft are all equally important.
You can do this for an outline, for the actually script, for a treatment, or even to flesh out potential characters you might see in your movie.
(For more on this notion please check out this 20 minute video/speech about the idea of creativity by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love.)
So what if you get stuck? What if suddenly your great idea doesn’t seem so great anymore? Don’t give up. Professional’s push through the hard times, even when they loathe what they’re writing. Utilizing things like Script Frenzy is a great way to stay motivated.
No idea how to push through?
- Brainstorm potential scenes and moments that could be in your script.
- Brainstorm character flaws, wants, desires, and how you can challenge those at each step of the way.
- Figure out what your characters mean to each other. And furthermore, what it would mean if they lost one another.
- Write monologues from their point of view explaining how they look at the world.
- Open an entirely different and riff—unedited—about what you think of your script—what you like, what isn’t working, how you feel about it. Get all of your anxiety and fears and doubts out of your system. It will clear your head and make room for the brilliance yet to come.
- Let your characters have a knock down, dragged out, bloody fight. And then figure out how they would make up.
- Take a scene that currently takes place somewhere “boring” in like a kitchen, or at a park, and place it somewhere exotic, like the Louvre, or inside an Egyptian pyramid. Then figure out a reason why your characters would be there, or how they would get back to the kitchen or park.
Please do not keep any of this in your final draft. If you really have a scene that takes place inside an Egyptian pyramid there better be a search for a Mummy involved. In other words—all of this is just practice; an exercise for you to get out of the rut of your story.
Opening your imagination to the ridiculous opens your mind to what you’re not otherwise seeing. In other words, it makes room for the genius to come through. If you do any or all of these things, you’ll never have writers block again. I promise.
You’ll never know if it’s a good idea until you actually try to write it. Clearly, it will not be perfect. Deal with and embrace the imperfection of it. This is your first draft, and it’s just for you to practice your story. As the saying goes, practice does make perfect. Especially if you practice every day.
Try this: Write five pages a day for three weeks. It may be exhilarating at times, but there will also be moments of complete and utter misery. After three weeks of writing five pages a day, you’ll have about 100 pages of a script—and by then, you’ll know whether or not you’ve got a movie. Three weeks of writing to find out if you’ve written the wrong thing is a hell of lot faster and more productive than three months, or even years of hemming and hawing to find out if you’ve got an idea at all.
And the best part? You’ll already have a completed crappy draft. Which is much more than most people can say of any of their “ideas.”
Now. What are you doing still reading this? You’ve got writing to do!
Beth Brandon is a screenwriter/playwright who has also worked in television. Her scripts have received notable recognition from Scriptapalooza and the Kendeda Playwrighting Competition. She has had staged readings of her plays in New York, (Horizon Theater), Atlanta, GA (Alliance Theater), and Houston, TX (University of Houston.) Beth received her MFA in writing under the instruction of Academy Award nominated screenwriter/Tony Award winning playwright Mark Medoff at Florida State University’s School of Motion Picture and Recording Arts. Beth currently lives and writes in Los Angeles.
Writing Downhill
By Daniel Heath
There are times when writing is an uphill march (barefoot, with snow and wolves). There are times when we have to write something, fail, come back, do it again, fail, come back, do it again, until we've got it right.
Now is not that time.
We have only got one month to write a script. We need to write downhill. We need to steer around obstacles, not through them.
So, we wrote that opening scene. The one with the snowmobile chase through Minneapolis-St. Paul, with leopards. Our big idea for an opening is done, and now...
Look, stop checking your page count every five minutes. It does not actually help. It actually makes things take longer to write, okay?
Now, what?
Now comes the exposition scene, right? Where the heroine takes off her snowmobile helmet and flicks some leopard fur off her vest, and explains what it's all about, why there are snowmobiles and leopards and...
No. Did you see what was happening just there? We were writing a boring part. We were starting to bore ourselves and our audience. Which brings us to:
1. Skip the boring parts.
We're writing a draft here. For all we know, by the time this thing is finished, it may be about something else, set somewhere else, with bears instead of leopards, and with a cynical, time-traveling robot as the protagonist. So, skip the boring parts. Skip the exposition entirely. If it bores us to write it, it's going to bore other people to read it. Later on, when we come back to this thing, we may be able to avoid the boring parts altogether. For now, we're better off skipping ahead to the next good bit.
But what happens if we're out of good bits? What if all that's left are boring parts? Sooner or later, this will happen. What next?
2. Make the most of what you've got.
When we hit a boring part and we don't have an obvious way around, it's time to think back over the characters and situations we've already created and look for a way downhill. Is there an interesting small character? A conflict we haven't explored? An argument that happened offstage that should've happened onstage? What if we decide to tie our two favorite characters together and drop them into a room filled with poisonous snakes? Or mischievous otters?
Don't keep your powder dry–use it. If you have a payoff coming later and you run out of steam, try it now. I'm not saying we should ditch our plot structure and rush everything together if things are going great. If things are going great, we're still zooming along and we're not even worrying about this. But if things are not going great, let's have that light-saber battle in the Library of Congress right... now.
If we have a good character or two, great, let's explore what makes them interesting with another scene. If we have lame characters, let's drop a piano on them or find a way to make them useful. This is no time to be sentimental.
3. Change course wildly if necessary.
When all else fails, we should always remember that this is a draft. We had an idea when we started out, but that idea can (and probably should) change once we're in the thick of it. You should not struggle through writing boring scenes solely out of mis-guided loyalty to an idea that you had a week ago that seemed hilarious when you were all hyped up on Rockstar and Lucky Charms. There is no change too radical to make to plot or characters.
Whenever we are not writing, we should be thinking--especially if things are not going well. Imagine casting aside fundamental plot points and see if you can find something interesting. Shed characters. Bring in new ones. If we need to, we can always call upon William Shakespeare's best stage direction:
"Exit, pursued by a bear."
Clear the stage. Don't slog along for the sake of consistency, because at this stage there is nothing for you to be loyal to. Feed your bad ideas to your good ideas and get on with it.
Our goal here is to get to the end without boring ourselves into stopping. For me, pretty much the only time I'm writing well is when I'm writing easily and having fun. When I'm writing uphill, struggling with a difficult character or scene or theme, I'm usually writing badly, and I usually end up tossing the scene in favor of something I wrote ten times faster, having ten times more fun. If we follow the good parts, then maybe, by the end of this month, we'll have found the beginning of the real story that we should've started all along. A draft can serve no more-noble purpose, even if every character we started out with ends up eaten by bears.
Daniel Heath is a San Francisco Bay Area playwright. His play, Forking, staged by Pianofight, recently completed a run in San Francisco and Los Angeles. Forking is a fully-scripted, choose-your-own-adventure play in which the audience votes at key moments. His next play, which does not involve voting, is Fifty Years Hungry; it was commissioned by Playground as part of the 2008/2009 Playground Fellowship. His short plays have been performed throughout the Bay Area and as far afield as Toronto, and he is a three-time winner of the Playground Emerging Playwright Award (2007 / 2008 / 2009). He is a lapsed fiction writer and thinks plays are way more fun. (You can find a little more of his advice from Scriptfrenzy '08 and Scriptfrenzy '07.)
The Three Most Important Things I Teach
By Alex Epstein
Rabbi Hillel was asked to sum up the Torah while standing on one foot. "That which is hateful to you, don't do it to your neighbor," he said. "The rest is commentary."
If you asked me to sum up my writing advice while standing on one foot, I would tell you three things.
a. You need a hook.
The hook is what gets people reading your script and gets the audience to see your movie. It’s just a compelling, attractive story idea in a nutshell. "A kid discovers his dog can play basketball.” “A ditz joins the Army to prove herself.”
The hook should ask a question — how does that turn out — that we have to read the screenplay or go to the movies to see answered. It should imply the main character, imply the obstacles he or she faces, and imply the stakes.
