More research
How important is the research process, and how long do you usually spend on it?
–Adam Foster
The obvious (but not very helpful) answer is that it depends on the project, and one’s definition of "research."
Most of the projects I’ve worked on haven’t involved a lot of research in the classic sense, such as pouring through books, searching the web or interviewing experts. For instance, neither CHARLIE’S ANGELS nor SCOOBY-DOO called for tremendous historical or scientific accuracy. In fact, the best gauge of whether a detail in your script works is usually the "Yeah, I’d buy that" believability test — whether the average uninformed person off the street would accept that item x could do y, or that historical event z coincided with with Korean War. Even genuine, certified facts are useless if they fail the "Yeah, I’d buy that" believability test.
Both Charlie’s and Scooby did call for tonal accuracy, by which I mean the sense of being true to the spirit and rules of the original series. That meant looking back at old episodes to remember the details that set them apart, be it the hair-flips or the offsetting forces of Shaggy’s hunger and cowardice. Technically, that’s research, but it doesn’t quite feel like it.
In the case of JURASSIC PARK 3, the producers wisely referred to an expert paleontologist named Jack Horner, who was always on-call to answer dinosaur-related questions. But it’s important to note that even he would fall back on a, "Yeah, I’d buy that" test, although his opinion was much more informed than the average person’s.
A few times, I have had to do serious research. A project I’ve been working on for several years involves everything from evolutionary brain science to cult formation, so that’s involved a lot of orders from Amazon and several dinners with various smart people to discuss theories. Ninety-percent of what I’ve learned won’t make it into the script, but the research process itself has led to new questions and insights.
One technique I’ve found helpful for all my projects is keep a fat file for each one, and add to it anything that strikes me as interesting or helpful. Thus, my Fantasy Island file has articles and pictures of yachts, sea planes, the Lincoln asssasination, various abstract sculptures and lots of scraps of paper with ideas and snippets of dialogue. Again, most of it won’t be used, but it’s the process that often helps ideas take shape.
Genres and structures
Do you have a clear idea of the genre of the film before you start to write? Do you write to a model, like the three-act structure?
–Lydia
Usually you have a pretty good idea what genre the movie is before you start writing, at least in the broadest sense - a comedy, a thriller, an action movie. And of course, within any category there are sub-genres. "Comedies" can be romantic comedies, black comedies, action comedies, family comedies, spoofs and so forth. You could spend a weekend listing all the different sub-genres and still find movies that don’t fit into any.
More important than knowing where to put the video at Blockbuster is figuring what approach you’ll be taking, and that’s where the real work comes in. For instance, CHARLIE’S ANGELS is an action comedy, so logically it should do some of the same things as LETHAL WEAPON or RUSH HOUR. But from its inception, there were always going to be things about CHARLIE’S ANGELS that would be unique and difficult.
First, the characters. The movie has three heroines who need roughly equal screen time, each with their own subplots and love interests. Bosley needs enough to do so that an actor will want to play it, but not so much that it takes away from the Angels. And then there’s Charlie himself. He’s the disembodied voice on a speakerphone box, yet we need to believe he’s a real person.
Second, the tone. Trying to escape the cheesiness of the TV show, early drafts of the script played the world very cold and high-tech, almost like a MISSION:IMPOSSIBLE movie. While we wanted the Angels to be super-competent when they were in danger mode, we needed them to be huggable when they were off-duty. They needed to be like your best friends: rowdy, caring, impetuous and fun. Also, we wanted the movie to be a love letter to Los Angeles: the sun is always shining, colors are hot, and everyone looks great.
Finally, the action. Early on, we agreed the Angels wouldn’t carry guns. The decision was less because of the social message than the action possibilities. Gun fights are about people hiding behind things; we wanted the Angels punching and kicking. We ended up hiring the fight team behind THE MATRIX to train the actors in martial arts, and I can’t imagine the movie any other way.
Notice that all of these decisions were made BEFORE we started talking about plot or structure. That was the right choice, because it meant we could develop a storyline that would fit the movie we wanted to make, rather than dress-up a pre-existing plot with details from our movie.
The actual outline we used for the movie was simply a list of 20 sequences. It was less than half a page. But it took months to get there. During production, some of the sequences changed for budget, schedule or location reasons, but the underlying spine remained exactly the same.
Optioning your book
I have submitted a book to a producer. This is my first book, but they are wanting to make it. What can I expect as far as monetary compensation for the rights to the story being that I am an unknown author?
–Alma
The short answer is, not a lot. The long answer is more complicated.
When a producer buys the rights to a short story or book, usually what is being purchased is the option on the rights. What this means is that the producer is buying the right to buy the rights at a later time. He’s saying, "I’m gonna pay you $1000 today. In exchange for that $1000, you promise you won’t sell anyone else the rights during the next twelve months. Also, any time during these twelve months, I can pay you $25,000 and you’ll sell me all the film rights to the book."
In this example, $1000 is the option price, and $25,000 is the full purchase (or buyout) price. But those are completely arbitrary numbers. Often the option price is just $1. Sometimes the full purchase price is $1 milllion. And the length of the option can vary as well, from six months up to two years or more, perhaps with a clause allowing the producer to renew the option at fixed price.
In short, the dollars and dates can be anything, but the basic structure of the deal is the same.
By why does a producer bother with an option? Why not just put down the full purchase price at the start?
