Rage Against The Page

Four-Act Theory of Everything

2011-11-27T11:25:00.001+08:00

I need a roadmap. I'm not disciplined enough to stick to a simple, clean through-line when I'm storycrafting. I need an unflappable navigation system to steer me true north. So over the years I've refined a master mindmap charting the gotta-haves and put-it-heres.

Storytelling is structure. Screenwriting is structure. There's your secret to success. If you sucked in a breath just now and narrowed your eyes and formed the word "but..." in your mind, you are wrong. But you can be cured. Zen with me now: screenwriting is structure. Take your medicine. Fight that burning fever driving you to start writing with no outline. Without even a logline! Drink deep and drink again and feel the pain and anguish lift and drift away. You were lost but you are found. Screenwriting is structure.

Dan Harmon is our gen-X Joseph Campbell. I mean that in a good way — not that it could be construed in a bad way. Nobody distills monomyth four-act writing like Dan. Also, nobody makes John Goodman cool again like Dan.

Only when I stumbled across the School of Dan Harmon* did everything click — really click. That guy knows. It's scary at first how totally he gets it. Thankfully, Dan's wisdom lies scattered throughout the interwebs. You should go find all those little pockets of storytelling treasure (hint: alongside Dan's name google "channel 101" and "acceptable.tv"). Also read this.

Dan's insight helped me understand and organize my years of story structure notes — an ongoing process, one I expect to end only when I do.

Here's the birdseye of My Precious...

* Not an actual school, but let's lobby for one.

The Harmonious One

2011-11-27T10:44:00.001+08:00

This concern with external beauty that you reproach me for is a method for me. When I discover a disagreeable assonance or a repetition in one of my sentences, I can be sure that I'm floundering around in something false. By dint of searching, I find the right expression, which was the only one all along, and at the same time the harmonious one. The word is never lacking when one is in possession of the idea.

--Gustave Flaubert, March 1876

That in response to criticism at taking a whole day to produce a single sentence.

Like he says, the idea's in no hurry. Dress it up, dress it down, keep going until you find the right look. When you see it you'll know. Then shove that sentence out the door and dress the next one.

The Old Man and the Scene: Cat in the Rain

2011-10-08T10:36:00.000+08:00

It was raining. The rain dripped from the palm trees. Water stood in pools on the gravel paths. The sea broke in a long line in the rain and slipped back down the beach to come up and break again in a long line in the rain.

Let's scriptify Hemmingway.

Beach - Day
RAIN. Dripping from the palm trees. Water stands in pools on the gravel paths. The sea breaks in a long line in the rain and slips back down the beach to come up and break again in a long line in the rain.

Hell yes. Subject, verb (five strong ones), object. At least three distinct, vivid shots suggested. Look at the lengthening sentences. There's your shot pacing. And a final sentence that unfolds exactly like the action it describes.

"What Fuels Story" -- The Comment They Couldn't Stop

2011-07-21T19:10:00.012+08:00

So apparently Blogger only allows 4,096 characters in a comment on a post. Fair enough. "Nobody will ever need more than 4K for a comment" shall not thwart the ravings of a story guy. Here's my comment to Go Into The Story's "What Fuels Story" article. Any comments, please add them to the Go Into The Story article instead of here. Thanks.

@James -- You can have Wants/Needs (goals). You can know what the obstacles are in your way. You can have Wounds that fuel those Wants/Needs.

I *want* to pass the grueling selection process and be one of the admired few to make it into the city's elite firefighter special unit: the Vapor Squad.

I *need* to save people's lives. Snatch them from the jaws of certain fiery death. I need this because at the age of eight I watched my six-year-old sister soak herself in petrol and set herself alight. I didn't know what to do to save her. My parents say I'm not to blame, but we share moments of silence that speak otherwise.

Right now I work a day job at an accounting firm. I'm living with my pregnant girlfriend Gloria and there are bills to pay. Although she doesn't press the subject, she wants to marry me. On my bad days I wonder why. Sure, I make money, I socialize with our family and friends, I treat her well, we make love, we laugh, we cry, we have a life. But more and more I sense things in the silences between us... those same silences I get from my parents. Gloria wants me to be who I need to be. That's what's written in those silences. I know I'm letting her down. I need to stop doing that. That's the day I'll marry her. On our wedding day I'll be the man she knew I could be. I try to visit the gym to shape up, but most nights I come home tired and it's easier to sink into a chair and chase away the flashbacks with a quarter bottle of scotch.

I'm going to get started. Soon. Hit that goddamn gym like a machine. Burn the weight. Clear my head. Hit the books. Be ready for next year's Vapor Squad try-outs. But for now...

You can have all those things simultaneously. You have them today. You had them yesterday. A week, a month, ten years -- they've been there for some time, and so far you've never been compelled sufficiently hard to follow through.

What changed today to force you (the protag) to act on those goals after you successfully put off doing anything about it for so long? What changed today (in our first act) that made it impossible to sit idle another day, hour, second?

Today's a Saturday so I went to the pub to bitch about life with my usual group of probie wannabes. Those guys have as much chance as me of passing the entrance test. Sweet F-A. Yet all of us talk like we're *this close* to getting serious, *this close* to committing 110% to the challenge. We know we're talking crap, but nobody calls anyone on it. That's the unwritten rule.

I get there and the usual smiles and backslapping is gone. It's all grim faces and huddled whispers. Most Saturday nights a couple of the boys from Vapor Squad -- real firefighting heroes -- drop by to share a beer and talk about their week. It's the real reason us wannabes get together. We wallow in the real firefighter stories of near misses, strange situations, and heroic deeds. We listen to the Vapor Squad guys, we joke around, we nod our heads and drink our beers. Then we go home to our meaningless lives and dream we're the ones telling the stories.

Anyway, so it's like somebody died in there, and I'm not wrong. I hear that Eric -- a Vapor Squad guy and a regular at our Saturday night booze-ups -- is back at the firehouse, planted on the bumper of Truck 17, crying like a lost child. That got my attention. I've never seen Eric anything but dopey happy or crazy energized like a baboon in a nunnery. What's going on? I ask. Eric's crew just got back from a call, I'm told. Six-car collision in the tunnel joining I-23 and I-30. Mangled metal and body parts mashed to gravy for 200 feet. The Vapor Squad arrives, Eric spots one of the crumpled sedans, stops dead in his tracks. His eyes flick to the registration plate. Scorched and buckled as it is he still recognises it. His wife's car.

Now, Eric is a special bro to me. I've always had the feeling he sees something in me. Something he doesn't see in the other wannabes. Something I can't see in myself most days. That maybe I've got what it takes, deep down, to earn a place by his side in Vapor Squad one day, battling blazes and saving souls.

So I hightail it for the firehouse. Push my way through the crowd of cops and firefighters... and a chaplain. They're all keeping a distance. Eric's where I was told he'd be, sitting on that bumper, rocking back and forth like a metronome. Little gasps and echoing sobs pricking the silence. I didn't realize I was standing in front of him until he looked up at me through those wet red eyes. He wasn't rocking now. His hopeless gaze held mine. You can imagine the look. All I'll say is, for one scary moment I was right there with him, dropping like a doomed planet into that bottomless black hole of despair.

My hand went to his shoulder before I could think what to do -- speak to him or hug him or just... just be. Then he was on his feet, and he was hugging me, his body jolting with a thousand tiny spasms. Every muscle in his body contributed to those heaving sobs. His wife was dead. He loved her more than anything. This morning he woke up by her side, went to work, and by the end of the day there was nothing left to go home to.

Gloria was alive. In that moment I knew I loved her more than anything, even if I was stupidly guilty as the next guy of not showing it enough. Some days not showing it at all.

What had I done to earn a place by Eric's side at this darkest moment, embraced like a brother? Surely that belonged to one of his Vapor Squad buddies. I was nothing to him. An occasional drinking buddy and, probably, object of pity. A coulda-been-if-only. If only.

That's not true, of course. Not at all. Eric never looked at me as an object of pity. During those loud nights of beer and teasing he would shoot me these long, amused looks, as if to say, Kid, one of these days you're gonna grow up, but I can wait.

And it hit me: that's what Gloria's been doing this whole time. Biding her time. Forever hinting in her cute but annoying way that I should stop being content with being content. Patient as a saint, she was waiting for me to grow up.

When Eric released me from that desperate hug, I did.

I went home. Without saying a word I gave Gloria the longest kiss she's ever had, guaranteed. I think she liked it. She looked kinda stunned. That was nice. I got a calendar and marked off the date of the next Vapor Squad intake. Three months from now. Gloria watched from the bedroom door -- eyebrows arched, almost smiling, her thumb and forefinger gently twining and untwining a braid of her hair the way she does when she watches a foreign movie with no subtitles -- as I surfed the web, jotted down information about firefighter training, mapped out a schedule, packed my gym clothes in a bag, and organized the SHIT out of my life.

I wasn't sure how Gloria would react when I told her I planned to married her the day after I get accepted into Vapor Squad. I didn't say if. Ifs and me had abruptly parted ways that day. I suppose me and Gloria would also part ways if I didn't make good on this grand promise. This was definitely a 'bet the farm' kinda deal. If I let Gloria down this time...

At first she was worried. I can't blame her for doubting. She searched my eyes for the old me and saw him gone. I don't think she quite trusted the new resident. This guy was focused. Determined. But she was finally happy. I could tell. Because that night she screwed the bejesus out of him.

Something earth shaking happened today. Something that took away all your options for doing nothing.

What happened today is the stakes suddenly grew critical, and the immediate pain required to achieve your goals is now less that the approaching pain of what will happen if you continue to do nothing.

In other words, you (the protag) now have something critical at stake. And with those stakes comes a ticking clock.

That's where the story begins. And that's why I think 'stakes' deserves its own place in that 'What fuels story' diagram. :-)

Michael Arndt Sprinkles Some Pixar Storycrafting Magic

2011-05-02T18:23:00.011+08:00

Michael Arndt

Stephen Hoover took notes at the Austin Film Festival when Michael Arndt spoke about cooking up Toy Story 3. This is manna from story heaven -- not a new recipe for most structuralists out there, I expect, but tasty nonetheless. Reading once isn't enough. Rest, digest, then return for seconds. Thank you, Stephen, and thank you, Michael.

The First Ten Pages
- Establish the protagonist’s expectations for the future. What exactly are they expecting? It doesn’t have to be super positive, but it’s their realistic take on where they are headed.
- Establish the interactions/relationships between the characters. What is their life in its normal state.
- The expectations should be concrete with specific details. E.g. TOY STORY 3 (TS3) – Toys expect they will be put in the attic. Not a great expectation for the future but that’s what they think. Clear specific examples – Christmas stuff is up there, won’t be so bad. Central philosophical viewpoint of protagonist Woody: Love is being there for Andy. Love is staying.
The Inciting Incident
- A game changer. Destroys these expectations. Shocking when the expectations not met. Disrupts plans for the future. Changes sense of self. Changes sense of world.
- TS: Woody expects things to go on as is and ... here comes Buzz. Woody is cast aside and lands under the bed. This is great because: 1) unforeseen by Woody, 2) visceral (gut wrenching to see Woody under bed cast aside), 3) action set piece illustrates it (Army men move out), 4) represents Woody’s darkest fear.
- TS2: Woody expects to go off to Cowboy Camp with Andy but his arm rips and he’s left behind.
- TS3: A dual inciting incident: 1) Woody is going to college – better than he expected, 2) other toys are put out as trash – worst possible outcome for them. Action set piece: Garbage truck coming to get the toys – worst fear.
- So an ideal inciting incident is:
  1. Unforeseen
  2. Visceral
  3. Action set piece – an enactment of the character’s worst fears
- Other Inciting Incidents:
  - Mr. Incredible is happy being a superhero and expects to continue. His plans for the future are shattered when he’s sued out of ‘business.’
  - TOOTSIE. “No one will hire you.” Can’t continue as he has been in the past.
  - STAR WARS. Family killed. Can’t go back to that.
- The Inciting Incident spins story in new direction and protagonist must come up with new plan.
  - TS3: Woody will rescue the other toys.
  - STAR WARS: Go to Aalderon.
First Act Break
- Page 25.
- TS3: Toys arrive at Sunyside. Hero should be active. His decision drives it. Woody leaves friends behind – got to get to Andy. Circumstances change – quest begins. Rooting interest.
- Finding Nemo: Dad has to find Nemo. Sets up the second act goal – specific and defined – to achieve global goal. Seems easy but thwarted at midpoint.
- STAR WARS: Get the R2 unit to the Rebel base. Specific goal. Global goal: defeat the Empire.
Midpoint
- Deepen the stakes.
- Change direction.
- Six Story Threads in TS3:
  1. Andy going off to college – does want the toys (Mrs. Potatohead sees this.)
  2. Toys – want to go home. That’s their new goal.
  3. Lotso – bad guy but we don’t know this until midpoint (MP).
  4. Buzz – deluded guard at MP
  5. Barbie and Ken – romantic subplot; she breaks up with him at MP
  6. Woody learns Lotso’s backstory (he was dumped by the girl as she grew up).
  - All of these REVERSALS happen simultaneously. No treading water. 3 minutes of screen time.
Second Act Break
- “Out of frying pan into the fire.”
- Forces the stakes of the story.
- Succeed in 2nd act goal BUT major setback in global goal.
  - STAR WARS: Get R2 to the Rebel Base but was part of Darth’s plan and now the Death Star has located them.
  - LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE: Register Olive in the contest on time (2nd act goal) BUT they see she’s way out of her league.
- Stakes – win or lose – force them.
  - TS3: Stakes for Woody at 2nd act break:
    external – fate of toys
    internal – does Andy still care?
    Philosophical stakes – is child/toy love real?
    In the original version, Woody wins the argument with Lotso. This was changed to Woody losing the argument/being in doubt. Big setbacks in all 3 sets of stakes. No way out of crisis. Philosophical stakes between your protagonist/antagonist. Lotso’s being together = love. Kids grow up, discard toys. Therefore, there’s no real love between kids and toys. It’s an illusion and Woody is an idiot for believing it.
- In some sense, the protagonist struggles because he on some level agrees with the premise of the antagonist.
  - SPIDER-MAN: Goblin tells Spider-man they are alike. Do all this for the regular people and they end up resenting and hunting you down.
Climax
- Epiphany for hero.
- Hero’s sense of world changes.
- Philosophical climax of story. Philosophical success leads to external and internal success.
- Must resonate and be universal.
  - TS3: Epiphany for Woody. World view of love. Love = being there for Andy. Lotso was tossed aside (like Jesse in TS2) – universal that kids grow up; never really loved me.
- Push the stakes.
  - IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE: “You’re worth more dead than alive.” George Baily agrees with Mr. Potter. He has the view of wealth = financial success. Travel the world; trips to Europe.
- The villain POV appears irrefutable. The protagonist struggles because he agrees with it to some extent.
- Epiphany is the philosophical climax.
  - TS3: Woody sees Andy with his mother. MOM: I wish I could always be with you. ANDY: You will be, Mom.
- Villain POV is accurate but it’s shallow and petty – hollow version of the truth.
- New truth the protagonist realizes is deeper and a more poetic understanding of the world.
  - UP: “Adventure is out there.” Narrow/literal definition. Protagonist believes he had to go out and explore. End he reads the book where his deceased wife tells him she did have a great adventure – their lives together.
- Redefines these ideals.
- Storyteller’s role is to change audience’s perspective on life and to find these deeper truths and live a fuller life.

UPDATE: More about Toy Story 3 from Bob Hilgenberg and Rob Muir who worked on an earlier draft.

"Some people have asked about the ending of our TS3 script. That's a pretty complicated question if you haven't been able to read the entire script. BUT, here's a quick thumbnail version of what we did and how the toys fared in our version."

Four Act Story Structure Model

2011-02-26T13:05:00.002+08:00

Archiving. It's still available at archive.org, all but gone from the web otherwise.

Field calls it the "pinch".  Vogler calls it the "second major
threshold".  What they both refer to is the middle of the
traditional second act of the three-act structure.

For God's sake, gentlemen, LET'S CALL A SPADE A SPADE!  It's been
there all along, yet no story structuralist wants to go against the
grain and say that the middle act is in fact TWO ACTS (point C on the
diagram).

What's the problem with acknowledging that the traditional three-act
structure has in fact been a four-act structure all along?  It's not
going to shake the foundations of Hollywood.  But it might help
screenwriters fix stories that sag between pages 30 and 90 (in the
120-page paradigm).


                             p.1/120 
            REALM 1  .  .  .  . A .  .  .  .  REALM 4
            .                 * | *                 .
            .               *   |   *               .
            .             *     |     *             .
            .           *       |       *           .
            .         *         |         *         .
            .       *           |           *       .
            .     *             |             *     .
            .   *               |               *   .
            . *          ACT 1  |  ACT 4          * .
       p.30 B-------------------|-------------------D p.90
            . *          ACT 2  |  ACT 3          * .
            .   *               |               *   .
            .     *             |             *     .
            .       *           |           *       .
            .         *         |         *         .
            .           *       |       *           .
            .             *     |     *             .
            .               *   |   *               .
            .                 * | *                 .
            REALM 2  .  .  .  . C .  .  .  .  REALM 3
                              p.60

LEGEND:

        REALM 1         The hero's Ordinary World.  This is the realm
                        That the hero knows -- he knows the terrain
                        and how to live in it.  But here is just your
                        average Joe Public, although he displays hero
                        potential.

        REALM 2         The Netherworld.  This is the realm the novice
                        hero must pass through to reach the Kingdom of
                        Evil.  This territory is unknown, frightening
                        and wonderful.  Here, the hero is swept along
                        on an inexorable tide that leads to ...

        REALM 3         The Kingdom of Evil.  Here the forces of evil
                        are the masters.  This is their home turf,
                        where they are strongest.  The hero is gonna
                        have to be very clever to avoid capture.

        REALM 4         Back to the Netherworld.  Only now the hero
                        knows the rules and expectations of this
                        realm.  He'll need this knowledge to help him
                        evade the pursuit by the Bad Guys.

NOTES ON THE ACTS.

      - Each act is the reflection of it's opposite.  Realm 1 is the
        opposite of Realm 3, just as Realm 2 is the flipside of Realm
        4.  Where in Act One the hero feels relatively safe, secure,
        and in control, in Act Three he faces mortal danger,
        uncertainty, discomfort, etc.

      - In Act Four, the flight, the helpers of Act Two reverse to
        become hinderers (revealed to be agents of evil all along),
        the hinderers of Act Two reverse to become helpers
        (swapping sides to join the forces of good).

      - The development of the hero shows a similar opposition between
        Act 1 & 3 and Act 2 & 4.  In Act One the hero is a powerless
        orphan; in Act Three he has become a powerful warrior.  In Act
        Two he is a wanderer in the Netherworld, acting on his
        own behalf and being pulled or lead toward the domain of evil;
        by Act Four the hero has become a Martyr working for society,
        leading the way instead of following.

There is *nothing wrong* with working in four acts instead of three.
You still work with a beginning, middle, and end.  You still work with
ascending levels of conflict and crises.  It will only make your story
stronger by clarifying the middle of your story.

My two cents.

Got change for a dime?  ;-)

Cheers,
Andrew Ferguson.

A response from P. Michael McCulley:

If it works for you, your writing and screenplays, go for it. I've often
felt reading other scripts the middle of Act Two was a critical point in
the story; getting from page 30 to page 90 is agony without page 60, to
my way of thinking, so I try another mini-story in 30-60 and another
mini-story in 60-90 --call them B-story and C-story perhaps.
 
I enjoyed the graph, and explication on Realms and Acts. Well done.

A response from Pepper-n-Christina:

Andrew,
 
Welcome to the club!  You're not alone on this one. In fact,
when I was teaching the screenwriters class in Texas, I told
the students there that I was a firm believer in mythic four
act structure as I call it.  They kind of looked at me like
WHAT?  Now there's four of them?
 
Vogler even divides them into four acts himself. I don't
think he goes into it in JOURNEY but in his class he
flat out told us he looks at them in four acts.  I was
happy to see someone else thought the way I did.
 
He told us exactly what I told my students that day. Us
writers will just have to keep that little ditty to ourselves.
I can hardly get producers and development people to understand
three act structure. Throwing another one in would just
devestate them. :-)

Joe Eszterhas - The Abridged Version: Basically It Stinks

2010-12-23T15:23:00.008+08:00

Joe Eszterhas is an asshole.

Exhibit A: Burn Hollywood Burn. Watch it.

But not just any asshole.

Exhibit B: Hollywood Animal. Read it.

Joe Eszterhas destroys everything he loves.

Joe Eszterhas destroys everything he hates.

Joe Eszterhas destroys everything else. Including Joe Eszterhas.

Exhibit C: Joe Eszterhas.

Yes, Joe Eszterhas is quite the asshole.

Not just any asshole.

If you're a friend of Joe Eszterhas, you're not a friend of Joe Eszterhas.

If you're family of Joe Eszterhas, you're not family of Joe Eszterhas.

Joe Eszterhas is a destroyer of lives.

He's the center of his world.

He's the center of your world.

Joe Eszterhas is a creator of worlds.

Joe Eszterhas is a destroyer of worlds.

He's the Light.

He's the Dark.

He's the place between the light and the dark.

Joe Eszterhas is...

... the Devil's asshole.

How to start gmail without the chat feature

2010-05-12T19:07:00.000+08:00

How to start gmail without chat...

https://mail.google.com/?chat=0

with chat...

https://mail.google.com/?chat=1

Nothing to do with storytelling or screenwriting, sure. But it solves an annoyance I've lived with for years.

Oh. And Josh Olsen, if you're reading... I will not join your fucking chat.

How to write your screenplay: three suggestions

2009-02-18T17:05:00.004+09:00

* images courtesy of Google LIFE

Andrew Stanton (PIXAR) - transcript - Keynote, Screenwriting Expo 5 (2006), "Understanding Story: or My Journey of Pain"

2008-12-19T00:45:00.035+09:00

As soon as I found it on Google Video, I knew I would have to transcribe it.

Here is all of Andrew Stanton's keynote from Screenwriting Expo 5 (2006). He named it: "Understanding Story: or My Journey of Pain."

I have not transcribed the Q&A that followed the keynote. Perhaps I will tackle it one day. Not for a while -- this transcription consumed quite a few of my nights, and I'm happy to be done with it. And now that I can look at it from head to toe, I can see it was worth every coffee-fueled keystroke.

With Stanton's experiences and lessons to guide us, we cannot fail to become better storytellers.

Note: Andrew talks FAST, so this transcript is garbled in places. Where the dialogue is mostly clear, I've used what I think he is saying. Where it's mostly garbled I don't try to guess but instead use the placeholder '[garbled]'. I apologize to Andrew if I've made mistakes in transcribing. However, I'm confident nothing has been seriously mangled. I might've misheard some words, but I believe I've retained Andrew's intended meaning in all cases. If you spot any errors, let me know by email and I'll correct them.

At the end of this article you'll find my own summary of Stanton's storytelling advice.

Additional links to explore:

Google Video - the original audio recording of Stanton's keynote
The Art of Dramatic Writing - Lajos Egri
TAG Blog - Pixar Storytelling, Part 1

-----

Alright, let's get started.

A tourist is backpacking through the highlands of Scotland, and he stops at a pub where he goes to get a pint of beer, and the only other patron there is an old man nursing a beer at the bar. And they drink in silence for a little bit. Suddenly the old man lifts his head and he goes, "You see this bar? I built this bar with my bare hands. Found the finest wood in the county. Used the carpentry skills you've seen the likes of not like since Jesus Christ our Lord and Saviour. But do they call me McGregor the bar builder? No!"

He puts his head back down. He start to listen again. He points to the window. "You see that stone wall out there? I built that stone wall with my bare hands. Picked every rock, placed it just so, through the rain and the cold, but do they call me McGregor the stone wall builder? No!"

He points at another window. You see the pier on the lake out there? I built that pier with my bare hands, drove the pilings against the tide through the sand, plank by plank, but do they call me McGregor the pier builder? No!"

He looks around. "But you fuck one goat..."

[audience laugher and applause]

Storytelling is joke-telling. It's knowing your ending, your destination, your punchline, and then building the telling of that story so that everything supports a satisfying conclusion.

David Mamet wrote:

"That's all that theatre is: storytelling. Theatre's no different from gossip, from dirty jokes, from what Uncle Max did on his fishing trip. It's just telling stories in that particular way in which one tells stories in theatre. To me, recognising the storytelling dimension of playwriting is the beginning mark of maturity. That's why I embrace it. Nobody in the audience wants to hear a joke without the punchline. Nobody wants to hear how feelingly a guy can tell a joke, but we would like to find out what happened to the farmer's daughter. That's what Ibsen did."

I read this enlightening observation by David Mamet just as I was getting my first opportunity to write a movie, and it's remained probably the most steadfast truism in screenwriting for me today.

Before I get started I need to put all of my story edification in context and explain the environment at Pixar. We're up in Northern California, just below Berkley, just above Oakland. It's a very unique place, and it's a perfect storm of art, science, and studio savvy that's beaten tremendous odds to exist, let alone thrive.

[3:40]

There's no politics. Basically there is -- we're employees. We're hired nine to five, Monday through Friday. So there's no agents, there's no deal making. Similar to the old studio system, we're a bunch of artisans at the top of their craft working under one roof on multiple pictures. There's no studio executives. An artist runs the studio: John Lasseter. The producers and production staff probably have the least power and the artists have the most. It's what I like to say, it's film school without the teachers.

It's a director-driven studio. We don't invest in ideas; we invest in people. We invest in the directors and the ideas they have, the ideas that they are interested in. So we'll back that vision. And we've formed what over time has turned into the term Brains Trust, which is really just the directors that have a story and anybody else we feel has a good creative input on the outcome of our pictures. And we get together and we review each others' work. We review it on a sort of a bi-annual basis of [garbled] production. And basically we will critique it, like being in a writers' room. And you'll sometimes be pretty harsh, but the directors are allowed to take what they want out of that and make the changes the way they see fit. So it's sort of like getting a second opinion from other doctors in a hospital.

Consequently, we only do in-house original ideas, based on the ideas that the directors have, like I said, or are interested in. So our ratios to story development... our stories being developed, being produced have always been one to one. It's not that we develop twelve and then we pick that one idea.

I was describing this on a panel at the Austin Screenwriting Festival with a bunch of screenwriters. In the middle of saying this, one of them -- a screenwriter [garbled] says, "What do you live in, fairyland?"

[audience laughter]

And I go, "Yeah. Yeah, we do." I live in fairyland, and so if you're gonna have questions I'm not gonna have any advice about how to get your script written or how to win and woo an agent or how to navigate the industry. I have no Hollywood survival skills that I [garbled].

[audience laughter and applause]

Pixar's made seven films to date, and I'll be focusing on the first five, mainly because I didn't work on the last two. So I don't have any great personal trench stories from them. The later panels will cover much more.

I have to admit, I'm a bit apprehensive standing up here and talking to you about storytelling. Even though I've spent fourteen years making movies I still feel like I'm just beginning to understand the roles, and I seem to forget them again and learn them again. At Pixar I spend most of my time feeling dumb and inadequate at my job, because I'm surrounded by much smarter and more talented people.

So rather than tell you what we know at Pixar about story, I thought instead I'd take you through the history of what we didn't know, or what I like to sort of call 'My Journey of Pain.'

[audience laughter]

OK, so we're gonna start our journey of pain back in 1992. In '92 --

[audience laughter]

-- there's about twenty-five of us, in all in the group. And all we did was shorts -- CG animated shorts and commercials. And that's pretty much all I thought we were gonna do when I was working with them at the time.

Disney had been trying to woo John for a long time to come back down there and make a movie for them. He loved what he had started creating at Pixar and wanted to keep it going. So he kept refusing, and finally they called and said, "Look, you stay up there and you can use Pixar. Just make us a CG films and you can make whatever you want."

[7:20]

And that's an interesting problem to have. We had a blank canvas with an infinite amount of choices. So, we found ourselves overwhelmed by the simple problem of how to start.

