Just Effing Entertain Me

When Good People Write Bad Scripts

You know you have a drawer full of them. Bad scripts. And like your ratty, stained underwear, you keep them surreptitiously, not exactly sure what to do with them. All that work – what, throw that in the recycling bin? What if, one fine day, you realize your animation script, STUMPY THE ONE-LEGGED FLAMINGO, is box office gold?

In theory, every script we write is better than the last, right? That’s the hope, anyway – that we learn something from every script. But – do we? How do we learn something about scripts we leave in our wake if we don’t revisit them and identify what went wrong?

Sometimes, it’s easy. You flip through it, read your atrocious dialogue and roll your eyes. Hey, that was 10 years ago – it’s not worth discussing. But how about more recently? Exactly why didn’t ROMANCING THE ZYGOTE place in a single competition? Why were your queries unanswered? If your answer is a quick, certain, “Because zygotes are too political,” and you maybe flush a little when you say it and your eyes dart around – you need to take a deep breath here.

Why, exactly, did the script garner zero traction with competitions, agents or managers? Until you know, you’re doomed to repeat the same mistakes.

For newer writers here is the checklist of just a very few reasons why your script may not have fared well:

1) The premise was one or many of the following:

Soft

Unoriginal

Weird

Boring

Totally self-referential

2) The characters weren’t three-dimensional

3) The structure was loosey goosey (that’s straight from McKee)

4) The narrative was not compelling; not enough conflict, not enough at stake

Go ahead, open that cobwebby drawer and take your old scripts out into the light, which is the best disinfectant.

Spend a few minutes flipping through your old script(s). Become one with the pages. How does the dialogue read? Does the plot make sense? Are the pages engaging? Do you find yourself thinking HMMM I should rewrite this with my newly acquired experience and skills, or do you cringe and wonder what the heck peyote casserole you apparently ate the night before you wrote this thing? Identify what didn’t work and check in with yourself – do you know better now? Is there a lesson STUMPY is just waiting to impart?

Are You a "Creative?"

Today I am proud to announce what I hope will be a regular column here on The Rouge Wave. (You guys know the blog is shortly to be moved and renamed, right? Don’t freak out; there will be breadcrumbs. I drink your milkshake!) But before I introduce Libby Barnes, life coach to those who work in the entertainment industry – or aspire to – I must remind you all that you are weird. Well – so am I.

“Creatives,” as those poor souls like us are known, who write, act, direct, sculpt, photograph and otherwise sing a song back to life, are gifted with abilities that the masses could only dream of having. But with those creative gifts comes a lot of doubt and yes, I’ll say it – neuroses. I try to address that here on The Rouge Wave but I am not a qualified professional. I just get it because I am you. When I heard about Libby Barnes, who does life coaching and workshops specifically for creatives, I thought wow! I must get her to write for The Rouge Wave! And she was kind enough to do so.

In addition, Libby will be on an upcoming teleclass (details TBA) taking your questions about the peaks, valleys and swollen rivers you encounter as you carry the gift and the burden of dreams of being “a creative” like some crazy scene from FITZCARRALDO. Without further ramblings, here is Libby’s inaugural post:

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As a life and career coach for the entertainment industry, I often work with writers on ways to increase their self motivation and productivity. For many of them, there are no 9 a.m. meetings, no bosses to please and no deadlines to meet. Bottom line: There’s no structure. And most writers thrive on structure, so they have to create it themselves. One of the most effective strategies I like to suggest is what John F. Kennedy once referred to as “throwing your hat over the fence.” If you throw your hat over the fence, you will HAVE to climb over the fence to get it. You’re committed. To metaphorically “throw your hat” means you announce what you’re going to do and when you’re going to do it, preferably to people who matter to your career. This, in turn, propels you into action because there’s no going back and you don’t want to fail in front of them.

As a writer myself, I’m always looking for ways to create that accountability and commitment. Recently, I was working on the fourth draft of a screenplay that I felt had great marketability. But I kept putting it down and losing motivation. So, I decided to set a date to do a staged reading of it. I booked the theater, made the announcement and prayed that my creative juices would flow. And they did. Knowing that my work – good or bad – was going to be read out loud to an audience was productive pressure at its best. I completed the final draft and had a fantastic reading that opened a lot of doors for me.

How can you throw the proverbial hat? It may be as simple as signing up for a class or joining a writers’ group where you have to share your pages. Better yet, start a group yourself. Being a leader and needing to set an example for others will inspire you to rise to the occasion. Or you could schedule a table reading in your home, book a meeting with your agent or tell an industry contact the date you’ll be sending him your script. The possibilities are endless.

Whatever you choose to do, you want it to be realistic so that you’re setting yourself up for success, but also challenging, so you’re compelled to get to work. And it can’t be easy to take back, like promising your mom you’ll finish your first draft by next month when you know that, even if you don’t, she’ll love you anyway. You want to announce your intentions to people who may NOT love you anyway if you don’t get it done. By making this commitment before your work is ready (and especially because your work isn’t ready), you’ll be creating that structure and accountability that can often be the key to a writer’s success.