Movies get made, and screenplays get bought, without hooks, but only if they already have bankable elements attached — they are based on a hit musical, or novel, or have a major star attached.
b. The elements of story
A story is:
a hero we care about
who has a compelling problem, an opportunity or goal
who faces difficult obstacles and/or an antagonist
if they succeed, they (or their world) will have something they didn't have (stakes)
if they fail, they'll lose something precious to them (jeopardy)
80% of all screenplays that fail, fail because one of these story elements isn’t strong enough. We don’t care about the hero, or his problem isn’t serious enough, or he doesn’t face strong enough obstacles to solving it, or there’s nothing for him to win or lose.
If your script is not working, see which one of these elements needs strengthening.
c. Pitch your story
Before you write your script, tell your story out loud to as many people as you can get to sit still for it. Not necessarily fellow writers. Anyone who will listen. Your friends. Your teachers. Your teammates. Your mom.
Tell it in person. Tell it without notes. You will discover valuable things.
You will see when your audience is bored or confused. You will know where the story needs fixing.
You will learn where you can’t remember what the next step is. Obviously that’s not the right next step.
You will come up with more interesting story ideas on the fly.
You actually know how to tell a story. We all tell stories, every day, about things that happen to us. The more we tell them, the better they get.
But once you write things down, they become fixed. You start ignoring the boring sections — your eye just blips over them. You can’t do that when you’re telling a story live to an actual human being in front of you.
Tell your story off the cuff, to anyone who will listen. It will get better. When you can tell your entire movie story, as a story, to anyone, and get them to sit still and pay attention to it throughout, then and only then should you start to write things down.
Okay, can I have my foot back now? Thank you.
Alex Epstein is a writer for movies and television.
He was nominated for a Jutra, and won a Canadian Comedy Award, for his work on the comedy BON COP BAD COP. The film won the 2007 Genie for Best Picture, and broke the Canadian box office record for a Canadian movie.
He co-created the comic drama series NAKED JOSH for Showcase; it ran three seasons and won him two Canadian Screenwriting Award nominations. He was also Head Writer on CHARLIE JADE and Executive Story Editor for GALIDOR.
He has written two books, Crafty Screenwriting: Writing Movies That Get Made, and Crafty TV Writing: Thinking Inside The Box.
REVISION FRENZY
By Jennifer Arzt
Script Frenzy brought out the funny, the dramatic, and the not-so-polished in many of our scripts. And now it's time to make the leap from Draft 1 to Draft 2. There are no hard and fast rules on how to approach a rewrite, but here are a few ideas to help get you started.
Sleep. This is #1. You deserve it. Plus, a bit of separation between you and your script is healthy. After a few weeks, you might even forget every word that you wrote, and that is a good thing. It’s important to look at your script with fresh eyes, as a new reader would.
Re-read all in one sitting. Don’t take notes. Really. Put the pen down. Trust us—you don’t want to waste time correcting punctuation in a scene that may end up being cut. Re-read without editing, and just take in your script as a whole.
Create or revisit your outline. Revising is hard, plain and simple. There is no getting around it. You can make the whole process a lot less painful, though, by investing time early on in making your outline shine before you get into actual rewriting. Postponing editing until you have your story's exact course figured out may feel like procrastination, but knowing how each scene will unfold before you begin moving, cutting, and adding beats will save you days (if not weeks) of effort. Bonus: Revising from an outline almost feels like having a legal cheat sheet.
- If you don’t have one already, create an outline. If you need help getting started, check out the resources below. The Beat Sheet is a fantastic tool that’s made with feature length screenplays in mind, but there's helpful stuff in it for all kinds of scripts.
Or:
- Revisit your existing outline. After you’ve had a chance to read over your beautifully flawed masterpiece, think critically about the beats and pace of your story. Did you cover everything you planned to in your outline? Are you seeing areas that are thin? Get into the outline and cut, add, and rearrange your scenes, characters, and plot all the way to a solid Draft 2 outline. If you find that you are changing more than you are keeping, start a new outline.
A word of warning: Some difficult decisions will need to be made as you rework your outline. The scene that may have launched your entire idea weeks and weeks ago might need to be cut. One scene, conversation, or image, no matter how brilliant it is, isn’t the boss of your script. It was probably a great launching point for ideas, characters, conflict, and dialogue. It will be remembered fondly. Your job now is to create the strongest story possible and nothing should stand between you and it–even your favorite scene.
Outline Resources: Blake Synder’s Beat Sheet
Or try filling out a workbook from Script Frenzy’s own Young Writers Program for high school students. You won’t be the only adult there! Many participants have used the workbook during the Frenzy.
Big-Picture Editing. Save a copy of your script and name it something original and unexpected–like “Draft 2.” This version is about to be Frankensteined. Cut and paste, delete, and add notes about new scenes based on your latest and greatest outline.
Be sure to keep your hands off the small changes. It’s still too soon to be tidying your sentences and perfecting dialogue. You want to be looking at the big picture here. You can, however, flag dialogue that needs fixing, action that is falling flat or running too long, and any flaws in logic that might pop up during all the shuffling.
As you go through it, keep an eye out for typos. Spell check–though regarded by many to be the greatest invention since the wheel–won’t catch that your character Al Wright has mysteriously started going by All Right. Your readers, on the other hand, will be very quick to notice.
Reread this very rough version of your script. If the overall logic, plot, and pacing feels right, then you're ready to move on! If it needs more work, keep going through the draft–bouncing back and forth to your outline–until you feel like your characters and story are firmly planted on solid ground. As you do your big-picture revision, use File-->Save As to create a new version of the draft frequently (title them Draft 2b, Draft 2c, etc. to help keep them all straight). That way, you'll keep a record of all the genius ideas you came up with along the way, even if they don't make it into the final draft.
The Rewrite. Now it is time to actually start the rewriting. Take a deep breath and grab a cup of coffee. These items will be done in multiple passes. (This section could also be called Cutting, Writing, and Post-its. Be prepared for all three.)
Characters. When you started writing in April, you were going on blind dates with your characters. You only know a few things about them. Then, you spent the month of April in a whirlwind romance (or something like it), and now you are have a deeper understanding of who they are, and what you're going to do together.
With a sharp eye, comb through every inch of dialogue and action. Dialogue and action are the two ways your characters will be transformed from words on the page to real people. As your characters say and do things to move the plot forward, be sure that all their actions and conversations are in line with their personalities. Be sure they aren’t doing anything out of, well, character.
A sticky note: Make sure your character’s quirks and idiosyncrasies remain with them throughout the entire story. Have too many quirks to remember? Post-it notes! Cover your desk with them.
A dialogue tip: What sounds right on the page doesn’t always sound right when said out loud. Be the crazy person in the back corner of a coffee shop–or shut yourself away in your bedroom–and read it out loud.
Character Resources: “Reach for the Evocative Word” advice from Lisa Drostova
Progress. Does each scene move the story forward? If it doesn’t, cut it. You don’t need it. If you have a great moment or a stellar piece of dialogue in a scene about to be cut, pick it up and try moving it to another scene. It will be happier in a new home.
If there is a scene that bores you when you read it, it will bore the audience. If the scene is moving the story forward or supporting character development but it still falls flat, inject conflict. Are there minor characters standing around waiting for a piece of the limelight? Could the scene work better at night? What about in a different location?
Subplot. Minor characters. B-story. Whatever you want to call the filling between your heroes, allow it to enhance your newly well-defined main characters. Allow these minor characters and B-stories to support the rest of your script. They can have a similar storyline as your main character. Or you might find that the best way to explain your main character is to have somebody who is the exact opposite. Just be sure that they are well rounded enough to be worthy of screen/stage time.
