John August

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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.

The Hollywood Standard

Formatting, General, Resources, So-Called Experts

Update in February 2021: I no longer recommend (or half-recommend) this book. I think screenwriters are much better served by reading scripts of produced films, which you can easily find online. For simple formatting questions, you can visit [screenwriting.io](http://screenwriting.io).

—

This site caters largely to aspiring screenwriters new to the profession. That’s by design. My initial ambition in writing the [IMDb column](http://us.imdb.com/indie/ask-archive-toc), and then in creating the site, was to answer a lot of the questions I had when I was first starting out.

Screenwriting is an odd form: half stageplay and half technical document, somewhere between art and craft. And nowhere is its strangeness more apparent than the formatting. So it’s entirely reasonable that I’ve received many, many questions about margins and sluglines and whether a half-covered stadium is “INT.” or “EXT.”

But I’m done. Or at least, done for the time being. I’m going to cede all formating concerns to a printed book (yes, they still make them) which can answer newbie questions and let me focus on other points of word-pushing.

book coverThe book I’ve chosen to give up with is [The Hollywood Standard](http://astore.amazon.com/johnaugustcom-20/detail/1932907017/002-0355819-1894408) by Christopher Riley. It’s not perfect, but it’s refreshingly straightforward and anticipates most of the situations screenwriters are likely to face.

The author used to work for the Warner Bros. script processing department, which the book’s blurbs highlight as why he’s an expert. Honestly, if I had seen this before I bought it, I would have put it back on the shelf with a shudder.I got it on Amazon, and by the time I saw the blurb, I’d already broken down the box. David has Goliath; Ahab has the whale; I have the Warner Bros. script processing department. In my head, the department consists of three women in their 50’s who smoke and gossip as they retype scripts on 1980’s computers with amber monitors. For CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY, I had the displeasure of reading their “official” version of the script, and realizing that they don’t just spellcheck and change margins — they rewrite things. Just because. Fortunately, we were shooting in London, beyond the reach of their nicotine-stained fingers. We threw their script in the bin.

So I would say despite his background, rather than because of it, I’m still giving Riley’s book a thumbs-up. He admits (on page xvii) that “good writers with long Hollywood careers may find details here with which to quibble. That’s fine.” And I do have minor quibbles.Yes, I’m claiming to be a good writer with a long career. But I also have a website with which to note my second opinions, so here they are.

Courier and margins
===
The term “fixed pitch font” is quaint, but let’s just say 12-pt. Courier. If you have a couple of Couriers on your computer, pick the one that looks best on-screen and printed. It really doesn’t matter that much.

Riley’s margins are fine, but I had to really think back to remember what “position 17” referred to (p. 4).It’s not kama sutra. Back in the old days, typewriters had mechanical stops to set the left and right margins, with painted (or engraved) markings to line them up. Tabs were set the same way. “Position 17” would be seventeen spaces over from the left edge of the paper.

That’s kind of fascinating in a post-neo-Luddite, technology-as-history Make-magazine way, but without explanation, it’s apt to be confusing to 21st-century readers. So perhaps that will be omitted in the next edition.

Medium shot (p. 12)
===
I’ve never typed this, and never seen it. Don’t use it. Same with “two shot,” unless it’s crucial for a joke.

Back to scene (p. 17)
===
Awkward. Better to use the “BACK TO HUCK” format he shows later on the same page.

Flashback (p. 33)
===
He underlines FLASHBACK and puts it in front of the scene heading. That’s not wrong, but I generally put it in brackets after the time of day. This way, it’s more likely to make it onto the call sheet for production.

INT. BEDROOM – DAY [FLASHBACK]

Capitalizing people (p. 47)
===
The book tells you to capitalize the first occurrence of only those characters who end up speaking, on the theory that AD’s need to treat these roles differently. I disagree. Capitalizing indicates which scene people are established in, which is a boon to other department heads, such as wardrobe and props. I capitalize the introduction of all roles, speaking or otherwise, including groups like FIVE SCHOOLCHILDREN or ANGRY VILLAGERS.

Parentheticals at the end of a speech (p. 70)
===
He’s right–a dialogue block shouldn’t end with a parenthetical. The exception is in animation, where this is common. You’ll often see dialogue end with (exasperated grunt) or (sigh).

