John August

General

Photos from Malawi

General

[Mulanje Mt](http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnau8ust/sets/72157600842360494/)I have all my photos from my visit to Mulanje, Malawi up on Flickr for the world to see. You can check them out [here](http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnau8ust/sets/72157600842360494/).

You may want to use the “View as slideshow” link. If you do, you’ll notice a floating lower-case “i” over the center of the main photo. (You may need to mouse over it to make it appear.) Click it, and you can see all of the captions.

Malawi is a land-locked country in southern Africa. A former British colony, it is now one of the poorest nations on Earth. It’s been especially hard-hit by HIV/AIDS, losing a huge portion of its 20 to 40-year olds. Young parents, especially. It’s now a nation of children and old people.

[FOMO](http://www.fomo.co.uk/) (Friends of Mulanje Orphans) runs 10 centers, providing services to 4,000 orphans. Ryan and I visited to help repair and repaint the Gulumba Centre, and to meet the kids who are doing remarkably well in remarkably difficult circumstances.

We also visited medical clinics, in the hopes of establishing a presence for [U.S. Doctors for Africa](http://www.usdfa.org/). Treatable diseases like malaria are a huge threat, and the lack of medicine and infrastructure is crippling.

brothersFor all its challenges, Malawi is incredibly beautiful, as are its people. It’s like an island nation without an ocean.

So what now? I’m still figuring that out.

Obviously, FOMO will continue to need financial support, and I can help with that.As can you, obviously. It’s a registered U.K. charity. But to a larger degree, Malawi really needs to be put on the map of human awareness. There’s no hot story happening in Malawi: no civil war, no genocide, no pretty blonde tourist going missing. The country is isolated and easy to overlook. And its citizens are so invariably polite, it’s hard to imagine them demanding their fair share of the world’s attention.

But I think there are unique opportunities in Malawi. It’s stable and English-speaking. It’s infrastructure is lacking — its roads in particular are a mess — but the lack of embedded choices can be a blessing. If there’s any place perfect for leapfrogging to the Next Better Idea, it’s Malawi.The land-line phones (and with it, the internet) in the entire Mulanje region went out for three days, yet I got four bars on my cell phone almost everywhere. Wireless internet in the U.S. is handy. Wireless internet in Malawi seems essential.

The main reason I wanted to blog about the trip is that I’ve always been kind of uncomfortable-slash-terrified about the developing world and global poverty. And I suspect most readers are, too. It’s overwhelmingly macro.

But when you look at it in the micro scale, it’s not nearly so intimidating. I didn’t leave with any big answers, but I now know a bit about keeping kids fed. And how to install a corrugated metal roof. (You nail through the peaks, not the valleys, with capped nails.) I spent most of my time painting walls, and watching. Learning.

Obviously, not everyone is in a place financially to book a ticket to the other side of the world and just help out. (That’s what Ryan and I basically did.) But a lot of my readers are young — in college, or just after that — which is a perfect time to head out and explore the world. If any part of you is thinking about doing that, trust your instincts.Beyond university-affiliated programs, a quick Google search will reveal dozens of programs that specialize in a new kind of “voluntourism.” We considered programs in five African countries and South America before picking FOMO.

The Hollywood Standard

Formatting, General, Resources, So-Called Experts

Update in February 2021: I no longer recommend (or half-recommend) this book. I think screenwriters are much better served by reading scripts of produced films, which you can easily find online. For simple formatting questions, you can visit [screenwriting.io](http://screenwriting.io).

—

This site caters largely to aspiring screenwriters new to the profession. That’s by design. My initial ambition in writing the [IMDb column](http://us.imdb.com/indie/ask-archive-toc), and then in creating the site, was to answer a lot of the questions I had when I was first starting out.

Screenwriting is an odd form: half stageplay and half technical document, somewhere between art and craft. And nowhere is its strangeness more apparent than the formatting. So it’s entirely reasonable that I’ve received many, many questions about margins and sluglines and whether a half-covered stadium is “INT.” or “EXT.”

But I’m done. Or at least, done for the time being. I’m going to cede all formating concerns to a printed book (yes, they still make them) which can answer newbie questions and let me focus on other points of word-pushing.

book coverThe book I’ve chosen to give up with is [The Hollywood Standard](http://astore.amazon.com/johnaugustcom-20/detail/1932907017/002-0355819-1894408) by Christopher Riley. It’s not perfect, but it’s refreshingly straightforward and anticipates most of the situations screenwriters are likely to face.