And I -- God -- I mean I fantasized my whole life about making a movie and never really thought it would really -- I'd be a part of anything like that. And it was interesting to suddenly go, I've never really thought too hard about how do you start writing a story and developing something. This is 1992, this is the age of laserdiscs. And I was a big film buff. I'd seen everything David Lean had done, except I'd never seen this movie, Ryan's Daughter. And it finally came out on laserdisc and I was dying to see it.

And there was this one scene. I don't know if it's gonna translate at all to you guys like it did to me. But it's like the clouds parted, and I started to understand how the basics of telling the story on film really worked, like how the strings worked behind things. I'll show you this clip -- we're gonna set it up.

If you haven't seen Ryan's daughter it's basically Rosy Ryan is the main character. Her father Ryan runs a pub. It's 1915 in Ireland. And she's always gotten everything she's ever wanted. She's spoiled; she fell in love with a school teacher, and when she was old enough she married him. And there's this kid she grew up with, sort of the town idiot and a mute. His name's Michael and he's always loved her. And we get to this point where she's still dissatisfied, even when she's got everything she wants, she's married to a school teacher, and she's confessing to the priest about this dissatisfaction. And he says, "Look. Be careful about nursing your wishes because you might get what you're wishing for."

And we cut to the bus stop, on that line, outside of town, and this is the clip...

[clip from Ryan's Daughter]

Suddenly, like John Nash in A Beautiful Mind, I felt like I could see the equations floating up there. The way certain pieces of information were told in a certain way to create interest and enquiry. It was so beautifully simple, but like most great art was deceivingly simple. It's all about audience participation. We actually do want to work for our entertainment, we just -- when we watch movies, we don't want to know that we're doing it.

David Mamet has quoted that directing film, he "put the protagonist in the same position as the audience through the cut, by making the viewer create the idea himself in his own mind." I'll elaborate on this much later in the keynote.

[11:13]

So when I started at Pixar, I was not a writer. I came from animation -- that's what I went to school for. But I'd always had strong opinions about what I wanted to see on the screen. Turns out, that's half the battle of screenwriting. I'd always considered writing such a lofty, erudite profession and felt that I'd never be a writer. Quite honestly, I kinda still believe that.

What enabled me to enter this craft was the realisation that screenwriting is not writing. A screenplay is not something to be held up and read as a finished piece, and it's not the end result of a creative endeavour. It's the beginning. It's an intermediary form. It's a means of documenting cinematic storytelling, of transcribing the movie that you picture in your heads -- what I would call 'cinematic dictation.'

I understand I'm probably underselling the art form by calling it that, but that utilitarian phrase helps free me up from my insecurities I still have about writing, sort of demystifies the process. It gives me the courage to face the job at hand everyday. So I use it.

So with blind eagerness and optimism, we had our blank [garbled] canvas. We set up [garbled] idea for our first movie. Now if you should ever find yourself in this situation I'd highly recommend that you write what you know. And if you don't know anything then research what interests you and know what you write.

Well, we completely lucked out with our first story. John Lasseter picked a subject matter that we were already authorities on: toys in our childhood [garbled] animated role and arrested development, always talking about our toys, always talking about our comic books, Saturday morning cartoons we grew up on. Very easy. Also, he felt that he'd just scratched the surface of the hidden toy world in his short Tin Toy from 1988.

Thus, Toy Story was born. Now, looking back on Toy Story, we had such impossible odds to overcome it should not have worked. But like engineers at NASA, put the man on the moon, do it, we were just too dumb and stupid to know you can't do it.

So we'd never written a movie before, but we came in with strong opinions about what we didn't like in animation at the time, and we felt vehemently that you could build a better movie. You gotta remember this was 1992, you've got Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin. Everybody out there in the industry and outside thought THAT is what an animated movie is. That's exactly [garbled] What is an animated movie? THAT is what it is. And we didn't feel like [garbled] something much broader than that.

So when we first pitched this movie idea to Tom Hanks, the first thing he said was, "You don't want me to sing, do you?"

[audience laughter]

And that really summed up our attitude too. We had no clout back then, so we had to keep our rebellious impulses private. And we made this list for ourselves. And it was: no songs; no "I want" moment; no happy village; no love story; and no villain. The funny story is that later on in the development of the story it was going really bad, and it was not good. And we were all scratching our heads as to what we did wrong. And Disney on their own asked one of the people on their side to sort of watch and give some comments, and it was a famous lyricist who I shouldn't mention, but his name rhymes with Jim Rice...

[audience laughter]

And he sent a fax that -- these were the things he actually suggested: 'there should be a song'

In a weird way, even though we were really having a hard time, he really boosted our confidence [garbled]. But even with these guidelines, we stumbled into one of the biggest pits that we fall into in almost all the movies, which is liking your main character. This has gotta be the most illusive lesson of all. And we seem to have to relearn it on every movie we make.

Liking your main character doesn't mean they have to be a nice person. This is a common mistake, and if you do it you end up with Clark Kent who's boring instead of Superman. But we made the opposite mistake with Woody, believe it or not.

[15:30]

Woody was a character who -- we knew his arc. We knew he went from selfish to being selfless. But we took that literally. This was how sort of naive we were. And we made Woody selfish in the beginning. And this is what you get:

[clip from Toy Story (test scene?)]

Not nice. We learned very quickly, that's not the way to do this, even though we need him to be selfish. We learned that 'like' means 'empathize'. You must understand them. People are more complicated and layered than one particular trait. We had to figure out how to put that selfishness deeper.

And the answer was: selfishness disguised as selflessness. So we made him a benevolent leader that really did want to do everything right, but it was conditional. And the minute that his job was threatened then a selfishness started to rise that maybe even he didn't know about. It was a big lesson.

Our next obstacle was understanding opposing goals, or as some books and terminology call it 'unity of opposites': directly opposing desires between two people in a relationship. It's all about conflict, right? It's not about getting [garbled]. And we needed strong ones that would allow compromise.

In the early years of Toy Story we didn't understand this, so we just made Woody and Buzz yell at each other, and we thought if they were funny enough you'd keep listening. And you didn't. And after a while it got really annoying, you got a headache.

So, I remember that we knew Woody's goal -- we were never unclear about that. He wanted to get Andy back, and he wanted to restore the toy world order the way it was. But Buzz eluded us for a long time. And I remember going back home for Christmas back east with my parents, and I was so frustrated at not being able to solve this. I suddenly got a call from John Lasseter and Joe Ranft, Head of Story on that.

And they pitched me this possible goal for Buzz that directly opposed Woody. And this is what we got ...

[Toy Story clip]

BUZZ
Sheriff, this is no time to panic.

WOODY
This is the perfect time to panic! I'm lost! Andy is gone! They're gonna move from their house in two days, and it's all your fault!

BUZZ
My-- My fault? If you hadn't pushed me out of the window in the first place--

WOODY
Oh, yeah? Well, if you hadn't shown up in your stupid little cardboard spaceship... and taken away everything that was important to me--

BUZZ
Don't talk to me about importance. Because of you, the security of this entire universe is in jeopardy!

WOODY
WHAT? What are you talking about?

BUZZ
Right now, poised at the edge of the galaxy, Emperor Zurg has been secretly building a weapon with the destructive capacity to annihilate an entire planet! I alone have information that reveals this weapon's only weakness. And you, my friend, are responsible for delaying my rendezvous with Star Command!

WOODY
YOU... ARE... A... TOY! You aren't the real Buzz Lightyear! You're an action figure! You are a child's plaything!

BUZZ
You are a sad, strange little man...

[end clip]

Suddenly, each character had a clear goal that directly opposed the other. Now, one thing I want to clarify up front about writing, at least as I understand it, is that writing is rewriting. And I can't speak for other writers, but for me, what I've learned after working on six pictures now, is that I never get it right the first time, the second, or the third. Somewhere around the tenth or eleventh I seem to get it right. So I write early and often.

My personal motto is: be wrong as fast as you can. So the lesser in talent you are, the greater in tenacity you must be to persevere.

So we all started to understand how the big pieces were working in making a movie with Toy Story on some of this stuff. The next level, the scenes themselves, were the next story obstacle.

The hardest scene we had, the hardest knot to untie, was a scene that we always called 'under the crate,' or 'the night before the execution.' This was the scene that was supposed to get to the core of Woody, to the point of the movie.

But so far, we had gone on intuition, with the truth of the moment of an old toy being replaced by a new one. And we just really hadn't done our homework yet. We really hadn't thought of the punchline for our joke. So trying to figure out Woody in that scene brought us to yelling at each other for hours in my office. And I just couldn't write a single line of dialogue until we truly understood what made Woody tick.

It was a long and arduous meeting. And finally when we cracked it, it was this massive epiphany for me. The end result was so satisfying for me and infectious, it really sealed my faith that, as hard as it was, this was definitely what I wanted to do with my life: write stories and create characters.

[20:55]

So, when you watch this scene which you all know, pay attention to how this scene is structured. In the beginning, Woody for very selfish reasons is trying to build up Buzz so that he can get out of the crate. But in doing so, he ends up breaking himself down, and winds up exposing the core of his own problem, which is his lack of self worth. Woody inadvertently plays therapist on the set...

[clip from Toy Story]

WOODY
Psst! Psst! Hey, Buzz! Hey. Get over here and see if you can get this tool box off me... Oh, come on, Buzz, I-- Buzz, I can't do this without you. I need your help.

BUZZ
I can't help. I can't help anyone.

WOODY
Why, sure you can, Buzz. You can get me out of here. And then I'll get that rocket off you and we'll make a break for Andy's house.

BUZZ
Andy's house, Sid's house. What's the difference?

WOODY
Oh, Buzz, you've had a big fall. You must not be thinking clearly.

BUZZ
No, Woody, for the first time I am thinking clearly. You were right all along. I'm not a Space Ranger. I'm just a toy. A stupid little insignificant toy.

WOODY
Whoa. Hey. Wait a minute. Being a toy is a lot better than being a, a Space Ranger.

BUZZ
Yeah, right.

WOODY
No, it is. Look, over in that house is a kid who thinks you are the greatest, and it's not because you're a Space Ranger, pal. It's because you're a toy. You are his toy.

BUZZ
But why would Andy want me?

WOODY
Why would Andy want you? Look at you! You're a Buzz Lightyear! Any other toy would give up his moving parts just to be you. You've got wings! You glow in the dark! You talk! Your helmet does that-- that-- that "whoosh" thing. You are a cool toy. As a matter of fact, you're too cool. I mean-- I mean, what chance does a toy like me have against a Buzz Lightyear action figure? All I can do is... "There's a snake in my boots!" Why would Andy ever want to play with me when he's got you? I'm the one that should be strapped to that rocket.

[end clip; 23.34]

You often hear the term --

[audience applause]

You often hear the term 'You should have something to say in a story' but that doesn't always mean a message. It means truth, some value that you yourself as a storyteller believe in, and then through the course of the story be able to debate that truth. Try to prove it wrong. Test it to its limits. This is the stuff I really geek out on. I call this 'story physics.'

In that scene we just played, Woody finally earns his coveted place as Andy's favourite in the eyes of the audience because he admitted the truth about how and why Buzz is more deserving of that role. I find that such a great ironic equation. It's like the adage, if you wanna buy that car you have to be willing to walk away -- if you love something you gotta set it free and see if it comes back to you.

Pixar received an Academy Award nomination for that Toy Story script. It was our first script, and it's the first animated movie ever to be nominated in that category, so you'd think we'd be a little confident after that.

But you'd be wrong. Because our second course in humility was just being served.

A Bug's Life was for me probably the most difficult story to tame and get working correctly. Why? Well, hindsight is 20-20. And looking back, I've come to understand a crucial factor that at least for me I need when I'm writing a story. And at some point in your tumultuous journey in screenwriting you need to uncover your key image.

And what I mean by that is, your touchstone. This is not a rule; this is just me. But -- and it could come from anywhere. But something that epitomizes the emotional core of your story. It reminds you what it's about, of the value trying to be expressed. It keeps you on track.

For Toy Story it was the simple imagery of an old favourite toy on the bed, being knocked off and replaced by a brand new favourite toy, all the jealousy and insecurities that would naturally be stirred up by that [garbled] evoked.

And Toy Story 2 was Woody at the crossroads of his toy existence, looking down that ventilation shaft that elicited the fear and anxiety of facing death.

For Monsters Incorporated it was the simple image of a giant furry paw holding the tiny hand of a little girl. It was an actual sketch. I couldn't find it so I used this clip. It conjured up the childhood issues of overcoming your fears and the trials of an adult adjusting to parenthood.

For Finding Nemo it was the discovery of a sole surviving fish egg in the sand. It represented the moment your child is born and you hold it and you're barraged with a sea of overwhelming conflicting emotions: love, sadness, joy, but most of all, fear.

And A Bug's Life had no key image.

[audience laughter]

[garbled] I tell you, without that emotional key image it was always a tremendous chore to figure out our course and to stay on it. You were always attacking things from your head and not your heart. You were always finding yourself confused and asking, "Why is this moment here? Why is my character doing this?" You had nothing to reset yourself and put you back in the centre and look at it from an emotional point of view.

Our next big pitfall on the film was, we had the wrong guy. The main character of the film, you know, was Flick. He was an industrious member of the ant colony. But we originally had a character called Red. He was a red Ant. He was the ringmaster of a pathetic unemployed circus bug troupe. And the big difference was that it was Red who convinced his troupe to pose as warriors to gain food and shelter for their own gain.

And our problem was that no matter how charming and charismatic we made Red, you couldn't ignore that he was a liar, and therefore kinda unlikeable. And no scenario was strong enough to convince the audience that Red would stay in place the minute the stakes got raised and it was a life-and-death situation. [garbled] put the lives of the entire ant colony in jeopardy. It was tough.

So then one day I had an eleventh-hour idea. I wrote a memo to the story crew. I said, "What if the main character was one of the lowly slave ants assigned to finding warrior bugs that made an honest mistake." Suddenly there was tension, real consequences. This was his family he put in jeopardy, something he was organically handcuffed to. He couldn't just walk away from the problem like Red could. This character would have to face his mistakes.

The other thing that can -- I picked this movie to talk about -- that can affect your writing, particularly your rewriting when you're already starting to cast... is casting. It's not about the marquee value. It's about voice quality and acting, for us. I know we can get famous actors on our films but that's not why we picked them.

Everybody knows the term, "The camera loves them." Well, we like to use the term, "The microphone loves them." There are some voices out there that just makes you want to animate to them. And it's not necessarily an A-level actor. Sometimes it's not even an actor; it's somebody in our own building. And that's what you're looking for is that voice that has that kind of appeal, just like that face that you have to shoot.

[28:24]

So we do what I guess you could kinda call private casting calls. We'll take an audio clip from an existing movie and then we'll take maybe a character model that we're developing and we'll animate to it. And we'll put it to that audio to see how it feels. Sort of do a little casting call. And I want to give you an example of how you go through a lot of different personalities and it would definitely dictate how you would go with their dialogue.

So, one of the people we were considering was Al Pacino...

[clip animated to Pacino from the movie Glengarry Glen Ross]

PACINO
You, Williamson. I'm talking to you, shithead. You just cost me six... thousand... dollars. Where did you learn your trade, you idiot? What you're hired for is to help us, not to fuck us up!

[end clip; audience laughter and applause]

The other person we were considering was Alec Baldwin...

[clip animated to Baldwin from the movie Heaven's Prisoners]

BALDWIN
My wife had to be buried in a closed casket. I want you to think about that for a minute. Now, I'm gonna find those two men, and when I do, I'm gonna squeeze them extra hard, and if your name comes outta either one of their mouths, I'll be back here to feed your sorry fuckin' ass to the shrimp.

[end clip; audience laughter and applause]

Then we tried Kevin Spacey, and that really clicked with us, because it wasn't just being mean and intimidating. It was a unique slant on it. It was -- he's a master of condescension. And that suddenly gave us an angle that made it special, that made it different from the other villains. And this is a clip from the actual movie. I don't think we ever did a voice [garbled]...

[clip from A Bug's Life]

HOPPER
So, where is it...? Where's my FOOD!

DOT
Isn't it up there?

HOPPER
What?

DOT
The food was in a leaf sitting on the--

HOPPER
Excuse me?

DOT
Are you sure it's not out there?

HOPPER
Are you saying I'm stupid? Do I look... stupid... to you? Let's just think about the logic, shall we? Let's just think about it for a second. If it was up there, would I be coming down here, to your level, looking for it?

[end clip]

So it actually affects the rewriting. For as much as we all had Hopper lines, we rewrote them all to match that kind of condescending tone.

One little bit of trivia. A lot of people don't know that the original person we tried to get for Buzz Lightyear was Billy Crystal...

[clip animated to Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally]

HARRY
Right now everything is great, everyone is happy, everyone is in love. But you got to know, one day, believe it or not, you'll go fifteen rounds over who's going to get this coffee table. This stupid, wagon wheel, Roy Rogers garage sale coffee table!

JESS
I thought you liked it.

HARRY
I WAS BEING NICE!

[end clip; audience laughter; 31:50]

[garbled] So then our journey of pain continued on with Toy Story 2.

We had major reservations on this movie. Some of us were even adamantly against it. Why? Well, because history had shown that most sequels were either inferior to the first film or just sucked. There were only two sequels at the time that we felt were as good or better than the original. And that was Godfather 2 and The Empire Strikes Back.

Now, I know, I know: Aliens, Road Warrior, Terminator 2. But they're still -- even if you list the other ones that are probably better, it's a small club to join. And artistically, this was all we were willing to consider. We wanted to make sure that it felt as worthy as those two with sequels.

Now, I need to give you a little backstory on the soap opera that preceded any writing involvement that I had on the picture. We had what I'll call the A-team that made Toy Story and went on to make A Bug's Life. But we didn't have the manpower to make Toy Story 2 simultaneously. So got another building. We hired a B-team, and we started making Toy Story 2. We were in separate buildings and never looked at each other.

And when we finally finished A Bug's Life, and we had about ten months out before Toy Story 2 was supposed to be released. And we went over and we looked at what they had to do. And it was not working.

All our films don't work, but at this point we had run out of time and it was still really not working. And we had to make a real crucial decision at this point: do we just scrap it, or do we start over? And we only had ten months left. Usually these things take two-and-a-half, three years to produce.

And so we just all held hands, and we disassembled the B-team, we combined it with the A-team, and we went off to make Toy Story 2 in about eight to nine months.

Now, up to this point in our short history of writing screenplays, just to give you context... Toy Story took about 36 months to write and finally get it right, like all the passes, all the rewrites, blah blah blah. A Bug's Life: about 38. Toy Story 2: three months.

[audience laughter]

Now, how were we able to rewrite 75% of the picture in three months? Well, we were able to do that -- and I only kinda saw this in hindsight, because we were working too fast to think about it at the time -- was... the characters were already known. This is one of the biggest insights for me: that's where most of your time is spent. For as much as you need to be rewriting plot again and again, it's all in the means to try to figure out who your characters are, how they see the world, how they make decisions, how they react to things.

And you can't do that separately from the plot. Sometimes you have to rewrite the plot again and again until you find these character insights.

There were three preconceived key structural changes. What I mean by that, it's a fancy quick term to say, we had been peeking over the fence and looking in there and we were all griping on our side at the B-team going, "Oh, they should have done this, they should have done that." But there were a couple of ideas that actually worked, I think were pretty good, that we did apply the minute we got the chance. And they were the opening, adding an evil Buzz, and figuring out Woody's decision: that moment at the vent when he looks down and... that key image, that emotional core.

And then the last was... most of those three months were actually spent on the three characters that were new, that we didn't know, which were the Roundup Gang.

The Roundup Gang -- the key in making the Roundup Gang was making them represent all aspects of not being played with. So each of them had a role. You had Jessie, who was -- we liked to say was a bipolar Elly May. That was Joe Ranft -- he sort of caught that in a perfect... right on the nose. She shared Woody's past. But she was very afraid. She'd had sort of a bad consequences with that.

The Prospector was a kind and wise uncle on the outside, but he'd never ever been touched, played with [garbled] kept him in the box. So inside he was bitter an vengeful.

And Bullseye was sort of the pet, the child. He was the innocent, still eager to please [garbled]. He was the swing vote.

So once we had each of their POVs figured out, writing the scene to introduce them actually was fun. Realise, it's really all about character...

[clip from Toy Story 2]

I feel like I could talk the rest of the keynote just on the subject of character, because it fascinates me so much. And it intimidates me tremendously. You're basically giving birth to the illusion of a real person and all their complexities. When I'm having trouble with a character, often I'll find myself going over to the shelf with all my books, and I'll refer to this book: it's called the Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters. I know it's kind of obtuse, but it's actually a book that every page a fictional epitaph of somebody that died in that town. And you get their POV of how they lived, or the private life they had that nobody knew about.

And it just reminds me that there's an infinite amount of stories lurking around every person. There's a quote that Fred Rogers -- Mr Rogers -- would carry around in his wallet, and it would say, "There isn't anyone you couldn't love once you've heard their story." And it's really true. They're all sitting around you; you just have to find them and draw them out.

[38:22]

Another piece of literature that -- this is gonna seem weird -- gets me out of my funk is a passage from a novel. It's from American Pastoral by Philip Roth. And the main character has this speech about meeting people. And I was gonna read this passage. He said:

"You fight your superficiality, your shallowness, so as to try to come at people without unreal expectations, without an overload of bias or hope or arrogance, as untank like as you can be, sans cannon and machine guns and steel plating half a foot thick; you come at them unmenacingly on your own ten toes instead of tearing up the turf with your caterpillar treads, take them on with an open mind, as equals, man to man, as we used to say, and yet you never fail to get them wrong. You might as well have the brain of a tank. You get them wrong before you meet them, while you're anticipating meeting them; you get them wrong while you're with them; and then you go home to tell somebody else about the meeting and you get them all wrong. Again. Since the same generally goes for them with you, the whole thing is really a dazzling illusion empty of all perception, an astonishing farce of misperception. And yet what are we to do about this terribly significant business of other people, which gets bled of the significance we think it has and takes on instead a significance that is ludicrous, so ill-equipped are we all to understand one another's interior workings and invisible aims? ... The fact remains that getting people right is not what living is all about anyway. It's getting them wrong that is living, getting them wrong and wrong and wrong and then, on careful reconsideration, getting them wrong again. That's how we know we're alive: we're wrong. Maybe the best thing would be to forget being right or wrong about people and just go along for the ride. But if you can do that -- well, lucky you."

[audience laughter and applause]

I mean, isn't storytelling meeting people? I mean, the story starts, we make our first impression of the characters we meet and then proceed further into the story to discover if we guessed correctly, hoping both that we'll be right in our assumptions but also that there'll be more to them than meets the eye, that somehow these characters will surprise us and force us to reassess our impressions of them in the end.

So, after all that experience on Toy Story 2, even more pain awaited us on Monsters Incorporated. Now you'd think we'd remember lessons we've learned on earlier projects, but somehow every new story seems to camouflage all of its problems in completely new ways.

Now, remember how I mentioned on the research early on: know what you write. Another way to put this is: know your world. The more you know, the more believable your story can be. Now in all previous films, research was possible: Toy Story, you could go to toy stores, we can talk about our childhood, we could go back to our attics and find some of our stuff; A Bug's Life, you could get down in the grass, you could talk to entomologists; Toy Story 2, you could talk to collectors, you could go to store chains and look at the aisles.

But how do you research a made-up world? You can't really. That's the rub with fantasy pictures. Fantasies should equal rules. For me, magic isn't a five-letter word, it's a four-letter word. I'm not a big fan of magic, and I like to use it as sparingly as possible. Movies are all about caring and worrying. And why should I care and worry about what's going to happen next if anything is possible at any time?

Alexander Mackendrick, the filmmaker, had a great quote that: "Drama is anticipation mingled with uncertainty." But you can't set somebody up for anticipation and mingle it with uncertainty unless you know the parameters that your in. Life is one big biosphere of cause and effect. You need to give us all the rules so we can know what that cause and effect is.

Having said that, you know, you can have as fantastical a story as you want. You can take tremendous licence. There's a Grimm's fairytale that literally starts out: There once was a bird and a mouse and a sausage that lived in a house together. And you go, "Okay... Go on..."

[audience laughter]

You're willing to believe that a fowl and a food product can cohabitate [garbled]. And that's fine, but you have to stay consistent with those rules after that.

You remember our key image in the first few years of writing on Monsters Incorporated, they always had this emotional touchstone at the centre of their story. Which was great, but we still could not get the film to work right, at the beginning, like the major structure of it. And it wasn't until we added this: Scream, their child produced fossil fuel. Now the story began to have momentum, consequence, and tension. It didn't directly create these elements, but it corralled everything emotional and gave it parameters to work within.

It was a logical resource of their world; it dictated how their cities were built, how their jobs were performed, why a monster would become power hungry and greedy, and how a monster could accidentally be insensitive to a child being scared.

The next big mistake was the glasses. With an early version of Scully, he was a former scarer who had an industrial accident. He had been trapped in a bedroom and actually witnessed the aftermath of one of his scares and saw how a child cries and the parents had to take care of him. And then he never wanted to scare again, and he was embarrassed about that. So he made up an excuse that he was exposed for too long to a toxic child and nearly blinded. And the glasses were a front and a metaphor for his fear of scaring children.

[44:03]

Well, it was just too complicated, like it was me trying to explain to you right now. And the idea was really -- it was generated from a misguided belief and a fear that we thought nobody's going to like a main character that scares kids. And that's really where that idea was born from. But we realised it was just taking us away from this kid/monster relationship too much -- it was too much sacrifice going on.

So we found a new way to make Scully's scaring children acceptable to the audience: we never showed him doing it. We would show him go behind the door, you'd hear a roar, come back out. And we never showed it until the one time we wanted it to be distasteful. So, it's amazing when you put yourself in a corner what you'll come up with.

Ok. By this time, I find myself starting to use this metaphor all the time, that still holds true for me, at least. I've come to believe that a perfect metaphor for creating stories is an archaeological dig: You pick a site where you believe your story is buried, and you dig. And you uncover a few bones. And from those few artefacts you extrapolate what kind of story you've uncovered. But then you find a couple other bones, and you're forced to rethink what you have. And you hopefully have the guts to throw out all your previous work and recognise the truth of what you actually have. And if you keep digging hard enough, at some point the story tells you what it wants to be.

So, we're going to go on to my most personal story wounds, which is Finding Nemo. This is the first time I had to write outside of the same gang of guys that I'd always worked with. And it was a little scary. I had read somewhere that all creative endeavours are exercises in closing the gap between intention and effect. And I knew I'd have to have strong intentions to survive going out on my own without the gang.

So I chose a very, very personal subject that I had deep feelings about, and ironically it filled the gap between intention and effect of fatherhood: I had issues with my Dad, and worried about creating issues with my son.

Many journalists have asked me the question: Would Nemo have worked as well in 2D? And my response is always: I can't answer that. I thought of Nemo because of the medium. Without my knowledge of 3D it would have never been born. Any good storyteller is gonna make sure that their story and the medium they choose to tell it in complement one another.

For Nemo, it was paramount for me that we pay closer attention to reality than ever before. I read this quote recently in an article, [garbled] interpretive and not realistic. And I really agree with it. There's something about animation because it's based in exaggeration and caricature that compels us to tell stories that are a little larger than [garbled]. Having said that, there are many shades to work in when creating a heightened reality.

[46:43]

For Nemo I knew we had to play closer to the reality side than ever before. So for me, the water had to be as believable as possible. Like this video of water. But we then hit a big -- oh, I'm sorry, that's our computer-created water. This is the actual footage we [garbled] reference.

So you can see, in doing our research and development for Nemo we came across a problem that we'd never encountered before: We made water that looked so real, we knew nobody would believe we'd done it. So we had to pull back, and make it ever so caricatured, or what we like to call 'hyper-realistic.' And why are we striving for realism with water? What does this have to do with storytelling?

