Rewrite: How To Begin

This is a summary of my lecture notes for WEEK 1 of Rewriting The Feature Script, which I teach at the USC School of Cinematic Arts.

First, you must surrender yourself to the rewrite process, an ongoing cycle of feedback and revision that I outlined in the post This Is What A Rewrite Looks Like. I know you kinda hoped your first draft was pretty close to the final draft. It's not. Don't believe me? Try this...

Find 5-10 people to read your script and give you notes. These are not the glowing notes you get from your mother ("I love it! You're a genius!) or the indifferent and vague praise you get from your boyfriend ("Yeah. It's cool I guess.") Rather, these are the detailed, engaged and honest-but-supportive notes you get from your collaborators.

These collaborators could be the other students in a class or the other members of a writer's group. They could be your agent, manager, and attorney. They could be the actors, editors, cinematographers and producers in an online group like Filmmaker's Alliance. The key is that these collaborators have some experience reading scripts, that you trust their judgement, and that they have good reason to put in the time and effort. This "good reason" is often just your willingness to give feedback on their scripts in return.

As you are listening make sure that you write down ALL the notes you get, even the ones that you don't agree with and especially the ones that seem to come up again and again. You'll collate and sift these notes later, but for now just gather as much feedback as you possibly can. If you can, find a perceptive and sensitive person who is willing to type up written notes, you've struck gold.

(For an expanded discussion of how to receive notes in a productive way, check out Getting and Processing Feedback. Then when you are in a position to give notes on other people's screenplays, check out How to Give Feedback.)

While other people are reading your script, print out a hard copy and sit down in a quiet place where you won't be interrupted for 2 hours. Re-read the script from beginning to end. While writing the first draft, we often are so focused on individual sequences, scenes and lines of dialogue that we lose touch with how the entire story plays over the course of 100 minutes. Use colored pens and highlighters to annotate the bits you want to revise later.

After you've re-read your script in one sitting, it's a good idea to ask yourself some tough but important questions. You can find examples of these questions in our handy Rewrite Questionnaire. 95% of feature screenplays submitted to festivals and contests, as well as to agencies and managers, fail in three areas: Character, Tension, and Development. Our 20 questions will help you focus on these areas as your rewrite.

If this is your 2nd or 3rd draft you may want to get a bunch of actors (or just people who are good at reading out loud) and have a table read. Feed your guests lots of wine and snacks as they read; make a party out of it. Actors especially are not shy about giving feedback, and you may very well learn more about your script in one night than you have in months.

Once you are finished gathering lots and lots of feedback, you are ready for the next step...

(For my WEEK 2 lecture and the next step in the rewrite process, check out Rewrite: Revisit the Story)

What To Write About

This is the continuation of What the F*ck Should I Write About?, in which I searched my notebooks for a new story idea, but only found ones that were utterly preposterous.

There are typical ways that screenwriters decide on story ideas. Often managers and agents will ask their clients to submit loglines so that they can pre-approve and co-develop the concept from the ground up. The logic is that agents and mangers have a better sense of which concepts might catch fire in the spec market and lead to a sale. The emotional downside is that writers can come to feel stifled when dozens of their ideas are shot down by their reps.

Similarly, students in classes or pros in writing groups will often pitch their ideas to their peers like a test audience. As readers of this blog know, I'm a big advocate of getting feedback at every stage of the writing process (see This Is What A Rewrite Looks Like.) What could more logical than getting out of one's head and seeing how an idea plays with smart, talented fellow writers?

The creative downside is that some stories emerge through the writing process itself. The logline of the first draft may be completely different than the logline of the 2nd or 3rd draft. Sometimes it's difficult to express why the jagged kernel of an idea is so compelling, and why a slick and snappy concept with a wicked hook inspires nothing but the urge to take a long nap.

Then of course there's William Goldman's rule, which applies to anyone who would try to tell you whether an idea is good or bad: Nobody Knows Anything.

So this time, instead of taking a poll or applying some complicated, statistical rubric, I just asked myself a simple question:

If I could only write on more spec script, what would it be?

It's a clarifying question if you ask it honestly. It doesn't need to be deeply existential, as if you found out you had a Year To Live. It's just practical. If I could write only one more movie, what elements would be most important to me? Would it be a genre movie, like so many I have written before? Would I break out and write a comedy or family drama? Would I try to reach a wide audience or some eccentric niche? Who would I write it for (because every story is a kind of love letter to our ideal audience)? Who would I write about? What would be their secret fears? What would be their deepest shame?