One great outcome from my staged reading was that a producer liked my comedic style and wanted to collaborate on my next project. I emailed him a couple days ago asking if he’d like to meet on Thursday to go over the completed outline of my new script. Guess what? Right now, I don’t have a completed outline of my new script, but I can promise you that by Thursday I will. I have thrown my hat and now I must follow.

Libby Barnes is originally from Virginia, where she received a Master’s degree in Counseling. She moved to L.A. in 1998 to pursue acting and writing. She is now a life and career coach for the entertainment industry and is working on her fourth script. To schedule a complimentary life coaching session with her or to find out about the next Passion Into Action workshop, visit her website or call 310-721-7028.

Movies that Move You

So the other day I drove past the Hollywood Universalist Church on Franklin Blvd. in Hollywood and saw a sign describing upcoming sermons based on movies. I wish I could have slowed down to write down all the titles but we like me alive and with all limbs, right? The only one I remember is THE VISITOR. What a wonderful, appropriate idea.

I have read before that there are some therapists who use films as a form of therapy – an add-on if you will. A way for viewers/patients to connect with their deepest feelings through the emotionally and sensually immersive, transformative medium of film.

Recently, I (re)watched NORMA RAE and sure enough found myself reveling in the feeling that I was watching something important, something substantial, something that made me feel like a better person for having experienced it. I wanted to retroactively thank the DP, the writers and the director (Martin Ritt, who directed another favorite film of mine, THE FRONT, about the blacklist).

And Sally Field. I like her, I really like her. Jokes aside. It’s a great performance. When the petite spitfire wrenches herself from the grasp of her burly escorts marching her out of the textile factory and instead climbs up on a machine and holds up the famous UNION sign, eyes round with determination, fear and an elegant sort of hopeful defeat…well…that’s a movie moment you want to see, Wavers. It’s transformative and beautiful and wrenching and glorious. And it makes you wish you had that much courage. And it reminds you that you do.

Not all movies hit that deep vein of emotion and catharsis for us and thank god, right? That would be a bit exhausting. Recently, I watched CLOVERFIELD and was thoroughly entertained (engrossed, really) and then promptly forgot about it until someone told me about the mysterious splash in the end. Movies are populist entertainment and the impact of film on a viewer can be anything from enormously cathartic to simple, gut-busting entertainment. But once in awhile, you see a movie that taps into that part of yourself that forgets anybody else is in the theater. Movies in which the main character is the person you wish you could be or someone you once were. Movies that tighten our throats with joy and appreciation and impact.

So I’m curious – what movies have you seen, Wavers, which left you flat on the seat, a puddle of cinemagasm and filmic adoration, wanting to write fan letters to every single name that flies by in the credits? What movie do you wish you had written that gave an audience member that same feeling?

Dialing for Dollars

Hello, Wavers! You’ve by now noticed I’ve been posting less Wavy goodness lately. Mama has been very busy. Administrating and judging the Silver Screenwriting Competition, running The Script Department, working on my own writing and producing plans and projects, preparing for my class at the Great American Pitch Fest on June 13th and the panel I will be on at the Broad Comedy Film Festival in Venice the following day and (deep breath) writing a book based on The Rouge Wave and (deep breath) finding time to exercise, get enough sleep and eat well. Foof. It’s a lot.

In addition, I feel as if I’ve said about everything I have to say on the topic of screenwriting here on The Rouge Wave so I’m posting less often and only when I really have something to say or a question to answer, rather than just warming over old topics just for the sake of posting. Hope that’s okay with all of you wonderful, loyal Wavers. I love love love a good question or comment – that way I know I’m posting something that you wanted the answer to, not just postulating cutely on organic dialogue again.

Today I had to call 40 – 40 – agents, managers and production companies on behalf of a client with a script that I am in love with. Once in a blue moon, a script bubbles up to the surface that I just have to throw myself behind. And when I am a fan of a script, look out. My phone is smoking right now.

You know why calling a lot of people, some of which you know, some of which you don’t is anxiety-inducing? Because some people are so short and rude on the phone. As I say, 40 calls, right? Of those 40, I would say I know or am acquainted with about 20 of those people. And those people are friendly. Hey Julie! Sure, what’s the logline? Sure, send the script. Yay. Feels good. I know if the writer called on his own behalf, he’d be shut down just by dint of the We-Don’t-Know-You Filter. So it’s great to see those pay-it-forward/networking efforts cash out in getting reads when I want them.

Some of the companies I called – wow, dude. Take a coffee break. Breathe it out. Be nice. I can imagine being on the receiving end of query-type phone calls every single day must get really old and that the second you answer the phone, you’re on defense but geezo, we’re not curing cancer here, we’re just talking about whether you’ll read a story. Chillax.