Well, even though these were talking fish with eyeballs swimming around, I felt the physics had to be absolutely accurate for the story to succeed. There would be very little drama if you didn't believe that the ocean and all the perils that are associated with it truly existed.

Like Toy Story, there's no villain. And in Finding Nemo there's no villain. Sid and Darla are obstacles. There are no personal agendas of theirs to thwart the goals of our main characters. They're just doing their daily routines and getting in the way. The ocean is the antagonist of Nemo, and the representation of life and all its fears, the very thing Marlin has to battle to overcome to emotionally connect with his son again, not just physically.

I'm also on a mini crusade beseeching all of you to just say no to flashbacks. Finding Nemo originally had flashbacks throughout. And I had read in every book and all the lectures, "Don't ever do flashbacks." I said, "Yeah yeah yeah, but I'll be different."

And the opening tragedy that -- you know, at the beginning of the film, wasn't there. It wasn't told up front, originally. It was doled out in pieces throughout the story. We had one little flashback at the very beginning, which was Marlin's first view of his wife Coral before they married. And we see how they met. Then, a little later into Act One, we had the second one where the happy newlyweds are moving into their new anemone home and watching their view of the moon from above. And later into Act Two they were watching a nervous father try to be -- try to help Coral moments before she's going to give birth to the eggs.

A little deeper into Act Two, then we go to hundreds of fish eggs quivering in their sleep in a cosy grotto as their proud parents watch them dream. And then we get into Act Three and there's the attack by the barracuda that takes Marlin's family and leaves only Nemo.

And the last revealing flashback was played out during the fishing net sequence at the end, and we intercut between the net going down and this tragic thing happening. And it was cool. It was very cinematic and it was an interesting way to watch the film.

One of the unfortunate by-products was that you didn't like Marlin. You never related to his overprotective, fearful nature at the beginning of the movie because you didn't understand where it came from, because you didn't know that information until the very end of the movie.

So finally, after years of badgering, my peers finally convinced me to condense the story -- the backstory -- to just the day of the tragedy and tell the beginning at the beginning. And BOOM! You suddenly cared about Marlin. I didn't have to change any lines, I didn't have to change any readings. He suddenly wasn't annoying any more. He was somebody you empathized with -- it's back to the same problem we had with how do you like your main character on Toy Story. D'uh.

So, another interesting element of story on Nemo was music. Nemo was in constant in threat of becoming an ABC after-school special. And that's because the issue of the father and son was so direct it could easily have become sappy and treacly. And one crucial element that always managed to always anchor it was music. It helped anchor the integrity of the film.

[50:24]

And not just music but music as a character. I had the composer Thomas Newman in mind from the very conception of this film. I knew that his music would be so important, it would have to practically be considered one of the movie's main characters: one of the legs of the table. For me, Tom's music was, I would say, the keeper of the emotional truth.

Music's not just special to Nemo; it's one of the most powerful tools in any filmmaker's toolbox and shouldn't be only considered at the end of production. I'm kind of a geek in this sense. I have to have music playing when I write. I even make fake soundtracks of what I think the end result will be, just so that I can sort of project myself to what I'm seeing in my head and I can dictate that cinema in my head.

It was even referenced directly in the script at times. So to show you how effective it can be at directing your emotional focus, I'm gonna play you a clip from Nemo without the score first...

[clip from Nemo, first without music track then with music]

NIGEL
Nemo! Where's Nemo? I gotta speak with him.

NEMO
What? What is it?

NIGEL
Your dad's been fighting the entire ocean looking for you.

NEMO
My father? Really?

NIGEL
Oh yeah. He's travelled hundreds of miles. He's been battling sharks and jellyfish and all sorts of--

NEMO
Sharks? That can't be him.

NIGEL
Are you sure? What was his name? Some sort of sport fish or something: tuna, uh, trout --

NEMO
Marlin?

NIGEL
That's it! Marlin! The little clownfish from the reef.

NEMO
It's my dad! He took on a shark!

NIGEL
I heard he took on three.

DEB/BLOAT/GURGLE
Three!?

GILL
Three sharks!?

BLOAT
That's gotta be forty eight hundred teeth!

NIGEL
You see, kid, after you were taken by diver Dan over there, your dad followed the boat you were on like a maniac.

NEMO
Really?

NIGEL
He's swimming and he's swimming and he's giving it all he's got and then three gigantic sharks capture him and he blows them up! And then dives thousands of feet and gets chased by a monster with huge teeth! He ties this demon to a rock and what does he get for a reward? He gets to battle an entire jellyfish forest! And now he's riding with a bunch of sea turtles on the East Australian Current and the word is he's headed this way right now, to Sydney!

BLOAT
Wow! Ha ha ha!

DEB
Oh, what a good daddy!

GILL
He was lookin' for you after all, Sharkbait.

[end clips; audience applause]

Now you remember earlier in the keynote I said I'd elaborate more on audience participation and their unconscious desire to work for their entertainment. Well in Nemo, one of my co-writers, Bob Peterson and I, would analyse this issue at great lengths. We ended up with what we like to call 'The unifying theory of two plus two.' And what I mean is that good storytelling never gives you four, it gives you two plus two.

If you construct your story correctly it compels the audience to conclude the answer is four. This works for every aspect of filmmaking down to a molecular level. Most obviously it works with editing -- of course you know the Eisenstein where they show the face, then they show the food, then they show the same face, and they show the woman, and you interpret that either as lust or as hunger.

But it also works in doling out plot lines, just like we saw in the Ryan's Daughter clip. It works with dialogue, where you don't say what you actually mean. It works with relationships: how to get something, because your adding what somebody says with somebody else.

There's a great comedy sketch by Mike Nichols and Elaine May. I'm just gonna play the very beginning of it. But... it's just amazing how two plus two works so economically and so quick...

MAN (ANSWERING PHONE)
Hello?

ELDERLY WOMAN
Hello, Arthur? This is your mother... Do you remember me?

[audience laughter]

And whenever Bob and I are trying to introduce characters, we always wanted to do it as smart and economical as that skit. We'd always say, "It need to have that 'It's your mother, remember me' get-ability. You just right away got it like doing two plus two.

There's a great quote about this very subject.

"I think that for a movie or a play to say anything really truthful about life, it has to do so very obliquely, so as to avoid all pat conclusions and neatly tied-up ideas. The point of view it is conveying has to be completely entwined with a sense of life as it is, and has to be got across through a subtle injection into the audience's consciousness. Ideas which are valid and truthful are so multi-faceted that they don't yield themselves to frontal assault. The ideas have to be discovered by the audience, and their thrill in making the discovery makes those ideas all the more powerful. You use the audience's thrill of surprise and discovery to reinforce your ideas, rather than reinforce them artificially through plot points or phony drama or phony stage dynamics put in to power them across." -- Stanley Kubrick, 1960.

In other words, don't let the strings show. Movie-making is all about manipulation, but it's only truly successful if your audience has no idea that you were manipulating. Always try to work with two plus two.

So, I'm gonna slowly wrap up here. All of us at Pixar have learned quite a bit making these movies, but even moreso about ourselves as a studio. And even though we've never sat down and made any sort of mission statement, there are certain philosophies that we've come to adhere to over the years.

One is: Tough for kids. We need to make these movies for us. We don't second guess who our audience is or what they want. What I always say is that we're filmgoers first and filmmakers second. It's better that you're in touch with the audience part of yourself than the filmmaker part of yourself. The only consideration that we make is we don't exclude five-year-olds as studio executives.

The other thing is: no formulas. Sort of the same thing in Toy Story, we sort of wanted to break the mold. We don't want to make the same thing twice. If we were to be starting to make a movie today, I'd say, well, I don't want to make anything with wise-cracking wildlife creatures crammed with A-list actor voice casting, because it's already an anachronism this year.

So, when you have a formula appearing, don't do it, stop. Everyone keeps defining the frosting and then replicating it to death, and no one seems to be trying to get the recipe to the cake. Brad Bird has a great saying, which is: "Animation is a medium, not a genre." And it's true. We're making movies, and we work hard at making them as original as we can from the last one. Yes, audiences want to enjoy themselves as much as they did on the last film, but they want to get there in a new way every time.

The Catch-22 always in entertainment is that the audiences want the same success but different. And the only way you can do that is to be original, and the only way to be original is to dare to be stupid. And that's only possible if you're in some sort of creatively safe environment where you're willing to take risks.

Look, the truth is that at Pixar we're not that good at getting it right. But we're really good at banding together and fixing our mistakes. And invariably we discover something fresh for having had the guts to go and do something really stupid and make that mistake.

Tenting all of this is probably the only mantra I've ever heard said by everybody from the top down throughout my sixteen years, which is: just make good movies. This is always practically the ultimate solution to any of the problems: what is best for the movie. Not what's best for me, not what's best for you, what's best for the studio, what's best for my career. If you do what is best for the movie then you will make a better movie, and then everybody benefits. It's easy to follow, hard to do.

Finally, I want to end on a quote by Walt Disney.

"Fun and wonder are the important elements, in addition to quality in production and performance, which are most responsible for the success of Disney productions. Fun in the sense of cheerful reaction: the appeal to love of laughter. Wonder in that we appeal to constant wonder in men's minds, which is stimulated by the imagination."

This is the element of that quote that is the most overlooked and the least understood by those trying to succeed with animation. I don't mean financially; I mean artistically. If you don't have a natural love for this medium, and a burning desire to further the art form, then even a good story's going to end up being hollow.

So, I want to thank you for joining me on my 'journey of pain.'

[sound effect of heart monitor flatlining...]

[59:26; extended audience applause]

[59:54; Q&A commences]

END OF TRANSCRIPT.

My summary of Stanton's key points on storycrafting:

Storytelling is knowing your ending and then building the story towards that satisfying conclusion, like how a joke builds towards the punchline.
The audience must like (empathize with) the main character, but this does not mean the main character must be a nice person.
Opposing Goals, or 'unity of opposites': Set up directly opposing desires between the main characters (protag/antag).
Be wrong as fast as you can, and persevere through the storycrafting process: writing is rewriting.
Story Physics: Find the truth in your story and debate it, try to prove it wrong.
Find your Key Image: the touchstone that epitomizes the emotional core of your story and keeps you on track.
Ensure there are powerful reasons why the Protagonist cannot simply walk away from the Problem.
The audience wants to know that they were right in their assumptions about the characters, but also they want to be surprised. They want to discover there is more than meets the eye.
Stories are about caring and worrying about the characters. The story world must follow it's own rules -- if anything can happen at any time then the audience has no reason to care or worry.
Story is anticipation mingled with uncertainty.
The Unifying Theory of Two Plus Two: Don't give the audience the answer; give the audience the pieces and compel them to conclude the answer. Audiences have an unconscious desire to work for their entertainment. They are rewarded with a sense of thrill and delight when they find the answers themselves.
Appeal to the audience's sense of fun and wonder: fun in laughter and a cheerful reaction; wonder in the stimulation of the audience's imagination.

Mommy, make the bad editors stop!

2008-12-14T13:03:00.005+09:00

I can't take it any more. I just can't.

Quantum of Solace was the last straw.

It's the latest 'blender-cam' action film to confuse rapid cutting with excitement. Fast editing does not equal excitement. Oh, it does... sometimes, when used sparingly the way a surgeon uses special-purpose forceps or when a flutist uses a particular breathing technique.

Over the last decade, when it comes to the art of film editing, the word 'sparingly' has been gradually pushed further and further back into a dark corner of the dictionary, somewhere behind 'acrocephalic' (having a pointy head) and in front of 'zenzizenzizenzic' (a number raised to the eighth power) . Before anyone knew, the word had disappeared entirely. No one realised it has been taken out back and quietly shot in the head by a secret society of Hollywood editors.

There is no correlation between excitement on screen and cuts-per-second. I don't care if you're an editor and your director is screaming at you to "Do your fucking job and edit! Cut, cut, cut, faster, goddamn you, this is an action scene!" Have the guts to stand up for yourself, your film, and your craft, and JUST SAY NO.

Give them the blender cut, but also give them your version where the story drives the editing. Where every shot in the sequence earns its place. Where if you omit a single frame of film, it subtly alters the narrative. If your director has any chops at all (and that is a big 'if' these days), he or she will likely go with the narrative cut over the blender cut.

The first time I knew something was 'off' with a film's editing was back in 1990 when I saw Renny Harlin's Die Hard 2. Two things were very obvious very quickly:

Harlin loved a tight shot. This film was all close-ups. The phrase 'in your face' was never so apt as here.
Harlin loved fast cutting. I recall watching a dialogue scene taking place in somebody's office, and it was cut-cut-cut. I'm scratching my head, thinking, Why are we cutting every second? Is there some kind of invisible action scene playing out on screen? We're in an office, for crying out loud. We're watching talking heads. What the hell is driving this epileptic cutting back and forth?

I'm not sure how to aportion the blame between Harlin and editor Robert Ferretti. Looking at Ferretti's body of work, I don't see anything that would absolve him.

So for me, Die Hard 2 was the first 'blender cut' movie. Nowadays, the Bourne franchise is most cited as the prime showcase of rapid cutting, but I would argue Paul Greengrass is always in command of the technique and generally lets the narrative drive it. Also, Greengrass never allows the blender-cutting to cross the line where spatial reference and narrative clarity is lost. In other words, Greengrass is the surgeon using special-purpose forceps compared to Harlin's "Look, Ma, I can edit!" approach.

Interestingly, there's a comparison to be drawn here between blender editing and the deepening disatisfaction over the so-called 'loudness wars', where audio engineers compress the sound as much as possible before mastering on CD, resulting in loud but clipped music.

I guess these things go in cycles. Please, let the blender-cut cycle end soon. Oh Lord, please.

Thankfully, there's a simple antidote to the poison of blender-cut overdose. His name is Steven Spielberg. Or more precisely, the editors Spielberg has worked with:

The late Verna Fields
American Graffiti (Lucas), The Sugarland Express, Jaws
The great Michael Kahn
Indiana Jones, Poltergeist, Goonies, The Color Purple, Empire of the Sun, Jurassic Park, Schindler's List, etc. etc. etc.
Carol Littleton
E.T.

Spielberg's mastery of directing without editing is just one aspect of his cinematic genius. Watch how he moves the camera, how he orchestrates the narrative flow through the foreground, midground, and background of the frame, letting the story unfold organically where a lesser director would resort to a half a dozen setups and a dozen edits.

Phew. OK. Got that out of my system. But I do wonder... when the old-skool editors are gone, and we're left with the blender-cut editor generation, will hope remain for a return to narrative-driven editing?

Yes. Hope remains. But don't look for it inside Hollywood.

Begin with Let The Right One In.

"We'll have no lynchin' while I'm Sheriff" - Writing the Photoplay

2008-11-23T23:54:00.000+09:00

Cinema hasn't been around all that long.

What are we talking? A hundred years and change? Close enough.

At the turn of the century in 1900, not long before Captain Nemo piloted his steampunk submarine through the perilously narrow underwater corridors beneath Venice (work with me, people), motion pictures first bumped into the concept of 'continuity' -- that individual shots could be strung together to create cinematographic narrative.

No longer limited to showing a single shot of a puppy crossing the road, now filmmakers could show a series of shots in an edited sequence, eliciting a much stronger emotional reaction from the audience:

Shot of man driving a 'motor wagon'
Shot of puppy playing on road
Shot of man driving a 'motor wagon'
Shot of puppy playing on road
Man driving a 'motor wagon'
Puppy playing on road
Man driving
Puppy playing
Man...
Puppy...
Puppy explodes
Man explodes

(Think I'm making this up? Go visit the Wikipedia article, people! Don't expect to see the bit about Captain Nemo because some clueless revisionist reverted my edits. For those of you new to the intarwebs, Wikipedia is like a big, loud party where the only guests are funny drunk NASA scientists, unfunny sober Historians, and a whole bunch of those Morons who dress up as Knights of Ye Olde Round Table and drink homemade meade and carry D20s in their codpieces. And ALL of them are yammering in your ear at the top of their voices. Except Stephen Hawking. He's in the corner making out with a girl dressed like Princess Leia. That's W-I-K-I-P-E-D-I-A. Nailed it!)

So. Continuity. That created a problem. Now the burgeoning film industry needed somebody to think very carefully about what to shoot and how to put those shots into meaningful order. Somebody had to pre-imagine the narrative, then break it down into individual shots flowing together to form a cohesive and compelling story with a clear beginning, middle, and end.

That 'somebody' was NOT Michael Bay's grandfather.

That 'somebody' was ... The Screenwriter!

Who would've dreamed that a century later I'd be graciously accepting the Nobel Prize for summing up 100 years of screenwriting history in a couple of paragraphs involving a steampunk submarine, a puppy, and the word 'cinematographic.' Certainly not me.

So. Cinematic storytelling. Much has changed in a hundred years, right? Generations and their cultural shifts have come and gone. Things must've changed a lot for screenwriters in between those Olden Days and these Modern Times.

Well, let's look and see. Here's a screenwriting manual from 1913 titled Writing the Photoplay. That link is for Google Books; you can get the text version from Project Gutenberg.

What's this book about?

"This book aims to teach the theory and practice of photoplay construction. This we shall attempt by first pointing out its component parts, and then showing how these parts are both constructed and assembled so as to form a strong, well-built, attractive and salable manuscript."

You're forgiven for thinking you've stumbled into a McKee seminar. Put your wallet away. You won't have to pay a dime for this advice from a couple of fellows who were there at the birth of your profession: J. Berg Esenwein and Arthur Leeds.

Now, 'photoplay' means a silent movie, right?

A photoplay is a story told largely in pantomime by players, whose words are suggested by their actions, assisted by certain descriptive words thrown on the screen, and the whole produced by a moving-picture machine.

No spoken dialogue? That has to be a major drawback to storytelling, right? How did screenwriters -- ahem, I mean photoplaywrights -- deal with such a disadvantage...

The spectator at a photoplay entertainment must be able promptly and easily to discover who your characters are, what kind of people they are, what they plan to do, how they succeed or fail, and, in fact, must "get" the whole story entirely from what he sees the actors in the picture do... The photoplaywright depends upon his ability to
think and write in action, for the postures, grouping, gestures, movements and facial expressions of the characters must be shown in action, and not described as in prose fiction.

Man, that is brutal: the whole story told through the actions of the characters, with only the ocassional title card for dialogue or direction?

Action is the most important word in the vocabulary of the photoplaywright. To be able to see in fancy his thoughts transformed into action is to have gained one goal for which every photoplay writer strives.

Telling a story through action. Almost a hundred years later, has that requirement changed?

Do you write a treatment or block outline before you launch into the first draft of your screenplay? These can run 20 pages, 30 pages, even 60 pages. Those of you who do are writing a photoplay as described in this book. You are following the same storytelling process used by photoplaywrights from a hundred years ago. Fancy that!

In your outline/breakdown you'll write mostly action, conveying the entire story in its broad, bold strokes, and you'll drop in snippets of important dialogue, similar to photoplay title cards. When you progress to the next step -- your first draft -- what you'll be doing is adding dialogue to convey the parts of the story that can't be told effectively through actions alone. Sure, you're also adding dialogue to normalize the story, because it would be creepy to watch a film lacking the normal ebb and flow of human conversation. But essentially you are writing a photoplay.

And the rules back then are the same rules now driving the art and craft of storytelling on screen: tell your story so that the audience can "promptly and easily discover who your characters are, what kind of people they are, what they plan to do, how they succeed or fail."

So I hope I've encouraged you to spend an hour reading Writing the Photoplay and see what's changed -- and what hasn't -- during the hundred years of the Photoplaywright's trade.

PS. I need a snappy catch phrase for signing off my posts, e.g. You can't sell it if you don't write it (Script Girl); Go INTO the story (Scott Myers); Just effing entertain me! (Julie Gray).

I'm thinking along the lines of:

The voices told me to!
Yes, I know it won't hold up in court
They can't fire you if they can't find you
Too glass-half-empty?
All this AND hookers?
Let's not count our chickens just yet
Art is what's left when you take the F out of fart
That'll do, pig. That'll do.

Structure is King

2008-09-29T00:32:00.000+08:00

You are using the sequencing method as I understand it to plot out your scripts first? Can you let people know what the sequence method is for those who have never worked with it? And can you talk about how it helps you plan what to write?

Sequencing is gold. I hesitate to even talk about it, lest all of your readers go out and become overnight successes and put me out of work. I jest, but this approach really is that good. And there’s no magic to it, it’s just good, common sense. That’s what’s so brilliant about it.
Essentially, you want to look at your script as eight 12–15 page sequences. Act 1 and Act 3 each get 2 sequences and Act 2 gets 4. Each sequence should have a mini-goal for the protagonist (some more defined than others) and a beginning, middle and end just like your script does. That way, you end up with a sequenced script that builds on itself and creates those wonderful "peaks and valleys" that create tension/release, tension/release all throughout your story. Each sequence has a goal—what is or isn’t accomplished at the end of it—and a first, second and third act just like your script. The first act of the sequence is the setup (2 or 3 pages), then the main body is the conflict (5–9 pages) and then the resolution (1–3 pages). Each sequence has to do with the greater goal of your story, each one building on the last and raising the stakes and conflict until the story and conflict is eventually resolved at the end of the script.
The best feature of sequencing is that it makes your script digestible. Especially the second act. When you go in to outline your script, instead of having 120 pages of scary infinity, you have 8 clear sequences you need to design and create that fill out this larger structure.

It’s simple brilliance and something every writer should be doing. Beyond having a killer concept, structure is king. Sequencing will eventually lead you to bullet-proof structure. And structure will get you respect and structure will win you jobs in the room, just like I have. Bad structure means bad screenplays, even if you have great dialogue and characters (which you should also have, of course—like I said, this shit is competitive!)

This is an excerpt from a Done Deal interview with Ryan Condal. Ryan broke into the industry this year with his Galahad spec and has gone on to ink writing deals with Spyglass and Warners.

You'll see Ryan's 'eight sequences' inherent in The Four-Act Story Diamond. Ryan divides these Acts in half to create eight sequences, but for me it makes sense to divide each Act into four sections that mirror the overall build and flow of the overarching story. This gives a total of 16 sequences of about seven to eight pages each.

How daunting is it to write an eight-page sequence of your story, with its own beginning, middle, and end? Not very. That's roughly two pages for the beginning, four for the middle, and two for the end. Probably a day or two's work if you've outlined the sequence in advance. Do this sixteen times and you've written your screenplay.

Whether you break down the sequencing into Ryan's eight sections or my sixteen sections, the important thing is working in manageable story slices (mini stories).

Listen to Ryan. He knows exactly how he earned his seat at the table.

Structure is King, and Sequencing is Gold.

Inglourious Basterds, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying About Grammar and Love the Story

2008-08-28T21:05:00.005+08:00

Whenceforth Comes This Shabby Creature Of The Night?

Fake. Had to be.

The grammatical horrors waiting between the covers were solid proof of a novice writer at the keyboard. Surely.

I read the first 10 pages: the linguistic horrors multiplied and then multiplied some more.

Ask anyone: screenplays this unpolished don't escape unscathed when crossing a Studio Reader's desk. Screenplays this unpolished earn extra wrath from Readers. A well-presented screenplay (good spelling, punctuation, formatting) with poor structure or story is inoffensive; a Reader will dutifully appraise it with the minimum amount of effort and then set it aside, perhaps concluding the writer knows their screenwriting craft but not their art of storytelling. If this screenplay did not have QT's name on it, and it fell into a Studio Reader's hands, you'd better believe the Reader's red pen would be boiling over with invective. That Reader would likely cancel lunch to devote themselves wholeheartedly to the task of writing coverage for this screenplay that would ensure the screenwriter's work never again soiled the desk of any agent, reader, or executive in the land.

But this screenplay was not destined to cross any Reader's desk. This screenplay would be skipping all the formalities.

I read another twenty pages and the writing errors circled and lunged, circled and lunged, snapping their jaws like ravenous, mangy wolves wearing down their prey.

And as I read, something entirely unexpected happened. No longer was I hearing the gnashing of teeth and feral growls. Realizing this, I looked up from the script, and around me the wolves had turned into golden-haired Labrador Retrievers. Harmless, dopey, playful. Stupid but fun.

Ye gods. I was reading the absolute worst presented screenplay in the history of screenplays... and I was loving it!

Cover me...

Let's go back to the beginning.

So I'm staring at the screenplay cover.

Knowing it's impossible for a middle-aged veteran screenwriter to accidentally misspell not just one but both words in his two-word film title, I decide, OK, so maybe QT did this on purpose. Inglourious Basterds. It positively reeks of uneducated, working class, don't-give-a-fuck characters.

Hmm. Viewed at that angle, it's kind of cool. And the QT sure likes to serve up a mouth-watering slice of cool generously slathered in dripping irony. Yeah. Kind of cool.

I remind myself: Only if he did it on purpose!

My eyes flick to the draft date: Last Draft, July 2nd, 2008. Interesting. If that's accurate, this thing leaked fast! Suspiciously fast.

(NOTE: I started this post about two weeks after that date. Yes, I've had this post in draft for quite a while. I only returned to finish it after Julie at The Rouge Wave mentioned she had got hold of the script.

According to this BBC report, Tarantino spoke of finishing the screenplay in June 2008.

I won't be reviewing the story, by the way. There are many reviews available now for the script, such as this one.)

Medic!

And I start reading.

And it quickly becomes obvious: QT did not mispell for dramatic effect; QT has the writing skills of a college junior.

Let me follow that with a caveat. I'm quite certain this script was never intended for anyone other than QT and his inner circle. The presentation is so rough and tumble, it's inconceivable any industry screenwriter would be so contemptuous as to send it out as we see it here. This was a leak, plain and simple. (And let's discount the possibility this copy of the script was retyped by somebody who introduced all the grammatical issues.)

But... that does not change facts: the writing is abominable. Like Inglorious Bastards character Donnie Donowitz, QT takes a baseball bat to Spelling and shatters its spine, and then he pulverizes Grammar's skeleton to dust. It really is that stunningly amateur. Here we have a supposed craftsman of words giving us sentences such as the following. I preserved all spelling and formatting as it appears in the screenplay.

... she hears a noise, moving the sheet aside she see's ...
... brings a axe up and down on A tree stump ...
... looks over his shoulder, and see's the Germans ...
She picks up a basin, and begins pumping, after a few pumps, water comes out splashing into the basin.
... then continues without letting go of his hostess hand ...
The Farmer offers The S.S. Colonel a seat at the families wooden dinner table.
The Nazi Officer excepts the French Farmers offer ...
The mother of three, takes a craft of milk ...
COL LANDA: ... I say; Bravo
COL LANDA: Monsieur LaPadite, what we have to discuss, would be better discussed in private.
The Farmers Wife follows her husbands orders, and gathers her daughter's taking them outside ...
COL LANDA: To continue to speak it so inadequately, would only serve to embarrass me.
PERRIER: ... rounding up the Jews left in France who are ether hiding, or passing for Gentile.
He also extracts a expensive black fountain pen ...
As the Farmer loads the bowel of his pipe ...
COL LANDA: ... they've ether made good their escape ...
COL LANDA: Facts can be so misleading, where rumors, true or false are often reveling.
PERRIER: ... but we heard the Dreyfusis had made there way into Spain.
PERRIER: ... in the same community, in the same bussiness.
The S.S. Colonel takes in this answer, seems to except it ...

That's just the first nine script pages. I've omitted some grammatical errors that would be spoilers, and I've also omitted other minor errors.

Here's where I start speculating wildly. I think we are looking at a copy QT himself printed out, hence the handwritten title page and the handwritten page numbers. There's a page numbered 12.a followed by page 12.b. If anyone other than QT had put in those page numbers by hand you'd expect it to be numbered sequentially. It feels like QT was in a big hurry to get this out. The unpolished presentation reeks of rush job.

But why the rush job? Supposedly Tarantino worked on this script for a couple of years, off and on. Based on this 'last draft' screenplay, it feels like Tarantino spent the majority of that time crafting the story and only recently did he sit down to hammer out the full screenplay.