Of course, these questions tend to become fruitful and multiply. What kind of movie, if I could only WATCH one more, would I choose to SEE? What would it look like? How would it feel to watch it? What truths would it affirm, and what fate would it utterly deny? Would it be funny? Would it be sad? Would it be scary and sublime?

It's only natural when facing the blank page (well...blank screen) to look at the grim marketplace, to recall the movies that are actually getting made, to consider the odds, and then to think, "Why Bother?" But, there is twisted sort of Alice-In-Wonderland-thinking that can turn questions like these on their heads. 99.99% of original scripts never get made, so why not write one as if I couldn't possibly fail? It's this kind of anti-logic that ignites the passion that drove me to write in the first place.

So, I asked myself all these questions and you know what?

I got an idea.

What Should I Write About?

It's time to write another spec, and as always, this fills me with dread.

I'm trying to find an Idea. You know. A three sentence logline with a flashy hook, one that is both tremendously commercial and starkly original. However, all I find scribbled in my notebook (the The Bucket in which I keep all my Golden Story Ideas) are fragments, digressions, and visions for movies that are utterly preposterous.

First, there's "Hamlette." Over my August vacation I saw Benedict Cumberbatch play Hamlet on stage, and I loved the production. I thought, there hasn't been a movie Hamlet lately, not since Ethan Hawke's GenX Dane back in 2000. What if Hamlet were Hamlette, a woman? Sure it has already been done by Danish silent film actor Asta Nielsen, but what if I switched genders of several of the main characters. King Claudius, the villain, would become Queen Claudia, cruel as any grinning Disney witch. The Ghost would be Hamlette's mother, as terrifying as the vengeful spirits in Japanese horror. Hamlet's mother would be Hamlette's father, trading Oedipus for Electra. Hamlette and Ophelia would have a forbidden Sapphic edge.

Speaking of silent films, this Hamlette (as per my frantic and impassioned notes) would be inspired by the dark, expressionistic sets of Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. Hamlette herself would be inspired by silent film sirens like Heddy Lamar and Louise Brooks, only more brooding, violent and existential. The movie itself wouldn't be silent, but perhaps the the play within a play would be a 20s silent film depicting the Queens murder in pantomime. The language would be a surreal mix of silent film subtitles, updated modern dialogue and Shakespearean soliloquy.

The last line about this Idea in my notebook is that the whole thing could be shot in stop motion animation. Hmmmm. Needless to say, this idea doesn't sound like what my agent is looking for, so I keep flipping pages, looking through other Ideas.

There are a couple more horror concepts. One is a kafkaesque spin on Gremlins, in which the characters find gummy, oily, spidery creatures called "Things," which turn out to be the "object causes of desire," that inexpressible Thing that we all feel is missing from our lives. Yet when the characters get precisely what they want, their lives become a living hell. There are all sorts of sketches of these monstrous Things growing larger and multiplying out of control.

The problem with this Idea is it feels too familiar  (another rash of creature-ids run amok?) and in my notes there are several references to both Buñuel and Lacan, which is always a sign that I'm in trouble...

I keep turning pages. There's a romantic, supernatural thriller called The Philosophers, but it's perverse to the point of being like a Lynch or Cronenberg film, and it's not so much a story as a haphazard list of possible episodes all inspired by the work of my favorite philosophers. Again, I realize that that any combination of  period costumes, expensive special effects, and the Ubermensch is going to spell disaster. I continue to dig.

There's a promising Idea of reworking Sleeping Beauty as film noir, in which Sleeping Beauty herself is a femme fatale bent on the Prince's murder. Unfortunately the sketched-out dialogue of knights in full armor speaking in the hard boiled language of Raymond Chandler quickly dissolves into farce. There's a sci-fi, apocalyptic take on the 60's TV series Bonanza. I'll put a pin in that one. There's a supernatural crime thriller about a bunch of con artists who make a billionaire widow believe that they are psychics and have contacted her murdered daughter. I can't decide whether the ghost actually turns out to be real or the con-artists are just turning on each other and fucking with each other's minds. Nahhh, either way it's way too pretentious. What about this story of a narcoleptic who is constantly falling asleep and waking up as a buxom swords-woman in a desert world of alien troglodytes? No. No, swords-and-sandals. I swore to myself, never again.

What the FUCK do I write about??? I close the notebook and pick up the next one on my stack. I'm sure there's an Idea in here someplace...

