The six-hour scene
I spent the end of last week in Des Moines, where I had a trustees meeting for Drake University. It was also a good excuse for barricading myself in order to get some more pages written on my current project. (The thing I went to Maine to research.)
In How To Write a Scene, I explained my basic process for getting a scene on paper, which consists of looping it in my head, doing a “scribble version,” and then writing up the final thing. But like all workflows, there’s something a little best-case-scenario about the way I described it. So in the interest of myth-busting, I want to explain how some scenes are a lot more work.
(Note that I’m only promising to explain “how,” not explain “why.” After a decade doing this, I’m still sure not why some scenes are exponentially more difficult to write than others. Many times, you don’t see the monsters coming.)
In this case, it took six hours to get one scene written. And it wasn’t, on the surface, a particularly challenging scene: Two characters in a room, talking. A very clear in and out point, with the bookending scenes already written. But it was a beast to get on paper.
In general, when I reach a scene that seems unyielding, I’ll happily skip ahead to write another scene. 1 But in this case, I knew I needed to crack this scene before writing any others, because it introduced a major character’s primary goal, his cri de coeur that would set the tone for much of the movie. That’s something you don’t get in an outline — the emotional drive. I needed to feel it in order to write any of the major scenes later in the script.
So I needed to write it.
The scene looped in my head pretty well. I could see the basic action, and had a sense of what the characters were saying. But when I tried to do a scribble version, it refused to come together. I had a notepad full of dialogue, mostly just single lines, with arrows trying to arrange them into a meaningful sequence. I spent two hours on the flight to Des Moines trying to make the pieces fit before finally putting it aside.
After writing three comparatively easy scenes, I took another stab at it. I asked some obvious-but-necessary questions:
- Was I starting at the right place?
- Was I ending at the right place?
- Could another character drive the scene?
- Would changing the location help?
- Did it need to be two scenes, rather than one?
- Did the scene even need to exist?
The answers confirmed my frustration: it was the right scene. It was just a bitch to write.
I went back to looping it in my head, and tried to forget about the half-written dialogue. If you’ve ever watched a movie with the sound turned off, that’s basically the effect: you don’t know what they’re saying, but you know they’re saying something. And you can tell what the tone is.
Tone ended up being the variable that needed tweaking. By cranking one character up to a near-manic state, his leaps of thought made a lot more sense. I did a new scribble version on a clean sheet, this time with half the arrows.
On the flight back to Los Angeles, I finally wrote the scene itself. It was still tricky, but it hit all the points in an agreeable way. It felt like a scene you could see used as a clip on a TV review show, in that it embodied the tone and ambition of the story.
So now it’s done, and I can continue on the remaining 60-odd scenes left.
Why screenwriters have it so good
Here’s the thing: You don’t always have six hours to write a single scene. In television, that level of output would get you fired. Even on features, there is real time pressure. Spending six hours on two-and-a-half pages is a luxury problem.
So what do you do if you have to write the scene, and you only have an hour?
You muscle it. A good writer with enough experience can get a version of the scene on paper that will range from unobjectionable to pretty damn good. Particularly on production rewrites, I’ve had to muscle scenes that in a perfect world would have been handled more artfully. But the results aren’t terrible. Given the needs of the director, cast, production and studio, you do the best you can with resources you have. Time is finite. So is mental energy.
But when it’s your own script, you owe yourself the time and effort to let each scene be the best it can be. The first 10 pages of Big Fish took three solid weeks of work. I’m convinced that almost any lesser version would have significantly hurt the movie.
The six-hour scene is now typed up, and I’m happy with it. In the cold light of Courier, I know it still needs tweaking, but I’m pretty confident it will remain in the movie in largely the shape I wrote it. If I’d brute-forced it, I’d always wonder if it was the right scene.
- Actors and directors generally have to shoot the scene listed on the schedule, whether it suits their mood or not. The writer, working independently, can check his inner barometer and determine which scene would be most fun to write. “Fun” being relative. At some point, all the easy scenes are finished, and it’s only the sight of the finish line that gets those last scenes written. ↩
20 Responses to “The six-hour scene”
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April 28th, 2008 at 12:04 pm
Interesting post, John. Nice to see the cream of the crop still struggle with single scenes. I’ve gotten to the point where I have to write from page 1 to the end, even if it’s a non-linear script, so I know where you’re coming from. I agree. Muscling it works. It used to take me months to write a first draft. It can be tweaked in rewrites.