The author used to work for the Warner Bros. script processing department, which the book’s blurbs highlight as why he’s an expert. Honestly, if I had seen this before I bought it, I would have put it back on the shelf with a shudder.I got it on Amazon, and by the time I saw the blurb, I’d already broken down the box. David has Goliath; Ahab has the whale; I have the Warner Bros. script processing department. In my head, the department consists of three women in their 50’s who smoke and gossip as they retype scripts on 1980’s computers with amber monitors. For CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY, I had the displeasure of reading their “official” version of the script, and realizing that they don’t just spellcheck and change margins — they rewrite things. Just because. Fortunately, we were shooting in London, beyond the reach of their nicotine-stained fingers. We threw their script in the bin.

So I would say despite his background, rather than because of it, I’m still giving Riley’s book a thumbs-up. He admits (on page xvii) that “good writers with long Hollywood careers may find details here with which to quibble. That’s fine.” And I do have minor quibbles.Yes, I’m claiming to be a good writer with a long career. But I also have a website with which to note my second opinions, so here they are.

Courier and margins
===
The term “fixed pitch font” is quaint, but let’s just say 12-pt. Courier. If you have a couple of Couriers on your computer, pick the one that looks best on-screen and printed. It really doesn’t matter that much.

Riley’s margins are fine, but I had to really think back to remember what “position 17” referred to (p. 4).It’s not kama sutra. Back in the old days, typewriters had mechanical stops to set the left and right margins, with painted (or engraved) markings to line them up. Tabs were set the same way. “Position 17” would be seventeen spaces over from the left edge of the paper.

That’s kind of fascinating in a post-neo-Luddite, technology-as-history Make-magazine way, but without explanation, it’s apt to be confusing to 21st-century readers. So perhaps that will be omitted in the next edition.

Medium shot (p. 12)
===
I’ve never typed this, and never seen it. Don’t use it. Same with “two shot,” unless it’s crucial for a joke.

Back to scene (p. 17)
===
Awkward. Better to use the “BACK TO HUCK” format he shows later on the same page.

Flashback (p. 33)
===
He underlines FLASHBACK and puts it in front of the scene heading. That’s not wrong, but I generally put it in brackets after the time of day. This way, it’s more likely to make it onto the call sheet for production.

INT. BEDROOM – DAY [FLASHBACK]

Capitalizing people (p. 47)
===
The book tells you to capitalize the first occurrence of only those characters who end up speaking, on the theory that AD’s need to treat these roles differently. I disagree. Capitalizing indicates which scene people are established in, which is a boon to other department heads, such as wardrobe and props. I capitalize the introduction of all roles, speaking or otherwise, including groups like FIVE SCHOOLCHILDREN or ANGRY VILLAGERS.

Parentheticals at the end of a speech (p. 70)
===
He’s right–a dialogue block shouldn’t end with a parenthetical. The exception is in animation, where this is common. You’ll often see dialogue end with (exasperated grunt) or (sigh).

Song lyrics in dialogue (p. 72)
===
He puts them in quotes. I suggest italics, in an 11-point sans-serif font. (I use Verdana, which pretty much every computer has.) It looks much, much better, and subtly signals that it’s not true dialogue.

Numbering “A” scenes (p. 95)
===
The A.D. on Big Fish and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory ([Katterli Frauenfelder](http://imdb.com/name/nm0292390/)) taught me a different scheme which ends up being a lot less confusing for production and post-production. If you need to insert a scene between 121 and 122, you number it A122. That is, lettered scenes go before the normal scenes. The great advantage to this method comes during shooting, when each new setup for a scene is given a letter. If you shoot a master and two close-ups for scene 100, they’re labeled 100, 100A, 100B. For our inserted scene, Riley’s scheme would get confusing: he’d have 121A, 121AA, 121AB. Whereas Katterli’s method would give us A122, A122A, A122B.

If you’re doing A/B pages on a script, there’s very likely an A.D. involved, so consult with him or her about preferred numbering/lettering schemes.

Managing page numbers when a script is revised (p. 103)
===
Riley makes a heroic effort to explain a confusing topic, but trust me, you should never have a page A5B. If you, the writer, has a hard time understanding it, pity the poor wardrobe PA who has to figure out how to insert pages into her bosses’ scripts.