Song lyrics in dialogue (p. 72)
===
He puts them in quotes. I suggest italics, in an 11-point sans-serif font. (I use Verdana, which pretty much every computer has.) It looks much, much better, and subtly signals that it’s not true dialogue.

Numbering “A” scenes (p. 95)
===
The A.D. on Big Fish and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory ([Katterli Frauenfelder](http://imdb.com/name/nm0292390/)) taught me a different scheme which ends up being a lot less confusing for production and post-production. If you need to insert a scene between 121 and 122, you number it A122. That is, lettered scenes go before the normal scenes. The great advantage to this method comes during shooting, when each new setup for a scene is given a letter. If you shoot a master and two close-ups for scene 100, they’re labeled 100, 100A, 100B. For our inserted scene, Riley’s scheme would get confusing: he’d have 121A, 121AA, 121AB. Whereas Katterli’s method would give us A122, A122A, A122B.

If you’re doing A/B pages on a script, there’s very likely an A.D. involved, so consult with him or her about preferred numbering/lettering schemes.

Managing page numbers when a script is revised (p. 103)
===
Riley makes a heroic effort to explain a confusing topic, but trust me, you should never have a page A5B. If you, the writer, has a hard time understanding it, pity the poor wardrobe PA who has to figure out how to insert pages into her bosses’ scripts.

Once you get into the second revision on a series of pages, you’re almost always better off backing up and releasing a run of pages that uses true numbers. To use Riley’s example:

* __Between 5 and 6 comes 5A.__ (Yes.)
* __Between 5A and 6 comes 5B.__ (Okay.)
* __Between 5A and 5B comes A5B.__ (Never do this. Instead, revise starting at page 5, replacing 5A, 5B and adding 5C and further if need be.)

In general, the writer’s goal with A/B pages should be to release as few sheets of paper as possible, while still making it abundantly clear how it all fits together. In fact, I often attach a memo to colored pages explaining it. (Here are the memos I attached for the [blue](http://johnaugust.com/Assets/blue_pages_memo.pdf) and [pink](http://johnaugust.com/Assets/pink_pages_memo.pdf) pages of Charlie.)

Multi-camera (sitcom) script formatting (p. 117)
===
Here’s where I’m of no use. While I’ve read half-hour scripts, I’ve never written one, so I can’t say how accurate his advice is. But I will point out that every show is likely to have a “house style,” so it’s doubly important to get a real sample script from the show and duplicate it, right down to the punctuation.

And that’s it for my addendum/errata. Riley’s book will be nothing new to most screenwriters, but it’s a helpful and practical guide for newcomers. Note that he deliberately doesn’t teach anything about writing–and his snippet examples aren’t particularly inspiring. This book is strictly about formatting, and on that level, it’s solid enough that I hereby abdicate all common formatting questions to it.

Final Draft updated

Software

Final Draft, the screenwriting application I use most despite profound reservations, has been upgraded to 7.1.3. I haven’t gotten it to crash, so that’s something.

My assistant Chad had never used the Tools>Reformat command, which despite its clunky interface is a huge timesaver when importing text from other places.Including other Final Draft scripts. Too often, Final Draft will retain the margin and font information after a copy-and-paste, so it’s up to you to remind it that you really do want the dialogue lined up. Basically, it steps through your script paragraph by paragraph, waiting for you to press a key indicating which type of element — action, dialogue, parenthetical — that paragraph should be. If the formating is okay, ‘N’ will leave it alone and jump you to the next block. ‘P’ moves you back.

Make friends with Command-R.

One aspect of Final Draft I’ve long neglected is its ability to do multiple panes. I’ve never found splitting the window all that helpful, but with today’s giant monitors, I could see myself doing it more. One often needs to refer back to other parts of a script while writing a scene. Multiple panes make that marginally easier.

One annoyance is that Final Draft won’t let you see the two panels in different views. If I could see the “real” script on the right and the expanded script notes on the left, that would be helpful. But Final Draft can’t do that. The exceptions are Scene Navigator and Index Cards. Scene Navigator is almost worthless without the split screen. Index cards you either dig or you don’t. (I don’t.)