Minor Character Resource: "Grandma's Got a Gun or, Who Are You Calling a Minor Character, Anyway?" by Daniel Heath
Plot holes. Yes, these were supposed to have taken care of this during the outline step, but you’ve been shuffling scenes and refining characters. If you’ve fallen into a plot hole and are having a hard time climbing out, try chatting with someone you trust about your story. Give them the gist of the stuck scene or plot point and let them offer ideas. You don’t have to take all their suggestions, but the process will inevitably help give you some new approaches to filling those plot holes.
Reread. After you have polished, played, and perfected your way to Draft 2, reread your script! Loop through all the steps above as many times as needed. Then, when you feel ready to share your masterpiece, head on down to the next step.
Perform it. This is a great way to hear how the entire script will actually sound off the page. You can do this with friends or actors at something called a table read. At a table read, you make copies of your script for each reader, and assign roles for everyone, including a narrator who will voice all the action. You, dear author, don’t get a reading role. Nope. You will have your own script copy–and a pen. During the reading, your job is to take frantic notes. Listen for lines that fall flat, pacing that is off, or missed opportunities for humor. Set aside time for a huge writing day following the reading. After hearing your story out loud, many things will become clear, and you don’t want to let much time pass between the reading and applying the lessons you learned from it.
Script swap. Now dear writer, it is time to get feedback from other scriptwriters. Your masterpiece is ready to be released out into the world. In the Script Frenzy forums there is a whole group dedicated to script swapping. Swing by and check it out!
Script Swap Resource: Script Frenzy forum.
Deadline. You made it through the Frenzy, so we know you’re are good with deadlines. Pull out your calendar right now.
We’ll wait.
Got it?
Great, now circle a date four to six weeks in the future. Write that date on a Post-it. You just set your deadline for Draft 2. To help make that deadline stick (and not accidentally make its way to the trash while another Post-it quietly takes its place), we invite you to post your deadline in our newest forum, Revision Frenzy. It is so much easier working toward a deadline when others can hold you accountable.
Use the forum to post your progress and commiserate with others working through the same mounds of changes to get to Draft 2.
Deadline Resource: Revision Deadline forum
To everyone who is planning a visit to the strange, exciting, and sometimes infuriating world of rewrites, we applaud you. Your script is on its way to a better, stronger, more exciting version of itself.
The adventure continues!
Good luck!
5 Tips on Making your Romantic Comedy Lovable…Er, Relatable
by Lauren Miller
We asked screenwriter, Lauren Miller, for her tips on writing a relatable romantic comedy. Take it away, Lauren!
Who doesn’t love to love a romantic comedy? No one, that’s who! But how often do you go to the theatre just dying to love the new girl-chases-guy, girl-loses-guy, guy-wins-back-girl movie and you leave the theatre just a little… well…not in love?
Unfortunately, I find that it happens a little more often than it doesn’t happen, and I thought of a few things that might make your romantic comedy the most lovable and relatable thing you’ve ever seen.
- Keep your romantic climaxes real. Okay, we all love Richard Gere climbing the fire escape, and we all love Tom Hanks finding Meg Ryan on top of the Empire State building, but these are just hugely fictional and completely unrealistic dreams. Yes, they are fun to imagine that it’s you on the receiving end, but these huge gestures fail way more often than they succeed on screen. Keeping it true to your characters will give you a chance to connect to your audience in a way that is much more likely to ring true to the romantic in themselves.
- Give your women some depth! For the most part, there are two types of women in romantic comedies:
- The super-hot, ditzy klutz who has had so many boyfriends, but none who really understand her.
- The super-hot, uptight, and über-successful businesswoman who has forgotten how to love until the artist/loser shows her how to live again.
- Keep the world your characters live in real. How many times do you watch a rom-com and the main character is a lowly assistant at a non-profit, yet they have the most fantastic wardrobe and the best NY apartment you’ve ever seen. Nothing disconnects me more from a movie than when that happens. If someone is struggling at their job, I want to see them struggling everywhere! Don’t be afraid to write that your character is just normal at some things–not every character has to be the best-dressed, the smartest, the cleanest, the messiest. What are you wearing right now? That’s what your character should be wearing! Where do you hang out with your friends? That’s where your character should be hanging out! What colors are your walls? You guessed it…you’re character’s walls should be that color too! If the world your character is living in isn’t real to you, then it won’t be real to the audience either.
- Don’t force your characters together. Again, keeping it real especially helps here. Say that you like spicy food and basketball. Will you fall in love with every other person who also likes spicy food and basketball? You really have to give your lovers a chance to genuinely fall for each other.
- Please! Not New York! People fall in love other places you know. Okay, it’s not that a romantic comedy can’t take place there (it’s so awesome!). But how many times can people fall in love there? Come on! Spread the wealth to other cities! And small towns! Use average places where your average people live. Give them a chance to be romantic too! And remember, if it has to be NY, more than likely, their apartment will be the size of a shoebox and won’t have a flower-pot-lined stoop.
For example, think about your own life. What’s the most romantic thing someone has done for you? Maybe you could steal that! Or think about the things that you like to do, and imagine that you are out doing them one day and the object of your affection shows up unexpectedly.
I guess what it comes down to is the need to keep your romantic swells organic to your character’s everyday lives. If a character is poor and has any sort of responsibilities, they probably can’t stop everything and follow some guy they heard on the radio to the top of the Empire State Building.
If you’re a girl, ask yourself this question: “Are you either of these people?” And if you’re a man, ask yourself this question: “Do you really know one of these women?” Hopefully the answer to those questions is “nope.” Because usually, women are a mix of so many different things! Don’t be afraid to let your female character be a little of everything. And let her emotions be real! Give her an annoying fault and give her something to be admired for. And give her some hobbies that are real (and not just football because that makes her likeable to the male lead). She should be someone you would be friends with, and you should know her better than anyone. I bet Nora Ephron always knew what Sally Albright was doing with her day.
Lauren A. Miller lives in Los Angeles where she is currently working on a script for Fox Atomic.
Reach for the Evocative Word
by Lisa Drostova
We asked Lisa Drostova, critic turned actor, her thoughts on great dialogue. Take it away, Lisa!
Write things that are exciting or powerful to say, things that make an actor hyperventilate with desire to speak your words out loud. Actors are sweet on writers who pay attention to this point. There are plays that get performed for years, decades, even centuries after they're written because actors want to do them . Not just because directors feel they're "important" or subscribers find them satisfying, but because actors agitate to get them staged. Hang around with actors for any length of time and you'll hear them delivering lines they love, even from plays they've never done. Last month I shared a dressing area with a woman who sings Gilbert and Sullivan's A Modern Major General between acts of a completely different show just because she loves lines like "I know the croaking chorus from the Frogs of Aristophanes." Meanwhile out in the parking lot, other castmates were wandering around quoting each other's lines from shows they'd worked on together in the past. Comic, poignant, angry, seductive, bleeding, raunchy. Outrageous lines are the way to an actor's heart, and from there to the audience's. Not to mention that directors and literary managers, as they consider plays for production, are imagining how they'll sound.
Play with line lengths. Don't give every character the same number of words or lines because you're worried the actors with less will feel bad--believe me, if they're out of high school, they won't. You can show a lot about characters by how much they speak in relation to each other, both to comic and dramatic effect. Make sure you're reading what you write out loud. This seems obvious, but I've read scripts where the writer clearly hadn't taken the time to sound out the work. If it sounds clunky and wrong coming out of your mouth, chances are it's not going to be any better coming out of mine, and I won't thank you for making me say something clumsy in front of paying strangers and long-suffering friends.
And when I say out loud, that's exactly what I mean. Go ahead and mumble it at your desk first if you have to, but at some point do it on full voice, with commitment. Roll the words around in your mouth for their flavor and texture, just as the actor does as she makes them hers. Notice which words strike you, which ones make you giggle, which ones make you feel strange or angry or powerful as you say them. Keep those. The ones that make you sleepy, euthanize.