Got some really, really interesting skinny from my old employer, Walden Media, about what’s on the slate upcoming and what the new mandate is all about. Very different mandate, I’m surprised – moving closer to the Bristol Bay mandate of old. (Walden and Bristol are both owned by Anschutz. Well, they were. Til Bristol was shuttered a few years back). Cary Granat has formed his own prodco, continuing his interesting odyssey from Dimension to Walden to what amounts to Walden-II-Minus-Anschutz unless Anschutz is funding Granat which I seriously doubt. Phillip Anschutz is the man who signs the checks at Walden, incidentally, being the conservative Colorado billionaire who owns Narnia-land. I used to LOVE reading for Walden Media, let me tell you. That was a great gig. It’s nice to continue to be in touch with creative executives there. Another reminder, Wavers – yesterday’s assistant you were polite to is today’s exec who gives you all the skinny.

It’s very fun being just down the hall from Heroes and Villains; I just walked on down there all casual like with my coffee and leaned on the door frame and was all like, dudes, I have a rockin script that you need to read. Script in reading pile. YES.

All righty Wavers, more later, I will not abandon you, I’ll just be posting a bit less and please, if you have suggestions or questions – send them my way and I’ll be happy to answer them.

The Longest Journey

Getting your thoughts and ideas out of your head and onto the page is the longest journey in the world. We can see the scene, we can feel the emotion, but we have to use keystrokes and words to get it onto that white sheet of paper. And it’s not easy, right? Because now we are constrained by a certain way of expressing that on paper – the screenwriting way. Or the prose way. Or the poetry way. Contrary to the saying, we are not a bunch of monkeys in a room.

Being a writer doesn’t simply mean you have a lot of neat ideas in your head. It’s all in the name: w-r-i-t-e-r. You write it down. And it’s more than wanting or needing to write down your ideas and stories, it’s the ability to write it down in such a way that other people reading it are engaged, surprised, touched and entertained by the words you took out of your head and put on the page.

Think of someone you know who is very funny. Think of the way that they command the room with their joking, imitations or comments. They love it. They love to bask in the glow of the laughter they evoke. They might be naturally funny, they may have a unique, wry, cynical way of looking at the world. But they don’t sit around by themselves and crack jokes.

Any Rouge Waver reading this knows the wonderful feeling when someone says, wow, what you wrote in my birthday card made me cry. Or wow, your short story really surprised me and made me see things in a new way. And maybe you haven’t had this particular experience, but when an editor says, yes, your essay or short story will be published – WOW – it means it did its job and that now, thousands of people will also be able to read what you wrote and integrate it into their own lives and point of view. I get that WOW feeling from the Rouge Wave – if a Rouge Waver says, thanks, I learned from that, or that made me laugh – geez, that means using the characters of the alphabet and my keyboard, I took what was in my head and wrote it down in such a way that it made a difference to you. Because a writer not getting read is like one hand clapping.

That’s what we all want ultimately, right? To entertain others? To have an impact on them? To change their thinking, crack them up, scare them to death or otherwise make them FEEL something? We don’t write just for our own benefit. Or maybe we do. But that’s called journaling. Nothing wrong with that – it’s therapy, it’s reflection – but it’s not for public consumption.

Before your writing can possibly have an impact on a reader, you must be adept at using the language. Spelling, grammar but more than that – the lyricism of the language itself. Here is a bit from a TC Boyle short story: Fall settled in early that year, a succession of damp glistening days that took the leaves off the trees and fed on the breath of the wind. Fed on the breath of the wind. Ah, TC, how I love you so.

Can you write a sentence like that? No, it’s not screenwriting, it’s prose – a different beast altogether – but screenwriting can also be lyrical and beautiful. Believe it. It’s not just a blueprint, it’s a gorgeous blueprint/presentation and words are your only tools with which to create it.

Are you a good writer? I mean – are you really? I don’t mean have you sold a script or have you published a novel or have you come up with the best idea in the universe, but what is your facility with the words on the page full stop? Can you look out the window right now and write 250 words about what you see in such a way that I would be entertained by it? Can you make me see the buildings, the streets, the flowers or the rail car going by?

Screenwriters should watch a lot of movies. If you haven’t checked out the GASP list, please do so and begin checking movies off it. If you are a television writer, get those hours of TV in. But remember, before your words hit the screen, they hit the page. So read good writing. And read it a lot. Take pride in the way you wield the words on the page. At the end of the day it’s unimportant whether it’s screenwriting, prose, essay writing or anything else. You have a gift. Use it, expand upon it and spend time daily getting it out of your head and onto the page.

Lessons From American Idol: Part II

Yeah, yeah, I know I’m eight seasons too late to be interested in AMERICAN IDOL. I avoided it for a long time. But I’m really struck by the parallels between this show and the journey of writers. Everything from the early auditions, when people think they can sing because their friends and parents told them so, to the current episodes in which singers are adept but not 100% unique.