To find out how I solved this problem check out the follow up article What To Write About...

5 Things that make a Big Blockbuster Work

Levin Menekse

Hello everyone,

Lately, it seems like I've had the fortune and the misfortune of watching a myriad of Big Blockbusters. Some of them were pretty good (Kingsmen, Mad Max: Fury Road), others were somewhere in the middle (Jurassic World, Fast and Furious 7) and one was absolutely abysmal (Jupiter Ascending).

The funny thing is I watched all these Big Movies right after I attended the Nantucket Film Festival where I saw countless indie movies. I realized I can put into words what makes a good, high-brow drama but when it came to blockbusters I was limited to "Dude, it was fucking awesome!" despite it was obvious I enjoyed Kingsmen considerably more than, say, Jupiter Ascending. I feel like this lack of vocabulary is something that creates the rift between the critics and the audience, because an esteemed, scholarly film critic can't just write: "DID YOU SEE THAT GUY WITH THE FLAMING GUITAR?! THAT WAS COOL!" and print it. Despite this though, they know a good blockbuster when they see one. Notice Jupiter Ascending has a 40 metacritic score, whereas Mad Max has a solid 89.

So I decided to do some thinking and come up with some elements the good Blockbusters shared and the bad ones, thankfully, didn't.

1 - Make sure the Cool Shit in your Movie is Actually Cool

"Cool" is a pretty elusive concept. Dictionary.com has 29 different definitions for it, but just like bad acting, we know it when we see it. Case in point: A car jumping from one skyscraper to the next or the Dino WWE at the end of Jurassic World was cool for me, whereas Channing Tatum rollerblading on air (?) while being a dog (??) was decidedly not cool. And it's a weird thing because the line between "cool" and just plain "goofy" is a very, very thin line.

Case in point: Definitely goofy.

Obviously you need to give it to the Wachowski's, The Matrix is one of the best blockbusters ever made and the whole bad-ass trench coats and crazy karate aesthetic could have easily been goofy as fuck. But they pulled it off. Here is what it looks like when it is NOT pulled off properly. (That clip is from the Turkish TV Series Mr. Cloud. Not one of our proudest moments.)

In Jupiter Ascending though, they have a half dog rollerblading on the air. If you can't type it without being self-aware about how stupid it sounds, perhaps you shouldn't do it.

2 - Give Me An Action Sequence I Haven't Seen Before!

These types of movies are style over substance unless they are done by Christopher Nolan. And that's completely fine. The audience doesn't want a deep theme or characters, but that doesn't mean the screenwriter's job is easier. They have one job: Give us big set pieces we haven't seen before.

That sounds easier than said. How do you write a car chase that is different than the thousands of other car chases in the history of cinema. Well, see, that's where Fast and Furious 7 succeeded with their jumping through the skyscrapers sequence or the Drone Chase sequence.

Or how do you do a fight scene we haven't seen? Set it in the Westboro Baptist Church and have Freebird play over it!

3 - Stylish Characters 

Nobody in their right mind expects deep character work from a big Summer blockbuster. A lot of time you would spend on building characters interaction  are spent on the aforementioned car chases and such. And yet, some characters are obviously... better than others. Han Solo isn't more "deep" than the Anakin Skywalker of the prequels -- I would even argue that Anakin Skywalker is deeper than Han Solo -- but Anakin Skywalker is the cinematic equivalent of getting a root canal and Han Solo is a best friend/big brother/President for Life rolled into one.

I think the word is style. Galahad, for example, might not be a deep character, but the movie is very clear as to who he is: He's the ultimate old-school gentleman, both in the action sequences and during his interactions with the other characters. ("Manners Maketh Man") Here's maybe a choice that's more controversial: Vin Diesel's Dom in Fast 7 has style to spare. He's a cool, macho guy but we don't get this only from Vin Diesel's performance, but also from surprising character work. For example, when his lover Letty goes to her grave and ruminates about her lost memories... what does Dom do? He shows up with a motherfucking sledgehammer to destroy her headstone.

Strong choice. Strong style. Obvious in every character interaction and action sequence.

Weirdly, Eddie Redmayne's Balam Abraxas in Jupiter Ascending definitely has a lot style as well. He's the only interesting part of the movie, over-acting at an operatic frequency only by whispering and screaming at the top of his lungs. Does it work? Maybe. But both the screenplay and Redmayne definitely commit to the insanity of the ten thousand year old character.

