John August

Words on the page

TV in movies

How-To, Words on the page

I just finished writing a scene where a television news report was playing in the background and it reminded me how hard it is to get these moments right. Unless you’re literally having the characters stare at the TV set, you’re basically dividing the audience’s attention between two planes of information. If you don’t do it carefully, the audience won’t know where to look, and the scene will be a disaster.

Off the top of my head, here are four (hopefully) helpful guidelines:

1. __The TV can only tell you one thing.__ It can say the big snowstorm is coming, but it can’t also say that mobster Carmine DeSomethingorother has escaped from custody.

2. __Use the naturally empty moments of the scene.__ If there’s information that’s important for the audience, but not necessarily the characters, start on the TV and let the characters enter the scene where it’s playing. If a character’s waiting on hold, or is looking for dijon mustard in the fridge, that’s another moment you could cut to the TV.

3. __Get the rhythm right.__ TV news in particular has a cadence, and you can’t just shove your exposition in to make it fit. Always think how the reporter would actually report the story and balance his goals with your goals.

4. __Don’t make it too convenient.__ Don’t have a character flip on the TV, only to find exactly the story about them — unless it really is reasonable that there’s 24-hour coverage about the situation. Perhaps the only thing worse than this cliché is when a character rushes in, saying, “You’ve got to see this!” before grabbing the remote.

On the whole though, it’s amazing how little television people watch in movies as opposed to real life.

Masturbating to Star Trek

Challenge, QandA, Words on the page

questionmark

This isn’t really an imperative screenwriting question, and is something below your answering pay-grade, but…in fact it’s a petty squabble, though hopefully it’ll amuse you enough to intervene.

A few friends and I, on a lark and to make one another laugh, have been writing a script off and on, sometimes with it gaining more seriousness than other times. It starred us as us, writing a meta-movie which you would see coming together on-screen. But most of that involved our bickering and insults. And, well, art imitated life imitating art imitating — y’know. Now the argument devolves into whether or not we’re being needlessly mean puppeteers to one another.

Lately I’ve been coming back on one guy in particular, Sam, saying that I can dish and take whatever he writes as long as it’s good and funny. I’ve written three screenplays myself and I’m reasonably content with them, but, since I don’t have any objective validation for them (never sold any fiction writing, said friends are kinda dicks when it comes to helping others with their work), it’s hard for me to “lecture” to him certain screenplay “rules” (cohesiveness, economy, flow, momentum). Add to that, I can’t help but to continually tell Sam he’s a “shitty screenwriter,” which he takes the insane pejorative assumption that I’m calling him a shitty writer.

For example, here’s a scene from Sam’s latest draft, involving a 500 word scene about me masturbating to “Star Trek”:

  • INT. SHANE’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
  • Shane crosses the room, turning on the television and throwing his keys down on a table or couch or something giving the illusion that he just came home. With the TV on, Shane walks over to his computer. Still standing up, Shane starts to look at pornography. This could be shown with brief glimpses of nondescript nudity along with some sexual moaning noises. It should be clear that he’s looking at pornography.
  • Shane looks over at the TV set, and then concentrates on the computer screen.
  • Shane starts to masturbate. This should be done as classy as possible, with Shane keeping his boxers on or something, and the camera view either being a chest/body shot where we can see his arm fluctuating like mad, or from behind arm fluctuating like mad. Obviously no one wants to see Shane’s penis, but it should be clear he’s masturbating.
  • ((If Shane’s comfortable with “kindergarten style” as in the way kindergartners use urinals, where the pull their pants all the way down to their feet and then tuck their shirts under their chin, sticking their mid section out. It’s almost a universally hilarious human position that has rarely been exploited.))
  • We then hear the TV a bit clearer. It’s a star trek like show. Shane, hears it a few seconds after we do, and he slows his rhythm a little and looks over his shoulder at the television set, hesitating in his masturbation.
  • Almost with a renewed sense of duty, Shane turns his head back to the computer and masturbates with more furious abandon than previously seen. He’s obviously trying to hurry up.
  • The sound from the star trek TV show get a little more intense, maybe it’s a space battle or a battle down on some planet, either way we hear laser sounds and sound effects enough of a distraction that Shane turns his head again, slowing his pace.
  • He stares for a moment, almost stopping, then as if jolting back to life, he turns back to the computer and begins pumping his manhood but, more of a regular pace, not as much vigor as before, more determined this time, less frantic.
  • At this point, Shane needs to be looking back and forth from the computer screen to the television, keeping a steady pace regardless of where his eyes are at.
  • Gradually, Shane spends longer time looking at the television and less time at the porn. He should make the transition to only looking at Star Trek on the television, possibly turning his body away from the computer screen and towards the TV, but still maintaining a fluid, steady masturbation motion.
  • We still don’t want to see him actually masturbate, so the camera should be chest level, if we indeed do a shot from up close.
  • He essentially is masturbating to Star Trek as the door to this room opens and Dustin wanders aimlessly in, followed by Sam.
  • DUSTIN
  • Hey-a Shane.
  • SHANE
  • Ah!
  • SAM
  • Hey Shane.
  • DUSTIN
  • Ah!
  • SHANE
  • Ah!
  • SAM
  • Ah!
  • DUSTIN
  • Ah!
  • SHANE
  • Ah!
  • DUSTIN
  • What the hell are you doing, Shane?
  • SHANE
  • Masturbating?
  • SAM
  • Were you just masturbating to Star Trek?
  • SHANE
  • No, I had it on but I was masturbating to this inoffensive porn on my computer why the fuck didn’t you guys knock?
  • SAM
  • Settle down there, Shane.
  • SHANE
  • (mocking voice)
  • Were you just masturbating to Star Trek? No, I wasn’t just masturbating to Star Trek! You have no right to come in here, in my house and just start accusing me of things I’m not doing!
  • DUSTIN
  • Were you going to time it so you came when the crew beamed back to the ship?
  • SHANE
  • Get the fuck out of here!