If you're stuck for what to write, go outside. Real conversation is more outrageous than we realize. Playwright Anne Washburn works extensively with "stolen" text and is a great teacher to boot. She transcribes scraps of the conversations around her and then either integrates them directly into her text or riffs off them. Is this cheating? Sure, if you think all true creativity entails sweating blood alone in your garret, but there are advantages to working this way beyond scoring some free dialogue.
Transcribing overheard conversation exposes you to the real rhythms of people's speech. It opens you up to folks and what they worry about and the wild ways they talk about it. The rise of the cell phone and the iPod are a godsend to writers of every stripe. As people go deaf from their music and forget that there are others catching the details of their visit to the gynecologist, they get louder and more self-revelatory. You can hate that you're getting all the dirt of a stranger's life as you stand in that packed commuter train, or you can grab a notebook. Check these out:
It's giving me the willies with all that yellow.
I shrunk your head. And then I blew it back up.
"It's beautiful, but it's full of suicidal squirrels. I swear, we were riding there, and there were twenty squirrels lining up. They were really waiting along the sidewalk until we came up to run across the trail."
Those were all harvested from conversations I overheard on the train, in art classrooms, at a party. None of them are "finished" dialogue, but they're full of weirdness and energy and can tell you much more about the relationships between the people speaking than pages of exposition. They're also the sort of thing that if you heard it, you'd be eager to hear what comes next. And finally, they make great jumping-off places for your own dialogue.
Go on, go too far. Make your characters say things that seem overblown, dangerous, and extreme. You can always pull back if they sound wrong read aloud. Go out and write something that will make actors and audiences dizzy.
Lisa Drostova was an award-winning theater critic at the East Bay Express in Berkeley, California for seven years. She jumped the fence in 2007 to become an actor and dramaturge. She is now a member of Concord's Butterfield 8 Theater Company, where she's played Theseus in A Midsummer Night's Dream and Gwendolen Fairfax in The Importance of Being Earnest. She's also on the literary committee for the San Francisco Playhouse, where she solicits and evaluates scripts to help the artistic director choose the company's seasons.
Three Secrets of Great Storytelling
by Jill Chamberlain
We asked screenwriter and story doctor, Jill Chamberlain, the secrets of great stories. Take it away, Jill!
If you find yourself blocked and can't figure out what to write next, the problem may lie not in the scene you're stuck on but in your story as a whole.
Take a look at these three secrets of great storytelling, and see if they help you reimagine your story in a fresh light. With a few tweaks, you can usually manipulate your tale to work within these three frameworks. Then, your story should be rock solid, and hopefully you'll never find yourself at a loss for words again.
1. Every story is a version of "be careful what you wish for."
At the beginning of a screenplay, usually within the first 10 pages, the protagonist is introduced, and we find out what the protagonist wants. Later, the protagonist will get exactly what she wanted–it may not be the thing she wanted the most–but she will get something she wanted in those first 10 pages. Then, pretty soon after that, the protagonist's life will begin to resemble the old maxim "be careful what you wish for."
In The Wizard of Oz Dorothy wishes she could go somewhere over the rainbow because she thinks that there she'd escape her problems. Does she get her wish? Yes–but it turns out to be a scary place, and instead of taking away her problems, it compounds them.
In Tootsie Michael Dorsey, the out-of-work actor played by Dustin Hoffman, desperately wants an acting job. Does he get his wish? Yes–but the acting job is that of a female character on a soap opera, so he has to disguise himself as a woman all the time. Eventually this creates so many problems in his life that he risks his entire acting career to try to get out of his contract.
In some films "be careful what you wish for" is more apparent than in others. Often it requires some verbal dexterity to create just the right wording of the wish so that it's the one that is fulfilled. But deep down, it's always there.
2. Your protagonist's flaw is secretly what your story is about.
In life, we all have strengths and weaknesses. Well-developed fictional characters should have both, too. And your protagonist should have one weakness in particular–one specific personal flaw–which she is going to have to come up against before the end of your story.
The protagonist's flaw isn't something like a mustache or a Southern accent that you can tack onto your script as an afterthought. The protagonist's flaw is the story. This flaw and how your protagonist deals with it is actually what your story is secretly about.
You could say that The Wizard of Oz is about a Kansas farm girl whom wakes up in a magic land and, to get back home, she has to follows a path through scary places so she can talk to a wizard she's told can help her. But it turns out that she alone has the power to bring herself home, which she does by proclaiming "there's no place like home." That's the plot.
But what The Wizard of Oz is really about is a girl who yearns to be someplace else so she can escape her troubles. When she wakes up in a land far away, she finds she has all new problems that are even scarier than the ones she was trying to escape. When she finally is able to return home, she proclaims that she'll never look for excitement further than her own backyard, because somewhere new won't take away your problems; it'll just make them worse. That's the story.
When you think about it, so very many movie plots revolve around a physical journey. It's a great metaphor to use. Because, at the heart of it, every great story is an emotional journey. If you don't give your protagonist a real flaw to tackle, she'll literally have no place to go.
3. Don't put Tootsie in a chicken suit.
Stories are not one-size-fits-all. Your protagonist's journey should be specific to that character and her flaw. If you can easily remove your current protagonist from your story and replace her with a different character, say, your protagonist's best friend, and nobody would notice the difference, then your story is not specific to your protagonist. You have what we call at The Screenplay Workshop "Tootsie in the Chicken Suit" syndrome.
Let's say that instead of having to convince everyone he's a woman, Michael Dorsey in Tootsie has to wear a head-to-toe chicken costume. Instead of getting the part of a woman, he got the part of "Mr. Chicken," a kook who always wears a chicken suit for some reason. Now, let's say the producers want to keep the identity of Mr. Chicken top secret, and so Michael has to come to work and leave work in his Mr. Chicken costume, and he can never reveal to his costars or anyone whom he really is. Everything else about the plot of Tootsie we're going to leave exactly the same: Michael falls for his costar; Michael's character on the soap opera becomes a big hit, etc., etc.
Men dressing as women are funny; chicken costumes are funny. The rest of the plot is the same. So why wouldn't "Tootsie in the Chicken Suit" be as good a story? Why wouldn't it ultimately work?
The problem is that a chicken suit is arbitrary; it has nothing to do with the character Michael Dorsey. In the film Michael Dorsey is a guy who sleeps around and has no respect for women. Making him have to be a woman is a perfect test of Michael and his flaw, and it's exactly what makes it such a satisfying story.
A story isn't a bunch random events dumped onto characters. A story should be specific to its characters and their flaws. Don't put Michael in the chicken suit! Make sure you put your characters on journeys that are designed to test them as individuals and their specific flaws.
Jill Chamberlain is a screenwriter, story consultant and script doctor whose stories have been seen in theaters across the U.S. She's currently Director of The Screenplay Workshop, an acclaimed program where concrete, tangible writing techniques are taught by professional screenwriters in classes in groups, online and one-on-one.
Midpoint—The Key to Cracking Any Story
by Blake Snyder
Here at the middle of Script Frenzy 2008, we asked screenwriter and producer, Blake Snyder, for his advice on conquering the middle of any story. Take it away, Blake!
In both my Save The Cat! books and also the Save the Cat! Story Structure software, I have stressed the vital importance of figuring out what the midpoint of a screenplay is. I like to say that if you can crack the midpoint, you can crack the story. And it may not be until you do that you truly know what your story is really about!
To me, the day I discovered there is a secret to what happens at the midpoint in EVERY story, I was rocketed into a whole new dimension in my abilities as a writer.
There are two things that have to happen at the midpoint, both vital to making your story work:
- "the stakes are raised," and
- a "time clock" appears
When we meet the hero in Act One, and he decides to go on an adventure in the Break into Act Two, it isn't until midway through the movie that these two key elements cause him to truly decide if continuing on is for him. Thus the midpoint becomes a vital "weigh station" for the hero of every story, primarily because of these two simple devices.