Poor Balam only gets to poop once every ten thousand years!

4 - Know Your Style

Fast and Furious is aware of how goofy is and runs with the over the top action pieces. Mad Max: Fury Road attempts to deliver an adrenaline shot of insanity directly into your veins and peace out afterwards. The very meta Kingsmen can get away with (spoilers for Kingsmen) killing its main character half way through the movie.

Some movies can't nail what tone they are supposed to be. Avatar Last Airbender, a.k.a. shit in its cinematic form, is unrelentingly grim whereas Jupiter Ascending probably could have had less levity.

And then there are movies that have no idea what tone they are supposed to be at all. On that end, I give you Jurassic World that's 4 different movies for each quadrant of the audience. It's sometimes a sentimental Spielbergian drama about two brothers who discover how boring they are, sometimes it's a romantic comedy about a polar opposite couple, sometimes it's heavy conversations about what it means to weaponize animals and, during the Lauren Lapkus and Nick from New Girl segments, is an improvisational Judd Apatow comedy.

5 - Bonus Points for Something Unexpected

This is really tricky because Blockbusters need to be for everyone, so you can't ruffle too many feathers. Creative risks are discouraged, but, at least, on the visual front, directors can take on interesting visual challenges and give people something "they haven't seen before" -- see the insane single takes of Gravity or the weird dream imagery of Inception. But, on the content level, it's very rare when a hero does a morally dubious thing or the movie ends in a dark place. Because of this, personally, while I find myself liking blockbusters, I'm rarely surprised by them.

(Following paragraph is a spoiler for the Kingsmen) 

So imagine my surprise when Galahad got executed by the villain halfway through the movie. I love moments like these and, I assure you, there is nothing that delights a reader more than being surprised. I read for major studios and, %95 of the time, things went exactly as how I thought they did. So, if you can throw a curve ball... Do it.

This is especially great if you're writing a spec script. See, Spiderman isn't going to die halfway through the movie. Harry Potter is never going to be defeated. There are constraints to writing a piece that is connected to an IP (intellectual property) but, in a spec script, you can do things those big movies can't do! So experiment! Do crazy shit!

But nothing as crazy as the costumes in Jupiter Ascending, please.

Can you think of more elements/variables I missed? Have any favorite blockbusters that break these rules? Feel free to discuss these in the comments! Thanks for reading!

Levin

How To Write Screenplays For Amazon

As I dig into yet another semester teaching at USC, I am showered with questions from students, recent graduates and other emerging writers:

Is indie cinema dead? Are original movie specs, scripts not based on a YA novel or Marvel comic book, a waste of time?What should we be writing now? What will movies and TV series look like in the future? What kind of original content are companies like Netflix and Amazon looking for?

In order to answer some of these questions I caught up with the current head of Amazon Studios, Roy Price. His answers to these and other questions were inspiring for anyone who has been frustrated by the current climate in Hollywood. To give our discussion so context:

Emerging writers and filmmakers often complain that movies can only be made at monster budgets (100 million and above) or micro-budgets (500 thousand or less.) Many iconic filmmakers, like John Waters and David Lynch, have bemoaned The Death of Mid-Budget Cinema (movies budgeted from $5 million to $60 million.) For the last decade, major studios seemed to have (mostly) turned their backs on sophisticated movies for adults, and indie cinema was moribund.

However, Amazon's announcement that producer Ted Hope (21 Grams, In The Bedroom, The Ice Storm) has been hired as its head of production is an exciting and "hopeful" turn. Any writer/filmmaker who has not checked out Hope's blog, read his book Hope for Film: From the Frontline of the Independent Cinema Revolutions, or watched "independent films, classics, silent films, foreign films, documentaries and shorts" on his film site, Fandor, should do so now. 

Amazon itself has won golden globes for its sophisticated and edgy comedy, Transparent, and is now developing a TV series with Woody Allen. What could all this mean for original (but unknown) filmmakers? I spoke to the man who should know.

SH: Most screenwriters hope to write an original screenplay and see that screenplay made into a movie. However, nearly all of the movies that were released in 2014 were based on underlying material (sequels, remakes, or adaptations of books). Of the few original screenplays that were nominated for awards, almost all were penned by well-established writer/directors. Especially now that Ted Hope is working with Amazon and Amazon is developing features both for theatric release and streaming, will original spec scripts come back into fashion?