Given this very unpolished presentation, I'm guessing this copy was not intended for industry eyes. I'd guess it went to a friend or colleague for feedback, and somebody got hold of the copy and scanned it without the original recipient's knowledge.

However this leaked, I expect it is both a gigantic embarrassment to Tarantino and an even bigger triumph.

Huh?

This is QT's Epic Fail for spelling and grammar. It makes him look like an idiot. It makes no difference if this version of the script was never intended for wide circulation. Any writer who produces a first draft this riddled with language faults should be labelled a hack. Let's not consider how many drafts came before this 'last draft' version.

Chapter Five: Revenge of the Giant Face

How good would the story and characters need to be to overcome such a massive handicap as this in a screenplay? How engrossing, how visual, how delightful would it need to be to cause the reader to overlook such a constant, clumsy, unapologetic assault on comprehension and literary style?

Let me tell you. It would need to be at least as good as QT's Inglorious Bastards.

I read screenplays. Not as much as a Studio Reader, but a lot. I don't know how long it's been since I punched the air after turning the final page of a screenplay, but it's been a long while. When I arrived at page 165 of Inglorious Bastards and read the final line ("They ghoulishly giggle.") I punched the air and let loose a mightly FUCK-YEAH!

I FUCK-YEAHed for two powerful reasons:

Because QT had done it. He had done what M. Night Shyamalan can only dream of doing. QT delivered a final line of dialogue so balls-out, so self-referential and conceited, so "Yeah, that was pretty fucking awesome, and I hardly broke a sweat, but don't hate me because I'm beautiful" that audiences are going to ROAR their approval when the credits roll. Not only that, the line perfectly bookends the character, the story, the whole goddamn Inglorious Bastards experience! All is forgiven, QT, all is forgiven!
Because in the space of a few hours, QT showed me that all those things I hold dear -- grammar, spelling, technique -- these things are not as important as getting the story right. That's what QT did: he got the story right, and to hell with slowing down to get the writing right. This shabby, drunk, unapologetic screenplay called Inglourious Basterds don' need no steenkin' dictionary to get the job done. This screenplay nicely illustrates that psychological trick where the brain can corpmehned jlbmued wrods so lnog as the fisrt and lsat letetrs are cerroct.

NOTE: Um, for all of you about to fire up your wordprocessors and give your latest script a Basterds dumbing down, I will point out that this technique of Story First, Presentation Last has so far worked only for Tarantino. If you are not Tarantino then your Basterds-ized screenplay is going to be read by exactly nobody in Hollywood. Let's not get too carried away, people.

So thank you, Quentin, for pulling off a trick I thought was not possible. Believe me when I say, I cannot wait to see Inglorious Bastards.

Two fun examples of dialogue-less storytelling

2008-08-16T22:34:00.001+08:00

Any day is a good day for zombies.

The best day for zombies will be when Left 4 Dead hits the PC. On that day I will be transported to Zombie Heaven.

Ironically, Zombie Heaven is right here on Earth: the Land of the Living. Where the warm-fleshed, juicy-brains-carrying humans are abundant and conveniently packaged into cramped apartment blocks with no exit strategies. Where humans fear the night and zombies do not fear the day. Where humans still believe a zombie holocaust can happen only on screen.

And so, I present for your viewing pleasure two animated short films featuring zombies. The stories have a beginning, middle, and end and are told completely without dialogue.

CHAINSAW MAID

Beyond the wonderful claymation, I love, love the Casio-quality sound effects in this one. And there's a chuckle early on that would feel right at home in any Wallace and Gromit move.

ZOMBIE ZOMBIE - DRIVING THIS ROAD UNTIL DEATH SETS YOU FREE

This delightful riff on Carpenter's The Thing is a music video from indy electro band Zombie Zombie. This is the film you wanted to make on your Super-8 camera back in 1982, but your older sister had already kidnapped your G.I. Joe figures, dressed them in Barbie hotpants, and arranged them at the table with the Troll Dolls and the My Little Ponys for a Sunday tea party. Or did that only happen to Steven Soderbergh?

Blackwater hit car with kids to avoid traffic

2008-07-27T01:07:00.003+08:00

This post title appeared on digg.com:

US official: Blackwater hit car with kids to avoid traffic

It hit a car with kids? Impressive. But why resort to hurling children at the enemy?

What we have here is another case of failure to communicate. More murderous grammar.

This is the story:

The kids in the back seat looked back in horror, mouths agape at the sight of the heavily armored Suburbans driven by large, armed men in dark sunglasses. The poor Iraqi driver frantically searched for a means of escape, but there was none. So the lead Blackwater vehicle smashed heedlessly into the car, pushing it into the barrier.

Yes, that's an awful situation. One of many, many awful things going on over there.

Putting the content aside for a moment, let's consider the form. Is the sentence ambiguous? Yes it is. Is that a problem? Yes. Ambiguous is to writing what a Stop sign is to driving. No, it's more. It's a Go Back sign. Ambiguity forces the reader to backtrack, reread, and figure out what the heck the author meant to say.

So let's rephrase that Digg headline for clarity.

Blackwater SUV bulldozers Iraqi family's car
Iraqi kids no obstacle to Blackwater driver
Blackwater crushes car carrying kids, to avoid traffic
Blackwater avoids traffic by ramming kids in car

I wager that each of these replacements avoids the original's ambiguity, with some of them being more punchy and economical to boot.

253 free, legal, full-length movies from Bittorrent.com

2008-01-05T02:33:00.001+09:00

Got harddrive space? Download classic thriller, adventure, horror, and sci-fi movies. FREE. Heaps of Hitchcock. Coppola's directorial debut! And much more. Want to see the 1936 film of Sweeney Todd? Go grab it. You owe it to yourself to browse throught the 253 free torrent downloads and fill in the gaps in your classic movie collection.

I was delighted to discover a personal treasure: Michael Gordon's triumphant and Oscar-winning version of Cyrano De Bergerac (1950). If you only download one movie, make it this one.

Browse free downloads at Bittorrent.com | digg story

4-Act Story Diamond v2

2007-08-19T18:14:00.001+08:00

This model represents the Hero's Journey in four acts. It supplements my old story diamond. Click the image for a larger view.

Discussion about the eight plot points is here.

Jeremy Slater - Rapebear, The Movie

2007-07-25T21:22:00.000+08:00

Jeremy Slater just sold his horror screenplay Pet to MGM.

Is this the same hilarious (former) neophyte screenwriter and veteran malfeasant Jeremy Slater who dreamed up Rapebear over at How To Write Screenplays, Badly ? I think so. I hope so. Go visit HTWSB and spend an hour trawling the archives. You will laugh lots while learning some lesser-known do-nots of screenwriting.

Sadly, it's unlikely we'll see more HTWSB posts from Jeremy and his blogging partner Dan Whitehead. The site has been dormant since about February, 2007. But I suspect Jeremy will launch a new blog someday soon to document his rite of passage into the realm of Hollywood Screenwriter. [Update: here's Jeremy's new blog.]

Congratulations, Jeremy!

Jack Black, Pixar, and the Eight Plot Points

2007-06-22T21:44:00.003+08:00

Wow. Cue Sting, The Police, and Synchronicity.

I was Googling for story structure tips and arrived at this site: Channel101

The first thing to yank my attention on that page was the 4-act circle diagram. That looks identical to my own 4-act Story Diamond. Immediately I knew the author and I were sympatico on 4-act story structure.

Dan Harmon, the article's author, has numbered the eight compass points of his circle in clockwise fashion, one through eight. That's opposite to my story diamond, where progression is counter-clockwise. I cannot tell you why I chose counter-clockwise for mine. Maybe it's because I'm in Australia and water spirals down the drain in the opposite direction to you folk in the Northern Hemisphere. (OK, so that is actually an urban legend.)

So I knew I was onto something here. Some new piece of the puzzle, I hoped. Or at least further confirmation that others prefer to work with the 4-act structure implicit in the traditional 3-act screenplay model.

What do the numbers signify?

You
Need
Go
Search
Find
Take
Return
Change

Over to Dan for the 411...

1) "You" - who are we? A squirrel? The sun? A red blood cell? America? By the end of the first 37 seconds, we'd really like to know.

2) "Need" - something is wrong, the world is out of balance. This is the reason why a story is going to take place. The "you" from (1) is an alcoholic. There's a dead body on the floor. A motorcycle gang rolls into town. Campbell phrases: Call to Adventure, Refusal of the Call, Supernatural Aid.

3) "Go" - For (1) and (2), the "you" was in a certain situation, and now that situation changes. A hiker heads into the woods. Pearl Harbor's been bombed. A mafia boss enters therapy. Campbell phrase: Crossing of the Threshold. Syd Field phrase: Plot Point 1.

4) "Search" - adapting, experimenting, getting shit together, being broken down. A detective questions suspects. A cowboy gathers his posse. A cheerleader takes a nerd shopping. Campbell phrases: Belly of the Whale, Road of Trials. Christopher Vogler phrase: Friends, Enemies and Allies.

5) "Find" - whether it was the direct, conscious goal or not, the "need" from (2) is fulfilled. We found the princess. The suspect gives the location of the meth lab. A nerd achieves popularity. Campbell phrase: Meeting with the Goddess. Syd Field phrase: mid-point. Vogler phrase: Approach to the Innermost Cave.

6) "Take" - The hardest part (both for the characters and for anyone trying to describe it). On one hand, the price of the journey. The shark eats the boat. Jesus is crucified. The nice old man has a stroke. On the other hand, a goal achieved that we never even knew we had. The shark now has an oxygen tank in his mouth. Jesus is dead- oh, I get it, flesh doesn't matter. The nice old man had a stroke, but before he died, he wanted you to take this belt buckle. Now go win that rodeo. Campbell phrases: Atonement with the Father, Death and Resurrection, Apotheosis. Syd Field phrase: plot point 2

7) "Return" - It's not a journey if you never come back. The car chase. The big rescue. Coming home to your girlfriend with a rose. Leaping off the roof as the skyscraper explodes. Campbell phrases: Magic Flight, Rescue from Without, Crossing of the Return Threshold.

8) "Change" - The "you" from (1) is in charge of their situation again, but has now become a situation-changer. Life will never be the same. The Death Star is blown up. The couple is in love. Dr. Bloom's Time Belt is completed. Lorraine Bracco heads into the jungle with Sean Connery to "find some of those ants." Campbell phrases: Master of Both Worlds, Freedom to Live.

Now. Look what happens when I overlay those eight plot points over my 4-act story diamond (counter-clockwise). Note that I've overlapped act breaks.

Act One - Preparation/Orphan

You, Need, Go

Act Two - Separation/Wanderer

Go, Search, Find

Act Three - Initiation/Warrior

Find, Take, Return

Act Four - Return/Martyr

Return, Change, You

That's a perfect fit. Not surprising, given Dan's eight plot points are built on established screen storytelling lore -- so was my 4-act Story Diamond -- as evidenced by his references to Field, Vogler, and Campbell. Even though this new (to me) eight-point diagram is not revolutionary, it is evolutionary for me, and I will add it to my 4-act diagram soon.

Here comes the somewhat weird, synchronistic part of the story.

So I found this page by Dan, mulled over it for a while and contemplated its significance to my own storytelling beliefs, and moved on.

A few hours later, again through some random browsing, I encountered a blog authored by a storyboard artist at Pixar. Specifically, I found myself on this page, titled "Who are YOU to question story structure!?!??!!!??" Hey, Jack Black in a video where he's 'the Story Wizard', cool, I thought to myself. And I pressed Play. (Go watch it. I'll wait.)

Synchronicity. In that short instructional video, the story tool JB teaches us about is... yep, the 8-point plot model I had just learned from Dan Harmon this very night. But JB's version differs slightly. Here are the vital eight plot points according to JB. Where it differs from Dan's version, I've put Dan's in brackets .

Something (You)
Need
Go
Search
Find
Take
Back to (Return)
Where it was (Change)

There is no mistaking these two versions share the same foundation. And it's a very, very solid foundation.

All I'm saying is, I thought it was kinda odd that I stumbled upon two versions of the same storytelling concept within hours of each other, both times accidentally. And this after a decade of researching storycrafting for film.

Like Sting sang...

With one breath, with one flow
You will know
Synchronicity

A sleep trance, a dream dance
A shaped romance
Synchronicity

A connecting principle
Linked to the invisible
Almost imperceptible
Something inexpressible
Science insusceptible
Logic so inflexible
Causally connectable
Yet nothing is invincible

If we share this nightmare
Then we can dream
Spiritus mundi

If you act as you think
The missing link
Synchronicity ...

Where Have Tomorrow's Screenwriters Gone Today?

2007-04-29T20:42:00.000+08:00

So what exactly is going on here...? (click image for larger view)

What you're looking at is a Google Trends query on the word "screenplays". And that, my friends, is one heck'uva trend. Google searches on "screenplays" down by almost two thirds in two and a half years? Wow.

My immediate, joyful conclusion was, if today there are a third as many novice screenwriters Googling for screenplays online as there were two-to-three years ago, that means my competition just dropped dramatically... right? I mean, budding screenwriters want to download and study produced scripts -- that's a given. So... less people searching for screenplays online = less screenwriters flooding the industry in the next couple of years.

Sounds good to me.

Now. Is there a negative in there somewhere? If aliens are systematically abducting novice screenwriters these past few years (OK, you explain it!), should I be worried? Does the decline -- whatever the reason behind it -- in fact reduce my chances of making a six-figure screenplay sale?

Dunno. Lets keep looking...

Here are the top search regions for the word "screenplays" for the same period:

Top regions (normalized)

United States

Ireland

South Africa

Canada

Australia

New Zealand

India

United Kingdom

Philippines

10.

Czech Republic

What's up with Ireland? Seems the lads and lasses of the Emerald Isle are keen to get some sunny Hollyweird, Hell-A action. These figures don't give us any meaningful info about what's behind the decline. Moving on...

Let's try a related search trend for the word "screenwriting":

Allrighty. So "screenwriting" fares a lot better. Regular fluctuation up and down over the years -- sorta spiking every six months. No obvious downward trend, not like the other chart. Having said that, you can see in 2006 it dropped below the line there for the first time since Google started tracking the numbers in 2004. Perhaps there's a tiny trend creeping in, after all. Even so, too early to call, so I'll ignore it.

Where are those searches originating?

Top regions (normalized)

United States

Ireland

Canada

Australia

United Kingdom

New Zealand

South Africa

Norway

Philippines

10.

Israel

Only thing I note here is that folks in the United Kingdom seems to prefer searching on the word "screenwriting" (pos. 5) over "screenplays" (pos. 8).

I've just had a thought.

What if the drop in people searching for screenplays online is because people are busy beavering away on their own script? Having studied a dozen professional screenplays pulled off the web, these people don't need to perform more searches. They've already absorbed the rules of structure and format, and now they are hammering out screenplays of their own.

Or... perhaps the answer is as simple as this: In the last five years, a lot of screenwriting/screenplay sites sprang up across the net, resulting in a more organised infrastructure for delivering screenplays via the web. That would result in less Google searching, wouldn't it? Novice screenwriters might be searching for a specific, well-known site (e.g. Daily Script or Drew's Scriptorama) rather than using a generic search for "screenplays".

Who knows.

The Wisdom of the Wave... inatrix

2007-04-28T21:29:00.000+08:00

Julie Gray is an industry script reader. She stands between you and the people with the money (or the contacts) who can make it all happen. So when Julie says, hey, this is what I like in a screenplay and this is what I hate, we listen. If you don't have The Rouge Wave on your RSS feed, add it now.

I figured I would spend a little time weeding out the some important tips (IMHO) from her blog and present them here, quoted directly, in handy summary format. Add this checklist to your things-to-do before putting your screenplay out there.

From: 20 Things I Know For Sure: Do's and Don'ts in Your Spec Script

Do title the script in such a way that it both piques interest and tips the reader off to the nature of the script.
Do keep the script down to a nice, tidy 100-ish pages long. Many readers and execs flip to the last page first so we know what we’re up against. The number of pages gives us a sense of your discipline and skill set as a writer; 120 pages of romcom telegraphs to the reader immediately that this script is not working on a fundamental level.
Do make sure the script is clean in presentation and absent of spelling errors, typos or poor language usage. Proofread it eighty times.
Do write your action lines so that they read easily and are entertaining in and of themselves.
Do write characters that are unique and yet instantly recognizable; they should tell volumes about themselves in even their small details. Inventive economy. Make it your mantra.
Do write dialogue that feels natural, is never superfluous and moves the story along quickly.
Do check and double check that your writing is spare and simple: everything should make perfect sense as the reader moves along so that they never flip back or get bored and check emails; once you’ve lost the reader’s interest it’s an uphill battle to get it back.
Do pay a great deal of attention to keeping the story moving; nail your three act structure; readers won’t notice it consciously, but it will make the read faster and more interesting.
Do pay off the ending; the reader has invested most of their morning or afternoon in your script, make the ending count. Surprise us!
Do us one favor: write a story so entertaining that if only for that hour, we forget we are readers and simply enjoy the experience.

From: The Importance of the Scene

Warning signs that indicate faulty scene work:

Misuse or overuse of sluglines
Dense, boring action lines
Misuse of matchcuts or intercuts
Scenes that are too long; anything over 3 pages is suspicious
Scenes that are too short and exist for no apparent reason
Scenes that start too early and end too late
Scenes without a discernable point

From: Rewriting

Consider a rewrite where your screenplay shows signs of:

Soft, unoriginal or confusing premise
Faulty main character arc
Missing or lame antagonist
Not enough conflict; linear narrative
Missing stakes
No ticking clock
Action lines need work
Logic or world issues
Missing theme
Scenes are too long
Structure in trouble

From: Page Count Lipo

Julie points out the importance of three-act structure. What Julie describes is the Syd Field model (three acts; quarter, half, quarter, with a midpoint or 'pinch' dividing the middle act), but you can go ahead and think of it as a four-act model.

Review your script for act breaks throughout; Is your inciting incident on or about page ten (if not earlier)? Is your first plot point which takes us into the second act on or about page 25 to 30? How ‘bout that midpoint? Page 50-ish? And the second plot point should be around page 85 to 90.

From: Episodic

How to identify if your screenplay is episodic:

Think about this:

Esther does this
Then she does that
Fred meets her and they talk
Esther does this
Then that
Then this

Versus:

Esther does this BUT
She stumbles into that AND
THEN she discovers this
WHICH leads her to overcome THIS
And eventually she learns THAT
EXCEPT she will have to sacrifice THIS

The emphasized words indicate turning points in the scene. Surprises, setbacks, reversals. Static scenes guarantee a static story. You only have about 100 pages, people, so light a fire under it. And don’t get accused of having a soft, episodic script. Because that’s just another way of saying PASS.

From: Coverage Reports

Do you know how to think like a Reader? If not, let Julie teach you. Doing coverage reports is a process. Knowing (and reviewing) that process improves your screenplay before it lands on Julie's desk and makes it easier for her to like your movie.

The next thing to appear on your coverage is the grid. Down the left hand side is:

PREMISE
STORYLINE
CHARACTER
DIALOGUE

And across the top we have: Excellent, Good, Fair and Poor

[...]

Here are some of the elements that readers evaluate when they read the script – mind you, they would absolutely not be listed like this in a coverage, but this is more or less the check list. And please note, the way these elements are discussed is not academic or scientific, but rather from a pretty basic point of view: was it entertaining, did it make sense?

Premise & Genre: Premise might be soft, or it might be really original. The genre may or may not be what the company is looking for.

Narrative/Structure: The narrative is how the story is told; is it original and fresh? Does the writer have a great “voice”? Is it paced well; is it a page turner? Structure isn’t often referred to as such; writers with repped scripts that made it all the way to a production company don’t often have trouble with structure but it happens. Mentioning poor structure in a coverage is an absolute kiss of death for the writer and the script. Bad or missing structure means this writer is not ready for prime time.

World: Did the writer establish a “world” for the script that the reader believed? This is more likely to come up in a fantasy, sci-fi or slapstick comedy script but not exclusively so. World is not usually mentioned in a coverage unless the writer has some pretty big “buys” that the reader – well – didn’t buy because it didn’t make sense in the world.

Conflict/Stakes: Did stuff happen to drive the story forward? Was there a sense of building conflict and tension? Was there something hanging in the balance in the end that made the reader really care about getting to the last page to see what happened?

Characters/Dialogue: Coverages will almost always mention character work – whether it is really great or really awful. A writer who can write great character and dialogue is probably going to get a “consider” writer even if the premise is not for the company at the time. The ability to write great characters and dialogue is the brass ring for aspiring writers. If you do nothing else well, you could still build a career off of this talent. Thing is, it tends to go hand-in-hand with other screenwriting skills, so don’t go trying to be some kind of character-savant.

Scene work/Action Lines: Oh man, if you have to note this stuff in a coverage, that’s bad. Again, just as structure, above, this falls under basic execution of craft and here’s the thing – if the execution is good, it becomes invisible. If it’s bad – then I have to note that your page or scene work sucks as do your action lines. Death knell for script. Bad page work basically means sloppy, cluttered pages, overlong scenes, dull scenes, typos, misspells, inactive scenes and sequences.

Logic: Stuff just didn’t add up.

Theme/Tone: Theme and tone may not always be mentioned, only if the theme is really beautiful and timely. Great themes in scripts are often a little invisible; it just really affected the reader with a sense of universal resonance. There is a connection with the material on a subconscious level. It’s a little ephemeral. When you read the script and when all is said and done, no matter how big the action sequences, or how scary some of the set pieces were, if you are left with the feeling that none of it really mattered – that’s because theme was not in the building. Tone will usually only be mentioned if it’s uneven. If tone is appropriate there’s no need to bring it up. This means that if you have written a bouncy little romcom and then you have X-rated sex scenes, I will be pulled out of the story – because the tone didn’t match. Of if you have a horror script with a long, romantic, upbeat romantic sequence. This could work. Or it might feel like some script pages got mixed up and I’m in a new story now. This would be a tone (and narrative) problem.

From: Character Descriptions

Writing concise but informative character introductions is an art. John August presented his thoughts on the topic about the same time that Julie wrote this excellent advice:

How much should you describe your character? You definitely need to tell us how old they are but you only need to describe their clothing to the degree that it reflects the character’s personality.

[...] When you describe your character you are only drawing broad strokes and intimating much more than you are describing. You are giving us a snapshot.

SANDY (20s) a fit and cheerful blonde, straps on her running shoes.

HOSEA (48) an intense businessman, straightens his Republican red tie and plucks a grey hair.

Do you get an idea of who Hosea is? I noted the color of his tie for an obvious reason – I am insinuating he is a conservative.

CECILIA (12) puts her mousy brown hair back with a pink barrette and runs her tongue over her braces.

Need to see what she’s wearing? Nah. Pink barrette, mousy brown hair and braces. I can fill in the rest with my imagination.

JUSTIN (23) lanky and thin, trims his soul-patch and grins. He tucks a skateboard under one arm and gives himself one last approving glance in the mirror.

What kind of shoes does Justin have on? Well, probably not loafers.

[...] Descriptions are necessary only insofar as they tell us things we need to know or infer about your character. A guy with dreadlocks has just told us so much about himself. An adult with braces has too. So just give us those broad strokes and hints so we can make some assumptions and form some opinions about your character. Don’t micro-manage and describe every last detail. It’s unimportant, it’s boring and it will mark you as an amateur.

From: The Title

Does the title hint at the genre?
Is the title as succinct as possible?
Does the title in some way embody the theme or dna of your script?
Will the title look good on a poster and will it intrigue passersby?
If the title isn’t clear immediately, will it rise to the surface within the script?

From: Budget, Rating and Box Office OH MY

How in the heck do you know what kind of budget your script would call for? Well, think about this:

Locations: Are they exotic? Are there several locations? This costs a great deal of money for production companies.
FX: Does your script contain a lot of special effects? Are there expensive car chases, explosions or dangerous stunts and sequences?
Cast: Is the main character going to sink or swim based on whether the role is given to Russell Crowe? Stars drive up the costs of movies considerably.

What is the box office (or commercial) potential of your material? [...]

Is this a high concept script? A highly entertaining central conceit that is so simple, so beautiful and so fun that it’s a slam dunk.
Is this a tentpole? A star vehicle, big adventure with the whiff of franchise?
Is this a Sunday afternoon genre? Drama, romance, period?
Is this material HOT? Very zeitgeisty or provocative?

All rules, guidelines, and advice aside, this article from Julie reminds us why we're writing screenplays in the first place: Just Effing Entertain Me

The Fat Man And The Trolley Car

2006-05-03T19:52:00.000+08:00

Playing What if? is what writers do. Well, fiction writers. For factual writers the game is more along the lines of Why that?

Daniel Sokol at BBC News explores the philosophical angle of the What if? exercise.

A runaway trolley car is hurtling down a track where it will kill five people. You are standing on a bridge above the track and, aware of the imminent disaster, you decide to jump on the track to block the trolley car. Although you will die, the five people will be saved.

Just before your leap, you realise that you are too light to stop the trolley. Next to you, a fat man is standing on the very edge of the bridge. He would certainly block the trolley, although he would undoubtedly die from the impact. A small nudge and he would fall right onto the track below. No one would ever know. Should you push him?

Blocking Writer's Block

2006-04-30T20:35:00.000+08:00

Writer's Block. No such thing.

It's a misnomer, IMO. Nothing is 'blocking' you from writing, except maybe if last week you had a falling out with the WGA and this week you woke up with your hands encased in a block of concrete. Then the phrase takes on a new and alarmingly accurate meaning.

I believe there are really only two reasons you're not writing when you know you should be writing:

You cannot focus

This is a legitimate reason and a common one: you can't write because you cannot narrow your focus enough to get 'in the zone' for writing. It could be disruptive noise from outside your room. It could be a physical problem, like headache or illness, constantly interrupting you with discomfort or pain.

Or, it could be a mental problem. We all have our extended periods of ups and downs due to what's going on in our lives. There's not a lot you can do about the downs except wait them out, doing whatever you can to ensure they pass as quickly as possible. It's hard to write during those emotional troughs. On the other hand, some people use writing as an escape and a tool to get through those low times.

Solution

If you can't focus because of external distractions or internal physical or mental issues, don't beat yourself up over it. Wait it out. And don't punish yourself for not writing. Try scaling back your expectations during these times. Do some writing that doesn't require intense focus or your full attention. Take the opportunity to do more research, play with your plotline, tinker with yesterday's writing pages, and so on. That way you're getting something useful done and your time in the chair doesn't feel wasted.

If it's an emotional issue preventing you from focussing -- for example, you just broke up with your partner after a long relationship -- consider using your feelings somewhere in your story. Can you add these thoughts and feelings to an existing scene or a character? Word of caution here: you need to commit to honesty if you go this route. And who knows. Writing through it might give you new insight into your own issues, as well as making your screenplay or novel more potent.
You have no idea where you are going

Oh, brother. My money is on this one as the major reason writers lose their flow.

Assuming you've ruled out No. 1 as the source of your block, IMO the only thing left is that you didn't sufficiently map out your story before you started writing. Hey, but you don't want to crank out a cookie-cutter story, right? And that's what you'll get if you stifle your creativity by plotting everything from start to finish, right? Just imagine all the cool directions your story might follow by writing as you go, RIGHT?

Ah, yes. You're THAT sort of screenwriter. The one who collects a bunch of ideas and sits down to write a first draft. As Bart Simpson might say, "Want a cool story, eh? No problemo. Put Nosferatu, Mighty Mouse, and Mr Spock together in a locked cage and the ending practically writes itself, man!" You're also the type of screenwriter who doesn't believe in writing a treatment first.

Solution: Too easy. Before you write anything more, figure out where you are going! At a minimum, that means know your ending! So you already know your ending but you're still blocked? Then stop and find your story mid-point! Still blocked? Just keep breaking the large units into smaller ones. What you are doing here is finding and placing the stepping stones that lead you from the beginning of your story to the end. It doesn't matter if you don't lay down every single stone before you write a first draft. By knowing your ending before you start you always know where the path leads eventually.