Cracking your midpoint is the key to figuring out not only where your story goes, but what it means. By forcing these "stakes-are-raised" moments on your protagonists, and laying in the accompanying "time clocks" that put pressure on them to decide what to do, you may make their lives more difficult, but you also force them to address the changes that will truly make them worthy of the term "hero."
In his 20-year career as a screenwriter and producer, Blake Snyder has sold dozens of scripts, including co-writing Blank Check, which became a hit for Disney and Nuclear Family for Steven Spielberg. His book, Save The Cat! The Last Book on Screenwriting You'll Ever Need 
Five Building Blocks for a Rich Scene
by Liz Lisle
We asked Liz Lisle, producer, dramaturg, and playwright, for her thoughts on sparking up a scene. Take it away, Liz!
Banging your head against the door of the refrigerator because your scene just won’t come together? Here are some quick and dirty ways to get your characters moving, your plot dancing, and your imagination playing the fiddle like it’s a hot summer night.
1. Add a character that speaks differently. Put someone in the scene that uses words in a distinctly different manner than the other characters. As soon as language becomes a focus, there are lots of interesting questions on the table about who, why, and what. As the playwright, you then get to spend time deciding if these are questions you want to answer now or later, if at all. A great way to create a dynamic in a scene is to create mystery around what is common knowledge and what is not. Who knew this different person would be so different? Who knew they were even coming? It all depends on what kind of world you are creating onstage. For an additional twist, try making this character’s language, dialect, or speech impediment translatable by only some of the other characters. (Example: “This is my girlfriend, Monique”.)
2. Add a distraction. Create a magnetic event that each character has a different opinion about. Even though the event may not fund the strict structure of the plot, it adds a central point around which the characters can orient, and gives everyone a sudden, unexpected reason to show their true colors. By adding a live moment of action to the scene, you immediately add a layer to the story of the play, something the audience and the actors are living together and learning about together. This makes the audience feel smart, which is usually a good thing. Creating a distraction also gives opportunity for some characters to sneak away from the main action of the scene and do some business in a dark nefarious corner if need be. Then you have the glory of making two scenes happen onstage at the same time, which will make you feel smart. (Example: “Did you see that? Some hobo out there just got hit by a car!”)
3. Add a threat. Create a rhythmic shift in the scene and some attractive tension by pitting two characters against one another. When one character threatens another in no uncertain terms, there is a real boxing match sort of effect onstage. It’s raw, it’s exciting, and no one seems to know who’s got the stronger right hook. Whether the threat is verbal, emotional or physical, there’s nothing like writing a current moment of conflict to pick up the energy. Who can tell what might happen when an angry animal gets cornered! Be sure to work all the angles here, and let your characters really get sweaty. (Example: “Go ahead! If you throw my plant out the window you know what you’ll get.”)
4. Add a discovery. Everyone loves knowing a secret. Finding one out might even be better. Create relationships between characters in a scene, and then move them around as things are revealed. Try setting up the reveal, so that characters that seemed firm in one stance or another can be exposed or victorious, just at the moment no one was expecting them to be. Secrets pave the path for power exchanges, for romance, for betrayal, for friendship… the possibilities are endless. It’s all about creating a small, enclosed space onstage, smaller than the world the characters have been living and moving in. Invite the audience into that space, whether it is through sound level or posture, and then give it to them: that wonderful feeling of knowing. Of being in on it. (Example: “Well you knew, right? He and Monique…?”)
5. Add physical quirks. The great thing about theater is that you have bodies to play with. Sometimes it’s hard to remember this when you’re crunched in front of a computer screen with only your eyes and your fingers moving for hours on end. But the greatest plays are the ones where playwrights have given some hint as to the physicality of his or her characters. Even if these details don’t end up in the final draft, it’s worth your time to spend a hour walking around the room and being your character. My advice is to make eccentricities and tics visible, even when your characters are “normal” people. Also, think about what piece of clothing, prop, or beloved item might define a character, and how the other characters choose to react—or whether they’ll even notice. (Example: “That’s some sweater.”)
Liz Lisle is a producer, dramaturg, and playwright. She has worked in non-profit theater arts and management since 2000, and with Shotgun Players Theatre since 2001. Liz is also a company member and the director of Shotgun’s Theatre Lab, the company’s second stage experimental season. She is also on the selection committee for the Bay Area Playwright’s Festival (BAPF), and worked as a dramaturg for the BAPF, as well as for Word for Word. Liz’s play EAT was produced by the Shotgun Theatre Lab in 2003, and in 2007 she was commissioned to create a new play in Just Theater’s Writer/Director Lab, the product of which is called Matterless Fact. Liz is the recipient of the Observership Grant awarded by Theatre Communications Group. In addition to her work with Shotgun Players, Liz is the Managing Editor of Watchword Press, an independent literary collective that publishes a biannual literary magazine and creates public gallery events that combine literature, visual and performing arts. For the last seven years she has also co-produced an annual festival of radical puppetry in San Francisco called PuppetLOVE!
QUICK TIPS ON SHORTS
by Will Bigham
We asked Will Bigham, winner of On The Lot, for his thoughts on writing a winning short. Take it away, Will!
Writing is writing, whether your script is 5 pages or 205 pages (please don't let it be 205 pages). Everything you know about character, structure, tone and format in regards to writing a feature, the same rules apply when writing a short. The only difference is SCOPE. Here are a few quick tips for those of you who have a story to tell and only a few minutes to tell it.
1. Keep it simple. If you have an idea that takes place in ancient Rome, where the newly appointed Caesar must win favor of the Senate, while his sister is courting the son of their enemy's king, and in the climactic battle sequence, brother and sister fight each other over the empire they love and the man that's tearing them apart... write a feature. In a short, keep it to a hero wants something, there's an obstacle, he tries a few things to get what he wants, and he either gets it or doesn't. I know when I say it like that, it sounds boring. But take a look at any good short, and I guarantee the basic story structure is as simple as that.
2. Define your hero. If you only have 5 or 10 pages to tell a story, you can't waste much of that time getting to know your characters. Find something in your hero in which everyone can relate to, something universal. You don't have to make them a stereotype. They can be unique and different. In fact, if they're not, why write them? But we have to know who that person is on the first page of your script. And we should know who they are by the choices they make and the actions they take. If you feel like you need a voice over to tell the back story of your hero, start rewriting. Give that character an action or have them make a choice that will define who they are. The audience cares about who they are now, not who they were.
3. Start strong and end strong. Whenever I go to festivals or I'm surfing online, I know in the first ten seconds if I'm going to like a short. First impressions are everything. Do something right off the bat that grabs your audience's attention. That doesn't mean you have to have an explosion or a gun fight. It just means you have to show your audience something they weren't expecting. As I said earlier, your hero needs to be defined quickly. Why not have your hero do something unexpected. It will let your audience know who he is, and it will grab their attention right out of the gate. Also remember that last impressions are lasting. Be sure to end with some sort of emotional button. If you're doing a comedy, end on a laugh. Whatever your tone, make sure you give the audience a final impression that will keep them thinking about your short.
When coming up with ideas for your short, always keep in mind that it is a SHORT, which means it should be short. If you've ever sat through a shorts program at a festival, I'm sure you'd agree with me in saying that the shorter the short the better. When you find yourself on page 20 and you still haven't reached the inciting incident of your story, stop. The reason we write short screenplays is because we have a small but meaningful story to tell. Tell that story in as few words as possible.
Will Bigham is a writer/director, currently with a development deal at DreamWorks Pictures. Last summer, Will was voted the winner of Fox's reality show "On the Lot". Originally from Texas, Will now lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two daughters.