Roy Price

RP: It’s always going to be easier to get your movie made if you’re established and people are dying to work with you or finance you, which is one of the benefits of getting some acknowledgement and recognition. But it’s no illusion that the business is more oriented around sequels and properties today than it was in 1979 or 1959. I’ve heard people lament from time to time that American cinema is not as idiosyncratic or creative as it was in the 1970s. I could quibble with that -- Guardians of the Galaxy was fantastic and kind of whimsical, and I would argue that The Lego Movie has a very distinctive voice that comes from Phil Lord and Chris Miller -- but on the whole, perhaps it is a fair criticism. And it’s not because people are less creative of course, so there should be some awesome ideas out there to unleash on the world.

"At Amazon Studios, we don’t have any properties and we haven’t made any movies, so we won’t be doing a lot of comic book movies or sequels. We’re going to be very filmmaker-driven, looking for interesting, unique films."

SH: Many inspirational filmmakers (David Lynch and John Waters) have called Art House Cinema dead. The studios seem to have stopped making mid-budget films (anywhere from $5 million to $60 million.) This leaves students and emerging filmmakers with no options other than micro-budget films. Will Amazon be making mid-budget movies?

RP: Yes, we will. Part of the problem with the mid-budget movie is that the distribution windowing fails to maximize revenue associated with those titles. For many “prestige” or “specialty” titles, they get a small theatrical release and some marketing. Some reviews come out. Then it’s in theaters for a few weeks and then it’s gone. Maybe two months later it is available for rental. Maybe seven to nine months after that it might be available in a subscription video service. The audience for many of these movies is older (in movie audience terms -- so like 35+). That audience typically goes out to the theater 3-4 times a year and not usually on the first weekend of a movie’s release. But that’s a lifestyle issue not an interest issue.

Many people in that group love movies and have money to spend. But if you live in Issaquah, Washington, it’s not always going to be convenient to make it into the city to see the movie. So what happens is that demand is created through the reviews, trailers and the (limited) marketing at a certain time, but the product is not made available until after that demand has dissipated. So the film is distributed in a way that is guaranteed to minimize the economic returns for financiers and filmmakers – in this segment, the windowing has backfired. We think that for these more mature movies for this specific audience, home video windows should be shorter. We also think we as Amazon.com can help these films find their audience in both the theatrical and home video windows.

Some people have tried to set us up in opposition to the theatrical chains, but actually I think we can find a happy, middle way together in this segment. There is still something special for customers and filmmakers about the theatrical experience. It is the best way to see a movie holding all other things equal. So we want to support as robust a theatrical run as a movie can support. We think these mid-range specialty titles need to be more broadly available sooner, but not necessarily immediately. We want to support a strong theatrical run.

So that’s what we plan to do. We think it will be better for filmmakers economically, and we think it will be good for film fans who would like to be able to follow up on great reviews they read about or great trailers they see. I mean ten months later, it can be hard to remember which trailer you loved – was it Puffy Chair or Tiny Furniture? Was it Jeff, Who Lives at Home or Listen Up, Phillip? Too much time has gone by.

"If independent films become more available to film fans when they still remember them and want to see them, opportunities and economic returns will increase for filmmakers and it will be much better for fans too. We expect that this will support more mid-budget features." 

SH: Television series like Amazon's Transparent seem to occupy the space that indie films once did in the '90s. Many of my students are inspired by Lena Dunham and the Duplass Brothers. Even in feature screenwriting courses, students most often talk about premium cable series instead of films. Should screenwriters developing sophisticated, character-driven drama and comedy be writing TV pilots instead of features?

People should do what they have a passion to do and what they have original ideas for. There is certainly great work being done in television. But I think the next 10 years will be good for independent cinema, and it is common today to move back and forth between film and TV so it would make sense to be open to whatever form excites you.

Some stories just need to be movies. Other stories call for a longer treatment. And there is a sophisticated at home audience who are eager to support imaginative, nuanced, challenging and original series. I would definitely consider both TV and film. 

"We have had thousands of scripts uploaded to our site and evaluated. We have made three pilots and one actual series from scripts submitted to the site."

SH: To what degree is your development slate dominated by established writers (Jill Soloway, Woody Allen) and what percentage of the projects that come to fruition originate from emerging writers (via your website, for example.)

RP: I think that there is a tendency in TV history for game changing shows to come from new networks or networks that are down on their luck (we’re in the former category!). And I think this happens because these networks are are hungry and open minded. Now that we have had some success in our first efforts, having all our shows hit number one on Amazon, Transparent winning the Globe for Best Comedy and Tumble Leaf winning the Annie for Best Preschool Show, the key for us is to stay open and not just only work with established writers or try to repeat ourselves tonally. We want to stay very open to new ideas and new talent.

