Psych 101

Question sprint

June 9, 2008 Psych 101, QandA, Rights and Copyright, Story and Plot, Writing Process

A bunch of interesting questions have backed up in the queue, so let’s see how many we can get through while waiting for the new iPhone to be announced.

I’m currently outlining a spec feature, 98% of which takes place at the Superbowl. I’m on the fence about proceeding, however, because a few creative executives I’ve pitched the idea to were concerned about 1) the production costs and 2) the need to secure the NFL’s approval. One of the execs did say, however, if the NFL took to the script and got involved it would be a potential dealmaker.

While the production costs aren’t as much of a concern for me (given that those particular naysayers hadn’t gotten past the logline), the seeming make-or-break nature of the NFL’s involvement is a bit daunting. Before I take the plunge from outline to first draft, do you think it’s worth the risk?

— Patrick
Los Angeles

Yes. If you believe in the story and the characters, go for it. If a producer or executive likes your script, she’ll be smart enough to the realize that the NFL of it all can be figured out. ((On the other hand, if she doesn’t like your script, the NFL factor is an easy explanation for why she’s passing. Which saves face for everyone.))

At a USC workshop this weekend, a student asked me about writing a spec Alien vs. Predator. I gave him roughly the same advice — if you think you can write a kick-ass version of it, don’t let the potential unmake-ability of it deter you. My caveat to him was that in the case of AVP, it’s a really tired franchise, so you’re starting with a significant enthusiasm gap. Better to make your own mythology.

I’m about to re-write a script that I’ve been working on for a little while now. It’s a small character road trip drama in the spirit of 1970s American films (e.g. “Five Easy Pieces”, “Coming Home”, “Sugarland Express” — though not all films referenced there are road trip movies). This is my do or die draft — if it’s no good, then I will abandon it. But I’m hoping that some of your advice will help me avoid that outcome.

My concern is that too many of the scenes right now are overly reliant on dialog and I don’t want to tread into unnecessary exposition. At the same time, I want to be able to reveal character and backstory (and obviously, dialog plays a huge part in that). Do you have any general pointers on how to balance scenes (or sequences) of relatively quiet character moments, with the overall dramatic push that’s necessary to maintain tension? I want to make sure that both aspects remain compelling.

N.S.
Los Angeles

There’s nothing wrong with dialogue scenes if they’re moving the story ahead, or enjoyable enough on their own merits. But I suspect you’re finding that a lot of your dialogue scenes are telling us backstory about your characters, and the thing is, we just don’t care.

That’s hard to hear, but you need to hear it: except for crucial, story-twisting revelations, we simply don’t need to know more about who your characters were before they walked on screen.

So before you start that next draft, take a red pen to any chunk of dialogue that isn’t about what’s happening now. Be brutal. I suspect you’ll find that you have a lack of action and some unclear goals that were hiding behind the chatter.

The movies you cited, along with more recent ones like [Lost in Translation](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0335266/), [Sideways](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0375063/) and [Little Miss Sunshine](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0449059/), are all good examples of movies that are talky without ever becoming expositional. Characters talk about what they want, what they fear, but they never dwell on what happened. And each movie finds moments to be quiet. Long stretches of each film play as montage, letting the characters do things without commenting on them.

Let’s say you’re working on a script that’s based on a musician. He’s a fictional musician, so you’ve never heard anything this guy’s produced. As the story unfolds, we watch him build up his song. Is it okay to include the song? Or would that just kill everything and shut the reader down? I guess what I’m asking is, do you include lyrics or just leave them out and hype him like he’s as great as the supporting cast says he is?

— James

Give us lyrics. You’ll want to abbreviate a bit — cut out chorus repetitions, for starters. But it feels like too much of a tease to omit the words altogether.

Often, when I am diligently working on a script, or close to being finished on a script, I find my mind and writing meandering to other ideas. For instance, I’ve written several drafts on a thoughtful spy movie and have an extensive set of notes (from peer review) I plan to implement. Instead of completing the script, I spend time thinking and making notes on new ideas — a drinking road trip film and a sentimental father-son story.