FIVE WAYS TO START A SCRIPT
by Nick Turner
Around the world the clock is striking midnight and the Frenzy is beginning! As we start Script Frenzy 2008 we turned again to award-winning writer Nicholas Turner for advice on the best way to start a script. Take it away, Nick!
The best scripts feel both original and familiar at the same time&151;no easy feat. Even more challenging: being able to capture that tone within the first few pages. Your script only gets one first impression, and if it doesn’t hook a reader immediately, its next stop may be the landfill.
That doesn’t mean the beginning needs explosions and car chases—or that it even has to be particularly fast-paced. What it should do is introduce a bit of mystery. Your readers should have a thread of suspense pulling them from page to page. What’s going on here? Who are these people? Why does one of them keeping sharpening his bowie knife?
Unsure how to start? Here are five classic beginnings you may want to try. A tried-and-true formula gives you structure and helps ground your reader in something familiar. The challenge is to give your opening a twist, making it your own.
1. The how-did-we-get-here opening. With this beginning, you plunge right into the action—showing your character in an intriguing predicament. Maybe your hero is by the gallows, getting a hood placed over his head. Maybe she’s dragging a trash bag full of twenties past a policeman—and the bag slowly starts to split open. In any case, as soon as you’ve hooked your audience, you flash back to the beginning of the story. If you’ve done your job right, they’ll be itching to find out how it all happened. The ultimate version of this opening may be Memento (2000), which is a movie told backwards.
2. The who-are-these-people opening. Mysteries don’t have to be about murder and cover-ups. Just put two characters together and have them start a conversation. Don’t tell us that they’re man and wife, or boss and secretary, or hit man and victim. Let the facts leak out gradually, through natural dialogue. The audience’s desire to figure out the relationship between characters can hold their attention. This approach often works best for stage plays (Harold Pinter is a master of the technique), where there are few clues other than dialogue.
3. The big-bang opening. There’s nothing wrong with an explosion or two. If you’re writing an action-adventure script, it’s wise to start off with a tightly paced set piece. In addition to grabbing the audience, it can help establish your character. In Speed (1994), an elevator sequence teaches us that Keanu Reeves’ Jack Traven is a quick-thinking cop on the bomb squad. In the Peruvian-temple scenes from Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981), we see Indiana Jones’ bullwhip-cracking prowess, as well as his respect for ancient artifacts. After the set piece, you should step back and slow down—showing your character in a less frenzied environment (Indiana Jones teaching college kids, for instance). Remember that your climax will have to be even more exciting than your opener, so don’t pump up the action to the max. Where will you go from there?
4. The waking-up opening. This beginning is fraught with cliché dangers, so be careful. How many movies have you seen where an alarm clock goes off and a weary hero flails around in an effort to shut it off? It’s a shopworn scene. However, there’s something to be said for showing your protagonist starting out a typical day. It helps your audience identify with the character and also establishes who this person is—before the events of your script irrevocably change his life. To see a twist on this idea, check out Half Nelson (2006). Ryan Gosling’s character is in his living room, strung-out and wide-awake, when his alarm clock goes off in his bedroom. Like all good beginnings, this reveals something about the character: You know immediately that this guy is messed up.
5. The origin opening. If you want to add a little heft to a character trait, consider this opener. Say your protagonist is deathly afraid of bees, you may want to show her as a kid, when she bumps her head on a buzzing hive. Or maybe you’re giving the origin of a superhero’s powers, as in Superman (1978). When you cut to adulthood, the audience has a deeper understanding of the character than they’d get through dialogue alone. The risk: Starting off with your main character in childhood can easily be hackneyed and cheesy. And when you show that character as an adult, the audience may not recognize that it’s supposed to be the same person. (You also may want to withhold the origin story until later in the script, to give more mystery.) For an example of this approach done well, see The Orphanage (2007). It shows the protagonist Laura as a kid, enjoying games at the orphanage. You then can understand why she would return to the same rundown place later in life, eager to restore the idyll she remembers. Again, the best openings spotlight the hero’s character.
Nicholas Turner's stage plays have been performed in Berkeley, Chicago, San Diego and San Francisco, and he has sold three film scripts. His first produced screenplay, "Fissure," debuted in March at the AFI Dallas International Film Festival. His latest stage play will be performed in the Washington DC area this summer.
A "TO-DO LIST" FOR ASPIRING SCREENPLAY WRITERS
by Melissa Carter
Melissa Carter graduated from The Florida State University's Film School M.F.A. program in 1996. Her student thesis film Used Cars was a student academy award finalist in 1997 then sold to Revolution Studios to became the film Little Black Book in 1999. She has sold six original television pilots, sold the feature spec Parental Guidance, and has worked as a writer/producer on two television shows, both Life as We Know It for ABC and Yes Dear for CBS. She is currently in pre-production to film her first pilot for Fox 21/Lifetime called Mistresses.
We asked Melissa if she had any advice for young writers, and she has come up with 6 awesome tips:
It is funny, but no matter how far along you get in your career as a writer, you are constantly looking for the “secret” or that one piece of advice that will solve all your problems. I say this, because I have been supporting myself solely as a writer for the past ten years, and I am endlessly looking for advice! I often find it in the form of screenwriting books or friends, but know that even if you are a “professional” you often look to others to see if you are on the right path. I think this is so because every script is different, but there is always one problem with it. I can’t tell you what that is, because that one problem always changes.
So, I thought I would give you, dear aspiring writers, the “advice” that I dole out when young writers ask me for guidance. Instead of giving you generic advice on dialogue or structure, I thought I would compile my list of “to do’s” that I am always trying to do myself:
1) WRITE AN OUTLINE FIRST I know, you don’t want to hear this, I didn’t want to hear this. No one wants to hear this. I have worked in television, and as part of your contract they make you write an outline. This is true whether you sell a pilot or work on a show. I have also, irritatingly enough, found this to be true for features. Some producers and some production companies make you hand in an outline or beat sheet before progressing to the script stage. I suggest the book Save The Cat! The Last Book on Screenwriting You'll Ever Need
2) FINISH YOUR FIRST DRAFT What does that mean? You might be asking yourselves why I would include such an obvious piece of advice that is so obvious it isn’t even advice. Well. . . I find with young writers that they will get close to finishing a draft, and then realize that a different story would be better. Or, they should make the boyfriend a brother, or they should change the point of view, or the main character, or the city or the ending—whatever—what I’m trying to say is FINISH YOUR FIRST DRAFT before trying to change anything. If you have a story about a boy who runs away to join the circus, finish that idea/draft/screenplay before changing it to a boy who runs away to join a rock band. I think what we all try to do is procrastinate by changing it—you avoid finishing it. It is okay, and actually expected, to have a terrible first draft. We all do. I promise you I have written some >i>horrible first drafts. But the only way to get to a good second, third, or tenth great draft is to finish the first horrible one.
3) START A WRITER’S GROUP Get a few people together who like to write. I find that having a writer’s group is incredibly helpful to getting better. I suggest keeping it to about five to six people and meet say once a week. Finding good readers, or any readers, can be difficult, so create a group. If you don’t know anyone local, try the internet to find someone and email drafts back and forth. Having a group read your work, and you reading other people’s work is invaluable. If more than one person has a problem with something I’ve written, then I admit that there is a better way to do it, something that needs to be fixed. If two people don’t understand the third act, or get a joke, or like a character—well, it’s probably true.
Your writer’s group should be a supportive one. You are not there to tear down each other's work. You are there to give each other constructive criticism that will make their work better. You may not (and probably this is a good thing) all write the same kind of screenplays. You need to be able to help one another reach the goal of making a story work. The flipside to that is don’t be defensive when getting criticism. I’m not saying you will agree with all of the notes, but figure out how you can take that criticism and make a better script!
4) READ AS MANY SCREENPLAYS AS POSSIBLE Read real screenplays in screenplay format. Now that there is that nifty internet, it is really easy to download scripts for free. Dailyscript.com is one of the great sites. Find scripts that are in your genre and study them.