If you’ve read this far in the email, is there any chance you could help me? I can’t see you wanting to post something this long yourself (unless you want to make me an example of collaboration do-not’s, in which case I can’t say I don’t have it coming). But something as simple as “[Sam/Shane] is right, [Shane/Sam] is wrong” to post on my blog with WGA-writer certification would be great. You don’t even have to point out that his scene is based on a caught-jerkin’-it! joke that makes “Porky’s” cutting edge, or that he finally sticks it to those Trekkies who have for far too long gone on an unmocked free ride. Just something so I can say, “John August, screenwriter of ‘Go’ and ‘Big Fish,’ whose blog has been a featured screenwriting resource in the New York Times, says this could’ve been done in 30 words. So suck it, Sam.”

[Scene Challenge]Suck it, Sam.

This scene has the potential to be funny,Not hilarious, not genre-defining, but satisfactorily awkward to elicit laughs from people who like the American Pie movies but wish they could have incorporated more geek nostalgia. but is undermined by very sloppy writing. This makes it the ideal candidate for the first-ever __John August Scene Challenge__.

Everyone can play. Here’s how it works.

1. Rewrite the scene. You’re not limited to 30 words, but it shouldn’t take more than 200 to get to the dialogue. (Shane/Sam’s takes 490.)
2. Post your entry in the comments.Links to videotaped versions of the scene are also encouraged, though this is technically a screenwriting thing. Don’t worry about the fancy formating. We’re friends here.
3. All entries must be submitted by 8 a.m. PST on Wednesday, Feb. 28th., 2007. Remember that comments are sometimes held in moderation. __Don’t submit twice.__ It will show up. Promise.
4. I’ll pick a winner later that day.
5. Winner receives bragging rights, which may be exchanged for a sense of self-worth.

Begin.

Pause vs. beat

QandA, Words on the page

questionmarkHow long is a pause compared to a beat? Or is it just preference?

— Kurt Yaeger
San Francisco

They mean the same thing, though I almost always use beat.I tend to reserve “pause” for deliberate actions: “Mary pauses at the door, listening to the melody.” The term is probably taken from music, because it refers to the natural rhythm of dialogue. A beat is the pause a speaker takes to separate thoughts. Calling one out can help clarify a joke, a point of information, or a shift in the scene.

That said, it’s very easy to overuse them. Most times, dialogue reads fine without any special indicators, so save them for when they’re truly needed.

You should know that some screenwriters (and some readers) really despise the term “beat.” If you fall into that camp, it’s not hard to avoid using it. Scripting an action — “(cracking his knuckles)” — is handy, but almost anything in a parenthetical would do the trick.

How to write dialogue

Words on the page, Writing Process

Continuing my efforts to blog less about the profession of screenwriting and more about the craft, I thought I’d offer up some thoughts on dialogue. As with my earlier post on [How to Write a Scene](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2007/write-scene), this isn’t an exhaustive tutorial by any means. But it’s at least a guide for how I do it.

1. Listen to how actual people talk
====

We all watch movies and television, which is chock full of dialogue: good, bad and inane. One might think it helpful to listen to great actors speaking great words. It’s not. In fact, it will probably screw you up.

It’s like trying to paint landscapes based on how other artists paint landscapes. The best you can do is a crude approximation. In order to paint a great landscape, you need to get your butt out in the cornfield and paint what you see. There’s really no alternative.

