John August

Projects

Writing and decision fatigue

Big Fish, Broadway, Psych 101

This past weekend consisted of three long days of meetings and work sessions for the Big Fish musical; Sunday went fourteen hours. I had a hunch that late in the day wasn’t the best time to introduce a new song, and now [science has my back](http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/21/magazine/do-you-suffer-from-decision-fatigue.html?_r=3&pagewanted=all):

> No matter how rational and high-minded you try to be, you can’t make decision after decision without paying a biological price. It’s different from ordinary physical fatigue — you’re not consciously aware of being tired — but you’re low on mental energy. The more choices you make throughout the day, the harder each one becomes for your brain, and eventually it looks for shortcuts, usually in either of two very different ways. One shortcut is to become reckless: to act impulsively instead of expending the energy to first think through the consequences. (Sure, tweet that photo! What could go wrong?) The other shortcut is the ultimate energy saver: do nothing. Instead of agonizing over decisions, avoid any choice. Ducking a decision often creates bigger problems in the long run, but for the moment, it eases the mental strain.

Writing involves a dozen choices every sentence, a thousand every scene.

Discussing material with producers and a director means understanding and deciding between myriad possible options — and the more people in the conversation, the more choices to consider.

And casting? Exhausting. It feels like it should be one of the easiest parts of production — you’re not *doing* anything, just sitting there and listening — but it wears you out. I’ve been through casting on five projects, and each time I’m amazed how tough it is. You’re trying to compare the actor you just saw versus the actor you saw yesterday versus the actor who won’t audition.

The article explains that sugar (glucose) is one of the quickest ways to restock your willpower supply. That’s why writers get fat.

(link via [@mjeppsen](http://twitter.com/mjeppsen))

Formatting notes in a screenplay

Formatting, QandA, The Nines

questionmarkI’ve searched through The Hollywood Standard and most of your site’s scripts, and nothing pings for “WRITER’S NOTE.” Does that mean they don’t really exist or should never be used?

If they can be used, what would you suggest as a way to format instances where the screenwriter wants to stop and point something out that helps the readers read? Even saying that makes it sound like you shouldn’t do it, but I swear I’ve seen them used before…even though I can’t find any examples now.

— Steve Maddern

answer iconIn most cases, you can handle things like this in scene description. For example, if you have a recall of a character we haven’t seen in a long time:

Durban’s massive Henchman -- the same one we saw in the opening sequence -- emerges from wreckage, cut and bruised but somehow still alive.

Or to describe how a sequence is meant to be shot:

In a dreamy, super-saturated haze, Celia makes her way through the crowded party, a grin stretched ear-to-ear. She is floating, with TEENAGERS rushing past her.

Only very rarely do you have to do a full dead stop to explain something to readers. I’ve probably done it twice in 40+ scripts. For The Nines, I have a note to readers right after the title page:

nines reader note

But that’s a really odd case.

You’ll almost always be able to handle it in-line with scene description. Set it off with parentheses, brackets or dashes if it helps. But there’s no need to label it as a writer’s note or somesuch.

Writing Faster

Snake People, The Variant, Writing Process

Michael Agger looks at scientific studies on writing to figure out [why it’s so damn hard](http://www.slate.com/id/2301243/pagenum/all/):

> Kellogg terms the highest level of writing as “knowledge-crafting.” In that state, the writer’s brain is juggling three things: the actual text, what you plan to say next, and — most crucially — theories of how your imagined readership will interpret what’s being written. A highly skilled writer can simultaneously be a writer, editor, and audience.

All that mental shifting slows writers down.

> Since writing is such a cognitively intense task, the key to becoming faster is to develop strategies to make writing literally less mind-blowing. Growing up, we all become speedier writers when our penmanship becomes automatic and we no longer have to think consciously about subject-verb agreement.

I can attest to screenwriting getting easier and faster with practice. The form is so esoteric and strange, with special formatting and rules to follow, that the first few scripts you write are mostly about getting comfortable with the shape of screenplays.

Once you start to recognize the rhythm of the page — how action interrupts dialogue, how to change locations while staying in a story thread — a lot of the frustrating craft stuff melts away. Decisions you used to consciously agonize over get taken care of before you’re even aware of them.

(Or, more geekily, it’s like your brain develops a graphics card to ease the strain on your main processor.)

I really notice the difference when I write prose fiction. I’m happy with both [The Variant](http://johnaugust.com/variant) and [Snake People](http://johnaugust.com/2010/snake-people), but they were exhausting to write, because I found myself far too conscious of every choice.

Writing fight scenes

Charlie's Angels, QandA, Words on the page

questionmarkHow much should one describe a fight scene in a screenplay? How specific should you get? What do you leave for the director/choreographer to figure out?