April 28th, 2008 at 12:19 pm
It’s kind of the same thing with outlines, right? I mean, you can spend hours writing an outline, but someone on the outside looking on the inside may wonder why you’re taking so long to start writing the script.
In regards to the issue of quality control, we all see this at play during movies. Dialogue, scenes, plot points, etc. We find a lot of these elements could’ve been improved if only someone spent more time on it.
April 28th, 2008 at 1:07 pm
Question, writing out of sequence, how do you keep coninuity in regards to tone, informing the audience, character’s state of mind, or even just props - are your outlines THAT detailed - or do you keep it all “up there”?
April 28th, 2008 at 1:32 pm
Thanks for the insight, John. It’s cool to see that the pros struggle along with us newbies. The difference is that you don’t quit, whereas a lot of us new writers might have given up after hour one. Thanks for the post!
April 28th, 2008 at 2:36 pm
When the movie comes out - please tell us what this scene is… would love to see how your 6 hour effort turned out to be.
April 28th, 2008 at 3:05 pm
Hope you found Des Moines lovely. I grew up, and my parents still live, not 5 minutes from Drake’s campus. Thanks for the insights once again.
April 28th, 2008 at 3:10 pm
@Johnny:
My outlines very wildly. The outline for Shazam! was incredibly detailed, because that was how the director was comfortable working. For this project, it’s basically a list of scenes.
@Ram:
In case I forget, it’s the scene with the word “salvation.” My hunch is that no other scene will use that term.
April 28th, 2008 at 3:14 pm
do you ever question if all your choices when writing a scene were the right ones? i find myself time to time not knowing whether i scene i wrote ‘could’ have been better. i choose to think that my training, knowledge of the material, and talent will come together subconciously and i will arrive at the most effective scene I can. you still struggle with this?
April 28th, 2008 at 4:49 pm
John,
Wow — what a pleasant surprise to discover that you are on the Board of Trustess of Drake (one of my several undergrad institutions). I live near Des Moines, used to live IN Des Moines just west of Drake. (Still work IN Des Moines, where I’m an Admin. Law Judge for the state). Gosh, next time you’re here call me for lunch/coffee/beer or something! You are a Drake alumn, I take it? When were you a student there? Only other famous Drake alumns are Steve Allen and my good pal Mark DeCarlo (voice of Jimmy Neutron’s dad, former host of “Studs” dating show, current host of Taste of America on the Travel Channel). DeCarlo lived across the dorm floor from me (in G-K) back in the early 80s. Hey when the Capt.Marvel/Shazam movie comes out, contact me and we can get some publicity in the DM Register about it — they love “Iowa angle” stuff.
–Mark
April 28th, 2008 at 7:31 pm
Question I just thought of: When you talk about arrows, what purpose do they serve in your draft? Are they just linking random bits of dialog together or do they serve some other function?
April 28th, 2008 at 9:58 pm
Awesome post. Sometimes the biggest problems are solved by the simplest things that hit you out of nowhere.
There is a earlier scene I wrote in my current script where I ran into a similar problem. At one point, a number of the main characters meet at one location. It was a very quick scene that I felt went abnormally fast. After some pining, I decided to rewrite the scene. I wanted to draw out their individual personalities by having them throw some banter back and forth, while the “main event” was taking place.
After the scene was finished, I went back over it and I realized an x-factor had emerged: a few of the characters had very strong personalities traits, and they ended up butting heads. By a fluke of writing, I had set the tone of the characters.
At that point, I went back and revamped my character ideas and their story arcs with all of the new personalities traits. In the end, I was able to spend less time drawing out their characters and more time writing AS the characters. End of rambling.
And yes, please let us know which scene this was when the movie hits, I’d love to know!
April 29th, 2008 at 2:57 am
Nice to hear a screenwriter speak of the 3 weeks it took to write his script’s 10 opening pages. I’m so tired of hearing writers claim it took them 3 weeks to write their entire script!