Once you get into the second revision on a series of pages, you’re almost always better off backing up and releasing a run of pages that uses true numbers. To use Riley’s example:

* __Between 5 and 6 comes 5A.__ (Yes.)
* __Between 5A and 6 comes 5B.__ (Okay.)
* __Between 5A and 5B comes A5B.__ (Never do this. Instead, revise starting at page 5, replacing 5A, 5B and adding 5C and further if need be.)

In general, the writer’s goal with A/B pages should be to release as few sheets of paper as possible, while still making it abundantly clear how it all fits together. In fact, I often attach a memo to colored pages explaining it. (Here are the memos I attached for the [blue](http://johnaugust.com/Assets/blue_pages_memo.pdf) and [pink](http://johnaugust.com/Assets/pink_pages_memo.pdf) pages of Charlie.)

Multi-camera (sitcom) script formatting (p. 117)
===
Here’s where I’m of no use. While I’ve read half-hour scripts, I’ve never written one, so I can’t say how accurate his advice is. But I will point out that every show is likely to have a “house style,” so it’s doubly important to get a real sample script from the show and duplicate it, right down to the punctuation.

And that’s it for my addendum/errata. Riley’s book will be nothing new to most screenwriters, but it’s a helpful and practical guide for newcomers. Note that he deliberately doesn’t teach anything about writing–and his snippet examples aren’t particularly inspiring. This book is strictly about formatting, and on that level, it’s solid enough that I hereby abdicate all common formatting questions to it.

Josh posted

General

[Josh Friedman](http://hucksblog.blogspot.com) stepped away from his duties at Skynet to shake the dust of his blog.Yes, I meant, “shake the dust off his blog.” But, in its way, his blog has lain fallow long enough that one could argue it’s become dust itself. (Yes, it’s a stretch.) But in that case, the metaphorically correct phrase would be something like “stir the dust of his blog.” Regardless, there’s something dusty happening. Catch him before he goes offline again.

How do I break into Hollywood?

General

Short answer: You don’t.

Slightly longer answer: The question is meaningless.

I recently co-hosted a series of panel discussions for the USC School of Cinema-Television aimed at helping current students and recent graduates think about the first years out in the real world. “How do I break in” was the unspoken question in almost every session, so much so that I had to call it out in the wrap-up.

Here’s why it’s an invalid question: there is no “breaking in.”

For people just starting their careers in the film industry, it often seems like there’s a wall keeping them out, or at least a velvet rope, manned by a burly guy with a clipboard and a bad attitude. But the wall, the rope and the bouncer are all illusions. There’s no systematic effort to keep newcomers out of Hollywood. (On the contrary, in many categories there’s a disturbing tendency to favor the young at all costs.)

So if there isn’t a wall, why does it feel like there’s a wall?

Well, okay. There’s a wall. But it’s not a keep-out-the-infidels kind of wall. Rather, it’s a keep-the-roof-from-falling-down kind of wall. There’s a structure to Hollywood, a kind of ramshackle mansion that’s always teetering on collapse. The front door isn’t so much jammed as inaccessible, stuffed full of take-out menus and other solicitations.

So if there isn’t a front door, how does one get inside? You look for a window, a side entrance, a dusty chimney.

That’s what the seminar was about: looking for windows.

A sizable number of attendees were aiming for the below-the-line trades (such as editors, DPs, and visual effects), where there’s a pretty clear career path, roughly approximating the apprenticeship of the old-tyme trades. Basically, one works countless hours for middling pay while learning from experts, then eventually strikes out to shoot, light, edit or visually effect on one’s own. I’m not saying it’s easy — it’s exhausting. But it’s comfortably predictable.

Not so for the writers, or the writer-directors. One panelist, explaining her search for an agent, described her incredibly focused campaign to win every writing award imaginable and target very specific agents whose clients were already working on the TV shows she was suited for. But she didn’t talk about “breaking in,” because once she was staffed on a show, it was clear that there was never really an inside. She was a working writer, but could just as easily find herself a non-working writer by the end of the season. There was no wall, fence or other boundary metaphor dividing those two states.

So I’d ask everyone to disabuse themselves of the idea of “breaking into Hollywood.” It’s not like pledging a fraternity, losing one’s virginity, or pulling off a heist. It’s just getting a job, which is boring and real, and difficult enough without any inflated imagery.