— Evan

answer iconAlways remember that you’re writing a movie, not a screenplay. Even though you only have words at your disposal, you’re trying to create the experience of watching a movie.

When two characters are talking, that’s easy. Dialogue is straightforward.

When two characters are fighting, that’s hard. Action sequences are the most difficult and least rewarding things a screenwriter writes, but they’re essential to many movies.

I’d direct your attention first to a scriptcast I recorded: [Writing better action](http://johnaugust.com/2009/writing-better-action).

My advice there applies to any situation in which characters are running around, doing things.

Keep sentences short.

Use sluglines to break things up.

Keep our attention so we’re not tempted to skim.

When you have two characters fighting, you’re not going to write every punch. Rather, you need to get specific on how this fight feels different than every other movie fight. What is it about the style, the environment, the stakes and the story that makes this battle unique to this movie and this moment?

The original script for the 2001 Charlie’s Angels sequel (then called Charlie’s Angels Forever) called for Alex (Lucy Liu) and The Thin Man (Crispin Glover) team up in a generic suburban house in Las Vegas.

Here’s what the minimal version of the scene would look like:

INT. HOUSE – DAY

Alex and The Thin Man take on a dozen CARULLO FAMILY THUGS, smashing the house apart in the process.

When every goon is down, Alex disarms The Thin Man. A tense moment, then they suddenly kiss.

ALEX

Who are you?

It’s short, and you’ll find examples like this in many screenplays, including some that have been produced. But it’s cripplingly unspecific. As readers, we have no idea what we’d actually see on the screen.

Will it be scary? Goofy? Gruesome? Realistic?

The actual scene I wrote was a lot longer:

INT. BEDROOM – DAY

TWO THUGS open the closet doors, pawing through racks of dresses as they look for their prey. But they haven’t yet checked

UNDER THE BED,

where a knife-wielding hand suddenly lashes out, cutting one thug’s Achille’s tendons. The goon SCREAMS as he falls. Gun in hand, his partner flips back the comforter to carefully look underneath.

But there’s no one there.

Confused, he glances up just in time to see the Thin Man kick him across the face.

Hearing the commotion, two more GOONS crowd into the room.

Ripping the clotheshanger pole from the closet, the Thin Man uses it as a quarterstaff. Not only does he take down those two thugs, he also drives it

THROUGH THE WALL

to peg ANOTHER GUY in the hallway.

INT. KITCHEN – DAY

Still holding Chico the Chihuahua, Alex takes on one THUG after another, using all the tools at her disposal. One guy gets hit with the freezer door, while another gets a face full of flour and a frying pan to the head.

Alex may not be much of a cook, but she’s great in the kitchen.

Needing both hands free, Alex puts Chico into a ceramic cookie jar. A beat later, the dog pokes his head out from under the lid, wanting to watch the fight.

Rolling back over the counter, Alex swings a hanging plant to knock out a pursuer. Be it a waffle iron, rolling pin or barbecue tong, anything Alex touches becomes a weapon.

INT. BATHROOM – DAY

A THUG goes flying through the glass shower door, which SHATTERS. Wrapping his hand in a towel, the Thin Man grabs a large shard and uses it as a glass sword.

INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY

On the table, the iMac’s progress bar shows that Betty’s interminable download is nearly complete. Alex faces two more thugs. She kicks one through the wall. Just then we hear...

AOL VOICE

File’s done!

Alex picks up the iMac and SMASHES it into the second thug, who goes down. Just when she thinks she’s finished, she hears a

SHOTGUN PUMPING

behind her. She turns to face one last thug, the LEADER. He keeps both barrels trained on her.

THUG LEADER

Kung-fu this, bitch.

Alex knows she’s toast. But just then, we hear a THWICK!

The cut was so fast we didn’t really see it, but then the Thug Leader’s head separates from his body. Both parts fall, revealing

THE THIN MAN,

who carries his improvised glass sword, now blood-stained.

Half a beat, then Alex rushes him. She spin-kicks and SHATTERS his sword, which falls to pieces on the floor.

Both unarmed and extremely dangerous, Alex and the Thin Man stare at each other, face-to-face, not sure what happens next.

Suddenly he grabs her, pulling her in for

A PASSIONATE KISS.

She doesn’t fight it -- at least not at first. But then the adrenaline wears off, and she pushes free.

ALEX

Who are you?

While I’ve included a lot of specific ideas about what kinds of things we’d see (shower doors, closet rods), I’ve left a lot of room for the director and fight choreographer to be creative (“Be it a waffle iron, rolling pin or barbecue tong, anything Alex touches becomes a weapon.”).

The scene as written gives a sense of what the final scene will feel like, even if a lot of the details change. That’s what you should be aiming for in a fight sequence.