John August

First Person

How I Write

First Person, Writing Process

Since I was asking other screenwriters to explain their process, I thought it was only fair to explain my own.

I wrote my first real script — or at least my first attempt at a script — on Microsoft Word on an Macintosh SE30. This was probably 1991. I don’t know if there even was screenwriting software like Final Draft at that point. I wrote everything up through GO on Word, then made the switch.

These days, I’ll write longhand, or type, or a combination. I strongly believe in not having a set routines or rituals, because they often become excuses for not working: “I would write, but I have to have a brand-new blue pen and natural sunlight streaming through that window over there.” I’ll do index cards if something is especially complicated, but usually a short outline will suffice. I generally don’t write in sequence. Rather, I’ll write whatever scene appeals to me at the moment. A lot of times, I can write a short scene while waiting at the dentist’s office. For all the fancy software and books about it, on a fundamental level, writing only requires focus and something to write on.

I can write any time of day. Nothing is better or worse for me. If I can get two hours of serious writing done, I consider it a sucessful day. But I don’t beat myself up if that doesn’t happen.

A lot of times when I’m first starting a project, I’ll go away by myself for a few days. To Vegas, San Diego, Hawaii, wherever. I won’t take a computer. Instead, I’ll just take a bunch of notepads. I’ll write scenes longhand, then once a day, fax them back to Los Angeles. My assistant then types them up and faxes them back. It’s a good system for me, because it keep me from editing the work too early in the process. Working this way, I can write 17 pages in a day. It’s exhausting, but very helpful to achieve that critical mass in such a short period.

Tyger Williams on How I Write

First Person, Writing Process

first personThe process of finding my way into a story is different each time. It depends on the subject matter, how innate the material is to me and my sensibilities, or just depending on where I am in my own headspace at the time. I usually try to find my way into the character, or whatever cool set pieces or beats are going to make me really excited and make it fun to write. Some projects require more research, some less. But all of them require a great deal of procrastination.

I generally start with a beat sheet, which I develop into a short outline. It’s all very sketchy at the start. I use a program that allows me to lay my entire story out in blocks (sort of like index cards) so that I can see what it looks like from beginning to end. It also allows me to color the blocks separately so that I can track the protagonist beats, action beats, sub-plot beats, etc. Once I have the outline I make a list of the scenes that I want to write each day. (sort of like a director’s shot list) Sometimes I write in sequence, sometimes not. Often I’ll do dialogue on a tape recorder, just to hear how it sounds and then rewrite it later.

A typical day at he office varies for me depending on whether I’m developing ideas or writing a draft of a script. When I’m drafting I approach it pretty systematically. I budget out my days. Six pages a day, five days a week. Four weeks to a first draft. I usually get in the office around 10:00 a.m. and will write until 1:00 p.m., or at least until I have four pages done before lunch. Then I’ll write again from 2:00 to 6:00. During this time I will write another two pages and loosely revise the day’s work, in addition to returning the necessary phone calls. Now this is all ideally speaking. There are times when I spend the whole day in the office trying to figure out what I’m supposed to write and won’t get it done until I get home and the family’s asleep. Either way, I try to make the day’s pages or I know I’ll have to play catch up later. I only put myself through these paces in order to get a first draft done, and the rewriting/editing phase is considerably more flexible.
***
Tyger Williams, a product of southern California, attended the University of Utah and Long Beach State University, where he studied Film, Television, and Marketing. After interning as a story analyst, he tried his hand at screenwriting. The immediate results were an unintended comedy, the semi-autobiographical film everyone writes, and his first produced film, MENACE II SOCIETY. Williams has most recently worked on NIGHT TRAIN: THE SONNY LISTON STORY, as well as a remake of the 1970′s blaxploitation film FOXY BROWN, and GRIDIRON GIRLS, a dramedy about life in the world of women’s professional football. He has also developed various television pilots and is currently adapting the Marvel comic character Brother Voodoo into a series for the Sci-Fi channel.

Todd Graff on How I Write

First Person, Writing Process

Todd Grafffirst personThe first thing you need to know is that I write longhand, on legal pads, which makes me either a romantic or a dinosaur or both. When an idea starts percolating in my head, I jot notes everywhere: matchbook covers, snaking around all the white areas in a magazine ad, etc. Bad movies seem to get my juices flowing, and I’m forever ripping up popcorn containers, scribbling on their oily, white insides with the tiny wallet-clip pen my boyfriend bought me for Xmas (a far more useful present than the gym membership).