Is this a natural way for new and good ideas to develop or am I merely avoiding “finishing” a project for fear it will suck? Not being a professional, yet, I’m not bound by deadline to turn something in…but how does a disciplined, professional, writer deal with this issue of…distraction?

— Greg

The script you haven’t written is always better than the one you’re staring at, cursor blinking, its flaws so obvious that you can’t believe you ever started writing it. That doesn’t change over the course of a career. __You will always want to be writing something else.__

You’re left with two choices: toughing it out, or [changing horses mid-stream](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2008/changing-horses-mid-stream).

Look at your spy movie, and ask yourself, “If this script had just landed on my desk, would I be excited enough by the possibilities to do this rewrite?” If the answer is no, feel free to investigate one of your other projects.

Granted, there are times you’ll really need to force yourself to finish a new draft. For instance, if you’re getting paid, or if you’ve promised a draft to someone whose opinion matters. And don’t mistake pragmatism for laziness: If something is difficult but do-able, do it. Not only will you improve the script, but you’ll learn something in the process.

The time to move on is when reaching the “best version” of your script ceases to be interesting to you.

Advice for terrible writers

October 26, 2007 Education, Psych 101, QandA

I looked through your archive and saw that you suggested [bad scripts serve a purpose](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2005/does-bad-work-spoil-mine), and after a year of being a reader, I can see why they’re helpful. At the same time, they’re killing me. I feel emotional destruction every time I read another page of these godawful things.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the worst of these didn’t come from my screenwriting class, where I have to critique other’s screenplays. I’m trying so hard to be nice and also give suggestions but it gets harder each time I read the same, unchanged terrible screenplay week after week. How can I emotionally remove myself from the situation? Because it seems too personal right now.

— Kathleen

The reader’s job is frustrating: You’re forced to finish and summarize nearly-unreadable scripts. But at least there’s the veneer of anonymity, since you likely don’t know the writer, and they have no idea you’re writing coverage on their crapterpiece.

In a class situation or writing group, all of that anonymity is stripped away. So you need to find a way to offer constructive criticism while defending your belief in what good writing is. Here are a few suggestions:

1. **Ask questions.** Rather than saying, “This character’s choices make no sense,” ask the writer why the character is doing this specific thing at this specific point.

2. **Focus on points of confusion.** Be clear and direct, especially if the script isn’t.

3. **Use analogies.** It can be painful to talk about terrible writing, so talk about good movies that do the kinds of things you’re talking about.

4. **Quit the class.** At a certain point, if all you’re getting out of the class is negative energy, stop going.

They love it and they’re passing

October 23, 2007 Film Industry, Psych 101, QandA

The good news is that I’ve got a script out, my rep has gotten it into a number of hands and studios. The bad news is that they love it enough to pick up the phone and rave about the writing, but they’re passing because of content/violence. Granted, it is not a safe flick. It is however, fresh and a great ride. There must be fearless producers out there, looking, presumably aching, for something they can sink their teeth into. How the hell do I find them?

In other words, how do you make your first Kill Bill, or Sin City or Pulp?

— Rodney
New York

Been there. We took Go out as a spec script, and everyone really liked it — but no one wanted to buy it. I would go in for meetings, and executives would pitch me projects that were, “a lot like your script, which was great by the way. We would totally love to do that. Man. But we just can’t do that here.”

We ultimately sold Go to a tiny production company that had foreign financing. Eventually, a big studio bought us out, but only once we had a hot director and an attractive cast.

So that may be where you go next, Rodney — finding a director who loves your script and can help get actors attached.

In the meantime, take people at their word that they really like your script, and land some writing assignments. In the time between Go being an unsold spec and Go being a movie in theaters, I’d written four paid projects. I would have had a career even if the movie had never been made.

So capitalize on people’s affection for your script to find something that pays money. And know you’re not the only writer in your situation.

Quitting, and the age question

September 12, 2007 Film Industry, Go, Psych 101, QandA

I know the ultimate answer to every quitting question tends to veer towards, “If you can quit it then it wasn’t meant to be.” But I think there are many people out there who have yet to find some singular passion. The best I’ve been able to muster is finding things I really enjoy doing and I’m 40.