In particular, there is one singer, Lil Rounds, who has a great voice. The girl can sing. But her choices so far have been homages to other artists but without her own touch – and that has held her back from greatness. She’s imitating, not innovating. And that can be the death of many a talented screenwriter.

The same but different is something we’ve all heard before. It’s supposedly what audiences want in a movie. Something that is a little familiar to them, and yet something that surprises and delights them too.

Last week, when Adam Lambert performed “Mad World,” we had the perfect example of “the same but different.” A familiar song, but he took it to another level of its potential. He put his own stamp on it. A performance like that makes you want to listen to the original again (or even the cover by Gary Jules, featured on the DONNIE DARKO soundtrack) AND to listen to Adam’s rendition again and again.

There’s no question that all of the finalists on AMERICAN IDOL can sing. They are all talented, no doubt about that. But, the question then becomes who can perform under pressure and pull it out time after time and who can stand out from the pack in terms of originality? Or, as we writers would say – who has a VOICE?

Every day, as I am wont to say, hundreds and hundreds of scripts arrive in Hollywood. The vast majority of them are not competitive. Think of this phase as those early AMERICAN IDOL auditions when you have thousands of screaming would-be competitors crowded into auditoriums, waiting for a chance to try out. Some are delusional, some are clowns – and some – a very few, can actually sing.

You’re not worried about the delusional and the clowns. Your competition is the writers who can actually write. Now we come down to meaningful competition. But of those who can actually write – how many are also good in a room, able to handle pressure and able to write not one good script – but another one and another after that? Now the competition dwindles to just a handful.

The sorting process goes something like this:

Writers who can actually write
Writers who can write more than one good script
Writers who write consistently, with discipline
Writers who can handle feedback and take notes
Writers who can handle rejection, disappointment and setbacks
Writers who can generate fresh ideas
Writers who are good in a room and can pitch well
Writers who are fearless and confident

…and even then, Wavers, even when you reach the top tier of confidence, experience, professionalism and consistent writing, the odds are very much against you. But you have to go through the various auditions – the points along the way when other writers either drop out or get sorted out of the running.

There are troubling signs along the way that can sometimes indicate a writer doesn’t have what it takes. New writers who get IRATE about notes or feedback – not a good sign. Writers who take rejection too much to heart. Writers who stay on the same level of doing great karaoke but who can’t break through to find their own unique voice. But the good news is you can work to break through any of these levels. As they say, the difference between writers in this town who make it and those who don’t is that those who made it never gave up trying.

But in order to evolve, you have to recognize where you are on the scale. You have to listen to the feedback you are receiving – sometimes it’s silent feedback in the form of not getting read requests off of queries. Maybe it’s pass after pass. Maybe you go postal when you get notes you don’t like or agree with. Maybe you FREEZE in a room. Maybe you write well but your scripts are soft and derivative. It’s okay – just be honest about where you are. That’s the only way to reach the next level.

I wonder, when a contestant on AMERICAN IDOL goes home – what do they do next? Do they bitterly voodoo curse Simon Cowell and rage to the skies that they were unfairly treated? Or do they take what they learned and use it to become a better singer/performer? Well, I suppose either choice is a legitimate one. What would you do? Are you going to use your experiences to build a case that the world is not fair to you and that nobody gets your brilliance? Or are you going to make an honest assessment and use the information you gather to recharge yourself and your writing to keep evolving and improving?

Continuing to evolve, being open to feedback and continuing to put that behind in a chair is what separates the men from the mice. Yes, sometimes it’s exhausting. Some writers just think you know what, I just don’t have the passion, eight scripts in, to keep up with this. And that’s okay, that’s a legitimate life choice. But you out there, you writers who can see no other life for yourselves than to break into Hollywood and write a produced movie? You are on an Iron Man Triathlon. Others will fall away, the path may sometimes feel lonely and difficult, but nurture that core passion and get back up and keep writing. That’s the only way through to the end game. And when you reach that end game, you’ll find the most ironic thing of all – it’s not the end, it’s a new beginning. So you wrote a script that sold and was produced. Can you do it again? Can you stay relevant? Now that you made it onto Sold Writer Island, can you manage not to get voted off?

Writing, particularly writing for entertainment, is not for babies. It’s only that weird, slightly obsessive part of yourself, the part that makes you NEED to write, that can be your sword and your shield on this strange journey. Don’t be afraid to take stock of who you are and where you are. There’s no shame in being like Lil Rounds – she’s amazing – she’s made it very far. She can sing better than 99% of the population. But in a competition, that’s not good enough. If that thought makes you quail, you may not have what it takes. There’s only one way to find out. Keep. Writing.

And yes, you will have very bad writing days. I had one just yesterday. Bad writing, not having fun, not feeling the love. Writing sucks, let’s just be honest. But it’s not going to stop me from sitting back down today and getting back to work. Being a writer is like marriage: for better or for worse, through sickness and health, for richer or poorer. Good writers have bad days. Bad writers have good days. For my money, the absolute worst stage you could be at is not the doubt, not the rejection, not the freezing in a room, but being a screaming contestant sure you can sing but the truth is – you can’t. That is horrible. To not honestly know what your skills are.

