Roger Kamien’s description of the sonata form, a building block of the classical symphony, will seem familiar to screenwriters:
> The amazing durability and vitality of sonata form result from its capacity for drama. The form moves from a stable situation toward conflict (in the exposition), to heightened tension (in the development), and then back to stability and resolution of conflict. The following illustration shows an outline:
This line of rising action is also the basis of modern screenplay structure.
No matter how you dress it up with templates and turning points, most movies work this way: you meet your players and themes, set them against each other, let things get rough, then find a new normal.
> Sonata form is exceptionally flexible and subject to endless variation. It is not a rigid mold into which musical ideas are poured. Rather, it may be viewed as a set of principles that serve to shape and unify contrasts of theme and key.
With its long arcs and built-in act breaks, I’d argue that TV writing is even more symphonically-structured than features. Showrunners are our composers; Hollywood is our Vienna.
(I’m reading Kamien’s book on [Inkling](https://www.inkling.com/store/music-roger-kamien-7th/) for iPad, which is a remarkably good way to handle a textbook about music. The built-in tracks and listening outlines are ingenious. The chapter on classical music is currently free, and highly recommended.)
As you would expect from two members of The State, Thomas Lennon & Robert Ben Garant’s *Writing Movies for Fun and Profit* is very entertaining. 
I want to stress my beginnings here because I know that for many of you, getting to L.A. is the battle before the battle. I think many of John’s readers may have a sensation similar to what I felt in the time I read this blog before I moved to L.A., and that’s one of isolation. In the middle of reading all this talk about getting an agent, pitches, script revisions, options, treatments, and copyrights, many of you probably feel left apart entirely from the ability to act on your ambitions. I know I did.
I write six days a week, four hours a day. I’m putting together a portfolio for when I move out to L.A. next year. I’ve finished a musical comedy, am in the middle of a comedy drama, and have two children’s films outlined and in the queue. (One of which I’ve already written as a 35,000 word children’s novel.) So I’m on a surprisingly strict writing schedule considering I have no “real” deadlines.
Take it seriously. I’ve had problems in the past, and regretted waiting as long as I did to do something about it.