Which brings me back to your opinion on quitting writing. Or should I say, quitting trying to become a paid writer. In my case I’ve been writing screenplays for about four years. None great. One almost optioned (the first, since then manager pretty much lamed out on me).

So it’s years later and I’m pretty much still at square one in terms of contacts. Age being an issue aren’t the chances seriously evaporating Ã la a woman over 35 trying to get pregnant? Isn’t it more a 20-something game? Am I asking too many questions?

Anyway, would love any thoughts you might have on the matter.

— marc

You should quit.

I know that’s pretty controversial advice, and I feel uncomfortable typing it. After all, this is a blog about the wonders and challenges of screenwriting, full of hope and sunshine except for off days when I rip on Parade magazine.

But there’s hope, and there’s false hope. And the latter is harmful. It keeps people locked in a cycle of unmet expectation, passing up other opportunities in pursuit of an elusive, often impossible dream. So I want to be honest with you, and explain how I came up with my answer.

Let’s start with the positives, and address your age concern. Apparently, the median age of a new WGA member is about 35, which means there are plenty of screenwriters just getting started in their late-30’s and early 40’s. You’re not too late by any means.

Also, you’ve only been doing this for four years — it took me longer than that to get Go made. Granted, they were a very different four years of my life. They were Ramen years, when I slept on the floor of a studio apartment and abused my student ID for discount movie tickets. Striving and struggling is exciting — romantic, even — in your 20’s. You hit 30, then 40, and the appeal fades. Particularly if what you’re striving and struggling for isn’t your singular passion.

That’s the heart of the age question: It’s not harder for an older writer to start. It’s just easier to quit.

I often fall back on my basketball analogy, but forgive me if I dust it off again. It’s relevant.

Let’s say you’re good at basketball. In fact, of all the people you play with, you’re the best. Should you pursue a career in it? Let’s assume you’re willing to do the hard work — you’ll train every day, work with coaches on specific skills, and do everything in your power to make it. What are the odds you’ll end up in the NBA?

The answer has a lot to do with where you’re at in your life. If you’re 18, maybe. If you’re 38, no. That’s not ageism. That’s just reflecting the fact that most basketball careers are established in their 20’s (or earlier). That’s when your natural talents are developed enough that it’s obvious whether you’re cut out for it. You may become a better basketball player in your 30’s, but you won’t suddenly become one when you weren’t before.

While there are limits to the analogy,Most notably, basketball has many purely quantitative measurements to let you compare yourself to your peers, while screenwriting is fundamentally qualitative. “Number of produced credits” reflects a combination of consensus opinion and good fortune. a good writer is like a good basketball player in that there’s some inherent and unobtainable aptitude required. Either you’re good at it, or you’re not, and no workshop is going to change that. Until my senior year of high school, I didn’t know screenwriting existed, but I always knew I would be a writer. It was the one thing I could consistently do better than my peers, and once I recognized that, I ran with it.

The weird thing with screenwriting is that many people try their hand at it without any prior background (or demonstrable skill) in writing. They see writing movies as being akin to watching movies. Here the basketball analogy holds up: being a fan of the Pistons doesn’t mean you can play for the Pistons.I chose that team at random. I don’t follow the game at all, which makes it awkward to use basketball in this analogy. But I’m sticking with it.

Coming back to you, Marc, if you’ve been trying for a couple of years, and have started to seriously question whether you’re cut out for it (“none great”), maybe it’s time to look for another field. I think you wrote in asking permission to quit considering yourself an aspiring screenwriter. You have my blessing.

But keep in mind: I may be completely wrong, and you may be deluded. Here are some signs that you should ignore my advice and keep at it:

1. Smart people genuinely love your scripts, and want to keep talking about them after the obligatory period has passed.
2. You can pull one of your older scripts off the shelf, reading it for the first time in years, and be more impressed than embarrassed.
3. At least once a week, you write something that sends you to bed happy.

None of these are guarantees that you’re going to make it as a screenwriter. But they’re indications that writing (of some form) is probably a net positive in your life, so don’t stop doing just because I told you to quit.

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