I find that the intensity of writers is usually inversely proportionate to their talent. I have not done a scientific study but I have worked with hundreds of writers and I have found this to be a pattern. Good or even great writers are generally fairly mellow and humble. Bad writers are usually strident, defensive and insistent that they are great. I think when you’re good and you know it, you don’t have the need to insist or be validated. When you’re not so good, a defense mechanism can kick in, making you need to insist that you are GOOD as a way of coping with the fact that in reality, the idea of being a writer is what you are in love with.

There are Wavers reading this right now who fall into every category I have listed or mentioned in this whole blog post. All up and down the scale. I can’t know whether each and every one of you can or cannot write, will or will not succeed. It doesn’t matter what I think. It just matters that you be honest with yourself. If your GPS is not set to the true starting point, you’ll never get to your destination.

This I Believe

So I was listening to NPR the other day, as I am wont to do, and I heard the very last installment of their This I Believe series. It was Muhammad Ali talking about what he believes about life. It was fascinating. And I thought – how interesting, making a statement about what you believe is like writing a mission statement, isn’t it? And a mission statement is a bit like a great logline isn’t it? It’s a very core, fundamental statement about your script.

Long time Wavers know I tend to harp on the fact that screenwriting is only one kind of writing and that you should develop the muscles and the skills to write for other mediums. Short fiction, poetry, non-fiction, first person essays – well, how about we get a two-fer today?

How about Wavers write a 100-word This I Believe Statement and submit it to the comments section here? It’s a way to think about and focus on your core values and beliefs but with a strict word limit. The word limit – just like in writing a great logline – forces you to distill your thoughts into the most powerful expression possible. And here’s the two-fer part – as you do this, you’ll revisit and reinforce what your core values and beliefs are. In a busy, busy world we don’t check in with ourselves often enough and ground ourselves in what we really believe to be true of ourselves and this life. There’s just so much noise and distraction. But if we don’t check in with why we’re here on this planet, then we’re chucking the guidebook out the window.

Easter celebrates the resurrection of Christ, but as a metaphor, it celebrates the possibilities of rebirth and new paradigms. Passover celebrates freedom from adversity and new beginnings. So it seems appropriate on this Easter and Passover holiday to take a moment to do an uplifting writing exercise that reinforces who we really are and what we hold dear.

So here’s my This I Believe:

I believe that happiness is not about stuff or achievements, but a feeling of well-being. I believe that knowing the universe is fundamentally good is the only thing you need to know for sure. I believe there are no mistakes, accidents or wrongs that won’t unfold into grace down the road. I believe that grace is where courage, wisdom and laughter meet. I believe in being nice to people. I believe in playing more and worrying less. I believe we are the writers, directors and producers of our lives and that we tell the story we want to be in.

Secret to Your Success REVEALED

Flip through your most recent copy of Creative Screenwriting or Script Magazine and focus on the ads. Yeah – that’s mine, very good, thank you. Nice artwork, I know.

Look, I’m a writer just like you. And I just saw an ad for a very cool looking writer’s retreat – I’ve never been to one and they appeal to me mightily. I have a lifelong dream of going to Yaddo or enrolling in the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Maybe one day. A retreat strikes me as a great use of money and time. Because the rewards have legs. Teach a man to fish and all that.

But some of the other ads, the ones that promise to reveal some SECRET to success – those make me so uncomfortable. Because, Wavers, there is no big secret that someone can teach you that will magically make a sale for you. There. Just. Isn’t. Believe it.

With the economy in a tailspin, we are all forced to make tough decisions and really look at our expenses and test each one for how much it is really needed. In times past, we all had more disposable income and it was easy and fun to go to Target and spend $200 on stuff and we didn’t think twice. We need stuff, right? Take a look at your home – look at all your stuff. I bet you have a lot. I do.

And just like anyone else, I get the feeling that some new stuff will bring happiness, security, success – whatever. When I was married, I was a shopper. Because shopping alleviated boredom and stuff feathered my nest with – well, stuff. Looking back now I see that I had been the ideal consumer – stuff makes you happy! You NEED this Pottery Barn furniture because then you’ll be just like the photograph of a stuff-filled home which connotes comfort, success and classiness! Oh, and relevancy and happiness! Oh, how ridiculous. Do you know that temporary high of getting something new? Your new car, new clothes, new iPhone – it’s like a new toy and it provides entertainment – for awhile. Then it’s just more stuff you have. And you’re no happier. Or more successful. What a line of baloney we’ve all been fed.

We live in a consumer driven culture and yes, there is a lot of stuff that does enrich, educate and fulfill us. But you have to check in with yourself – am I getting this stuff because I’m bored? Am I getting this stuff because it promises me that I’ll be happier? Or more successful? But – will it really? Honestly?