Because it’s a risk. Lots of things can and will go wrong in the process of trying to make a movie, and the less a producer has to put down up front, the safer it is. And in many ways, an option protects the original writer as well. If the producer isn’t able to get the project made, the option expires and the writer gets all claim back to her work. She even gets to keep the money. She can set up the book with a different producer and do the whole thing all over again.
So how much can you, Alma, hope to make from the book this producer wants to buy? Unless there are a lot of other buyers interested in it, nothing is going to drive the price up. And since you don’t have any track record of being paid a certain amount for your work - what’s called a quote - there’s really no minimum to expect.
At this level, you should expect a low option price, with the possibility of a bigger full purchase price. I can’t see any advantage to selling out all rights to the book at this point, because you’d then be giving this producer the rights forever, and for not a lot of money.
In this situation, you’re mostly just dealing with how much faith you put in this producer to get the movie made.
Film vs. TV writers
Is there a big difference between being a film writer and a TV writer? Do you pretty much only do one or the other?
–Alex
Increasingly, many writers work in both film and TV, either simultaneously or at different phases in their careers. Good writing is good writing, so the likelihood is that if someone is a good film writer, she’ll be a good TV writer, and vice-versa. But there are some important differences between the two mediums.
Writing for series television means following a prescribed format, whether it’s a sitcom or a one-hour drama. There are true act breaks to allow for commercials, a limited number of recurring characters and sets, and an overall mandate about what kinds of stories can happen. Television writing is generally collaborative, with a group of writers contributing to that week’s script, under the supervision of a producer called the "showrunner." The pace of television writing is much, much faster than film writing, because there’s a continuous need to keep up with production. In many ways, being a TV writer is like having a real job, because you’re working office hours — although they’re often quite long office hours.
Writing for film has far fewer limits on structure, storyline, characters and tone. It’s also a much more solitary endeavor, because aside from occasional producer note, you’re off doing the work by yourself on your own timetable. Some writers thrive in that freedom, while others become paralyzed by indecision. Usually, a film writer is paid per draft, rather than per week as a TV writer is, so dawdling can be costly.
There are other important differences between film and TV work. In television, you see your work on screen every week. In film, you’re lucky if you see it on screen once a year.
On film, you get to use your characters for two hours. On TV, you get to use them for a hundred hours or more over the lifetime of the show.
In film, the writer has very little say in the final execution of the work. In television, the writer supercedes the director.
Now, true confession time. After the success of GO, I created and ran a one-hour drama on the WB network. While the circumstances and personalities surrounding that show were uniquely unpleasant, even in the best of situations, I could never, ever see myself running a television series again. While any project, film or TV, is going to involve some compromises, television is nothing but compromises: not enough time, not enough money, not enough energy to fight the same battle for the 43rd time. And if you’re writing a show about cops, then by default you’re not getting to write that space epic you’ve always dreamed about. So you’re compromising your own aspirations as well.
I have friends who truly enjoy their work in television, and manage to pull off a film career as well, so it can be done. But in answer to your question, Alex, some people are better off doing one or the other.
Various locations
Can you tell me what is preferred/correct for this situation? Mabel is moving through a house (and, if necessary, outside):
INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
Mabel searches for the cat.
INT. KITCHEN - DAY
Mabel searches for the cat.
EXT. STREET - DAY
Mabel searches for the cat.
Et cetera. Thanks very much.
–Arnold Sable
Yeah, that pretty much sucks, Arnold. Unless you are repeating the sentence
for some effect, perhaps showing how
intensely single-minded Mabel can be, almost anything else would be better.
The simplest choice would be to use a different scene heading that encompasses
all needed locations, such as:
INT. HOUSE - VARIOUS ROOMS - DAY Or, if you do want to show each location, try varying your descriptions of Mabel’s search so that they don’t repeat. Finally, you could consider using a montage format:
MONTAGE as Mabel searches for the cat:
— She pulls open the dryer in the laundry room.
— Checks the kitchen cupboards.
— Searches under the porch with a flashlight.
— Pokes the broom under the sofa.
— Rechecks the kitchen cupboards again. What format you choose really depends on the situation, and how much information you need the reader to know.
Book before the script?
I’ve heard it being said that one of the ways to get producers interested in your screenplay’s story is to do it the long way and write the book first. Do you agree, and is it harder to get a book published than a screenplay bought?
–Brian
Wow. Writing a screenplay, and then writing a book based on the screenplay, seems like a tremendous amount of misdirected work. Yes, some producers do like to read novels, but the vast majority would prefer a script to a novel any day of the week. After all, a script is a lot closer to being a movie than a book is. Plus it’s shorter, and you can throw it across the room without damaging your walls.
My advice is to pick the format you’d prefer to write, hopefully the one that best matches your story. If you choose to write a book, make it the best book possible — don’t go overboard trying to load it up with "this would be a great movie!" moments. If you choose to write a script, trust that the quality of your writing is all you’ll need to sell it.
I recently adapted a book called BIG FISH by author Daniel Wallace. Meeting with him for the first time, I was surprised to see he had never thought of his book being a movie. The moments I thought were cinematic, he thought were just good storytelling.
As for your second question, I’m not sure whether being published is easier or harder than selling a script. My gut instinct is that it’s easier to be published, simply because there are so many different publishing houses, and frankly, so many books. But there’s a big difference between being published and making money.
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