5) REWRITING IS WRITING As long as you finish that first draft, get it out of the way, know that screenwriting is really rewriting. As painful and laborious as that may sound, it is true. Screenwriting is very much about structure. Again, I think Save The Cat! The Last Book on Screenwriting You'll Ever Need
Structure supports character. You want to create a structure that builds. You want to have a structure that shows change and growth in character. You also want to have a structure that lets the reader know you know what you are doing. If you have a 50-page first act and a ten-page third act, well, that’s just wrong.
6) KEEP AT IT Hollywood is really a five to ten year town. Very, very, very few people make it right out of the gate. For every Diablo Cody, there are thousands of people who took seven years of writing to make it. Everyone wants to be the Diablo Cody, but know that if you really work at your craft, have great ideas and talent, you can make it. Everyone is on their own path, so don’t judge your journey by someone else’s itinerary!
GOOD LUCK AND ENJOY!
HOW TO MAKE YOUR SCENES DANCE THE “WADOOGEE”
With Writer and Author Hal Ackerman
We asked Hal Ackerman—screenwriter, playwright, and Co-Chair of the UCLA Screenwriting Program—to share some indispensable advice on scene-writing from his book, Write Screenplays that Sell: The Ackerman Way
There is a one and only purpose for every scene that is placed in your script. Nope. It’s not the one you’re thinking of. No. Not that one either.
Your number one focus is to create a situation in which two characters each have an urgent, immediate need and those needs are in direct opposition to one another. Here’s how to keep your scenes alive and dancing:
1. Your protagonist must have a CHARACTER OBJECTIVE. This is not something long range, like “finding happiness, finding true love, coming of age, gaining empowerment.” An objective must be tangible, not abstract. (Get the job, get out of the room, find out a name, open the safe). It must be specific. (Grab that money…as opposed to getting rich). It must be immediate. Right NOW.
2. The opponent in the scene must also have a CHARACTER OBJECTIVE (most scenes have two principal characters and then minor foils). The same criteria apply. TANGIBLE, SPECIFIC, URGENT, IMMEDIATE. Don’t make either character a pushover.
3. Main characters’ objectives must be in OPPOSITION TO EACH OTHER. If Joe wants to buy cat food and Jane wants to wear a yellow blouse, there is no opposition to those desires. Both can be accommodated without conflict. ORGANIC CONFLICT is the product of urgent, immediate desires placed in a circumstance where only one can prevail.
4. Are characters dancing their WADOOGEES? “Wadoogee” is made up of the three key words you must remember. What does the character WAnt? What does the character DO to GEt it? Screenwriting is a verb-oriented craft. Verbs are words of action. The dance is the wa“DO”gee, not the Wa“SAY”ee. What does the character DO? It is a far better scene when you have a character take definitive action that the other character has to UNDO, than to have the characters debate or argue or threaten.
Action puts things at stake, which causes responses based on individual needs, which are at odds with each other, which generate opposing needs, which generate the lifeblood of every scene…CONFLICT.
5. This is the most important one. One out of a hundred of you will do this with true commitment. And you are the one whose writing will improve most dramatically. WRITE DOWN THE CHARACTER OBJECTIVE FOR EACH CHARACTER IN EACH SCENE. (It should be no more than a few words. If it takes too long to say, that’s a litmus test that you haven’t defined it clearly.) A day after you’ve written the scene, read it back aloud. Can you sense the character’s Wadoogee every moment? Are there times where you, the writer, intrude? Are you having the character talk about stuff that interests you but is not in the character’s immediate, urgent interest? Create a brand new file for great bits that you adore that have nothing to do with the scene.
Does the scene hold your attention? Where do you get bored in it? Figure out why. (As a clue, re-read 1-4.)
6. (A bonus for doing all the other 5). By staying with the characters’ desires, you will bypass having to think about theme, morality, or meaning—all stuff that, when self-consciously imposed upon a script, makes it less interesting. If you write through characters’ desires, the meaning will emerge that way. And moments will occur that you never anticipated, surprising and delighting you…and your reader.
5 SECRETS FOR IMPROVING YOUR COMEDY WRITING
With Sitcom Writer/Producer Fred Rubin
Whether you’re writing a romantic-com, a fantasy, or a horror flick, nearly every script can benefit from more levity. So we asked Fred Rubin, veteran writer/producer of such TV classics as “Different Strokes," “Mama’s Family," “Family Matters,” and “Night Court,” to share his side-splitting secrets. Besides writing dozens of sitcom episodes, pilots, and TV movies, Fred teaches at the UCLA film school and spends a great deal of time punching up scripts for other writers. Take it away, Fred!
Learning to be funny is one of the most difficult writing skills to master. Most everyone is born with the sensibilities to be scared, confused, serious, moody, frustrated, conflicted, and angry—all elements that contribute to great writing. But “funny?” Well, if it’s not in your environment as you grow up, it’s often not on hand when you create. Still, I believe anyone who at least possesses a sense of humor, anyone who likes jokes and laughs a lot, can learn to be “funnier.”
Whenever I’m hired to do a script punch up, before getting deeply into rewriting jokes or going through the time consuming task of writing new jokes, I always do a quick reading of the script with the following five tips in mind. These rules will help you in creating humor, but they are particularly helpful in improving jokes you may already have.
1) BE SPECIFIC
There is nothing that improves a joke more than using a “specific” object or allusion. The more well known the object or allusion, the bigger the laugh. Often novice writers, or people trying comedy for the first time, use general things in a joke, say for example the word “dog” rather than Schnauzer, or Poodle, or Chihuahua. Using any one of these “specific” breeds is automatically funnier than just “dog.”
Recently, while watching Mel Brook’s classic movie, The Producers, I laughed again when Max Bialystok tries to convince Leo Bloom how poor and needy he is. He screams at Leo, “I’m wearing a CARDBOARD belt!” Flimsy belt, crummy belt, discount belt…none of these are as specific as “cardboard.” It’s part of what makes the joke so funny.
2) PUT THE FUNNY WORD AT THE END
This rule is so simple and so obvious that writers often don’t take it to heart, but it works. If there’s a funny sounding word within the punch line of your joke, try to arrange the sentence so that the funny word falls at the end of the joke. A lot of what makes us laugh is mysterious. Even hardened, cynical comedy writers can’t always explain why some jokes work and others fall flat. But we do know that it has to do with rhythm and sound. If a funny sounding word is the last thing the audience/reader hears, it strengthens the joke. What makes a word funny? Well, for one thing:
3) WORDS WITH A HARD “K” OR HARD “C” SOUND ARE FUNNY
Watch any great comedy movie or any classic sitcom and you will find across the board that a good majority of the jokes rely on the use of a word with these sounds. In the hysterical Neil Simon masterwork on comedy, The Sunshine Boys his main character, Willie Clark, an aging vaudevillian, lectures: “Pickle is funny, Chicken is funny, Alka-Seltzer is funny.” And, he’s right. Comedy writers as a rule don’t search their brains for “K” or “C” sound words to end their jokes, but when pitching the jokes, our minds “instinctively” choose words with those consonants.
4) NEVER WRITE TO A JOKE—LET THE JOKE COME OUT OF THE CHARACTER OR SITUATION
Often, while writing a script, particularly when one is struggling to be funny, a great, fully written joke comes to mind for use later in the scene. We are so enamored with the joke that we then begin crafting the dialogue in the scene to lead to that joke. This almost NEVER works. Nine times out of ten when rereading that scene, the joke jars the flow of the dialogue. Sometimes it stops the scene dead, sometimes it can change the entire emotionality of the scene. It doesn’t work because it does not grow organically from the characters or the situation. Even though it might be on topic, it can still feel out of place.
