John August

QandA

Can’t stop writing

QandA

questionmarkAll I want to do is write! I write on the bus to and from work, I stayed home last night (Friday night) to write. I hate it and I love it and if I couldn’t write I would probably be in a mental institute. So what’s the problem?

It’s really difficult to strike a balance between this writing addiction and my social life. I even went so far to tell my boyfriend that when I write it is comparable to a junkie shooting up, so he better stay away from me when I am trying to get my fix. I’ve written seven feature screenplays and I’m 23 years old. I can’t stop even though sometimes I feel like I’m possessed by some sort of writing hobgoblin.

My question to you is does this insanity subside a little when you are a professional writer? Have you experienced the write or die phenomenon or am I some sort of freak? I’ve heard about feeding your passion but sometimes it feels like my passion is feeding on me! Don’t get me wrong, I consider myself extremely fortunate.

— Lu

Obviously, I’m not a psychiatrist. Even if I were, it would be improper to diagnose your condition based on an email. But I will anyway.

You have [hypergraphia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypergraphia).

It’s an actual, real thing: the overwhelming urge to write. Alice Weaver Flaherty wrote a whole book on it, The Midnight Disease, which is fascinating reading for any writer, because it investigates the uncomfortable intersection between genius and just-plain-crazy. (Note again: I am not a psychiatrist, so I can freely use the term “crazy.”)

To many screenwriters who struggle to get words on paper, what Lu describes sounds like more of a blessing than a curse. Who wouldn’t want to have written seven screenplays at 23? But keep in mind that just because Lu is writing a lot, doesn’t mean she’s writing well. (If she had written in to complain, “I just can’t stop winning awards for my writing,” we could all feel free shunning her.)

The key terms in her email that let us know what she’s encountering is not altogether positive are “mental institute,” “junkie,” and “possessed by [a] hobgoblin.”

Yes, I’ve gone through periods where I can’t put the pen down. My brain gets locked on an idea, and I have to keep scribbling, often into the wee hours of the night. But it’s a now-and-then thing, not a debilitating condition.

While Flaherty leaves open the question of exactly what causes hypergraphia, my strong hunch is that it’s a form of focussed mania. You’re dealing with the buzz of energy by putting pen to paper — and for a while, it seems great. But the pendulum very often swings the other way to depression, which has its obvious negatives.

My advice to you, Lu, is to do a little life assessment. Block out significant hours — and whole days — where you’re not allowed to write, or even think about writing. See how it goes. My suspicion is that you’ll be climbing the walls, and may decide to see an Actual Mental Health Professional for further guidance. The goal isn’t to get you to stop writing, but to control it, rather than it controlling you.

On accents

Television

We’re in the middle of casting the two lead roles for Ops. As I [predicted](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2005/two-sides-to-the-story), the audition scenes have now become gibberish to me. The only advantage to having them so fully etched in my brain is that when an actor makes an interesting choice for a line reading, I suddenly snap back and pay attention.

The two roles are written as Americans, but Jordan and I are both more than willing to change the backstories to accommodate Britons, Australians or other nationalities. After all, almost every country has soldiers. So in addition to hiring on New York and Los Angeles casting agents, Fox was generous enough to bring on casting directors in Sydney and London. We’re getting in new tapes every few days.

Unfortunately, the overseas casting agents aren’t taking us at our word. Almost every actor is trying an American accent.

Almost every attempt fails.

Here’s the thing: If you’re an Australian actor, you can probably suppress your give-away twang, just like most Canadians can — with a lot of effort — distinguish between “about” and “a boot.” But just because you don’t sound Australian, doesn’t mean you necessarily sound American. Often, this lack of accent is worse. We can hear that something’s not quite right, but we don’t know what it is. And while we’re wondering what’s wrong, we’ve lost track of your performance.

Now, obviously, there are some cases where an international actor will simply have to try for a specific American accent, just as an American actor may need to hit a certain British dialect. But if a producer or director tells you to use your natural accent, trust him. It’s not because you suck. It’s because you’re better when you can use every part of who you are.

As a side note, two actors we met with yesterday were Americans whom I’ve only seen play British. [James Marsters](http://imdb.com/name/nm0551346/) and [Alexis Denisof](http://imdb.com/name/nm0219206/) both come from the Buffy/Angel universe. It was jarring hearing them speak, because I kept expecting the same voices I’d heard for eight seasons or so. But even more interesting was recognizing the actors’ own cadences that were the same even without the accent; on a fundamental level, Spike sounds like James Marsters.

To me, it’s further proof that actors shouldn’t dwell so much on accents, but rather focus on giving the words meaning.