Fortunately, the world is full of dialogue cornfields. Sitting at Fatburger for lunch, I eavesdropped on two engineers discussing fire door trim allowances, and two women in their 60’s clucking about how small the hamburgers were. Far more important than the content of the conversations was the flow, the back-and-forth. We tend to think of dialogue as a tennis volley, with the subject being hit back and forth between speakers. But when you really listen, you realize that people talk over each other constantly, and rarely finish a complete thought.

To get a sense of this flow, you need to stop paying attention to the actual words being spoken. It’s the auditory equivalent of un-focusing your eyes. Listen for which speaker is dominating the conversation, and how often the other party chimes in to acknowledge he’s still paying attention. (“Uh-huh.” “Yeah.” “Really?”) Questions are often not phrased as questions, and in real life, no one speaks with exclamation points.

How often should you eavesdrop? Pretty much constantly, with particular focus on finding interesting speakers. Some people are inherently funny, and if you soak up enough of their rhythms you can recreate them on the page fairly faithfully. But even the annoying woman ahead of you at the checkout line deserves a listen. You never know when she might come in handy.

2. Figure out the flow of your dialogue
====
Generally, before I put pen to paper, I let the scene loop in my head 10 or 40 times. Those first cycles are silent, but eventually characters begin to talk. Based on what needs to happen in the scene, it’s often pretty clear who’ll be saying what. But figuring out the flow — the how, the when, the why — takes time. You can rush it, but you’ll often end up with too many words in the wrong order. Or worse, you’ll end up with characters talking at each other rather than with each other.

So imagine watching your scene, but in a foreign language with the subtitles turned off. What does the talking feel like? What’s the emotion behind the words? Who’s in control? There’s a classic drama exercise in which actors have to stage a scene speaking only faux-Chinese. That’s what you’re looking for at this stage. Not the words, but the texture.

3. Pattern out the information
====
Conversations in real life are often empty (“these burgers are too small”), but movie conversations almost always involve an exchange of information (“the fingerprints don’t match” or “I’m not sure I ever loved you”). Your job as a writer is figuring out how your characters would tell each other the information.

Let’s say Bob needs to tell Mary that her dog has been eaten by a python. As the writer, you need to decide not only what facts Bob knows, but how he’s anticipating Mary will react to the news. This will determine not only how he starts the conversation (“Say, you were talking about how you wanted to get a new dog, right?”) but every subsequent decision along the way.

Of course, as the screenwriter you’re not solely interested in helping the characters convey information to each other; your primary focus is getting that information to the audience. The challenge is to do the latter while pretending to the former. So if it’s slipping a bit of exposition in a joke, or staging an altercation to reveal a piece of backstory, find a way.

Bad dialogue tends to spray out information in every direction, whereas smart dialogue sneaks the facts in while you’re otherwise entertained.

4. Write the scribble version
=====
The [scribble version](http://johnaugust.com/archives/2007/scribble-version-final-scene) is the very rough draft of a scene, devoid of formatting, punctuation and other garnishes. My scribble versions tend to be largely dialogue, with an emphasis on the overall flow rather than finding le mot juste.

5. Write the nice version
=====
Once you have the blueprint for the scene, it’s time to go back and start worrying about getting each word right. Great dialogue has a melody to it, and achieving that is probably unteachable. But you can write pretty good dialogue simply by reading each line aloud, over and over, smoothing off the awkwardness through better words or a different composition.

Movie dialogue is how characters would speak if they had a few extra seconds to compose their thoughts between lines. It’s just slightly optimized. But it’s very easy to overshoot and end up in soap opera land. Keeping dialogue real but efficient is one of the hardest challenges in screenwriting.

6. Ask: Are characters listening, or just speaking?
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Once you have the scene finished, take a look back and make sure your characters aren’t just speaking because it’s their turn. That’s a common problem, perpetuated (I believe) by the prevalence of exposition-heavy crime dramas.

  • BOOTHE
  • Two campers found the body in a culvert five miles down river.
  • GARMAN
  • Toxicology shows arsenic in the well.
  • BOOTHE
  • Looks like we got ourselves a serial killer.

While actors could probably pull this off as a conversation (with a lot of head nodding), it’s not hard to get Garman listening and responding:

  • BOOTHE
  • Two campers found the body in a culvert five miles down river. Once we get the toxicology back…
  • GARMAN
  • Just came. Arsenic in the well.
  • BOOTHE
  • Looks like we got ourselves a serial killer.

7. Ask: Is there a shorter version that works as well?
=====
Many times, the best way to improve dialogue is to cut it. Once you’ve let a scene sit for a while, revisit it with a red pen and look for what could be cut. If a piece of information isn’t essential, it should probably go. And a joke isn’t worth it if you’ve had to break the scene to achieve it.