The best humor ALWAYS comes first from character: fully developed characters with very specific, hopefully quirky traits. Secondly, comedy grows out of the conflict of the situation. Some of the best comedy writers write their scenes without any comedy, then they do a rewrite to find where in the character and conflict the humor can be mined. It’s important to:
5) GET RID OF THE JOKES THAT DON’T FIT, EVEN IF YOU LOVE THEM
I have a vivid memory from my first job as a television writer many years ago, of watching the producers rewriting my script and tearing out whole pages of jokes and dialog that I had loved. Never mind that I had sweated over them, rewritten them half a dozen times, cherished them, and been paid for them. I felt angry, frustrated, and betrayed. But after this happened a handful of times, I came to learn with some surprise that the script worked anyway! And often the comedy was even sharper, because as Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet “Brevity is the soul of wit.” Don’t be afraid to edit, trim back, and discard, because pacing (again rhythm) is also a key ingredient to a successful comedy. The very hardest thing in comedy writing is when you recognize that a perfectly crafted joke, a hysterical joke, a joke you laughed out loud at as you wrote it, is not working in the scene. Just give it up and kiss it goodbye.
BUILDING GREAT PLOTS WITH ACTRESS ANGELA PATON
We asked Angela to lay out the Top Five things that go into creating satisfying screenplay plots. Take it away, Angela!
1) The Hero. The Hero must have a dream or need that he is trying to fulfill, and his or her problem is trying to make that wish come true. He or she should be someone we like, so we want him or her to solve the problem of making that dream come true. Often there is also some lack in his character or life that he is unaware of, but that others might be aware of. In sad scripts, this is called a tragic flaw, sort of a troubling ghost getting in his way. In happy scripts, this is often the schtick that makes us laugh at his problem. The Hero's need is what starts the action of the plot, makes the plot move forward, and its success or failure is what brings the plot to an end. The tragic flaw is what makes it hard for the hero to see his way through the Plot.
2) The Opponent. Also getting in the hero's way is the opponent, who must be as strong or as smart or as interesting as the hero, or the film will be rather boring, like a game between a major league team and a minor league team; you know from the beginning who is going to win. The Opponent also has a dream or desire, and it might even be the same as the Hero's. He also has a gap in his personality that he's unaware of or doesn't much care about.
3) A World or Place or Universe. This world is the context in which the Hero lives and which is the origin of his needs, desires, and problems. It has minor characters that add to or obstruct the Hero's goal.
4) A Struggle. The central part of the Plot, also called the turning point or climax, is the fight, argument, battle, debate or struggle between the Hero and his Opponent, which often takes place in the part of the world in which it looks harder for the hero to escape, like a long hallway or a Ferris wheel or locker room. The struggle often has two or three surprises which show that escape might or might not be possible. The more important the Hero's goal, the better and more exciting the struggle. This part is called the agon. The struggle leads to point 5.
5) A Big Revelation. This is the end of the Plot in which the Hero's problem is solved, and which must answer some big question for the hero. Is his goal right or wrong? And it usually makes him aware of his tragic flaw. In happy scripts it's usually the right goal. In sad ones, it's a case of: "Be careful what you wish for...you might get it." And the answer must make sense to the audience.
Angela Paton is an actress with a resume spanning the worlds of theater (including San Francisco's ACT), television (The X-Files), and film (Groundhog Day, The Wedding Singer).
FIVE QUESTIONS TO HELP PILOTS TAKE FLIGHT
BY JONATHAN ABRAHAMS
Now that the WGA writers strike is over, many writers are gearing up to meet the 100-page Script Frenzy quota by writing two TV pilots in a month. We asked Los Angeles-based TV writer Jonathan Abrahams to lay out the Top Five plot questions pilot writers should ask themselves before the writing begins.
First of all, let me say to those who have decided to take this on: You’re out of your minds. It takes most professional TV writers a month at the very least just to write one 60-minute original pilot, and many more weeks of planning and researching and taking notes before that. But that’s because most of us live in fear: Fear that our imagination has dried upthat originality that is secretly frowned upon in our industry. So we spend forever plotting and planning to make sure we have a perfect idea before we start writing.
Anybody who signs up for this, however, is cut from a different cloth. You laugh at fear. You are to writers what X-gamers are to mere athletes.
That being said… If you are going to jump helmetless into the half-pipe, protect yourself by doing just a little pre-script thinking. You don’t have to get obsessive about planning, with the index cards, and the post-it notes, and the endless lists of story points that you work and rework. Just try to answer the following five questions before you actually start scripting:
1. What is the show? That is, start with an idea. That’s the big difference between this particular challenge and writing, say, a novel in thirty days. A novel is essentially formatless. It can be hundreds and hundreds of pages if you wish, so you have time to explore and meander and sort of figure out what your idea is as you write. With a TV script, there are—I hate to say the word—regulations. A one-hour drama pilot needs to be no less than 50 and no more than 65 pages. The very purpose of a pilot is to launch and set up a long-running series, so regular characters and settings (called set-pieces) must be introduced, and overall, people should read it and get a sense of what they’re going to see every week when they faithfully tune in to your show.
So, since you’re restricted both in space and time it’s important to start with an idea. Is it a detective show? A family show? A show about a CIA agent? Named Jack? You don’t have to have the whole thing figured out, but if you have some sort of idea, you can start thinking about scenes to support it, and that’s what a TV script is, a series of scenes that tell a story.
2. What do my characters want? You’re going to want to have a sense of who your characters are, and in the world of television, the characters are defined by what they want. That’s what drives what they do. A detective show is easy—he or she wants to solve the crime. That may be enough to start, but you’ll do yourself a favor by figuring out what drives him or her internally to solve the crime (bad version: our hero’s parents were victims of a violent crime, so he’s compensating by trying to protect the innocent… Wait—that’s Batman.) Anyway, it’s easy to come up with interesting characters in interesting situations—like a violinist who surfs in between concerts—but unless they’re driven by an extremely strong desire or need they won’t seem interesting to the reader.
3. What is the teaser? A standard one-hour drama has five acts and something called a teaser, which is a small (usually about four pages) mini-act at the beginning. It’s not a bad idea to do a little crafting of your teaser before you start writing, because this is the scene or series of scenes that basically defines the entire series. The teaser is where you introduce your main character or characters—it’s your show’s first impression, so try to think of something grabby but also, accurate. Don’t put a car chase in your teaser unless that’s the kind of thing viewers can expect to see regularly.
4. What is the event? No matter how you slice it, your pilot will be built around an event—a scene or situation or…event—where storylines come together. You don’t have to plot out how you’re going to get there but you should have in mind what the big moment of your show is. The event may change as you write, but writing toward even a vague idea will keep your story progressing.
5. What are the act-outs? This may be the most annoying piece of advice I can give you, but I’m going to give it to you anyway. A drama script is a teaser and five acts, and that structure, unfortunately, has everything to do with money and nothing to do with anything particularly creative. The show’s titles generally come after the teaser, and then, in between acts, you guessed it—commercials. So the scenes at the end of the acts are necessarily designed to be extra-compelling in order to get viewers to want to sit through the commercials and keep watching the show. Act-outs, as they are called, tend to be the most dramatic moments in the show—when somebody finally reveals the truth, or the hero makes the decision to fight back, or the heroine is captured by the bad guys. These scenes are all supposed to make the audience say “oh wow—what’s going to happen now?” (“Oh wow” may be optimistic, but we hope for it anyway.) In any case, these scenes are also the tent poles that hold the entire story up, so it’s not a bad idea to think about what they are before you write so when you do start the script it’s a bit more of a process of connecting the dots than wandering around blindly in the dark.
Good luck!
Jonathan Abrahams has written on the staffs of the ABC Family dramas Wildfire and Greek and has developed a pilot, Legal Affairs, with Steven Bochco for A&E. His plays have been produced in both New York and Los Angeles, and he is the screenwriter of the independent musical film Moonlight Serenade, starring Amy Adams.