Knowing this, kiss goodbye to "writer's block". What you are experiencing is, in the case of No. 1, a temporary writing delay out of your control; and in the case of No. 2, a temporary writing delay while you complete the story map you should have constructed before you began. In both cases, no harm no foul. You'll be back writing in no time.

Here are two articles from other writers offering different perspectives on the topic: Blast Your Writing Blocks by Angela Booth, and 7 Secrets For Beating Writer's Block by Shaun Fawcett. Both articles used by permission.

Blast Your Writing Blocks

by Angela Booth

Copyright © 2003 by Angela Booth

How many words do you write a day? Some novelists manage 2,000 words a day or even more, but most writers feel they've done a good job if they can turn out 500 to 1,000 words.

If you're writing zero words a day, you're blocked. Writers get blocked because they're anxious, or because they don’t have enough information.

Dealing with anxiety

Anxiety can show up in various forms, either physical, mental, or emotional. You may feel tired, or have a head-ache. You may decide that you're bored with what you're writing, or so depressed you can't think. Or maybe you convince yourself that you're just too busy (the lawn needs mowing, and you should spend time with the kids). You'll do your writing tomorrow.

The anxiety block is hard to manage because you often don’t realize that it is a block. You have terrific reasons for not writing. No one would expect you to write with a migraine, would they? And you really do need to mow the lawn.

The only way I've found to manage this block is to be tough on myself. I set myself a daily word target, usually 1,000. I may not reach that target, but before I go to bed, I MUST write 500 words. Every day.

Paradoxically, I've found that even when I'm not in the mood to write, or when I have a headache that would fell an ox, I feel better when I've written my 500 words. I often go on to write the full 1,000.

The most pernicious anxiety block occurs when you're convinced your writing is worthless. This block may happen as a result of chaos in some other area of your life: perhaps with relationships, or illness, or finances.

Handling this block takes careful management. First, try to see that it's a block, which has happened because of the stress you're under. Your writing is fine --- you've just lost perspective. If you can convince yourself of this, it's a major achievement.

Try to write anyway, even if you feel your writing is trash. If you can't, take a break from writing without feeling guilty. Relax, exercise, eat well, and indulge in a few movies, or a favourite hobby.

If this block lasts for more than a month or two, visit a therapist. There's no shame in this, and seeing someone can save you endless months of frustration.

Eliminating the "no info" block

You can also get blocked because you don’t have enough information. You're trying to write the final draft, instead of tackling the writing process draft by draft.

Here's a handy way to prevent the "no info" block by taking your writing through clearly defined stages:

A. First draft: your thinking draft. In this draft, you write whatever you like. You're aiming for quantity here, rather than quality.

B. Your second draft. Your first draft has shown you what you want to say. In this draft, you have a crack at saying it.

C. Your clean-up draft. Your final draft. You've said what you want to say, now you get a chance to say it better. You clean up the redundancies and spice it up.

In practice, stage B may have several additional drafts, as many as you need: B1, B2, and more.

The easiest way to kill the no-info block for good is to allow yourself to write badly. Every day. This is because writing is hard when you try to think and write at the same time. Allow yourself to think on paper for as many drafts as you need. Then write the final draft with confidence.

Writing cycles

This isn't a block, it's a process. Everything happens in cycles, even your writing. Sometimes your writing catches fire. You're inspired. At other times, writing is like wading through quicksand, and it takes you forever to write 200 words.

Accept this. When you're in the low part of the cycle, aim lower. If your target was 1,000 words a day, make it 200. Or even 50.

Blocks are a part of the writer's life. Use the above tools to write your way out of them. As incredible as it may seem when you're in the middle of a block, the day will dawn when your block is not even a memory, and you can confidently say: "There's no such thing as writer's block!"

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Digital-e: For writers and creatives.
Ebooks, free ezinesFree Articles, Creatives Club.
Love to write?
Turn your talent into a business!
http://www.digital-e.biz/

Writer, author and journalist Angela Booth has been writing successfully for print and online venues for 25 years. She also writes for business. On her Web site http://www.digital-e.biz/ she conducts workshops and courses for writers.

7 Secrets For Beating Writer's Block

by Shaun Fawcett

Most people can easily identify with the dreaded "writer's block". It is a well-known phenomenon that just about everyone has faced at one point in their lives.

I used to suffer from writer's block, big time! Thus, I know through personal anguish and suffering, that it is definitely not a pleasant experience.

Especially when the due date for one's project or paper is getting closer by the day, and the boss asks you "how's that project going" every time you don't manage to avoid him/her when you're sneaking down the corridor.

WRITER'S BLOCK IS FEAR-BASED

Writer's block is a fear-based feeling. For whatever reason, many of us have this incredible fear of committing ourselves in writing whenever we are faced with a blank page or computer screen.

Fear no longer! I'm here to tell you that writer's block can be beaten!

Just realizing that writer's block is really an irrational fear that keeps us from putting pen to paper is half the battle. It's actually a fear of the unknown, often coupled with a fear of failure.

We secretly wonder just what exactly is going to come out of this pen/keyboard, and when it does, will we be revealing some kind of incompetent idiot who doesn't know what they're talking about?

On the other hand, if we have done the proper preparation, our rational mind knows that we can do it just like we did it all of those other times before.

Unfortunately, fear often wins the day when it comes to writing.

As I stated above, I suffered from writer's block for many years and it was not the most enjoyable of experiences.

THE 7 SECRETS

Fortunately, somewhere along the way I did manage to develop a few tricks to overcome writers block. Some are obvious, others are not.

Here are my personal hard-earned secrets for overcoming writer's block:

1. Don't Write Too Soon

Before trying to write, it is important to prepare mentally for a few hours or days (depending on the size of the task) by mulling the writing project over in the back of your mind. (Just as athletes don't like to peak too soon, writers shouldn't write too soon either!).

2. Do The Preparation

Read over whatever background material you have so that it is fresh in your mind. I read through all background material carefully marking important points with a yellow hi-liter and then review it all before I start to write.

3. Develop A Simple Outline

Before sitting down to write, put together a simple point form list of all of the key points you want to cover, and then organize them in the order in which you are going to cover them. (I know, I know... your Grade 6 teacher told you the same thing... but it actually does work).

4. Keep research Documents Close By

When you sit down to write, make sure that all of your key background materials are spread out close at hand. This will allow you to quickly refer to them without interrupting the writing flow once you get going. I keep as many of the source documents as possible wide open, and within eyesight for quick and easy reference.

5. Just Start Writing

Yes, that's exactly what you do. Once you have prepared mentally and done your homework you are ready to write, even if your writer's block is saying "no". Just start writing any old thing that comes to mind. Go with the natural flow. In no time at all you will get into a rhythm, and the words will just keep on flowing.

6. Don't Worry About The First Draft

Once the words start to flow, don't worry about making it perfect the first time. Remember, it's your first draft. You will be able to revise it later. The critical thing at the outset is to write those thoughts down as your mind dictates them to you.

7. Work From An Example

Get an actual sample of the type of document that you need to write. It could be something that you wrote previously, or it could be something from an old working file, or a clipping from a magazine article, or a sales brochure you picked up. As long as it is the same type of document that you are writing. Whatever it is, just post it up in your line-of-sight while you are working. You'll be amazed at how it helps the words and ideas flow. The main thing is to have an example to act as a sort of visual template.

In my experience this last one is the ultimate secret for overcoming writer's block.

To help with this, be on the lookout for good examples of writing that you may see in newspapers and magazinesHealth Fitness Articles, and clip out the useful ones for future reference.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Shaun Fawcett is webmaster of writinghelp-central.com and author of the new eBook "Instant Home Writing Kit". His FREE e-mail COURSE "Tips and Tricks For Writing Success", offers valuable tips on home/business writing. Sign-up for FREE at: http://www.instanthomewritingkit.com/free-course.html

The End Of Cinema?

2006-04-30T14:10:00.000+08:00

Increasingly, audiences are staying away from cinemas. There are many reasons for this, but you can point to one issue as the cinema killer: viewing choice.

With the shrinking window between a film's cinema release and its DVD release, and affordability of home cinemas, it comes down to this: is the film worth seeing in the cinema or are you happy to wait a few months to watch it at home?

Let's weigh up the risks and costs:

Watch at home
1. You decide when the movie starts
2. You decide if you want to sit through ads before the movie
3. You decide if you want to watch it quietly alone or raucously with a bunch of friends
4. You decide how loud you want the audio
5. You decide the price and type of snacks you purchase to accompany the movie; or you can decide nobody eats during the movie
6. You can ask the audience to switch off their mobile phones
7. You can decide the movie is not so hot, stop it, and return later to watch the rest of it
Watch at the cinema
1. You risk people talking, chewing, slurping loudly, mobile phones ringing, etc.
2. You risk morons in the audience otherwise ruining the film-going experience
3. You risk poor projection
4. You risk poor sound quality
5. You pay for gas to drive to the cinema and perhaps pay a parking fee
6. You pay inflated prices for unhealthy snacks
7. You pay inflated prices for a movie ticket -- I can buy a movie on secondhand DVD from a rental store for the same price (or less) as seeing it once at a multiplex cinema

That's just off the top of my head. I'm sure you can think of many things I left off the list.

I'm not anti-cinema, but I do believe the experience has diminished continuously since the eighties. Most heinous to me is the decline of the true cinema projectionist and the rise of the multiplex staffer who serves at the candybar, sells tickets, cleans the cinemas, and -- oh, yes -- runs the film at the appointed time.

So what can make a person want to visit a cinema instead of waiting to see the movie at home?

It's a social event
Most people enjoy dressing up a little and heading out with friends. Maybe grab something to eat beforehand, or go for coffee after. It's a reason to get out of the house.
It's the big-screen experience
A 50-inch plasma TV is still no match for that big cinema screen. Unless the film is projected out of focus, has splice marks, and the screen has grey splotches where a cup of Coca-Cola splatted against it and they never bothered to pay for proper cleaning.
It's a communal event
I almost lumped this one with It's a social event, but it's not quite the same thing. There's something primal about hundreds of people gathering in a dark, cavernous room, all silent and focussed on the same object (the screen) for hours. When a movie works, and that movie reaches deep into our common humanity, the audience becomes a single entity for a time. We react as one -- we jump at the horrors on screen, choke up as we watch the characters suffer, laugh at the funny stuff, and punch the air when the hero saves the day. In short, the cinema group experience strips away our differences and reminds us that, when you get right down to it, we all share the same emotions and needs. But that's just for movies that work. And when they work, staying at home is simply not an option. For those of my generation, can you imagine not having seen the original Star Wars on the big screen? Do you honestly believe the opening scene would've filled you with the same jaw-dropping sense of awe when watching it on your plasma TV?

This last item touches upon something we're hearing more and more: I don't go to cinemas any more because the movies suck!

Do movies today suck more than movies of ten years ago? That's a personal judgement. For me, I don't get that frisson down the spine that I regularly felt when watching movies during the Eighties. Perhaps it's because I'm older now. But perhaps not. Maybe it's true that films don't connect like they used to, and that's why people are staying away from cinemas. Perhaps the film industry's big players have lost the plot... literally.

I hope this site contributes in some small way to helping you, the budding screenwriter, figure out how to connect deeply with your audience.

Of All The Screenplays In All The World ...

2006-04-29T00:42:00.000+08:00

Chris Farlekas discusses the WGA's list of the 101 greatest screenplays of all-time and some of their authors, e.g. heyday scribes Koch and Mankiewicz.

Of Koch and Casablanca:

As he wrote, he didn't know which man Ingrid Bergman would end up with. He felt it needed to be Paul Henreid, her husband and a great resistance leader against the Nazis. The studio was pressuring for the more conventional leading-man-gets-leading-lady resolution. Koch told me if he'd lost the fight, he believed the movie "might still have been an entertaining melodrama, but certainly not the classic it became."

Screenwriting & Screenwriters – beyond Syd Field (Guest Post)

2006-04-29T00:18:00.000+08:00

Reprinted with permission.

by Kal Bishop

Without denigrating the work and contribution of Syd Field to the art of screenwriting, it is about time many screenwriters moved on.

Syd Field gave us the plot point - a clearer definition of what was previously known as the “twist” - as well as other concepts such as the “pinch” and midpoint. His work is still a valuable start point for screenwriters.

Syd Field’s midpoint analysis moved us towards four-act structure, which is well established in many cultures, whereas western culture still tends to dwell on three acts.

It seems as though Syd Field had some issues with the mid-point, one of them being that the inclusion of the mid point and consequently four act structure does not fit well with all stories – his attempt at preciseness resulted in a consequential lack of broadness and hence greater critical analysis as a template.

Hollywood has implicitly accepted four act structure – most movies now have a high point midway – usually a catastrophic event for the protagonist. Resistance to four-act structure is probably a result of our theatrical heritage.

But moving light years ahead in terms of structure is the Hero’s Journey.

Ironically, Campbell published Hero with a Thousand Faces before Syd Field published his work. Vogler wrote an easy to read update in 1992 (The Writer’s Journey). The Hero’s journey is a well established anthropological analysis of stories across cultures.

Depending on the interpretation, there were 17, 18 or 19 stages to the Hero’s Journey. But a modern, detailed analysis reveals at least 106.

There is some rejection of the Hero’s Journey as a universal template primarily because the archetypes (Mentor, Shape Shifter, Threshold Guardians etc) refer to the Quest, Fable, Fantastic et al genres. However, this is a misunderstanding as a metaphoric and symbolic interpretation leads to such classics as Midnight Cowboy and Get Carter, the original Michael Caine classic.

Ultimately, the Hero’s Journey is a much more sophisticated study of Story Structure than Syd Field’s analysis – and story structure is the most fundamental and critical of the skills that screenwriters need to possess.

Other theorists, such as McKee in Story are not as structure orientated, but their input when debating structure, is also indicative to it’s importance. For example, McKee rightly states that the screenwriting process should involve a step-outline, treatment and then a words-on-paper first draft.

The thing that held us back was this idea that a template had to be broad, which made sense if that template had to explain many stories. But a conceptual leap is the understanding that detailed templates, which may not each explain large numbers of stories, when taken together, can be more useful tools.

Further, whereas Syd Field’s analysis left the screenwriter with yawning gaps - the need to fill 30 and 60 pages – detailed templates overcome this problem.

Whereas Syd Field had difficulty with four acts, we are now playing with story structures with potentially 150 acts. This is the natural result of analysing sequences as opposed to acts.

It is like comparing today’s scientific analyses to Middle Aged analyses using Fire, Water, Earth and Air.

In conclusion, it is time screenwriters moved beyond Syd Field.

A detailed Hero’s Journey analysis and related story structure templates can be found at http://www.managing-creativity.com/

You can also receive a regular, free newsletter by entering your email address at this site.

Kal Bishop, MBA

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kal Bishop is a management consultant based in London, UK. He has consulted in the visual media and software industries and for clients such as Toshiba and Transport for London. He has led Improv, creativity and innovation workshops, exhibited artwork in San Francisco, Los Angeles and London and written a number of screenplays. He is a passionate traveller. He can be reached on http://www.managing-creativity.com/
Source: Articles Factory

Screenwriting With Impact (Guest Post)

2006-04-27T00:24:00.000+08:00

Reprinted with permission.

by: Don Bledsoe

The screenplay you've pounded out on your trusty word processor is finished at last! Before the reader even looks at the title of your script, it must pass the "rifle test." The rifle test tells a professional in seconds whether the script is professionally written or not. Is the screenplay in the right format? Does it look like it was written by a professional screenwriter? Is the script vertical?

The Rifle Test

Hollywood screenwriters know that a reader, agent or producer can tell instantly by fanning the pages back to front if your script is professionally written and in the proper format. Your script will not even get a read at an agency or get studio coverage if it doesn't look right. The typical development executive reads 35-50 scripts a week on their own time, away from the office. After reading hundreds and hundreds of scripts, they can see at a glance if it looks right. If it's not right, it's dumped. It's that simple. If you use a good screenwriting program, then this is an area you won't have to worry about. If you don't have one, at least follow the rules. They're relatively simple. They're also hard and fast and not meant to be deviated from, so don't "improve" upon the formula, just use it. You can get the layout details at ScriptNurse.com for free.

Before you get the screenplay down on paper, watch out for "speed bumps" that are practically guaranteed to stop the reader in his tracks. Remember, there are only TWO TOOLS to work with in writing a screenplay:

ACTION: a description of what is seen on the screen visually
DIALOGUE: what the characters say

Here are some rules and do's and don'ts for writing your screenplay with impact:

Action Description Tips

Don't direct or act: Directors don't like to be told how to shoot a scene. Besides, a good director might do it better than you suggest in the script. Actors don't like to be told how to act, so don't tell them how to play the scene in your script. By using techniques to make your script more "vertical" you can lead the director and the reader where you want them to go. Break up paragraphs into smaller ones so that each paragraph implies a shot. "we see" or "we hear" sounds like you're directing, so don't use them. Instead, the the technique of making your script "vertical" to accomplish the same thing.

Kill the camera: Remove all references to camera movement and angles. If you have to do it more than once or twice in an entire script, there's something wrong with the way you're writing it. Eliminate any "we see" or "we hear" references because "we" don't see or hear. Write the visual action the audience will see on the screen or the words the actors say. The simplicity of screenwriting is what makes it so hard to do. Use the "vertical" technique to lead the reader through the shots.

The verb "is" implies a state of being that cannot be photographed. Only visual action can be put on the screen. Any reference to whom "is thinking," "knows about," "wants to be," or "looks like" needs to be rewritten. Action description doesn't have to be perfect English. This isn't a novel. It DOES have to be colorful, descriptive and visual so the reader can "see" in their heads what you want seen on-screen.

Use strong language and avoid passive voice writing: "Fred is running around crazily" is weak compared to "Fred runs, flailing his arms frantically." Look for any descriptions that talk about "is" or "being." That's weak writing. Make it colorful! Use simple, colorful, visual words. Don't convert verbs into nouns as in the example above. The verb is "runs" -- keep it a verb and you'll have stronger, present tense writing.

Eliminate CUT TO: in your script. It's already implied when you show a new scene heading anyway.

Character Development

If they're good, make them very good. If they're bad, make them really bad. This makes your characters easier to identify with and clearer in the mind of the script reader. We all want to know who to root for and who to despise. Don't make it hard to figure out. It can always be "dumbed down" later.

Write backstories for your characters. Create their past lives and family history. Note their quirks, habits (good and bad), flaws, compulsions, fears, phobias and dark secrets. List things that scare them in the night. Write down every skeleton in their closet. Include parents and siblings, if appropriate. Write down traits others might see as good, redeeming and to be admired. What makes them likeable? What makes others immediately not like them? These all work together to help you understand your characters. It makes them come alive. Creating a past lets you create a future in your screenplay that's real and plausible. Having this understanding leads to you knowing that a character would or wouldn't "do that" or "say that." For example, everyone knows that Indiana Jones has a phobia about snakes that gives him pause. Since he's bigger than life, he faces his fear, but because he has a common phobia, we can all identify with him easily.

Try "casting" your script with a dream cast. Cast each principal role with the biggest name you can think of who is perfect for the part. See that $20 Million Star as the character you're writing. Get their photos and stick them up on a wall with their character name above the photo. When you've got Jack Nicholson speaking your lines, you find out very quickly the kinds of things he simply could not do or would not say.

Real vs. Reel Dialogue

There's real dialogue and "reel" dialogue. If you want real dialogue, just go outside, where there's plenty of it. Reel dialogue in film is different. It's terse and more direct without being "in your face" or "on the nose." Here's where reading good, quality scripts can really help you. If you need help with dialogue, I recommend getting a great dialogue tool called Great Dialogue (www.greatdialogue.com).

Rule of Thumb: In a properly formatted script, if there are more than five lines of dialogue under a character name, it's starting to become a speech. Too many speeches and your script becomes too "talky."

Strike every "well," "now," "listen," "oh," etc. that you find in your dialogue. Actors put those in where it's natural to do so and they only make a script harder to read.

Delete the "pleasantries" and "chit-chat" from scenes. You're just wasting time, boring the reader and keeping them from your story.

Act it out: say the lines out loud as you write them. It's amazing how much this helps.

Let's Start Hacking

It's time to get rid of the weak, passive and pointless from your script. Start by making a backup copy of the script before you get out the hacksaw and start chopping everything to pieces.

Your story might be too long, wanders aimlessly, or lacks impact. Let's thin it out without gutting it. Do this:

Strike every "well," "now," "listen," "oh," etc. that you find in your dialogue. Get to the subject at hand and cut to the chase. Cut out the unnecessary clutter in what your characters say. You can always put it back in if the producer wants it. Actors hate to be told how to act and producers hate reading about that, too.
Look for parentheticals (instructions to the actor in parentheses in the dialogue). Hack them out. Use them ONLY when there's no other way to indicate that a particular line is directed to a specific character out of several in the same scene or if it cannot be done by carefully selecting the words for a character. Parentheticals are speed bumps in a script. Avoid them entirely if possible.
See just how terse you can make the dialogue. Terseness helps to create impact and makes characters seem more forceful and decisive in a drama and funnier in a comedy. When it gets to the point where you're feeling a little uncomfortable with the directness, it's probably about right.
Review the action descriptions. Any "is" or "being" description needs to be re-written to give it impact. Strike references to ANYTHING not seen on the screen, like reminding the reader that "so-and-so was the same guy who..." -- you get the idea. If it can't be seen: HACK IT OUT! Think in master scenes. It's okay to write the interior and exterior scenes at one location as one scene. Use a separate action description paragraph to signal a separate shot without explicitly saying so, to let the reader know we went outside, if you started with INT. BAR - NIGHT. It's a LOT easier to read that way.
Find every instance of a simple word and give it more impact. Get simple, colorful language in your descriptions. Cars don't just "pull up at the curb." They also gasp, lurch, grind, shudder, gurgle, clatter and expire at the curb. Get a good thesaurus or use the one built into your screenwriting or word processing program. The point is -- use it! Also, eliminate big words not commonly used in everyday speech unless it's part of a character's persona.

By now, you should have thinned things out a LOT. Good. You're down to meat and potatoes, if you're lucky. Your script should be more visual, carry more impact and possess tight, crisp dialogue. Now set it aside for at least a week, preferably two. When you come back in one or two weeks, start again and repeat the process. You're done when you run out of things to hack out.

Making Your Script Vertical

A reader is looking for any excuse to dump your screenplay on the ever-growing reject pile. One way to do this is to look for the amount of white space that is seen when doing the "rifle test." Vertical scripts have more white space. How do you make a script vertical? Just break up the densely packed paragraphs into two or three sentence paragraphs. There's a side benefit to this approach, too. All of these smaller paragraphs serve to imply the shots that are needed. It's not good to tell a director how to direct, but it's not bad to lead him down the path. You can do this by the way you write the script and by making it vertical.

Conclusion

There you have it: a few approaches, do's and don'ts, exercises and suggestions. I hope you will put the exercises to a test. You might be very surprised at the results. Perhaps there's a better script inside the one you're working on just waiting to get out.

About The Author

Don Bledsoe
Long wanting to be in "the business," Don Bledsoe started young, producing a short film for NBC while still in high school, worked in the Story Department at Paramount Studios at age 19, and later as an actor and makeup artist in film and television in Hollywood. A self-confessed computer geek, he took up screenwriting in the early 90's and founded Script Nurse in 1999.
ScriptNurse@scriptnurse.com

Screenplay Slug Lines - An Important Element Of Screenwriting (Guest Post)

2006-04-26T12:36:00.000+08:00

Reprinted with permission.

by: Lynne Pembroke

Over the years, I’ve found that new screenwriters frequently have confusions and misunderstandings on the proper way to write slug lines, also known as master scene headings. This article covers the basics of writing industry accepted screenplay slug lines.

Tips On Slug Lines

Scene headings or slug lines, as they are commonly called, are a widely accepted convention of “spec” or “master scene” screenplay form. Over the years, I’ve found that new writers frequently have confusions and misunderstandings on the subject, despite having read a basic book or two on the craft aspects of screenwriting. Hence, the reason for this article.

Every time the “where” or the “when” of your story changes, it’s expected that you’ll reorient the reader as to location and time of day with a new slug line. A slug line is composed of three parts:

INT. or EXT.
Is it an interior or exterior scene?
WHERE
The physical location or name of the set where the action of the scene takes place.
TIME OF DAY
Usually simply DAY or NIGHT.

Examples:

INT. JOE’S BAR AND GRILL – NIGHT
EXT. SANTA MONICA PIER – DAY

Whether a scene is INT or EXT is to some degree relative. In truth, some of your INT scenes may be shot outdoors and some of your EXT scenes shot indoors against a blue screen. For the sake of simplicity and consistency, I recommend that if the action takes place IN something (a building, a car, a spaceship, etc.) label the scene INT. If the scene takes place outdoors, and not in something, label it EXT.

It’s generally considered poor form to use INT/EXT in combination in a slug line. If the action of a scene shifts from INT to EXT, or EXT to INT, write a new slug line. If you find yourself in a situation where you’re inter-cutting rapidly between an INT and an EXT location, chances are you’re usurping the job of the director by writing HOW your story should be filmed rather than simply telling your story in a compelling fashion.

Scene locations should be specific and descriptive. “INT. RESTAURANT”, is a poor slug line in that it’s neither specific enough, nor descriptive enough. Slug line locations such as, "INT. WANG CHOW’S CHINESE JOINT” or, “INT. BIG ED’S GREASY SPOON DINER”, being both descriptive and specific, are far more visual in the impact they have on the reader.

Be consistent in your description of scene locations. Once you’ve labeled a location as JOE’S BAR AND GRILL, it should not mutate into JOE’S RESTAURANT, and then later, THE BAR AND GRILL ON 8TH STREET. After your screenplay is sold, it will be broken down by location and time (day or night) for budget and scheduling purposes. (Obviously, it’s far more efficient to shoot all scenes taking place in the same location at the same time.) Be kind to your readers by labeling scene locations in a consistent manner.

Avoid presenting extraneous information in your slug lines. (EXT. SANTA MONICA PIER – 1912 - POURING RAIN – DAY) Remember that the audience will never see your slug lines. If it’s important, and not self-evident, that it’s pouring rain and the year is 1912, find a way to present that information via action or dialogue in a filmable way.

Keep your slug line extensions simple. Ninety-nine percent of the time, “DAY” or “NIGHT” will suffice. And again I would remind writers that the audience won’t ever see your slug lines. I know of no good reason to indicate action is consecutive by using, “CONTINUOUS” as a slug line extension. If action is “continuous” it should be self-evident.

Are some very good high-priced writers non-conventional in their handling of slug lines? You bet! But keep in mind as a new writer, if you follow the generally accepted conventions of screenplay form and format, you’re far less likely to distract the reader from the tale you seek to tell.

Copyright (c) 2004 Lynne Pembroke and Jim Kalergis, Coverscript.com

Lynne Pembroke and Jim Kalergis
Coverscript.com
URL: http://www.coverscript.com

About The Author

Lynne Pembroke is a published author, poet, screenwriter and owner of Coverscript.com, with over 18 years of experience in screenwriting and screenplay analysis helping individual writers, screenwriting competitions, agents, studios, producers and script consulting companies. Services include screenplay, TV script and treatment analysis, ghostwriting, rewriting and adaptation of novel to screenplay. Jim Kalergis is a working screenwriter. Visit http://www.coverscript.com for details.

pemburger@aol.com

Learn How to Use Commas Properly (Guest Post)

2006-04-25T20:10:00.000+08:00

Intro: In my earlier post, How to be a screenwriter in 3 easy steps!, I point out that to become a competent screenwriter you need to master two important talents: writing and storycrafting. I do not believe they are the same thing. Anyone can learn to write effectively, but that alone won't turn them into an expert storyteller. On the other hand, poor writing skills will always sabotage the work of a good storyteller.

