John August

QandA

When should a writer become a corporation?

Film Industry, QandA

questionmarkMy writing partner and I have sold a few projects, with, hopefully, a few more to come. The question is, at what point should we incorporate into a film company? Before we’ve sold the next project or after? Once we’re more established as a team? When we start making greater than a certain amount of money per year? What are the perks and drawbacks to making such a move?

–Dara
Los Angeles

Most screenwriters who find themselves making a living at the craft end up incorporating at some point — as do actors, directors, and other relatively well-paid professions in the film industry. I became a corporation shortly after Go.

The idea is that the studios don’t hire you directly. Rather, the studio makes a deal to “borrow” your services from a corporation that you’ve created. These one-person corporations are called “loan-outs,” because loaning out your time and talent is all they really do.

What’s the point? Well, there are two main advantages.

The first is financial. Because the studio is paying you as a corporation, rather than as an individual, it’s easier to deduct business expenses, such as office space, assistants and computers. Your corporation can set up a pension plan for its sole employee: you. You can also avoid paying personal income tax on the money for a longer period of time. (Though you do eventually have to pay it.)

The second advantage is liability. Let me first invoke my I’m Not a Lawyer Disclaimer — so don’t bank on what I’m saying. But the corporation can help shield your personal assets (your house, your car, your toothbrush) from lawsuits that might come up relating to your screenwriting career. If I’m a bit fuzzy on the details, it’s because I never, ever want to be sued.

The only real drawbacks of incorporating is the expense and the additional paperwork — quarterly statements and such. Although some writers manage to keep up with it themselves, I couldn’t imagine doing it without a business manager and an accountant. (Which are not-insignificant expenses.)

As for what point it makes sense to incorporate, the rule of thumb I heard was when your annual income consistently exceeds $200,000 per year, it’s time to form a loan-out. But that was 1999, so who knows what the current figure is.

My suggestion would be to talk with your attorney, and get his advice. He’s the one who would actually be filing the paperwork with the state to get it all set up.

Also, if you’re living outside the U.S., all bets are off. You’ll need to find someone familiar with the specific rules of your country. For instance, Ireland has amazing tax breaks for writers. I suspect becoming a corporation there would be a terrible idea — but you’d need an expert to tell you.

What format should I send my script in?

Formatting, QandA

questionmarkI’ve just finished my first script and a few people who I’d like to impress have asked me to send it to them over email. My question is, what is the proper format for sending scripts through email? Do I attach it as a Final Draft document? Convert it to a Word document? Something else I don’t know about? Thanks.

–Ryan
Los Angeles

Since you can’t count on your friends having the right version of any given program, your best bet is to convert it to a .pdf document. Both Final Draft and Movie Magic Screenwriter can do this pretty easily.

In Screenwriter, choose “Print…” from the File menu, then choose “PDF (Adobe Acrobat) File” from the “Print To:” pop-up menu. Screenwriter gives you the option to make bookmarks from all the scene headings in the file, which is helpful.

In Final Draft, simply choose “Save as PDF…” from the File menu. One caveat: in some versions of Final Draft, the .pdfs generated this way are huge.

As an alternate for Mac OS X, you can choose “PDF” from the main print dialog box, which bypasses the program and grabs the real information that would be sent to the printer. This system-wide ability of Mac OS X is a godsend; I use it all the time.

Almost everyone I know uses .pdfs these days to turn in scripts. You can pretty much count on them printing out properly, and it saves a lot of hassle dealing with couriers and photocopiers.

What’s the difference between Hero, Main Character and Protagonist?

QandA, Story and Plot

questionmarkI have a supporting character that seems to fill a far greater purpose
than I originally anticipated. The supporting character fits
Wikipedia’s definition of [Hero](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hero). However, [your definition](http://johnaugust.com/site/glossary) says hero and main character are synonymous.

In my story, the protagonist is the main character; it’s his story. But everything is affected by this supporting character’s possession of “character far greater than that of a typical person.”

Is it wheels off to have a main character and protagonist not be the hero
in the end? Do you think the audience will feel cheated by a decision
like this?

— Trey
Dallas, TX

We’re venturing into Dramatic Theory 101, so if you’re the type who begins squirming in your seat when professor-types talk about [Joseph Campbell](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_Campbell) and character arcs, you can save yourself a lot of frustration by stopping after the following sentence:

In most cases, “Hero,” “Main Character,” and “Protagonist” are the same character.

Seriously, you can stop reading now. Here’s a nice article about [raising orphaned squirrels](https://www.squirrelsandmore.com/pages/basic-steps-to-taking-care-of-a-baby-squirrel).

Now, for readers who are still with me, let’s try to come up with more specific definitions for these three terms, and explore why they may apply to different characters in certain stories.

Hero
My incredibly-simplified definition: this is the character who you hope to see “win.” While it’s fine to think of Superman, or Aladdin, the hero doesn’t have to be noble, or courageous, or especially talented. As long as you’re rooting for him, that’s what matters.

Main Character
Just what it sounds like: this is the character who the story is mostly about. Confused? Often his or her name is in the title: Shrek, King Arthur, Tootsie, Citizen Kane.