Don’t get me wrong; I’m all about seeking out joy and fulfillment. But when particular products or services tell screenwriters that they will learn some huge SECRET that will OPEN THE DOORS TO HOLLYWOOD I get kind of uncomfortable.

Because, and I’ll say it again – there is no big secret that everybody knows that you do not.

Wait – no – there is. I’m charging $53.99 per view of this big secret:

Ass in chair.

Okay, you can send payments to: bigsecret@thescriptdepartment.com. Go ahead. Operators are standing by.

As a service provider for aspiring screenwriters, I obviously believe that objective feedback is an important part of your development – otherwise you can write all you want and have no idea if you’re improving. If I didn’t truly believe that, if I hadn’t benefited from it myself, if I didn’t see the impact great feedback has on writers, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. Because I was born with a very strong ethical-ometer [technical term --Ed.] and I can’t earn my living providing a service that writers don’t actually need and also live with myself. I’m just not built that way. From time to time the board of directors of my company considers, then scraps, ideas that would earn us money but not really benefit you demonstrably. We just don’t roll that way.

There are consumer junkies of every stripe. The techno-gadget junkies. The home furnishings and lifestyle junkies. The cosmetics and beauty supplies junkies. The DVD-buying entertainment system junkies. You name it. And for each type there is a whole industry set up to exploit the junkie and give him or her that HIGH of hope and safety and security.

Most screenwriters are pretty astute, but there are junkies in that world too. I have seen them browsing the tradeshows, snatching up armloads of books and software. I have seen them attend not one but three and four pitch fests each year. I have seen them attend not one but EVERY class and seminar. In a weird way, it’s a great way to avoid actually writing. If you keep buying STUFF about screenwriting – somehow, by accretion, magically, your writing will improve.

R-i-g-h-t.

Look, I’m as guilty as some of you are – talking about screenwriting is way more fun than doing it. We’ll do anything to avoid the terrifying quiet of sitting in front of our computers sometimes. And I really do get that.

But don’t get taken for a fool. Big secret = bullshit.

I mean, look – of course you need to spend money on your screenwriting career. You do need to attend events, go to classes, buy some books and get feedback. It’s all part of that five a day for writers I’ve spoken of before:

Write
Promote
Network
Learn
Live well

Check in with yourself before spending money on seminars, books and products. Is there a feeling there for you of desperation? Of a quick fix? If so – do NOT press “pay now.” Be careful of where you spend your money and your time when it comes to screenwriting. New, better, faster and more is a myth. Ass. In chair. That’s the only big secret. And even then, folks, even then, the odds are against you. Are you okay with that? You have to be.

Someone asked me the other day why I write The Rouge Wave. I thought about it for a minute. Because writing is really hard and isolating and I try to motivate you with humor and understanding. Because you need a cheerleader, a friend and a strict schoolmarm. Because sometimes you need to get over yourselves. Because somebody needs to tell the truth once in awhile. Because I want you to believe in yourselves. Honestly, I am YOUR fan, Wavers. I thank YOU for reading every day. Because writing is hard. But you’re doing it against crazy odds. Because you can’t help it. Because you have a story to tell. And because you want to express yourselves and make some sense in this crazy world. That is heroism. You are the ones who inspire me.

Can You Hold My Attention?

I wouldn’t describe myself as a script reader these days. Readers read two to three scripts per day. Now that I run a company that hires readers, I might read one or two scripts a week. And when I do, I really look forward to it. Oh for a quiet hour or so to sit with your script, turning the pages and getting lost in the world that you created. I get all comfy with some coffee or tea, turn down the radio and open the script.

I read a few pages. The phone rings. I ignore it and keep reading. My email chimes. Three times. I glance up to see what’s up but return to the reading. The phone rings again; it’s the director of the Attic Theater about tonight’s table read – I gotta take it. After a 10 minute conversation, I return to your script – which page was I on? Oh, page 17, okay. I continue reading. Email keeps chiming. Oh shoot, that email has to be responded to right NOW. I jot off a quick reply. Now. Back to your script. What was happening? Where was I? And so on and so forth. There is no such thing as totally quiet, dedicated script reading time. It will get interrupted. And I’m just me – imagine an agent or manager reading your script. Multiply the phone calls and emails and knocks on the door by 1000.

But something strange happens when your script is engrossing. Suddenly, everything else around me goes quiet – I can’t tear myself away from the pages. Yeah, yeah, I’ll return that phone call but I just gotta see what happens, I’m just so swept up in these pages. Yesterday in the late afternoon that happened. I had to GO, I had a table read to host. But the script was really engaging me and I had to finish it. I kept glancing at the clock – gotta go – gotta go – but just two more pages. Just five more pages. Gotta finish this, gotta see how it ends…

On the other hand, and I’m sorry to say, this is the majority of the time, if your script is executed poorly – if I’m just not getting into the characters, if there are errors on the pages, if the storytelling itself is pedantic and unexciting, then the email chimes, phone calls and lunch dates suddenly become more pressing than your pages.