As a writer, you must have a compelling vision and you must commit it to words in a compelling manner. As a screenwriter, you need to write your story so that the words become transparent and all that remains is the experience of your story. Your chances of selling that screen story diminish just a little every time a reader of your screenplay gets jerked back to reality because of poor writing or misspelling.

I knew a writer who produced thousands of pages of manuscript. The problem was, he had a poor grasp of punctuation. A common mistake of his that turned up every few pages was a 'run-on sentence'. That happens when you place a comma where you really need a period, it's a common mistake. (And there's an example for you.) Part of the solution to this grammatical bad habit is to remember: one thought/idea per sentence. The rest of the solution is reading Linda's article about commas...

Reprinted with permission.

----------

Learn How to Use Commas Properly

by Linda Correli

This article features punctuation rules of comma usage, which are indispensable in the process of writing.

The comma is the most frequently used internal mark of punctuation. Of all the marks of punctuation, it has the widest variety of uses.

Using commas with dates, addresses, greetings, names, and large numbers

Commas are used with full dates (month, day, and year) but omitted with partial dates (month and year):

Gas has been first used by the Germans on October 14, 1914, when they fired a prototype of modern tear gas from artillery near Pyres. – Paul Fussel
In June 1985 Beth Henley was working on her fifth play.

Exception: No comma is used to separate parts of a date that begins with the day.

The atomic bomb was first dropped on 6 August 1945.

Commas are required between most of the elements in place names and addresses:

Miami, Dade County, Florida
Writing Lab, University of California, Riverside

Exception: # Do not use comma to separate street number from the name of the street:

15 Amsterdam Avenue

# Do not use comma to separate a state from zip code:

5625 Waverly Avenue, La Jolla, California 92037

In complete sentence, a comma must follow the last element of place name, addresses, or dates:

He shot himself twice, once in the chest and then in the head, in a police station in Washington, D.C., with the cops looking on. – Red Smith
July 4, 1776, was the day the Declaration of Independence was signed.

Commas are used to set off the names of someone directly addressed in the sentence:

A few years ago, Mr. Taplow, I spoke to you about the possibility of a summer job.

Commas are used after the greeting in a friendly or informal letter, and after the closing of the letter of any kind:

Dear Mary,
Sincerely,
Yours truly,

Commas are used to set off titles or degrees after a person’s name:

Barbara Kane, M.D., delivered the commencement address.

Exception: But Jr., Sr. may be written without commas:

Sammy Davis Jr. started his singing career at age four.

The comma is used after the last part of a proper name when the last part comes first:

Lunt, George D.

Commas are used to mark groups of three digits in large numbers, counting from the right:

Antarctica is 5,400,000 square miles of ice-covered land.

Using commas with conjunctions

The comma is used before a conjunction (and, but, for, or, nor, so, yet) linking two independent clauses.

Canadians watch America closely, but most Americans know little about Canada.

Exception: Some very brief independent clauses may not require a comma.

We dickered and then we made a deal. – Red Smith
I have seen the future and now I’m tired of it. – Gerald Nachman

If one or both independent clauses have internal punctuation (especially commas), a writer might choose to separate two clauses with a semicolon and a coordinating conjunction so that the reader can easily see the main division of the sentence.

Genetically, we are nearly identical to mankind fifty thousand years ago; and some of us delight in the continuity represented by this, while others may be appalled. – Edward Hoagland

Comma alone should be used between two independent clauses (comma splice):

“I plan to travel to England”, my friend said happily. “I want to visit Shakespeare’s birthplace.”

When a conjunction adverb joins the independent clauses in a compound sentence, it is preceded by a semicolon:

Petra was absent on Friday; consequently, she missed the chemistry test.

The use of a comma to join coordinate clauses is more common in novels, stories, and some types of journalistic writing than it is in serious expository prose. Although it is hard to make general statements here, it is safe to say this practice is the exception, not the rule. The comma is used by most writers to join coordinate clauses in the following situation:

# When the series of sentences takes the form of a climax:

I came, I saw, I conquered.
The leaves are turning to gold, squirrels are fattening, hunting time is near.

# When the statements form an antithesis, or are arranged in the “it was not merely this, it was mainly that” formula:

It was more than an annoyance, it was a pang. – Winston S. Churchill
To allow the Mahdi to enter Khartoum would not merely mean to return the whole of the Sudan to barbarism, it would be a menace to the safety of Egypt herself. – Lyton Strachey

About the author:

Linda Correli is a staff writer of http://www.CustomResearchPapers.us and an author of the popular online tutorial for students "What Teachers Want: Master the Art of Essay Writing in 10 Days", available at http://www.Go2Essay.com. Visit Linda’s web log at http://custom-research-papers.blogspot.com. Source: http://www.articlesfactory.com

The Alternative To Index Cards

2006-04-25T13:35:00.000+08:00

TreePad Lite is a free program I've used for many years, and I can't imagine being without it.

If you craft stories, and you have no satisfactory method for managing your projects, you need this program. It is truly free (no nags, ads, malware), it's robust, and it has a long and distinguished history.

So what is it exactly? TreePad is a text editor that organizes your information into a tree structure (hierarchy). There are many bells and whistles, of course, but essentially that's what it does. And it does it very well.

For each of my writing projects I maintain a master treepad file/database containing various branches for things like:

Character concordance
Plot ideas
Research notes and links
Story treatment, breakdown, drafts

There are some simple but important features in the program that make it enormously useful. Keyboard shortcuts is one of those. You don't want to stop typing every few seconds to reach for the mouse.

Another is hyperlinks. Although TreePad Lite works with plain text only, you can drop in hyperlinks and activate them with one click. That comes in very handy for linking to files on your local drive or to pages on the Net. For example, for each character in my project file I like to place a link to a picture stored in an images folder on my hard drive. Then, when I'm examining the character information within Treepad, I put the cursor anywhere inside the link text, hit CTRL+H (or click on the 'follow hyperlink' button), and my graphics program opens showing the picture. You can place a hyperlink to any file type and, when activated, Treepad opens the file using the application associated with the file type (e.g. MS Excel for .xls files).

Now, what about index cards?

Writers and storytellers have used the index-card method for a long time. It works like this:

Break down your story into its component scenes/units
For each scene, write a short identifying header at the top of an index card. You can include more information on the card, and you can be as elaborate as you prefer with colour coding, graphics, etc., but try to keep it simple so you can identify cards quickly at a glance.
Fix the cards to a wall, pin-up board, or any other suitable surface. You want to see them all at once and you want to be able to rearrange them quickly and with minimum fuss. Also, you might like to include blank cards anywhere you know there is a missing scene or gap to be filled in the story
Order the cards, reorder them, add cards, remove cards — in short, juxtapose the elements of your story until you find something you are happy with
Having locked down your story content and format, go write it!

For whatever reason, the option of using index cards like this may not be available to you. So long as you have a PC, TreePad is the next best solution. Use it to create nodes equivalent to index cards. Shuffle the nodes around until you find a compelling story structure. Print it out. Think about it. Go back to TreePad, clone the first timeline, and shuffle some more to make a new version. Print that out and compare it with the first hardcopy. Which is better? Etc.

There is a program called Writer's Blocks that tries to faithfully duplicate the index-card method on the PC, but IMO it's overkill and unnecessary. A 17-inch screen cannot recreate the experience of arranging index cards on an eight-foot-wide corkboard. What you want to do is recreate the process (quickly arranging units of information), not the format (physically moving index cards), and that can be achieved using TreePad or similar hierarchical-notes programs.

[end]

Writing a Child Story: 8 Elements to Consider (Guest Post)

2006-04-25T01:10:00.000+08:00

Intro: Paul's article is nominally pitched at writing children's stories, but his advice applies equally to screenwriting and storytelling. Don't let the simplicity of this list fool you. If you pay careful attention to each of these story elements, you will have a crowd pleaser on your hands, no matter what medium you use to tell your story.

Reprinted with permission.

----------

Writing a Child Story: 8 Elements to Consider
by: Paul Arinaga

While writing an entertaining child story is obviously more art than science, most successful child stories pay attention to the following 8 elements.

#1: Theme

A good child story has an underlying theme. The underlying theme of "Peter and the Wolf," for example, is "don't tell lies" or "be honest." The underlying theme of "The Sneetches" by Dr. Seuss is "don't be racist" or "all (Sneetches) are created equal." A theme can be the moral of the story, or an insight or viewpoint that the story conveys. Common themes are courage, love, perseverance, friendship, etc.

As an underlying theme, the theme usually emerges subtly as the story unfolds. A direct statement of the theme usually comes across as preachy and uninteresting. Remember what your high school English teacher used to say: "show, don't tell!"

Also, keep your theme positive and constructive. Your story may be sad, but make sure it's not negative, cynical or depressing!

#2: Plot and Pace

Plot is what happens in a story. Pace is the speed at which the story develops.

Generally, a simple chronological unfolding of events works best for storybooks (no flashbacks or complicated jumping around in time).

The plot usually revolves around a dominant problem or conflict which the main character must resolve. The problem or conflict may be with another character, with circumstances or even internal to the main character (e.g. overcoming their own fears).

The plot usually proceeds through phases: beginning of the conflict, initial success or difficulties, further difficulties or reversals, final resolution or victory, and outcome. As the story progresses through these phases the conflict becomes more intense and increases the dramatic tension, until it the story climaxes and the conflict is resolved.

For the most part, the main character succeeds or fails through his or her own efforts. In fact, it is through this process that the character learns or grows, and this lesson or growth typically conveys the theme.

TIP: Create a thumbnail layout/mockup of your text. This way you'll be able to better judge how your story unfolds and its optimal pacing. For more information please visit: http://www.child-stories-bank.com/writing-child-book.html.

Proper pacing of your story is essential. Too slow and the reader/listener will lose interest, too fast and they won't have time to get excited or they will miss important details. The pace in storybooks should be fairly brisk without "rushing." Avoid lengthy introductions or descriptions of the setting. Start the action immediately from the beginning and bring the story promptly to a close at the end.

Even more so than adults, children appreciate action. So, keep the pace of your story fairly quick by using action and unfolding events. Don't get bogged down in lengthy descriptions or reflections. Again, "show, don't tell!"

#3: Narrative Voice and Point of View

Narrative voice is the viewpoint from which the story is told. Most stories are told either in the "first person" (from the perspective of "I", "I did this") or "third person" (from the perspective of "They", "They did that"). If you choose to write from the first person perspective, you'll need to decide which character is the narrator. Whichever point of view you choose, make sure that you stick with it. Jumping from one point of view to another can be very confusing.

TIP: Study storybooks similar to yours or the books of a publisher you're targeting to see what narrative voice they use.

#4: Characters

Creating interesting characters is as important as developing a solid plot. The more readers can relate to your characters, the more they will like your storybook.

So, how do you make your characters come alive? As with real people, characters come alive when they have real characteristics: personality traits, quirks, physical traits, mannerisms, a certain way of talking, fears, joys, motivations, etc. If you had to describe yourself or your best friend in a few words, what would the salient characteristics be? Try to identify one major character trait and a few minor ones for each character. Write out brief profiles if that helps.

TIP: Apart from describing them, you can also reveal the characteristics of your characters by showing how they respond to situations, or through the way they talk.

An important point is to be consistent. A character should be "true to character" in order to be believable and gain the reader's acceptance.

#5: Setting

Set your story in a place and time that will be interesting and/or familiar.

#6: Style and Tone

Remember your primary audience: children. Write accordingly, using (mostly) short words, short sentences and short paragraphs. Write simply and directly so you don't lose your reader (also, don't forget that a lot of children will only listen to your story as it's read to them; it needs to be easy to listen to and understand like stories have been throughout time).

TIP: Before the written word, stories were transmitted orally. A good story still should "sound" good. So, try reading your story aloud. Does it flow naturally and capture the listener's attention? Are there opportunities to use your voice (tone, loudness, etc.) to make the listener feel like they're there with the characters?

Use direct quotes (e.g. "'Jump!' she said.") instead of indirect quotes (e.g. "She told him to jump.")

What is the tone of your story? Is it an epic story? A funny, wacky story? An adventure story? A scary story?

Make your writing suit the atmosphere or tone that you wish to create.

#7: Dialogue

Read your dialogue out loud to make sure that it doesn't sound stilted or unnatural. Does your character talk the way people would expect him to?

#8: Openings and Closings

You need to hook your reader from the beginning, so start your story with a "bang!". You want people to finish reading your child story feeling satisfied so make sure that the main conflict or problem is resolved, even if the story doesn't have a "happy" ending.

About The Author

Paul Arinaga is founder of the Child Stories Bank (www.child-stories-bank.com). The Child Stories Bank provides FREE original children's stories as well as resources to help writers create and get their stories published, and a directory of child storybook illustrators.

© 2005–06 Paul Arinaga. All Rights Reserved.

Discovering the Great Movie Idea for Your Next Screenplay (Guest Post)

2006-04-23T01:48:00.000+08:00

Reprinted with permission.

by Gordy Hoffman

I am lucky. I have no problems coming up with very good ideas for movies. If I never had another idea for the rest of my life, I would not make a sizable dent in the ones I already have. Screenwriters who struggle with coming up with an idea tend to be visibly annoyed when I tell them this. I think I’m comfortable sharing this with others because I know movie ideas really mean nothing and please nobody in and of themselves, so there’s not much to brag about. I guess you can get lucky and sell an idea, but in terms of what’s important, a motion picture screened in front of people, a great idea is simply a member of the orchestra that achieves that vision.

I’m not sure where all the ideas come from, but I can tell you where I was, and by telling you this, perhaps this will help you come up with your idea. First, you should know what you want to write. A feature? For the studios? For yourself to direct? Maybe a low budget script for someone else to direct. Will it be shot on film or digital video? Are you looking for an idea for a short film? Perhaps you have a particular genre in mind.

Parameters are excellent tools for creativity. The irony is restriction spawns wonderfully imaginative ideas. If you can write about anything or anybody, with absolutely no conditions, it becomes harder to settle and find that jewel of an idea. So determine your conditions, every one, and embrace them, because there you will find the frame of your idea. In other words, knowing your movie has to be shot on digital video in four weeks with two Asian women in their thirties at an antiques store will narrow your thinking and concentrate your imaginative power.

Is it necessary to have parameters before we come up with an idea? Of course not. You can always find a very special idea and that idea will determine it’s own boundaries. But if you have needs for your screenplay, determine those needs, and it will help.

So after you have determined the conditions for your screenplay, or if you have not, now you can come up with your idea. What’s a good place to start? The newspaper. Read a thick newspaper. Read through all sections. Read the obituaries. This is our world. Artists look at the world and become moved to express themselves. I read the newspaper anyway, but many times I find something, even one line, which is highly inspiring. By looking through the newspaper with fresh eyes, we become open again to what affects us. I also find the newspaper will confirm instincts I might already have about an idea.

And make sure you read the section you normally never read at breakfast. Trust me.

Okay, you’re reading the newspaper, and you might find something interesting. Documentaries can also be great reservoirs for inspiration. Awesome documentaries abound these days and they often contain imagery, facts, and revelations that may provoke an idea out of left field. Now don’t run out and rent 20 docs and lean into your DVD waiting for the logline to come out of the screen and hit you over the head. Just watch what is interesting and forget about what you need.

Walk where you would normally drive. Take the train to work if you don’t. Get on a public bus, or go rent a car and drive. Spend the day at the airport. Take a different way to work each day for a week. Make a list of ten stores you would never for the life of you visit for any reason at all, go to all ten and browse for 20 minutes each. These disruptions in your environment will open your eyes. You’ll be able to take in more of your world, and it will effect you and make you think.

We’ve run out of ideas because we are bored by what we see. You’re shut down. You don’t need to get on a plane or visit a foreign country to clear your head and help you focus. Your distant planet is down the street, walking distance.

Another inspiring action is to take the day and go to a series of garage sales. The homes, the neighborhoods, the people and the stuff they’re trying to sell you will definitely make you think. There are a million stories in what people pick up and keep as belongings in their lives. Try an estate sale. I have left estate sales feeling as if I knew the personal habits and longings of the recently deceased, simply by the possessions they kept until their death. It’s not difficult to find these sales, they happen every weekend and right close by.

Take up a new sport. Enroll in a language class. Sign up for a course at the Red Cross. I picked up a basketball one day and start playing after many years and I felt like I had a new movie in my head every time I stepped on the court. Getting an education in something new gets us humble and that humility keeps us open to new information and this makes us creative. If we feel like a master, we’ve run out of ideas. As students, we accept there’s more out there, and that attitude will spawn discovery and fresh perspective.

Finally, when I don’t know what I should write about, I ask myself what’s troubling me. If you take a second to pause and get quiet with your heart, you will find you desperately what to say something very important. Let that something speak.

One more thing. Please don’t write about what you know, like they always say. Let somebody else do that, and you, you write what you want.

Article URL:

http://www.bluecatscreenplay.com/About/advice.php

Copyright © 2006 BlueCat Screenplay Competition

About The Author

Winner of the Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award at the Sundance Film Festival for LOVE LIZA , Gordy Hoffman has written and directed three digital shorts for Fox Searchlight. He made his feature directorial debut with his script, A COAT OF SNOW, which world premiered at the 2005 Locarno International Film Festival. He is also the founder of the BlueCat Screenplay Competition. Dedicated to develop and celebrate the undiscovered screenwriter, BlueCat provides written screenplay analysis on every script entered. In addition, Gordy acts as a script consultant for screenwriters, offering personalized feedback on their scripts through his consultation service, www.screenplaynotes.com. For more articles by Gordy on screenwriting, visit www.bluecatscreenplay.com.

Signpost 2: Throw Many Spanners

2006-04-22T12:19:00.000+08:00

Plans exist only to go horribly awry.

Want to bore your audience? Have the hero map out a plan and then have the hero execute it flawlessly. Let the yawns commence.

The more that goes wrong for your hero, the more chance of conflict, and the more dramatic your story. Having your hero map out a plan sets up expectations in the audience about what should happen if everything goes to plan. Of course, your job as a storycrafter is to ensure very little goes according to plan. Your secondary task is to figure out how to make things go awry in unexpected and thrilling ways.

Example (from memory): La Femme Nikita. Her boss instructs her, "Once you make the hit, head for the bathroom. You can escape through the window." The assassin makes the hit, flees to the bathroom, yanks open the window — it's bricked up from the outside!

Horror Movie Scripts - 10 Steps To Writing A Horror Screenplay (Guest Post)

2006-04-22T00:46:00.000+08:00

Reprinted with permission.

by: Henrik Holmberg

A horror movie has certain rules. If you break too many the audience will be disappointed.

This is a very short, no fluff, blueprint of how to write a horror script.

The Hook. Start with a bang. Step right into a suspense scene. ("Scream" opens with a terrifying sequence with Drew Barrymore on the phone with a killer)
The Flaw. Introduce your hero. Give him a flaw. Before you can put your hero in jeopardy we must care for him. We must want our hero to succeed. So make him human. (In "Signs" Mel Gibson plays a priest who has lost his faith after his wife died)
The Fear. A variant of The Flaw. The hero has a fear. Maybe a fear of heights, or claustrophobia. (In "Jaws" Roy Scheider has a fear of water. At the end he has to conquer his fear by going out onto the ocean to kill the shark)
No Escape. Have your hero at an isolated location where he can't escape the horror. (Like the hotel in "The Shining")
Foreplay. Tease the audience. Make them jump at scenes that appear scary -- but turn out to be completely normal. (Like the cat jumping out of the closet) Give them some more foreplay before bringing in the real monster.
Evil Attacks. A couple of times during the middle of the script show how evil the monster can be -- as it attacks its victims.
Investigation. The hero investigates, and finds out the truth behind the horror.
Showdown. The final confrontation. The hero has to face both his fear and the monster. The hero uses his brain, rather than muscles, to outsmart the monster. (At the end of "The Village" the blind girl tricks the monster to fall into the hole in the ground)
Aftermath. Everything's back to the way it was from the beginning -- but the hero has changed for the better or for the worse. (At the end of "Signs" Mel Gibson puts on his clerical collar again -- he got his faith back)
Evil Lurks. We see evidence that the monster may return somewhere..somehow..in the future..(Almost all "Friday The 13'th"-movies end with Jason showing signs of returning for another sequel)

Now you can start writing your horror screenplay. Good luck!

About The Author

Henrik Holmberg writes horror screenplays for indie filmmakers. Visit his website here http://www.nocashfilm.com.

Film writers discuss the art and craft in "Masterclass"

2006-04-11T21:36:00.002+08:00

By Gregory McNamee Sun Apr 9, 9:37 PM ET
[snip]

LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter) - Want to make it as a Hollywood screenwriter? Then (1) buy a lot of index cards and fill your walls with exactingly mapped-out plots and characters, (2) don't show anyone your first draft, and (3) don't tell the director where to put the camera.
Plenty of directors, producers and actors might disagree, but most writers quietly believe (or wish) that they are central to the filmmaking enterprise, a sentiment that runs through the interviews Kevin Scott collects in "Screenwriters' Masterclass: Screenwriters Talk About Their Greatest Movies." But more than argue their importance, those interviewees pass along plenty of helpful hints about the writer's work, so that Scott's book lives up to its title.

If you need some motivation, head over to Yahoo and read this article. You'll sigh with relief when reminded that even A-list screenwriters wrestle constantly with the dreaded blank page.

UPDATE, May 2011: original article gone, so repointed link to cached archive.org copy.

Wikipedia snuffs Alien 5 (rumoured movie)

2006-04-04T21:52:00.000+08:00

Here is a Wikipedia article that hit the brick wall of 'AFD' ("Wikipedia is not a crystal ball").

It references my Alien 5 blog piece in the External Links section, so I figured I would keep a copy on RageAgainstThePage.

Introduction

The Alien movie franchise began with Ridley Scott's 1979 film of the same name. The franchise hatched three more installments: Aliens (1986), Alien³ (1992), and Alien: Resurrection (1997). In 2004, a cross-over installment Alien vs. Predator landed in cinemas.

Isn't Alien vs. Predator the 5th film in the Alien series?

No, it's not considered part of the core Alien franchise, therefore the tag Alien 5 refers instead to the unproduced fifth film in the canonical Alien movie series. Paul W. S. Anderson, writer and director of Alien vs. Predator, explains:

"What happened to Alien 5 anyway?! Who's doing that?!" he laughs, before adding that he thinks AvP shouldn't be considered the fifth film in the Alien series. "I would hope [it's not looked at that way], because it's a prequel anyway, so it doesn't even take place in the same timeline as the Sigourney Weaver film. You know, when I did AvP, it was very much that I felt like I was making a standalone film that wouldn't interfere with an Alien 5 or a Predator 3, which are both movies that I would like to see." — "Paul Anderson Not on Alien 6", by Scott Collura, Now Playing Magazine, December 7, 2004, retrieved February 23, 2006

Will there be another Alien movie?

Although many years have passed since the last installment in 1997, and despite a downward trend in box-office receipts with each installment, a new Alien movie cannot be ruled out:

Studios know that old properties can be revived with the right combination of talent
Sigourney Weaver has continued to express interest in another installment
Both James Cameron and Ridley Scott said they would consider directing another installment
The cross-over film Alien vs. Predator made more than $171 million dollars (USD) worldwide in cinemas, proving that audiences remain interested in the Alien and Predator franchises
The time between releasing the sequels was seven, six, and five years respectively (and another seven if you include Alien vs. Predator). So historically, a long interval between film releases has not significantly eroded audience interest. This may be in part due to the multi-media nature of the franchise (movies, comics, games), which helps to keep the Alien iconography afloat in the public consciousness.

20th Century Fox controls the rights to the Alien movie franchise. A fifth film can happen only with Fox's approval, unless they sell the property to another studio (very unlikely for the reasons listed above). At this time there is no indication that Alien 5 is in official development at Fox studios.

Rumours and speculation — cast and crew

At various times since 1997, it seemed that an Alien 5 movie was finally moving forward. Cast or crew member from the earlier films have speculated to the media about a new Alien movie sequel, and the media have pounced on this information as a 'done deal'. Those quotes are collected here.

As stated above, Alien 5 is not in official development at Fox studios. If and when the movie gets an official go-ahead, we'll record that milestone here.

1997

Please contribute content for this period.

1998

Please contribute content for this period.

1999

Please contribute content for this period.

2000

Please contribute content for this period.

2001

Sigourney Weaver will receive $22 million — a record for an actress — to do a fifth Alien film, Britain's Sunday Express reports. Alien 5 reportedly will be set on Earth for the first time and will be written by Buffy the Vampire Slayer creator Joss Whedon. "I've always wanted to do one where we go back to the planet from where the alien originally came or even get to Earth," Weaver told the newspaper. The film would hit theaters in 2004, the 25th anniversary of the original's release. — "Alien Resurrection", tvguide.com, February 5, 2001, retrieved February 18, 2006

Sigourney Weaver: "I was interested to read that I was doing a fifth film for a phenomenal amount of money [$22m]. Unfortunately, it wasn't true. At least the sum. And I haven't really talked to Fox about making another." She added that while it was very likely a script for a fifth Alien was "lying around at Fox somewhere", she had not been approached by the film company. — "Sigourney denies Alien 5 role", BBC News, February 21, 2001, retrieved February 16, 2006

Sigourney Weaver again denied rumors she's getting $25 million to appear in a fifth Alien movie. "The amount was thrilling," Weaver told TV Guide. "I'm supporting my husband's [Manhattan] theater, so he was thrilled that he was going to be able to sign up for another five-year lease," she joked. "I would have to kill a few people to get that salary." But she said there are no plans for a fifth Alien movie. "As far as I know, there is no truth to any of it. My agents both called me and said, 'This is in the paper,' and I said, 'You've got to be kidding me!' [...] I think if we ever did another Alien, I would prefer that it be on a much smaller, sort of character-driven level," she said. "If I were more enterprising and less lazy, maybe I would come up with something that would be good. I don't feel it is quite finished." She said that a script for a fifth movie does exist. "I have never read it, and I have never asked to read it," she said. "I think 20th Century Fox's plan is to make it Alien vs. Predator, and I would just as soon not be in that, although I am sure I could whip them both." — "Alien 5 Rumors Are False", Sci Fi Wire, March 2001, retrieved February 18, 2006

Joss Whedon denied a rumor that he had written the fifth script. "There is not one shred of truth to it. I have no idea where [the rumor] came from. I'll tell you, there was a time when I would have been interested in that, but I am not interested in making somebody else's franchise anymore. Any movie I make will be created by me." — "Alien 5 Rumors Are False", Sci Fi Wire, March 2001, retrieved February 18, 2006

Sigourney Weaver says she will meet with Ridley Scott to informally discuss a new Alien movie and 'throw around ideas.' — "Headlines", Dark Horizons, October 1, 2001, retrieved 8 February, 2006

A report that 'Fox shot down a supposed final draft script of Alien 5: Invasion.' — "Alien 5, Bye Bye Bye" by edward AT filmjerk DOT com, FilmJerk.com, December 3, 2001, retrieved 8 February, 2006

2002

Please contribute content for this period.