April 29th, 2008 at 6:22 am
John, I love the “first” and last line of your footnote: In general, when I reach a scene that seems unyielding, I’ll happily skip ahead to write another scene. … At some point, all the easy scenes are finished, and it’s only the sight of the finish line that gets those last scenes written.
Although I wrote prose as opposed to screenplays (currently), I WHOLLY identify with that. (And with much of your writing insights, hence why I started reading.)
April 29th, 2008 at 6:51 am
Wow, funny to hear you were back in Des Moines! I live in Urbandale, but work downtown. A friend of mine and myself who are both attempting to write, think it’s cool a Drake Alum has made it in Hollywood.
Nice to hear a seasoned writer still takes his time to nail a scene…as I tend to labor over every line of a scene whereas my buddy can zip through a rough draft of a scene in less than an hr.
April 29th, 2008 at 9:29 am
@Matisse:
There are 10 ways to write any scene. With experience, you get more confidence which ways will work work best.
@Mark Lambert:
It’s not just Mark DeCarlo. Jeremy Piven apparently dropped out of Drake.
@Andy:
The arrows I’m referring to are the handwritten equivalents of copy-and-paste.
April 29th, 2008 at 10:28 am
“At some point, all the easy scenes are finished, and it’s only the sight of the finish line that gets those last scenes written.”
Hallelujah…
And past that point… I’m not the least bit ashamed of spending 12, 24, or friggin 32 hours on a scene. All it means is that: 1- The answer is WAY closer to my nose than the spot I’m searching.
and 2- A baby’s about to die.
April 29th, 2008 at 6:51 pm
John,
Wow, didn’t know about the Piven/Drake connection. Of course, DeCarlo was a pal, so I’m in contact with him periodically and keep up with his exploits. Like you, I was a journalism major at Drake, too — had Herb Strentz, the “other” Bob Woodward, etc. as profs.
And, SERIOUSLY, when the Shazam/Cap’nMarvel movie gets made, contact me and I can get the DM Register to do a big feature article about it and you. (They were all over the Diablo “Juno” Cody story because she attended the Univ. of Iowa). I do this sort of stuff all the time — check me out with your fellow Drake Trustee Libby J., she knows me. (I have celeb references, too — celebs I’ve worked with in promoting them in Des Moines. E-mail me if you want more info). No charge, I just enjoy doing this stuff, (especially when it’s Captain Marvel related)! BTW, Des Moines is home of the financial business called “SHAZAM” — every ATM card in Iowa carries the Shazam lightning-bolt symbol (www.shazam.net). I knew the DM lawyer who negotiated with DC for the rights to use the name (he’s since passed away). Loved Charlie’s Angels, by the way. I’m moving all of your flicks up on my Netflix cue to check them out!
Best,
–Mark
April 29th, 2008 at 9:35 pm
This reminds me of trivia about Dabney Coleman in Wargames. There’s an early scene where Dabney Coleman is talking with his technicians about what is going wrong with the computers. The function of the scene is exposition and to keep the audience from asking “why don’t they just [blah, blah, blah]“.
The scene wasn’t playing well because they had to cover many ideas in a short scene, and any normal group of people would sit down and discuss all of the possibilities at rationally and at length.
Dabney Coleman came up with the idea that his character would be late for a plane. This allowed the characters to quickly argue through the scene and throw in some “I need answers and I need them now” moments without looking irrational.
That scene shows that you can use some outside, irrelevant device to affect the characters’ behavior. Give your characters something else to think about, like just getting a speeding ticket, or finding out they have to meet with their kid’s principal, or they won’t be able to take that vacation when they planned. Throwaway devices that you can use to set a character’s tone, but never have to refer back to.
April 30th, 2008 at 3:56 pm
Oops, obviously I meant “queue” not “cue.” Can’t believe I did that. Herb Strentz would never forgive me.
May 2nd, 2008 at 11:11 am
That was very interesting. I’ve been “Muscling It” on a single scene. It didn’t take me six hours on a plane to LA. It took me ten years in a room without income support. (with over 600 re-writes). I’m still unemployed at (almost) 44 years. Perhaps I’m doing something wrong…