Set lingo for the clueless writer

Film Industry

Craig has a very good post about all the special vocabulary used on film sets, much of which is bewildering when you first encounter it. Read it [here](http://artfulwriter.com/archives/2005/11/set_lingo_for_w.html).

Four quadrants of screenwriting style

Words on the page

I’ve gotten a few questions from readers who’ve gone through the scripts in the [Downloads](http://johnaugust.com/downloads) section, many of them asking about my use of “we,” as in…

We hear SCRAPING as something behind the door moves closer.

Who is “we?”

I use this “we” all the time, and I’ve never really thought about it much. I guess it means either “you and I” (the reader and the writer) or “we the audience.” But which one?

Sort of both. The example above feels like it’s from the audience’s point-of-view. But in many cases, I’m using it more as the creator, such as…

As the pickup ROARS away, we reveal...

TWO BURNING SCARECROWS.

I love “we.” To me, it helps include the reader, giving the sensation of watching a movie, rather than just reading words on a page. But you should know that a fair number of screenwriters loathe this use of “we,” arguing that it’s always possible to write the same moment without it…

The pickup ROARS away, revealing...

TWO BURNING SCARECROWS.

In the end, there is no right or wrong. It’s just a matter of preference.

This got me thinking back to college, when I first had to take a [Myers-Briggs](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Myers-Briggs_Type_Indicator) personality type test. If you haven’t taken one, it’s definitely worth the twenty minutes, because it has an interesting way of breaking down personality along four basic axes. (Note: plural of “axis,” not synonym of “hatchets.”)

Even with different sets of questions, I come out pretty reliably — if not always strongly — as an ENTJ. It’s worth pointing out that Myers-Briggs-style assessments aren’t trying to say “who you are” as much as what your preferences tend to be.

I think the same characteristics can be found in screenwriting style. Different screenwriters have different preferences, some more strongly rooted than others.

The following is pretty top-of-my-head, so please chime in if you can think of better descriptors for what I’m talking about.

→ Literalist versus Impressionist

The Literalist believes that screenplays should only include what can be seen or heard, since that’s the only information which makes it up on the screen. The Impressionist is willing to bend or break the audio-visual barrier. He may write about things which cannot be filmed, or which reference things outside the world of the movie. (Such as, “Mendoza’s Ferrari is almost as hot as the one I’m going to buy when I sell this script for a million fucking dollars.”)

Personally, I’m pretty much a Literalist, although I’ll generally allow myself one sentence of unshootable information upon introducing a new character.

→ Completer versus Fragmenter

The Completer writes in complete sentences, like this one, with a subject and a verb. The Fragmenter? Nope. Won’t. Not his thing.

I’m a Completer. While you’ll occasionally find a fragment in my action sequences, I’m generally not a fan of rapid-fire word shrapnel. My aversion to fragments makes it very hard to do surgical rewrites of certain screenwriters’ work. I either have to adapt to their style — or more likely — rewrite every sentence of action.

→ Filmist versus Readerist

The Filmist writes screenplays that are intended for filmmakers, using specific film terminology (such as camera movement) and a minimum of fluff. The Filmist makes no concession to the non-professional. The Readerist writes for a more general audience, attempting to convey the feeling of cinematic devices without explicitly mentioning them, sometimes abstracting them to a literary “we see” and “we hear.”

I’m clearly a Readerist. I avoid mentioning the camera, and will even throw a “we” before a “CUT TO:” just so it reads a little better. But it’s worth noting that the classic screenplays, the ones that became the movies you loved, are almost all Filmist.

→ Show-er versus Teller

The Show-er attempts to include every important action in the story, while the Teller would rather forego some detail to convey the overall gist of a scene or sequence. Taken to the extreme, the Show-er would list every punch in a fight, while the Teller would leave it as: “They fight. Maddox wins.”

I’m a Show-er. For me, an action sequence is collection of a dozen smaller moments, and to breeze over them with a sentence or two is disrespectful. With a script, I’m trying evoke the feeling of having watched a movie, and that includes the action.

However, many of the top writers do compress action sequences, arguing that the only thing more boring than writing a long action sequence is reading one.

So, by my own system, I’d come out an LCPS LCRS. You?

Without their scripts in front of me, I’d put [James Cameron](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000116/) down as an LCFS. [Shane Black](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000948/) is probably an IFRT, but it’s been a while since I’ve read his stuff.

And again, this is all very work-in-progress. (I’ve already changed terms, messing up acronyms.) If you can think of better criteria for looking at screenwriting style (other than “good” and “hack”), please share.