2003

Sigourney Weaver: "I know that Ridley Scott and I’ve talked a couple of times because people are always coming up to me and saying 'What about Alien 5?' In the current atmosphere where there is so much going on on earth, I can understand people wanting to see an adventure that’s far away and so I, myself, would love to go and see something happening on another planet. You know, out by Mars or something. But we don’t have any definite plans." — "Weaver confirms 'Alien 5' talks", by Thomas Chau (tom AT cinecon DOT com), Cinema Confidential, March 14, 2003, retrieved February 16, 2006

Sigourney Weaver: "Ridley and I have talked about it a couple of times. He has some ideas," the actress told the Chicago Sun Times. "If we developed a good script, I'd love to play Ripley again ... The only thing I'm not interested in is going to earth," she said. "I saw that 'Star Trek' movie where they went to earth and... yawn. I think it's more fun to go to a foreign planet." — "Weaver, Scott eye another 'Aliens' film" by JAM!Movies, Canoe Network, April 23, 2003, retrieved February 5, 2006

James Cameron: James Cameron was asked on the BBC what he thought about the third Alien movie. After slating it, he revealed that he was ready to rectify this by making Alien 5. Heres the report from DarkHorizons: "Hated it. Simple as that. I hated what they did.... I couldn't stand Alien 3 - how they could just go in there and kill off all these great characters we introduced in aliens, and the correlation between mother and daughter. It stunk, but hopefully I'll get a chance to rectify all that". You mean the talk about him being tied to "Alien 5" is true? "To an extent. yes. We're looking at doing another one. Something similar to what we did with Aliens. A bunch of great characters, and of course Sigourney. I've even discussed the possibility of putting him [Arnold Schwarzenegger] into the Alien movie" — "James Cameron Ready To Make 'Alien 5'", KillerMovies, July 7, 2003, retrieved February 16, 2006

Ridley Scott: "Fox and Sigourney Weaver have contacted me, they want to conclude this series with the one who has begun it. [...] But there are not even serious talks. I don't really know what I could do unless I go back to the questions stated in the first episode. Where does the crashed ship on the planet with this mysterious extra-terrestrial come from ? We could wonder wether [sic] massive destruction weapons (which could threaten the Earth) had been used or not. I could be inspired by THE WAR OF THE WORLDS" — PlanetAVP, by Nathan AT planetavp DOT com, October 1, 2003, retrieved February 6, 2006

2004

Sigourney Weaver: "What I was saying probably was that Ridley Scott and I had talked about doing one more where we go back to the original planet and see what these creatures came out of, but I think that it would be probably unlikely that a major studio would go for it only because one of the lead characters would be a 55-year-old woman," Weaver said. "I don't think the audience would care at all because I don't think we're as ageist as the business is. So I think that we'd be game ... We're both so busy that I'm not going to sit down and write the whole script. And I didn't rush to see Alien vs. Predator which looked awful to me, like a video game. But I just hope that the alien won, because predator is such a stupid looking creature." But would a studio really resist the opportunity to get Ridley Scott and Sigourney Weaver back together for an Alien movie? "It would have to be Fox because they own it. I think Ridley would have to stamp his foot a few times, but would they do it? I don't know. Maybe they would give us a pretty low budget to do it. The first one, we made for $14 million. Of course, that was the dark ages in 1978, but I don't think it takes a lot of money. You just have to think. I don't know, I'm never out here long enough to call Ridley and say, 'So, what's happening.' But we do feel there's no rush really. The planet will still be there. I just have to be unemployed long enough to come up with a good idea. It's fun. I miss those clothes." — "Sigourney Weaver on Alien Future", Latino Review, page undated (estimated as 2004 because she is on a junket for The Village), retrieved February 5, 2006

Sigourney Weaver: "Ridley Scott and I have talked about doing a movie where we'd go back to the original planet and get rid of them once and for all," Weaver said in an interview. "I'm not sure where my allegiances would lie, but that would be the main reason why I'd be curious to go back and sort of see inside of Ripley who would win [...] I'm not very organized, and I'm always pretty busy, so it's not like I'm writing the treatment and sending it to Ridley and saying, 'We've got to do this,'" she said. "I think it's an interesting series, but I'm happy with what we've done. We haven't compromised it. I really did die [in Alien 3] to avoid any contact with Alien vs. Predator. That was why I disappeared after the third one, because I'd heard that was an idea." Asked flat-out if she thinks she portrayed Ripley for the last time in Alien: Resurrection, the fourth and last movie in the series, Weaver paused and then replied, "It doesn't feel complete to me, for some reason." — "Weaver Considers Alien Future", Scifiwire, July 21, 2004, retrieved 18 February, 2006

Sigourney Weaver: The actress also said there will probably be a fifth Alien film, but she won't be in it. "I know there's a script, but I haven't read it", she said. "Never say never, but I'm pretty sure this thing is over for me," she added. — "Weaver: Lara Croft is not a heroine", by Daniel Kilkelly, digital spy, September 18, 2004, retrieved February 18, 2006

Unconfirmed report that 20th Century Fox has asked Paul W. S. Anderson to write the next Alien movie. — "Paul W.S. Anderson Pens 'Alien 6'" by Garth Franklin, Dark Horizons, October 18, 2004, retrieved February 5, 2006

Paul W. S. Anderson: A story broke a few weeks ago which indicated that AvP writer-director Paul W. S. Anderson would be scripting an Alien 6. [...] "That's not a reality," he says. "I've heard that. I've been doing press lately for AvP and a lot of people said that. I don't know where that came from. It's not something I've been approached about." [...] "What happened to Alien 5 anyway?! Who's doing that?!" he laughs, before adding that he thinks AvP shouldn't be considered the fifth film in the Alien series. "I would hope [it's not looked at that way], because it's a prequel anyway, so it doesn't even take place in the same timeline as the Sigourney Weaver film. You know, when I did AvP, it was very much that I felt like I was making a standalone film that wouldn't interfere with an Alien 5 or a Predator 3, which are both movies that I would like to see." When asked what he would like to see from a new Alien picture, the filmmaker has the perfect fanboy answer: "I'd heard that Cameron had his idea for it so I'd like to see that!" — "Paul Anderson Not on Alien 6", by Scott Collura, Now Playing Magazine, December 7, 2004, retrieved February 23, 2006

Alec Gillies: "Everything that I'm hearing from the studio suggests that there isn't going to be another Alien movie. And definitely not another Predator movie. They (the franchises) had been declining at the box office steadily, with each film. The box office just tapered off. [...] We get people coming up to us and saying we loved [Alien] Resurrection, or [Alien] number three was my favourite and so on – and who wouldn’t want to see Ridley Scott do another Alien film? But I don’t know what the budget of that movie would be because the reality is, I don’t want to say they’re cult films, but they’re not movies that make a hundred million dollars. But that’s why they’re hoping to get folks like Ridley Scott involved. I’d love to see it. I think there are worlds there to be explored. I think its hard to create the magical that you had with the first one, Cameron did it beautifully by expanding…and the more sequels there are the more parameters are set up. At some point, you have to burst out of them." — "Alec Gillies waxes lyrical on AvP 2", by Clint Morris, Moviehole, December 14, 2004, retrieved February 23, 2006

2005

Tom Rothman: Fox money-man Tom Rothman caught up with IESB at the premiere of "Fantastic Four" and decided to wet our under-briefs with news on a potential "Alien 5", with Ridley Scott returning to the helm. "Every time I see Ridley Scott he still talks about Alien so there's always a possibility [of him doing the next one]", he says. "I don't think it's near-term, I think he has a couple of other movies he wants to do first, but we have a deal with Ridley and it's always possible". — "Rothman on a Scott-helmed Alien 5", by Clint Morris, Moviehole, July 8, 2005, retrieved February 16, 2006

Ridley Scott: Went in on a casting call for CBS's NUMBERS this week, and to my surprise, Ridley Scott - exec.producer- was there. I got to shake the man's hand after my read (he wasn't involved in casting - not these small parts anyway) and asked him about an online rumor about an Alien 5. So here's the deal, straight from the horse's mouth. "I'd love to - and we're talking", he said. I asked him would it star the originals and he said Sigourney's on-board, and he hopes Lance Henriksen might be interested too. But bottom line "Too early to even speculate...we haven't even finished the script yet". — "ALIEN 5 is Fine by Scott" by News Editor, Cinescape Movies, July 21, 2005, retrieved February 16, 2006

2006

James Cameron: "Yeah. Ridley and I talked about doing another ALIEN film and I said to 20th Century Fox that I would develop a 5th ALIEN film. I started working on a story, I was working with another writer and Fox came back to me and said, 'We've got this really good script for ALIEN VS PREDATOR' and I got pretty upset. I said, 'You do that you're going to kill the validity of the franchise in my mind.' Because to me, that was FRANKENSTEIN MEETS WEREWOLF. It was Universal just taking their assets and starting to play them off against each other ... Milking it. So, I stopped work. Then I saw ALIEN VS PREDATOR and it was actually pretty good. (laughs) I think of the 5 ALIEN films, I'd rate it 3rd ... I mean, I felt when I was making ALIENS I think the same thing Ridley was doing with ALIEN, which is... 'I'm going to make you think this is real.' Even though it is completely ridiculous deep space adventure. We were going to make you feel like it's real. It's a question of does the film take itself seriously or not." KRAKEN: "So you still thinking about doing something with it?" JAMES CAMERON: "No." — "Quint interviews James Cameron", Quint AT aintitcool DOT com, Aint It Cool News, February 7, 2006, retrieved February 9, 2006

General rumours and speculation

Alien5.com

Around 1997, it was reported that the domain name www.alien5.com was registered but returning blank content. That address is now returning a 'server not found' error. — "Development Heck, Alien 5" by Coming Attractions, Cinescape, retrieved 7 February, 2006

Ripley's daughter

Much of the speculation over story possibilities for a new Alien movie involves Ripley's daughter, Amanda. Cameron added the character to Alien lore in his film Aliens.

For story purposes, this added much depth to Ripley's character by establishing a daughter who grew old and died while Ripley was lost in space (this scene was not included in the theatrical version but was seen in extended versions on TV, Video and DVD).

In Cameron's 1983 treatment for his film, Amanda Ripley is a seventy-year-old woman living in Oregon. Ripley makes a vid-phone call to her. Cameron writes that the call is 'short and devastating.' Ripley is shocked to see the old woman she remembers as a bright ten year old. Amanda remains bitter toward the mother she thinks abandoned her for a life in space.

In Cameron's final screenplay for the film, dated 1985, Amanda is no longer alive when Ripley is rescued and taken to Gateway Station. Amanda is reported to have died two years earlier of cancer, no children, at the age of sixty-six.

This approximately fifty-five-year period (Earth time), between Ripley departing on the Nostromo and being rescued from drifting in space, seems ripe for continuing the Alien saga. It is likely to be one of several scenarios under consideration if the producers are considering a new Alien movie without Sigourney Weaver.

Prequel

2004: Alien Vs. Predator

Alien Quadrilogy

1979: Alien, directed by Ridley Scott
1986: Aliens, directed by James Cameron
1992: Alien³, directed by David Fincher
1997: Alien: Resurrection, directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet

External links

PlanetAVP, Alien 5 facts and quotes
"A Look at What Alien 3 Could Have Been" by Scott Chitwood, filmforce.ign.com, February 10, 2000, retrieved February 7, 2006
"Alien 5? Have I got a deal for you!" by Andrew Ferguson, rageagainstthepage.blogspot.com, January 8, 2006, retrieved February 7, 2006

The 3 Cs of Character

2006-04-03T23:07:00.000+08:00

For storytellers, this sentence is as important as it is simple:

A person with a particular characteristic goes through conflict and is changed.

That's your story, right there, buckeroo. A character, a conflict, a change. These three elements give you your beginning (character), middle (conflict), and end (change).

Now comes the part where I pick it to death for hidden meaning, me being the over-analysing, left-brained ape that I am.

Characteristic

We learn about the protagonist's 'particular characteric' early. That's because typically the protagonist is tested at the Act One end crisis, and the particular characteristic makes thing a LOT worse instead of fixing the problem. Oh, to heck with it — let's just go ahead and call the characteristic exactly what it is: the hero's flaw.

The hero's flaw is the thing that makes us shake our heads and groan: "Geez, he's his own worst enemy!" It's the thing restraining the hero from reaching his or her true potential. In some way it's also the thing fueling the external conflict going on around the hero.

The hero may or may not be aware of this character flaw. Does Jack Nicholson's character in As Good As It Gets know he's a righteous A-hole? Of course he does. Arguably it makes the character arc more powerful: the hero can see the problem but is powerless (or refuses) to correct it. There ain't gonna be a whole lot of internal struggle going on if the hero can't see a problem with his own behaviour.

As a guideline, you'll be aiming to spin this characteristic 180 degrees by the end of the story. That task is one of the many joys of creation, because you get to play the eeevil genius, rubbing your hands together and gurgling a throaty muhahaHAHAHAHAHA while you plot to transform your naive farmboy into a victorious knight, your suffering servant into a graceful princess, your arrogant king into humble farmer. Storylines with those beginnings and endings have been told millions of times -- the difference lies in the stuff that happens in between.

Conflict

Conflict happens when there is pressure to change the characteristic. Few of us willingly change just for the heck of it. Something has to shake us out of our comfy hammock. Something gets in the Hero's way, or the Hero gets in the way of something. The status quo cannot hold and conflict is the inevitable result.

Naturally, in trying to maintain the status quo, the hero will fall back on behaviours that worked previously. The flaw could not have survived thus far without the protagonist nurturing and sustaining it with a supporting framework of behaviours and attitudes, reinforced and refined over time.

All of that is no good now. The hero faces this new rising conflict and can resolve it only by changing his/her flawed characteristic.

Change

Resolving the flaw frees the protagonist to act authentically. This moment of honest, enlightened action is the key to resolving the external conflict.

Even if the world returns to the way it was prior to the conflict, the hero is irrevocably transformed forever. At the very least, the hero exhibits a new set of behaviours and beliefs that replace the flawed ones.

Change makes your story meaningful. Without it, the journey is meaningless.

You can begin crafting a story based on any one or more of those three elements. It might be an idea for a character, an exciting action scene, a gangbuster climax. But at some point, you'll need to add the missing elements and figure out how they fit together. If you reach a point during your storycrafting where you've lost your focus and the story is floundering (writers block), go back and review the 3 Cs of your main character. That one simple sentence will lead you back on track.

[end]

Murderous Grammar

2006-03-26T22:02:00.000+08:00

Murdered Minister's Wife Confesses to the Crime

... was the headline that caught my eye and had me clicking through to shortnews.com.

I really wanted to know how the deceased wife of a minister managed to confess to murdering herself. It sounded like some kind of delicious time-travel scenario, or perhaps a ghostly confession from the spirit world. I mean, are we talking about a cryptic suicide? Did she have multiple personalities and go through a sudden and awful Jekyll-Hide struggle while chopping carrots for the evening meal?

No.

The wife is safe and well. And headed for jail. You guessed it: she was the one doing the murdering and her minister husband was the one doing the expiring. But that's not what the title says.

The title is horribly ambiguous. Both readings are valid: that the victim was the minister or that the victim was his wife.

Now, ambiguity is a wonderful tool for writing comedies. Audiences love to be fooled by clever use of language (so long as you don't make them feel foolish). But apart from that, you should strive to remove all ambiguity from your writing.

If the author of the quoted news article had stopped to think about what he/she had written, perhaps we would have read this title instead:

Wife of Murdered Minister Confesses to the Crime

I'll leave it to you to determine which of the three basic attributes of good writing the original title violates. Those attributes are variously summed up as the ABCs of writing:

accurate
brief
clear

or the three Cs of writing:

correct
concise
clear

[end]

Morton's "great structure" versus Mazin's "foofera"

2006-03-08T21:40:00.000+08:00

Just a quick note about an interesting confluence of blogging about structure. Inevitably this type of thing comes and goes, especially with such a lively topic of debate as screenwriting structure.

First, Craig Mazan at The Artful Writer threw down the glove with his article Q: How Strict Should I Be With Act Breaks? A: Not Very. Two days later, Phil Morton of ScreenwriterBones fame picked up the glove, dusted it off, and torched it with an arc welder. Phil's article is called On Structure.

Polite as they are, you could not get two more opposing opinions.

Clearly I'm in the Morton camp, as evidenced by my 4-Act Story Diamond post, and I'm glad to see Phil stand up to Craig's hogwash (albeit coincidentally) on this issue. Craig is a dedicated writer, and a passionate Guild rep, but telling novice writers this (about Act breaks) is misleading at best and downright professional sabotage at worst:

Hooey. Baloney. Argle-bargle. Go ahead…fill in your own Montgomery Burnsian exclamation of disgust. It’s all foofera.

Uh-huh. I have one thing to say about that: pacing [definition, music: the speed at which a composition is played]. Act breaks are the key to how you pace your screenplay. Sure, there's no hard and fast screenwriting rule about how many breaks go in and where, but ignore them and you are ignoring the speed at which your story plays out. Act breaks are a (the) fundamental feature of story structure. Nothing gives your story a sense of progress and a sense of excitement like a well made Act break.

I'll throw back to Philip for the last word:

... screenplays live or die on their structure, I believe, And I’ve read scripts that have sold, that I didn’t think had great writing, but they all had one thing in common: GREAT structure. My scripts that have sold? Great structure.

UPDATE: Read how Phil wrote a cable movie in three-and-a-half weeks.

Without a defining blueprint, you'll go 100 miles an hour into every tree in the road... But because of the outline, that only happened twice in 110 pages, so that taught me a lesson about the outline.

Signpost 1

2006-02-24T00:04:00.000+08:00

Characters must struggle then suffer as a result.

Update 1: (27 February, 2006) Perhaps better written as:

Characters must struggle, suffer, and finally change.

_____
The 'signpost' entries are meant to be mercifully short -- it's not a fault with your browser leaving stuff out! These occasional and brief posts will be a welcome relief for those who, er, struggle through my customary long-winded posts and, um, suffer because of it.

STOP! Hammer time...

2006-02-20T21:48:00.000+08:00

Seriously, right now, stop work on that screenplay until you answer this question:

Why are you writing this?

Money? That better be your Number Two reason, buckeroo. I'll give you a pass if your Numero Uno reason is in order. Is it? (Return to the top of this post and start again.)

New Year's Resolution? It's February already. Let it go. Everybody else already did. Nobody cares if you stick to your promise to finally finish your killer screenplay. I'm one of those people. There are a lot of us. So slide your twenty pages back into the bottom drawer. You can dust it off again next January 1.

To win back your girl? Move along. This one's taken. Ahem.

Guilt? Yeah, funny how that 'paint yourself into a corner' philosophy thing works. You know, you go around telling everybody you'll write a screenplay and make it big time. That way you set up a tangible motivation to achieve your goal. There is real risk and real reward. You've already told everybody and their dog about it, so now you have to do it. If you fail, everyone will know you're a loser for real, they won't just suspect it. There are a million easier ways to prove to the people you hold dear that you're not a loser. Spending every spare minute of your time alone at your keyboard writing is not one of them. Think about it. Then switch off your computer. Go invent a cup of tea that whitens teeth as you drink. Something useful. Anything. Just stop pretending everything will be better as soon as page 120 scrolls past your screen. Just stop writing that god-awful screenplay. Just stop.

Because you can write stories! Whoop-dee-diddly-doo. Yes, I know your Uncle Bob and Aunt Wendy ooh-ed and ahh-ed after reading your short story Tick-Tock Will Clean Your Clock. "Timepieces come alive in Victorian England! Nobody's done that! Where do you get your ideas?" I bet Bob exclaimed. Wendy went on to say something like, "It's so... so visual! You should make it into a film!" And that was the point you should have thumbed the detonator button Battle Royale style, triggering the explosive collars clamped around the necks of dear Uncle Bob and Aunt Wendy. But you didn't. Dear Lord, you didn't. Instead, you took their advice and started working on a screenplay. I'm telling you now, Bob and Wendy will be triggering their own collars after reading your finished screenplay, because it will be too painful for mortal eyes to experience. Good writers do not necessarily make good screenwriters. Case on point: Stephen King. Don't get me wrong -- love the guy's novel writing. In that medium he is a god. But merciful Heaven above, let there be one spare explosive collar left for Mr King the next time he decides to pen a screenplay.

Because you can tell stories! Ah yes, the deformed twin of the equally deformed Because I can write stories! Another case on point: Clive Barker. Ye gods, Clive Barker. What an imagination. What stories! What a festering dung heap on screen! Yes, Clive Barker can tell stories -- big stories. But Clive Barker hasn't a clue how to make movies from his stories. Sure, Hellraiser was fun, and boy did it promise a glorious franchise -- until the sequel reminded us, even freakshows need to be paired with an entertaining story if you want to pull in the marks. Just because you can built elaborate, entertaining stories does not mean you'll manage to shoehorn all that into a screenplay. Screenplays are a ruthless exercise in brevity and connectivity. Nothing is wasted. Look at Who Framed Roger Rabbit if you want to learn about story connectivity in screenplay format. Almost every line of dialogue, every character action or reaction connects to something previous or something to come. Every line earns its place on the page. Can you be that ruthless? No, I thought not. Stick to novels. Bye bye, now.

To prove something to yourself? Hmmm. Is this a good motivation to drive you toward success? Um... NO! Do you think the company that buys your screenplay gives a squirrel's left nut (pistachio) whether or not you liberated yourself from some longtime inner anguish during the writing of your script? Um... NO! Do you think they care it took you three years, two ex-wives, and one collapsed lung to crank out this piece of personal salvation? Um... N--oh, forget it. Congratulations on your self-satisfaction. Welcome to the unemployment line.

Why are you writing this?

I've stripped you bare of all those excuses. Now I can remind you why you are writing this screenplay. Bogged down in words, zoomed in to extreme focus for days, weeks, months -- it's too easy to forget. Don't forget. I won't let you.

Why are you writing this?
You're writing this to make an audience suffer (gratefully).

No, bad movies don't make you suffer. Bad movies make you want to be somewhere else. Only good movies can pin an audience to their seats and make them suffer... suffer and be thankful for the experience!

Part of your job as a screenwriter is to create emotional highs and lows in your audience. How? Make the audience suffer along with the hero. Without that connection there can be no empathy. At some point in the story, the audience should cross an invisible threshold, a point where they merge in some way with the protagonist. A subconscious slipping into the protagonist's shoes. What happens to the Hero affects you, the watcher. Suffering is a great way to learn and change. Certainly evolution thinks so. With cinema, it's a safe kind of suffering. Unlike the hero, you can close your eyes at any time and avoid any oncoming unpleasantness. But with a good story you wouldn't dare skip a moment of the ride.

Emotional highs need emotional lows for contrast and reference. Suffering immediately creates emotional lows for your characters, and this in turn sets up powerful emotional highs to follow. Have you noticed in a story that affected you strongly how highs follow hot on the heels of lows and vice versa? How the Hero is celebrating victory and suddenly gets a call about a tragic accident that instantly swings the situation into an emotional low? How the Hero instinctively deviates from the Plan at the last second, and all seems lost, only to discover that the Hero's new approach was in fact the right solution -- the only solution -- to the problem. Emotional highs and lows -- suffering is the thing that enables them both.

Oh, you think comedies are the exception to this rule? Go watch Dodgeball again. When the coach is shooting balls at the players, did not your eyes squint and tear up a little bit when Justin gets it in the goolies? Or the sack of wrenches... yeeow. Suffering at its most superficial, yes, but suffering nonetheless. Next time you watch a comedy, count how many times the main character undergoes physical suffering. It's a bit of a two-edged sword for comedies: the overt physical suffering, funny as it is, primes the audience for the protagonists emotional suffering to come, but on the other hand it runs the risk of diluting the impact of any serious emotional suffering. Hey, comedy is a tough balancing act, no doubt about it.

Here's something I guarantee most of you have experienced at some time watching movies: something happens on screen and it triggers a cold electric tingle up and down your spine. (Sadly, I don't get that so much as when I was younger, but I remember the feeling vividly.) While that isn't fully fledged suffering on the audience's part, it's a darn good start. It means you, the screenwriter, momentarily tapped directly into the audience's nervous system and made them react involuntarily. You affected them. I can think of no more supreme compliment than that.

At the heart of it, screenwriters are the puppetmasters of the audience. Screenwriters manipulate the audience through the story's characters. That is a deep reach, my friends: you -> characters -> audience (millions of individuals). You do NOT want to squander that kind of opportunity.

Why are you writing this? Not for yourself, not for your girlfriend, not for your shiny new BMW.

You're writing this to make an audience suffer (gratefully).

Shark-jumping the L word

2006-02-17T22:21:00.000+08:00

This is a new blog. So I really should save this topic for later. I don't want to 'jump the shark' this early in the game. I feel like I'm about to act out the money shot before the cameras are up to speed. Ah well.

Once we are done, here in this post, you may not want to return. Ever.

Some will run screaming because of the two brief but stenchiferous sentences I am about to utter. Yes, I had to invent a whole new word to describe how disgusted these folk will be a few short paragraphs from now.

Others won't return because they will soon have an essential piece (the essential piece) of the storytelling puzzle they didn't have before. They'll walk away from this post bearing a firebrand that will spark heat and light and life into their stories. Once you have that, the rest is a technicality.

A third group will read what follows and curse me for being the masked magician who gives away the mechanism behind the mystery.

But, know what? I don't give a flapping forelock about any of that.

This is important. You need to know this and you need to know it now.

OK. Here we go.

This is a one-two-punch deal.

One (left lead) — All the good stories are about Love.

... And? So what's the big deal? Seems kinda obvious. "Stories are about love." Sure. Whatever. I'm writing a romcom right now, so this is not news to me.

Two (right cross) — All the great stories are about Love Beyond Death.

... Waaait a minute. That sounds heavy. How am I supposed to work that into my 'fish out of water' romcom about the last-job-before-retiring blind assassin emu hunting the didn't-do-it deaf Kangaroo?

Let me hold the door open for anyone feeling creeped out because I mentioned the L word. Goodnight and good luck to you.

For those remaining, thanks for giving me this opportunity to argue why this is the single most important quality to inject into your storytelling.

Take a movie I saw tonight: Flight of the Phoenix (hereinafter FOTP) . The remake with Dennis Quaid. First half, after the plane crash, yawn. Second half, kick arse! From the moment we get the scene featuring Massive Attack's Angel and that awesome gunshot slow-mo through to the final credits, loved it. Rollicking good fun. (We should all look so good after days baking in the hot desert sun, rationed water, and endless cans of peaches.)

But something was missing in that movie. It had no Love.

The nearest we get is the characters briefly expressing their love of family and a desire to return to them. It was completely underplayed. The audience spends maybe a few minutes during the entire film being reminded why these people want to survive, what they have worth returning to. Just before the end credits we get a snapshot montage revealing the surviving characters' rosy futures -- the classic happy-ending wrap up -- with the characters shown doing what they love or being with those they love.

To my thinking, that was totally back to front. The filmmakers showed us the Love at the end of the movie. Consequently, the characters were robbed of their most powerful motivation. Had the filmmakers focused throughout the movie on what it is that each character loved -- what was motivating each character to stay alive -- then that end montage would've been unnecessary. At fade out the audience would already have a mental picture for each characters' future. They'd fill in the blanks automatically. It's the same deal with horror flicks, where showing the boogeyman on screen rarely matches the horrifying (and very personal) boogeyman the audience imagines for themselves. Diversion: Back in 1999, Spielberg said this about the shark in Jaws:

SPIELBERG: I couldn't tell. I mean, I was on that picture for nine months, making that movie, shooting the movie for almost nine months, over 160 shooting days. And after that, you get -- you so lose your objectivity that all you can see are the flaws. All you can see are the moments where the shark looks like this large stale turkey floating on the surface. You know, the shark became debris for me. And I didn't understand how it could be scary.

And one of the things that benefited the movie was the shark didn't work for so many months that I resorted to Hitchcock-ian rule, which is basically shooting the water and suggesting the shark without showing it: having the pier go out and turn around by itself and come back again.

KING: Oh yes.

SPIELBERG: All those -- I was forced into making those creative choices because I didn't have a shark to use.

- link

Essentially, I think the problem for FOTP is the separation between the characters and the things they love. It's hard for an audience to evaluate the relationship -- the connection -- between two people when one is revealed only through dialogue and photographs. A scene featuring a shoebox full of photos and one character's 10-minute monologue describing Love-for-another can be eclipsed by five-seconds of quiet eye contact between the actual Lovers. (And here I use 'lovers' to mean two people, or a person and something else -- King Kong and Ann Darrow, for example.) Imagine Cyrano De Bergerac where Roxanne never appears in person, or a Romeo and Juliet told entirely through text messaging.

Hmmm. Off the top of my head, what about a film like Castaway? Tom Hanks doesn't interact with another human being for... what, an hour of screen time? Ah, but we've already seen first-hand his love dynamic before he gets shipwrecked, and we see it again after he gets rescued. What would the film be like if it began with the plane crash? Would we care as much about his motivation to return to his love, his wife? We would not. We would be on emotional autopilot.