These notes all make it onto individual index cards. As time passes, the pile of cards grows, until all that’s missing is the connective scene-tissue between all the jotted down sequences.

When it’s time to write, I procrastinate as much as the next guy. I find I have to sneak up on it — like I sit down to work, knowing I absolutely have to be somewhere in an hour. That way I can’t fuck up too much at any one time.

I also take long showers, where I don’t let myself leave until I’ve had at least one valuable idea about the script. Solved one problem. My hot water bills are always an accurate gauge of how blocked I am.
***
Todd Graff wrote and directed CAMP. As a writer and
producer, his other credits include BEAUTICIAN
AND THE BEAST, ANGIE, THE
VANISHING and
USED PEOPLE.

Being a writer’s assistant

First Person, QandA

I am interested in becoming an assistant to a TV or Film writer. I have experience in the industry as an assistant to a Producer/CEO of a Production company, but I’m not sure what the qualifications are to be a writer’s assistant or how to apply for the job.

–Beth

I’m passing off the question to my own very capable assistant, Rawson Thurber, who is an aspiring writer/director in his own right. He first started working with me on the TV show DC; and continued on with me since.

—-

first person

rawson thurberThe qualifications to be a writer’s assistant are by no means Herculean. As long as you have basic assistant skills (answering the phone without hurting yourself, computer literacy and a working knowledge of the film & TV industry) you’re already there, especially if you’ve already assisted a producer/CEO of a production company.

The more important question you should ask yourself is: why do you want to be a writer’s assistant? Generally speaking, if your answer is anything other than, “Because I want to be a writer myself”, then you shouldn’t be one. There are other Hollywood jobs that pay better and have better chance for advancement.

That said, there is a big difference between being an assistant to a TV writer versus a feature writer. If you work for a TV writer, you’ll usually be working for the show-runner, the main voice/architect behind the show, in addition to doing the research/transcribing/copying for all the other staff writers. You’ll sit in on all the writer’s meetings, taking notes: jokes, storylines, plot points, etc.

Working on a television show, especially a sitcom, can keep you up until all hours of the night. When it’s crunch-time, several of my writer’s assistant friends don’t get home until 2 or 3 in the morning for several days in a row (weekends included). It can be exhausting and exhilarating (you learn how a writer’s room is run and how a television show is produced from politics to post-production). But it is also a great way to break into television – often times, television shows promote from within, and occasionally farm-out an episode or two to promising assistants — you just can’t say that about CAA.

Working as an assistant to a feature writer is generally less demanding, but just as educational. Of course you learn the tricks of the trade: what works and what doesn’t work in a two hour movie, how to deal with studio executives and how to ignore or embrace notes (sometimes contradictory or just plain wrong) given from all sides. This is, of course, on top of the usual assistant duties of research, faxing, and scheduling lunches, meetings, pitches, parties and premieres.

The only words of warning I would offer, before jumping headfirst into this breed of assistant-hood, is to understand that writing is a solitary process. Whomever you work for will spend most of his or her time behind closed doors creating. This leaves you with a lot of time to spend doing what you’re there to do, which is write.

Additionally, working for a writer isn’t like working at a production company. There’s usually only one or two projects going on at a time, not fifteen, and it’s just you and your writer, usually in separate rooms – there isn’t much “office culture” to be had, so if you’re looking for football pools or water cooler gossip, best look elsewhere. Lastly, and this is the most important one, only work for a writer whose writing you respect. There are plenty of millionaire screenwriting hacks out there and life is too short to begrudge your boss his or her success.

Being a writer’s assistant can be a wonderful apprenticeship, just be sure you want the job when you finally earn your stripes.

John would like to add: For the record, not all that many feature screenwriters have assistants. Partly that’s because the workday life of a feature writer is generally less hectic — fewer meetings and less to stay on top of — and partly it’s because many feature writers work in their homes. Rawson’s point about the solitary nature of the craft is important. It’s one thing to be stuck in an office with a maniac boss, and another thing to be trapped in his house. So make sure the personality is the right fit before considering the job.