So Wavers, this is what you’re up against. Because my situation is pretty normal. Even a script reader who does this as a full time job gets hungry for lunch, gets emails, phone calls and roommates poking their head in the door asking whose turn it is to vacuum. Nobody reads your script in a 100% ideal situation – i.e. uninterrupted, blissful silence.

So how can you overcome that fact? You need cinematic writing that moves. You need unforgettable characters. You need a premise that is unique and exciting. Those are the scripts that make the phone calls and other interruptions fade into the background. You can have whatever opinion you want about BALLS OUT, the Robotard Mystery Script, but it is, if nothing else, very engaging. It MOVES. It surprises, it offends and it makes you laugh. It is, in a word, engaging.

Engaging the reader. That’s your job.

The first thing to overcome for you, the writer, is the difference between what engages YOU and what will engage and involve someone else. If you asked 10 writers whether their script is engaging, all 10 would say yes it is. Nobody ever tries to write a script that isn’t. Right?

But the relationship between a writer and his or her script is inherently incestuous. You’re too close to the material to imagine that it may not be as great to someone else as it is to you. You’ve read it and worked on it ad infinitum, so you have no perspective anymore. Is it entertaining? Well, sure, to YOU it is.

But is it really? Is it interruption proof? Will it make a professional reading your script ignore the ringing phone and be late for lunch?

That would make a great rating on the rating grid – engaging/entertaining/compelling. Fair, Good or Excellent. Maybe we should think about including that at The Script Department. Mama shall think that one over. But do you really want to hear the answer?

The most heartbreaking instance is when a script is executed just fine – no typos, clean action lines, a good page length – but the story is just, well, dull. It’s fine. It’s okay. It’s just not that interesting.

Many of you may read scripts from time to time and you’re thinking – hey! I stick to it! I don’t get interrupted, my attention is held the whole time. Well, there’s a wide gulf between you and a professional reader. For one thing, you are probably reading a professionally written and/or produced script in which the writer has a very high skill set. Or barring that, you’re reading a script as a favor to someone and you’re all amped up to do it. And another thing – you might read two or three scripts a month. Try reading two or three scripts a DAY and imagine then, that of the minimally 15 scripts you read in a week, that 13 made your eyes bleed.

Reading can sometimes be a real grind. Believe it. And your script enters into that grind as a new, fresh hope for that reader. Maybe THIS one will be a quick read. Maybe THIS one will crack me up or scare me or make me cry. Maybe THIS one will remind me how much I love good writing.

That’s why readers get SO excited when your script rocks. Wow! One stood out! This writer changed my perspective, just a little bit. This writer entertained me, moved me and delighted me. God I love that feeling. It’s the best feeling in the world. Well, you know, in the top 10.

Imagine this: You pick up a book and read a few pages. Not turning you on. You give it another few pages. Still not doing anything for you. You flip ahead. Eh. You look at the cover again. Meh. You read the author’s bio on the back. Hmm. And you make the painful decision to put the book down. If you’re a reader, you don’t have that latitude. You MUST read the whole damn thing. And then write up your thoughts about it. If it was slow, unoriginal, laborious and filled with typos and mistakes, your coverage is going to reflect that without mercy.

So remember, after you’ve read all of your Save the Cats and Storys and Writing Great Character Blah-Blah books, after you’ve read The Rouge Wave everyday, the onus is still on you to write pages that engage and entertain. Your job is to write pages and tell a story that engages the reader. Your pages have to make the world go away.

There’s no book that can tell you how to do that. It’s called talent. And it’s making sure that your premise – before you write the bloody script – is an interesting, original, entertaining one. Feedback helps. Being honest with yourself helps. So often newer writers can be very self-indulgent. How can the thinly veiled autobiographical story of how hard it was for you to find love when you were a student at UC San Diego not be TOTALLY exciting to someone else? Hint: It won’t be.

Readers are jaded. J-a-d-e-d. We have already read every script known to man. The same stories are told over and over. What you think is totally original, to us is a script we read last week. Believe it. I know it’s a very harsh truth. Your totally original sci-fi script? Yeah,I’ve read it before and it was better.

Awful awful awful, right? Well, it’s the truth.

Get honest feedback from someone who either doesn’t know you or someone willing to be 100% honest. So that rules out your mom, spouse and friends. Work HARD on hammering out a premise that is the same – but different. Dig down deep into the particularity of the world you are creating. Take the time to develop characters that really are unique. Write pages that move quickly and that are cinematic, colorful and entertaining.

Because the entertainment factor is everything. It is simply everything. And the golden pathway to that ineffable quality of engaging and entertaining is paved by everything above and then the one, magical ingredient that rules them all: VOICE.

How do you develop your voice? By writing. A lot. By letting go some and having fun on the pages. By being a little playful. By being unafraid to be uniquely you.