No, Love needs to be in the room. We need to see Love in action. It needs to be live and in your face. It's not one person talking to an answering machine, which is how I think it played out (metaphorically) in FOTP. Something like: "And here's another picture of my girlfriend." "The two of your look very much in love." "Yes, we are. She means the world to me..." Thank you for calling, leave your message after the beep. Substitute that with a desperate call between the two Lovers over an intermittently working airplane radio... and then we've upheld one of the basic tenets of storytelling: show, don't tell!

So what if in FOTP there was no radio to connect the Lovers in realtime. I call foo on that. There's always the fallback of clever use of flashbacks. A smart screenwriter would've figured out an appropriate way to given us both ends of the Love, not the dull here's-a-picture-of-my-girl routine.

Enough about FOTP. I want to get real specific now. So far we've discussed the L word as if everyone in the room knows what it is. I guarantee that some of you don't. Those of you with kids or a partner, or both, don't need an explanation from me about the meaning of the L word, but stick around anyway.

What is love?

Love is longing.

Longing is an unfulfilled desire.

Show me one person in the world with all desires fulfilled. Can't? I posit it's an impossible state to attain. Even if a person truly fulfilled all of their personal desires, would not that person then want to fulfill the desires of others, and by definition revert to a state of unfulfilled desires? Perhaps I am being overly humanistic in making that claim. But you get my point. Life is a continuous state of cascading unfulfilled desires (and I'm not convinced it stops at Death's door).

But what about those who've obtained the object of their Love? Doesn't that happy state end the longing? No. Having found peace and happiness for themselves, those lucky people then desire to bring or maintain that state in their partner (or the thing loved). Love can only be fulfilled for the moment, for the here and now. The longing/desire to maintain it, once achieved, is ever present, prompted by a world that changes in ways big and small, day to day.

And thank goodness for that. What use would Love be if it were simply something claimable after accumulating enough frequent-flyer points?

You'll have your own ideas about what Love is to you -- and I hope you do. Because if you don't, if you haven't stopped to look long and hard at what Love means to you personally... well, good luck rubbing shoulders with those several million other clueless screenwriters in the world. In a year, after the tenth "thanks but no thanks" rejection letter for your uber-action screenplay, and you're puzzling over this "missing ingredient" those rejections allude to... this blogpost will still be here pointing out the obvious. I promise not to say, I told you so.

Before we go on to examine specific examples of how Love powers the best stories, let's talk about Love Beyond Death. It's a topic that gets me very fired up. Take a step back, folks, because this monkey is about to dance.

Love is a fundamental story element, certainly. It's one of the most powerful ingredients to motivate your characters. Indeed, you could say Love is the only motivation for your characters, that every other motivation derives in some way from Love. It's simply a matter of scale.

But there is something more powerful. Way, way more powerful. After you've dialled up Love to ten on your Marshall amp, and you think there's nowhere left to go:

"You're on ten here, all the way up, all the way up, all the way up, you're on ten on your guitar. Where can you go from there? Where?" - link

Uh-huh. That's right. You go to eleven: Love Beyond Death.

What is love beyond death?

I'm going to dwell on two films, maybe more, but these two illustrate my point better than any: E.T. and Titanic. But first, a quick discussion about what makes Love Beyond Death the most potent of all story ingredients.

We all die. And we all die alone. There is no greater Unknown than death. Except for the most disciplined and enlightened among us, we all worry about our death at some time in our lives. It's a big deal. We worry about the things we will leave behind. We worry about what, if anything, lies ahead. It's natural to worry. It's human. So it's something everyone in your audience can connect to, either consciously or unconsciously.

Death reduces life to one thing. You guessed it: Love.

Google for information about deathbed research and read up on how people behave during the final moments of their lives. You will find a common thread. At the end of their lives, people seem to have one thing on their minds, and it's hardly surprising: Was I loved and did I love? The mortally wounded soldier radioing "Tell my wife I love her" before manually detonating the explosives under the bridge, guaranteeing the hero's escape -- that's a cliche, but like many cliches it's based in truth. Love powers life, and death ends it. (Oh, really?)

So we can bank on those two things. No matter who's in our audience, they know about love and longing and desire, and they know about death and loss. For storytelling purposes, splicing the two together creates the ultimate dramatic one-two punch. The concept of love enduring for the departed one beyond death... that is tantalising, because it includes an implicit acknowledgement that death is not the absolute end, that something goes on regardless. That love really does transcend death. Notice I've avoided saying anything about the movie Ghost. Damn, there I go. I did my best, folks.

Let's see some Love Beyond Death in action.

E.T. and the L-word

Elliott loves E.T. in that he desperately desires to help E.T. get home. Elliott knows E.T.'s happiness (return home) is intertwined with his own happiness. Helping E.T. will help himself.

E.T. 'dies' and Elliott briefly experiences fully fledged Love Beyond Death. I say briefly because, of course, E.T. miraculaously revives with no explanation. However, the Love Beyond Death theme is not undermined (thankfully) because E.T. finally departs Earth -- a figurative death. Spielberg gets to play out Love Beyond Death and still keep his upbeat, celebratory ending.

So 'death' need not mean literal death, but the literal flavour is arguably the most powerful.

Titanic — "I'm the king of the L-word!"

Cameron also pulls off an upbeat, celebratory ending with Titanic. Love Beyond Death gives you that. How can realization of Love Beyond Death be anything but celebratory!

You know the story: Jack rescues Rose when she flirts with drowning herself; they fall in love; complications ensue ("Would you like some ice with that?"). A series of near-death experiences culminate in Jack's frigid, watery demise. From then on, Rose lives out the very essence of Love Beyond Death. Her love for Jack endures her whole life.

LBD for the Mentor figure

Sadly for mentor characters, they tend to get killed off after fulfilling their main task of setting the Hero on the path of change. Inherent in this is the Love Beyond Death a Hero feels for his/her absent Mentor.

LBD for the Absent Parent figure

Students of storytelling and fairytales know that commonly one (or both) of the Hero's parental figures is absent at the beginning of the story. In these cases, LBD exists from the outset. Consider Luke Skywalker, Harry Potter, Nemo, Spiderman, Elliott in E.T., and so on.

Conclusion

So there you have it. Find the love in your story and keep it in the foreground. You'll be surprised how the most superficial screenplay can be transformed into something engaging by giving your Hero an unfulfilled desire, a love, a connection to something or someone.

It can be love for a person, a place, and object, a pet, a sport, an ideal (although something concrete rather than abstract is probably best) -- as kooky or conventional as you care to make it.

For maximum emotional impact, push that Love through to it's final incarnation: Love Beyond Death.

Remember...

All the good stories are about Love.

All the great stories are about Love Beyond Death.

Go for it.

The 4-Act Story Diamond

2006-01-22T18:03:00.005+08:00

Update: new version of the 4-Act Story Diamond graphic here.

I don't believe in the three-act screenplay story structure. It's four acts, plain and simple. I said so ten years ago on Jack Stanley's Scrnwrit list, and nothing has changed since. Four acts, no more, no less.

I'm sorry those screenwriting gurus sold you on three acts and then five acts and then seven acts or -- what are we up to now? Nine? Twelve? Look, we're all grasping for the magic template that will reign in the chaos and tame our wild stories, so I don't blame you for listening to those guys.

The four acts were there all along and the screenwriting gurus knew it, or at least sensed it. Certainly Syd Field knew it, although he failed to make a clean break from the dogmatic Aristotle three-act structure.

I swear, if I hear once more that line about "Get your hero up a tree, throw rocks at him, then get him down"... It's a god-awful illustration of the three-act structure and an even worse representation of storytelling. I wouldn't be surprise if every time he hears it, looking down on us from his heavenly pantheon, Aristotle gets the itch to hurl a lightning bolt at the speaker. I've yet to learn of any working screenwriters struck by real lightning, so I'll go ahead and assume Aristotle's patience runs a lot deeper than mine.

So what on earth does that pithy gem describe, really? I get that the 'up a tree' part stands for Act One: the inciting incident, the trigger, the destabilisation of the hero's world, jeopardy. And I get that the 'rocks' represent Act Two and conflict. It's not mentioned but it's a given that the rocks get larger and meaner with each throw, to create rising conflict.

... then get him down... ?? Is it just me or is that just a teensy bit anti-climactic? As a third act that simply will not do. Not around here.

Having exhausted our supply of rocks, it's time to get serious about making tree-guy suffer. Remember that chainsaw you stole from the set of Evil Dead: Army of Darkness? (Yes, I know about that; No, I never told The Chin, but I think he suspects.) Go get it. Because the writer's job is not to get the hero out of the tree. Your job is to make your protagonists suffer to the point where they have only one way out, where only one thing can transform the suffering into a solution: change.

I'm talking earthquake-fault-line-sized change. I'm talking about straddling the abyss with one foot on either side as it groans and cracks and widens beneath your hero, forcing a decision to go left or right, zig or zag, one way or the other, or do nothing and perish. At that moment, for the hero, standing still is no longer an option.

Change.

Get him down, indeed. Replace this with Get him to change and I'll be partially happy about the whole sordid tree affair.

OK, we were talking about screenwriting modelers. Some of these guys hedged their bets with their three-act structures by introducing little fudges to the middle of the second act, to help explain that amorphous thing dogging them near page 60, that annoying lump under the carpet they couldn't beat down -- the 'tentpole' or 'midpoint' in guru speak. They wanted their models to have the semblance and effect of a four-act structure without needing to chop in two that long middle act. They wanted page 60 to behave like an Act boundary without having to acknowledge it as an Act boundary.

Here's some advice: forget the screenplay gurus and their pet theories. Instead of paying $200 to sit on your ass and be lectured to by some guy in a tweed suit whose name will never appear on IMDB.com under a Writer - filmography title -- instead of that, go out and figure it out yourself.

Yes, teach yourself. Find a list of the 20 top-grossing movies of all time, pick five titles, and go buy copies of the screenplays or download them off the Net. Don't spend your $200 to have some guy tell you about the gold; go buy the gold!

And don't think you can get away with only referencing electronic copies of scripts. Get copies of the real deal, the stuff you can hold in your hands and thumb through and fold the corners and curse at when the front-cover brad holes tear away and you have to sticky-tape them back together. Out of all the scripts on my shelf, my favourite is not the Revised Fourth Draft March 15, 1976 of The Adventures of Luke Starkiller as taken from the "Journal of the Whills" by George Lucas; my favourite is my own 147-page draft of an unfinished script titled Oblivion. At some point long ago, my daughter mercilessly scribbled all over the cover. There's black pen and red marker, green and purple and orange pencil, some indecipherable shapes, creases, smiley faces, and my kids names scrawled here and there, among other doodles. Magic stuff. So, novice scribes, work with electronic copies of screenplays, yes. But as soon as you can, get your hands on paper copies of scripts that were actually used in movie production. Reading a screenplay on your computer monitor gives you very little sense of page layout, for one. More importantly, you don't get the buzz of excitement that comes from holding an actual screenplay, a screenplay identical in all respects (except for the atoms it's built from) to the one that Spielberg or John Ford or Hitchcock or [insert favourite movie director here] held when making the movie! That's the gold: screenplays. For the novice screenwriter it's the only currency you need to deal in (after you've learned the craft of writing and storytelling).

So you've got your five screenplays culled from the list of 20 top-grossing movies of all time.

Read them. Again.

And again.

Now, break down those scripts in terms of conflict and change. With practice you'll get good and fast at it.

Look at the elements in conflict and determine which realm they belong to:

Protagonist against self
Protagonist against family, friends, lovers
Protagonist against own society
Protagonist against another society
Protagonist against nature
Protagonist against god (links back to 'self' conflict)

Having identified the major hotspots (points of conflict) in a script, next identify which ones lead to transformations in character or situation. If you're looking at a well-told story, all conflict leads to some measure of change, but for our purposes we want to identify the most significant, dramatic instances.

In a moment we'll go through a couple of produced screenplays and do exactly that. But first, and without further "procrastibation" (skip dictionary.com and go ask Craig), here is the one true screenplay structure:

Act One, 1–30
One Ring to rule them all
Act Two, 30–60
One Ring to find them
Act Three, 60–90
One Ring to bring them all
Act Four, 90–120
And in the darkness bind them

For those ready to flame me for being an arrogant s.o.b. for claiming the one true screenplay model, I was kidding. Of course there's no single method for structuring a great screenplay. And yet, did I just hear some of you utter a heartfelt sigh of relief?

I'm not surprised. Gone is that crazy, elastic, pace-sapping 'middle' section running sixty loooong pages. That midpoint/tentpole is still there at page 60, but now we're allowed to give it the same importance as the other 'turning points.' It's now a fully fledged Act boundary.

Go examine the Story Diamond (click on the thumbnail at top right). Spend a few minutes studying it -- in fact, print it out and jot your own notes all over it as we work through some examples. Every act ends with a turning point, where the story direction swings around sharply, whipping off in a new direction. All four turning points are critical story moments that affect the characters deeply and yield significant consequences. They are moments of no return, where something is changed forever and there's no going back to the way it was before. Plans must be drastically altered, allegiances are forged or broken -- that sort of thing.

As promised, now we'll play with some real-world examples and see if they fit the four-act paradigm.

Aliens

You probably saw that coming -- if you've read one of my earlier posts. Just a terrific action script with some solid character foundations.

Script length: 105 pages.

Let's look for the first turning point that marks the end of Act One. Where does the story first take a sharp turn due to an action that cannot be revoked? Where is the first significant change in the protagonist, Ripley?

Bam! Page 18, no doubt about it.

RIPLEY
Burke, just tell me one thing. That you're going out there to kill them. Not to study. Not to bring back. Just to burn them out... clean... forever.

BURKE
That's the plan. My word on it.

RIPLEY
All right. I'm in.

...

CUT TO:

EXT. DEEP SPACE - THREE WEEKS LATER

An empty starfield. Metal spires slice ACROSS FRAME, followed by a mountain of steel. A massive military transport ship, the SULACO. Ugly, battered... functional.

Ripley is now committed. She accepted her new Call To Adventure. There's no way she can back out and return to Earth. She has crossed over from her Home domain into the Netherworld.

Moving on, let's root out the Act Two turning point. This is the half way marker. We can expect to find any of several key events: a near-death experience, a reversal in some aspect of the story, a new approach, etc. Let's look at the script...

HUDSON
Movement!

APONE
What's the position?

HUDSON
Can't lock up...

APONE
Talk to me, Hudson.

HUDSON
Uh, multiple signals... they're closing!

APONE
Go to infrared. Look sharp people!

...

Dietrich, standing near a wall of the structure, grips her flamethrower tightly. She doesn't see the nightmarish figure emerge from the wall behind her. It strikes, seizing her. She FIRES, reflexively, wild. The jet of flame ENGULFS FROST, nearby.

Crowe and Wierzbowski turn, horrified, to see the human torch drop his flaming satchel full of pulse-rifle magazines. They run. VOOM! They are catapulted forward by the blast, with Crowe striking a pillar head-on.

...

RIPLEY
GET THEM OUT OF THERE! DO IT NOW!

This is about as good as it gets for turning points, at least for action stories. We have a big confluence of conflict and change:

Reversal: the marines have just discovered what happened to the colonists. The mission was supposed to be Search and Rescue. That mission has abruptly turned into Get the hell out of here, alive! The hunters have become the hunted.
Near death experience for the marines.
Ripley's worst fears are now realized: she's face to face with not just one but a whole nest of aliens.
As shown on the Story Diamond, they have crossed over from the Netherworld to a very Evil Domain.

And all this happens on page 50, at the halfway point in the script.

The final turning point, at the end of Act Three, is likely to lie around page 75 or so.

I think we have a winner at page 79:

RIPLEY
Sssh. Don't move. We're in trouble.

Newt nods, now wide awake. They listen in the darkness for the slightest betrayal of movement. Ripley reaches up and, clutching the springs of the underside of the cot, begins to inch it away from the wall.

...

She snaps her head around. A SCUTTLING SHAPE LEAPS TOWARD HER. She ducks. The obscene thing hits the wall above her. Reflexively she slams the bed against the wall, pinning the creature inches above her face. Its legs and tail writhe with incredible ferocity.

...

A figure appears at the observation window, a silhouette behind the misted-over glass. A hand wipes a clear spot. Hick's eyes appear. He steps back. WHAM! A burst of pulse-fire shatters the tempered glass. Hicks dives into the crazed spiderweb pattern and explodes into the room. He hits rolling, and slides across to Ripley. He gets his fingers around the thrashing legs of the vicious beast and pulls. Between the two of them they force it away from her face, though Ripley is losing strength as the tail tightens sickeningly around her throat. Hudson leaps into the room, flings Newt away from the desk to go skidding across the wet floor, and blasts the second creature against the wall. Point-blank. Acid and smoke.

So we have Ripley and Newt experiencing near-death. We have another massive revelation (Burke's treachery) that spins the plot in a new direction. Lump on top of this a new crisis with the aliens breaching their perimeter and forcing them to hightail it out of their stronghold. Clearly we have begun the final dash for the home plate and the final conflict.

We are into Act Four, and Ripley has entered her Martyr phase (RIPLEY: We're not leaving!).

Well, this article is getting long, so I'll leave further script-act analyses for future posts. Have a play with your favourite screenplays and see how many easily fall into the four-act story model.

END.

How To Be A Screenwriter In Three Easy Steps!

2006-01-19T17:38:00.000+08:00

"Millions are to be grabbed out here and your only competition is idiots. Don't let this get around."
-- Herman J. Mankiewicz to friend Ben Hecht, urging him to come to Hollywood, circa 1928 (Leonard Maltin's Movie Encyclopedia)

Before you dust off your screenplay and hot-foot it to Hollywood after reading that quote, remember, this was almost 80 years ago, when Hollywood was starting to get comfortable with the idea of 'the talkies'. Title cards were no more. The technical marvel of recorded dialogue had arrived, and it radically redefined the job of writing for the screen. But for smart former news reporters like Mankiewicz and Hecht, adapting to the new medium was never going to be a problem.

In 2006 some things have changed. Screenwriting is a mature craft, we have global real-time connectivity, and moviemaking is a billion-dollar industry. Still there are idiots competing for your screenplay sale -- there's just a lot more of them. A planet full. Ahead in this article, I write about how the internet has made it so much easier for anyone to learn the trade. That's good. What's not so good is that studio readers, agencies, and production companies get flooded with scripts from bad writers. It's tough enough you have to compete with all the smart screenwriters out there without this legion of wannabe screenwriters jamming the channels and screwing up the signal-to-noise ratio.

So don't think it's gonna be easy. But you know what? If you learn everything there is to know about screenwriting (as if!) and you keep plugging away at it day after day after day... eventually you will sell a script and earn the title of Working Screenwriter.

How to be a screenwriter in 3 easy steps:

Learn how to write
Learn how to tell a story
Write a screenplay using everything you learned in steps 1 & 2
Profit!

Is it really that easy?

Of course it is! We're all about simplicity, here at Rage Against The Page. The only step out of your immediate control is number 4. For that one, you'll still need to put in a lot of work, but little of that work will involve writing or storytelling. Step 4 is all about networking and shmoozing and getting your killer screenplays into the hands of the right people. But if you faithfully accomplish steps 1 through 3 then you're miles ahead of the wannabes out there who jumped right to Step 3 and wonder why Step 4 hasn't kicked in yet.

Steps 1 and 2 are interchangeable. You don't need to know storytelling to learn how to write well and vice versa. Tackle each separately or in parallel. I recommend studying them simultaneously, but go with whatever works for you.

Writing is the nuts and bolts: working with words, arranging compelling sentences, assembling those sentences into logical paragraphs, and so on. Imagery, brevity, sentence length, composing ideas -- yadda yadda. Once you've learned the craft of writing, that skill naturally improves all your communication channels -- diary, email, letters, documentation, novels -- not just your screenplays.

Storytelling is all about the ideas, baby: characters, motivation, unfolding events, conflict, change, beginning, middle, end. You don't need sharp writing skills to tell (by voice) an engrossing story. Likewise, you can author a well-written document without using a single element of storycraft -- although, I would argue just about any piece of writing becomes more engaging with the addition of story elements. Consider the following:

Shopping List
One head of broccoli
One cup egg mayonnaise
Ten slices bacon
Half cup of sugar
Two tablespoons white wine vinegar
Half cup sunflower seeds

Yawn. But what if a shopping list could tell a story?

Shopping List
One head of broccoli. Mary's new boyfriend probably loves broccoli, same as her. I bet they have sooo much in common. I wonder if anyone choked to death on broccoli. Must google that tonight. With any luck, Martin will be the first.
One cup egg mayonnaise. Better get the Lite kind. I could stand to lose five pounds. No, ten according to Mary. Note to self: when your girlfriend asks you to step onto the scales, DON'T. It'll end in tears. Yours. For five years not once did she mention my weight, and all of a sudden out come the calorie counter books and comments like, "Wear your other jeans. They make your butt look tighter." Me: "What are you saying? That my ass looks like a watermelon squeezed into a condom? Is that what you're saying?" Her: "Sweetie, I'm not the one who's been absent from the gym for a month." Uh-huh. Well, Sweetie, maybe if you had skipped gym for at least a month then maybe your personal trainer, Martin, might've found some other girl to chat up and steal from me. How about them apples, huh? Wait, no apples in this recipe. Next comes...
Ten slices bacon. I dunno about that. I may as well just strap it to my hips and call myself Fatty McBuns. Sure, I'll have no trouble attracting stray neighbourhood dogs, but it's not a good look now that I'm back in the singles meat market. Is there some kind of tofu replacement for bacon? I'll ask that girl at the meat counter. She seems to know her meat. What's her name? Anthea? Andrea? No way was I gonna stare at her name tag. Don't want her thinking I'm checking out her rack.
Half cup of sugar. Hell, I'll just ask for her name. I'm a modern guy. Be up front, get it all out there right from the get-go. Was there a ring on her finger when she passed me my chicken kebabs yesterday? Don't think so. Damn, all I can remember is those eyes. Green. Circled with the blackest eyeliner I've ever seen on a woman. The eyes of a cat before it pounces on a quivering mouse.
Two tablespoons white wine vinegar. Wine. Does cat lady like wine? I could ask her about what wine goes best with what meat. That's innocent enough. Work around to what she likes to drink. Sounds like a plan!
Half cup sunflower seeds. OK, I'm done here. Time to go shopping. Then to gym. Now, where the hell did I put those jeans that give me the tight buns?

Hardly a riveting story, but you get the idea.

Where were we? Right -- steps 1 & 2, learning the crafts of writing and storytelling. I'm not going to say much about how to learn those two crafts. Google and the Net have made your job infinitely easier. Way back when, I had to send away to Hollywood's Script City to get my screenplay copies, waiting three or more months for them to crawl all the way to Australia and my doorstep. I had to plow through library shelves and magazine stands to learn from the pros. You'll be able to learn all that and more in a tenth of the time I took. No excuses for you, buddy.

So let's assume you spend a couple years banging away at learning the crafts of writing and storytelling. We can go ahead and put a big fat tick against those suckers in our list. Mission accomplished: you can write good and you know how to tell a story well. Congrats. All we need is for you to write that outstanding screenplay and the check for $250K up front (with a $100K backend) is yours for the grabbing. Yoink!

Step 3. Right away, I should point out we've got a little sub-task to complete, if you haven't tackled it yet: screenplay format. If your script isn't in industry standard format, it won't get read, no matter how brilliant the story or how effective the writing. It will get glanced at and immediately dismissed as the work of a lazy wannabe screenwriter and tossed in the bin. If you really annoy the reader, he or she will toss your script and open up the Big Book of Screenwriting Shame and jot down your name and address in there. Once your name is in the Big Book, my friend, your screenplays will be read by exactly nobody anywhere ever.

Harsh, yes, but fair. Hey, I did try to warn you.

But if you stay out of the Big Book of Shame, if you take the time to ensure every page of your screenplay has correct spelling and formatting, then you have a fighting chance at getting your masterpiece eyeballed. Talking about it now, I'm reminded about a call I got from my agent a coupla years back concerning my horror screenplay Fresh Prince of Hell-Air, which he'd sent to one of the major studios.

Agent: "Mr Mogul read your script accidentally. He thought it was the new Kasdan spec. However, he did like it and wants to buy it for mid-six figures."

Me: "Holy... Are you kidding? Dude, they never read my stuff! I'm in their Big Book of Shame, remember?"

Agent: "Yes, I wondered about that. Wait a sec', doll face. Got a call on the other line. Hang five..."

[...]

Agent: "You there, slugger? That was Mogul's PA. Turns out, the script he read was in fact the new Kasdan spec. The mail department had already dumped your script in the furnace that warms the llama enclosure at the studio petting zoo."

Me: "Right. So... can we push for low-six instead?"

[CLICK]

Me: "Hello? Hello?"

A properly formatted screenplay is the price of admission onto an agent or producer's desk. Pay careful attention to format. Content should be the only thing that varies between your screenplay and Jim Cameron's script for Titanic. You will not tilt the playing field in your favour by getting creative with your formatting. You are not William Goldman. Enough said.

Reality check time for Step 3. You can write. You can tell a story. You know screenplay format.

It's time.

Write. Your. Screenplay.

That's all I'm going to say about that. For now. I'll have more to say about this step in future blog posts.

Yes, I listed a fourth step, and this post is titled How to be a screenwriter in 3 easy steps. Step 4 has nothing to do with becoming a screenwriter. If you write screenplays, you are a screenwriter, just not necessarily a successful one. You can rightfully call yourself a screenwriter and not get that eye twitch that announces the lie to everybody in the room. But that's all. Don't pat yourself on the back just yet. Until you make your first sale, that screenwriter title is all that separates you from the million other apes swatting away at a million other keyboards.

Can you be a successful screenwriter without making money at it? Absolutely not. Don't kid yourself. You achieve nothing by writing scripts that will never come to life on a movie or television screen -- nothing except that right to call yourself a screenwriter.

How to get successful when every day in Hollywood it rains scripts? Good question. Why would anybody look at your screenplay instead of the hundred other screenplays they trip over every day?

Think of the money. Great bulging sacks of green stuff. Huge overflowing barrels of hundred dollar bills. Fountains jetting liquid gold into the twilight sky. OK, so that last one isn't even possible, maybe, but don't let it stop you from dreaming. Let the thought of your first screenplay sale drive you forward. Let it convince you to do one more rewrite, one more polish. Take a moment to think about Jim Carrey in 1987 writing himself a check for 10 million dollars as inspiration, and about Carrey slipping that check into his father's pocket at his father's funeral in 1994. Think about it carefully, because you're going to need some equally powerful motivation to keep you going through the times of self-doubt and depression. They will be many and prolonged.

Yes, think of the money. Because I guarantee you, right now, every A-list screenwriter in Hollywood is thinking very hard about the money, and how to make sure you get none of it. Well, I'm telling you, one of those fountains of gold has your name on it, my friend. And if you don't believe that in your heart of hearts then put down your copy of Hero With A Thousand Faces and get the hell off my blog :-)

To finish, here are some more quotes from screenwriter Ben Hecht:

"For many years Hollywood held this double lure for me, tremendous sums of money for work that required no more effort than a game of pinochle. Of the sixty movies I wrote, more than half were written in two weeks or less. I received from each script, whether written in two weeks or (never more than) eight weeks, from fifty thousand to a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. I worked also by the week. My salary ran from five thousand dollars a week up. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in 1949 paid me ten thousand a week. David Selznick once paid me thirty-five hundred a day."
~
"A movie is never any better than the stupidest man connected with it."
-- source
~
"I've written it was easy money -- and that's a misstatement, if you examine the deed. Writing cheaply, writing falsely, writing with 'less' than you have, is a painful thing. To betray belief is to feel sinful, guilty -- and taste bad. Nor is movie writing easier than good writing. It's just as hard to make a toilet seat as it is a castle window. But the view is different."
-- Ben Hecht, Charlie, 1957

END.