Protagonist
The character who changes over the course of the story, travelling from Point A to Point B, either literally or figuratively. She learns and grows as the story progresses. Generally, Protagonists want something at the start of the tale, and discover they need something else.

Now, remember, most times, one character is all three of these things. For example, Ripley in Aliens is clearly the Hero (fighting the monster), the Main Character (the story is mostly about her), and the Protagonist (she reluctantly joins the trip, but ends up descending to the depths to fight for her “daughter”).

The same triple-aspect applies to Cher in Clueless, and John McClane in Die Hard. And it’s fine for movies to have “teams” of characters fulfiling these roles; in Charlie’s Angels, Dylan, Natalie and Alex are each Hero, Main Character and Protagonist.

However, in some stories, the Hero, the Protagonist and the Main Character are not all the same person. One very current example is Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

There’s no question that Charlie’s the Hero. You want to see him win that Golden Ticket, and for only good things to happen to him. Likewise, he’s also the Main Character — though Wonka’s a close second. While Charlie recedes into the background a bit during the factory tour, he’s still the main focus of the movie’s storytelling energies. When the Narrator talks, it’s mostly to fill in details about Charlie.

However, Charlie is not a classic Protagonist. Charlie doesn’t grow or change over the course of the story. He doesn’t need to. He starts out a really nice kid, and ends up a really nice kid.

In terms of Classical Dramatic Structure, that leaves us one Protagonist short, which leads to the biggest change in the screenplay versus the book (or the 1971 film). In our movie, Willy Wonka is the protagonist. He grows and changes. We see his rise and fall, along with his nervous breakdown during the tour. Charlie’s the one who’s always asking — ever so politely, in the Freddie Highmore Whisper(TM) — the questions that lead to Wonka’s flashbacks upon his rotten childhood. (In Classic Dramatic terms, that makes Charlie an Antagonist. Not to be confused with a Villain. Are you sure you don’t want to read about some [squirrels](http://www.squirrels.org/raising.html)?)

As I pitched it to Tim: Charlie gets a factory, and Willy Wonka gets a family. It’s the whole want-versus-need thing. Charlie doesn’t need a factory. Wonka really needs a family. Otherwise, he’s going to die a giggling misanthropic weirdo.

Assigning labels

Playing “spot the protagonist” can be a good intellectual exercise — up to a point. As I started writing Charlie, asking “Who’s the protagonist?” led to some important decisions about the storytelling. But trying to pin firm labels on the characters in Go or Pirates of the Caribbean would only prove frustrating.

If a story works, it works — regardless of whether characters are fulfilling their archetypal roles. So be wary of trying to wedge characters into defined classes, simply because that’s how they “should” fit.

Is that how the line was supposed to go?

Go, QandA

GainesSomething that’s always bothered me about Go. When Ronna is in Todd’s apartment she says “Todd, I would never fuck you like that.” And he says, “How would -you- fuck -me-?”

Like, how would a nothing like you ever screw over a big drug dealer like me? But he just explained how she could fuck him: twenty hits is intent to distribute. Did you mean for the line to be read like “How -would- you fuck me?” As in, why should I trust you? And if so, how did the director fuck that up so badly?

— Rebecca
Los Angeles

Actually, the intent behind the line is completely different — and this is an example of how acting choices and editing room decisions can impact a scene. If you download the [original script](http://johnaugust.com/site/downloads), you’ll see that the scene in question actually reads:

  • GAINES
  • You come here out of the blue asking for twenty hits. Just so happens twenty is the magic number where intent to sell becomes trafficking.
  • RONNA
  • Todd, I would never fuck you like that.
  • GAINES
  • How would you fuck me? Would you strap it on?
  • He climbs over the sofa to a dresser. In a drawer, he digs down through a pile of socks to find a wide-mouthed bottle. And an empty Tylenol bottle. Blows out the dust.

The “Would you strap it on?” line makes it clear that he’s sort-of-joking, in a very sexual way. Unfortunately, on the night we shot this scene, the energy was all wrong.

The producers and I still talk about that bad night, because [Timothy Olyphant](http://imdb.com/name/nm0648249/maindetails), who completely nailed the role of Gaines otherwise, was not finding the right rhythms. That’s incredibly frustrating as a writer on the set, because you can hear in your head just how the line should sound, but nothing you do can get it to come out that way. And this isn’t a criticism of Tim or director Doug Liman. Everyone has bad nights; they’re usually not captured on film for posterity.

In fact, the next night we ended up re-shooting Gaines’ side of the later Claire scene, when Tim suddenly had a breakthrough and really figured out how to play the moments. Those are some of my favorites moments in the movie, and it’s all credit to Tim’s acting.

That still left us with some challenges cutting together the Ronna scene. Ultimately, the version that worked best dropped the “Would you strap it on?” line. But you’re right: the inflections in the previous line don’t really make sense. I cringe a little when I watch it.

The other reason I miss the strap-it-on reference is that it played into Ronna having balls. In an earlier scene, Ronna said she’d go straight to Todd, because buying through a middle man would cut her profit: “That’s like, a hundred dollars I’d be pissing out my dick.” I love that Ronna sees herself as hard-boiled, even when she’s terrified.