Generally, new writers go through several phases:

The first, horrible, awful two to three scripts: You have read all the books, taken all the classes and your writing is pedantic, tight and unoriginal. You get shut down immediately when you try to query or enter a competition. People smile thinly at you and encourage you to “keep trying!”

The mediocre three to four scripts after that: You don’t have to refer to your Trottier book 18 times a day anymore to check on how to deal with structure. But your premises are not unique or entertaining. Your scripts are o-k-a-y but dull. You get shut down wherever you query. Your writing group encourages you but nobody really believes you have that “it” factor. You’re a statistic: one of millions of aspiring screenwriters all over the world trying to break in and failing.

The mediocre and derivative couple of scripts after that: Now you’re getting mad. What the hell?! Why is this not coming together?! You get shut down again. But you aren’t quitting. WHERE is the golden premise that will enable you to write a great script? You’ve learned all there is to learn (you think), you write every day, your pages are pretty good but success still eludes you.

Then it happens. You say okay you know what? Screw it. I’m going to write this crazy story and I don’t care what anyone says. I’m sick of this shit. I LOVE this story and I’m going to go nuts on it and my skill set is high but my temper is higher and I’m having fun on these pages. And that, Wavers, is the script that will break you into Hollywood.

But here’s the rub: You CANNOT fast forward and write that great break-in script without going through writing several bad scripts first. It doesn’t happen. Because you have to get good and frustrated first. And you HAVE to learn all that screenwriting craft stuff first. Oh, there are many who bleat – But what about Diablo Cody! She did it! And so can I! I’m just so talented! I deserve this! I need the money! I want the fame! Do not listen to the siren call of the Entitled Diva. It will dash you against the rocks.

You can’t go around it, you can’t go over it, you have to learn this lesson through experience.

So this script was kinda crappy. Fine. Start over and write another one. So that one was derivative and boring. FINE. Start over and write another one. And another. And another. One day you’ll get good and mad – and determined – and you’ll let loose. And that is the best feeling in the world for me, selfishly, because your script just made me miss my lunch date and three phone calls – and I don’t care. Victory on the page!

Quitting When You’re Ahead

Sorry Wavers, but you are weird. So am I. Creatives are just strange. The way we think, our emotionality, the way we are always observing other people. The way we are always thinking about our writing and our stories. You gotta have some empathy for our family and friends who don’t get it. I mean, seriously, we must be tough to be around sometimes.

One of the weirdest things about us is how our brains work when we are in the zone. I’ve been working almost every single afternoon lately with my raconteur, Mr. Perri, on figuring out the loglines for several script ideas and the beats for a particular script. Particularly when you are brainstorming with another person, you notice the way the creative energy ebbs and flows. I’ve noticed, for Perri and me, that we can brainstorm for about three hours before suddenly, the creative plug gets pulled. The room feels too hot. Our conversation slows. We get stuck on one particular point. We start circling and circling the same point. We can’t bust out. We suddenly feel overwhelmed and…tired of thinking. Which is when we pull the plug for that day. Enough. We look at what we DID accomplish and we call it a day. I am of the opinion and the experience that you just can’t push it.

So what do we do? We have to make regular writing/brainstorming/outlining time in our day to day, we know that, right? But we also have to know when it’s enough for that day. Because pushing it beyond the limits of having fun kills creativity. You’ll start to generate bad ideas, you’ll start to mess up what you had done with your story.

So make sure you quit when you’re ahead, Wavers. For whatever reason, Creativity Fatigue kicks in at some point and you have to recognize it and be okay with walking away from it for that day. I’m always talking about balance in our lives, right? You don’t have to crack your story or an aspect of it on a particular day. Don’t forget that as much as we need Behind in the Chair time, we also need Subconscious Mulling Time.

Most of us creatives – and I include musicians, poets, writers and artists in that – get ideas and breakthroughs and inspirations when we aren’t even trying. We have to be still to let it in sometimes.

Flannery O’Connor, who wrote my absolute, hands-down favorite short story of all time “Revelation” (seriously, please check it out) once said, and I am paraphrasing, that every day she’d put a blank piece of paper in her typewriter and just sit for four hours. That way if a good idea did come, she wouldn’t miss it. Flannery did pretty well with that methodology.

So that’s the Behind-in-Chair discipline, which is SO important. But we also need to honor the Wait-and-it-Will-Come method. Our brains are so endlessly complex and fascinating. Malcolm Gladwell’s book Blink is a great read if you are interested in the topic. In fact, the rest of the title of that book is “The Power of Thinking Without Thinking.”

So if you’re writing and you suddenly feel the walls closing in, if your ideas are drying up, if you’re not having fun anymore – walk away. Go do something else. Just put your behind in that chair again tomorrow and trust that in between, your brain really is still working out the problem. It will save you the awful feeling of Creative Fatigue, it could save your script from some really bad decisions and hey – how many other people in life get to walk away from the work and know the brain will still figure it out? It’s pretty cool.