We have had thousands of scripts uploaded to our site and evaluated. We have made three pilots and one actual series from scripts submitted to the site (Gortimer Gibbon’s Life on Normal Street). Great show produced for kids 6-11. Check it out. So I am happy we have that pipeline and it’s not just a source of ideas. We put a great team around David Anaxagoras (who created and uploaded Gortimer) and he worked on that show every day. Great for him and for us. 

SH: Instead of primarily using traditional network series and classic films as models, should students and younger emerging writers be studying content produced for Amazon, Netflix, Vimeo, and other digital providers to understand the kind of projects that will dominate in the future?

No one knows what will be cool in the future or how narrative forms might evolve. People will tell you to devour the films of the past and that’s definitely helpful, but you can get into a mode where you’re too influenced and you’re copying a bit -- where you’re not influenced by Sullivan’s Travels or whatever, you’re actually basically just redoing Sullivan’s Travels. So you have to see all those older titles and then bring to it your fresh perspective. 

My view is that whatever you’re watching, the advantage you have is that you are the only one that has your perspective. Writers of the past didn’t have the opportunity to write in 2015 or 2016.

"...you have to understand the essential, permanent, Aristotelian elements of storytelling, etc., from the old movies, plays, novels, etc., but then put your own bad self into it."

SH: Paul Schrader was quoted in Variety “My feeling about Amazon and Netflix is that they are probably going to be even more brutal than independent equity money, because they are at heart number crunchers, not filmmakers.” Yet, series like Transparent seem to suggest a willingness to take risks. Is Amazon going to allow more creative freedom? And if so, should emerging filmmakers be focusing more on original and challenging subject matter instead of developing ideas that seem commercial or marketable?

Well, bear in mind that we’re in this to create really distinctive and memorable work that people will care about and that will live on our site for a long time. So these aren’t one off economic propositions for us as they may be for strictly financial players. We’re only interested in doing great work so we are going to create an environment where great work can be created. I would point out that Mr. Schrader’s concerns have not been borne out so far on the TV side.

Transparent

"Creating great work requires creating a great environment for filmmakers."


SH: Since the "typical" TV series is a thing of the past, can students and filmmakers play with the form? For example, I know a student developing a series with 90 minute episodes and a four episode arc. Others have considered 20 minute episodes or episodes of varying length like chapters in a book. Streaming seems to allow for all sorts of creativity when the episodes are confined to time slots and airing dates. What do you recommend?

Mozart In The Jungle

People should do what moves them and this is a great time to do something unique. That said, there are economic reasons for making TV shows in standard formats (basically so you can resell them to other people later and defray investment). So there is an argument for doing something at a standard length. But the first priority should always be to do what works. So I would do that.

Roy's last words of advice were these...

"If you want to outsell Pat Boone you don't do it by being extra Pat Boone-y, you do it by being the Rolling Stones."

And who can argue with that?

Lastly, yesterday Apple announced that HBO will be available for subscribers on Apple TV. We've been hearing about digital streaming for decades, but now (finally) the game may actually be changing. This is good news for writers, filmmakers and artists.

Other Genre Hacks Interviews with Roy Price:

• (2011) Amazon Studios: An Interview with Roy Price
• (2012) Amazon Studios 2.0 - Another Interview with Roy Price

Tribespeople

In the past month, I've written about Creative Tribalism both in Genre Hacks and in Moviemaker Magazine, and I suggested that 21st century artists need to position themselves at the center of concentric circles of 30-100 people.  This digital tribe becomes the reliable, long-term source of creative fulfillment and spiritual meaning regardless of whether the writer, actor, or musician makes it big.

But how do we form these circles of deeply engaged tribespeople?

It's not easy. American consumers of art and entertainment are passive. They buy books, movie tickets, and downloads only when prompted by multimillion-dollar corporate marketing campaigns. They support the work of superstars with whom they will never interact. Online they are distracted by billions of competing memes, messages, and media-motes - a cacophony of voices all screaming over one another, "Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!" The biggest obstacle in building an audience is getting anyone to pay attention.

The solution simply can't be more self-promotion, dogged networking and inbound marketing. If we want our audiences to spend a larger slice of their entertainment budget on small artists with whom they can have a direct relationship, we have to take a break from our relentless drive to be the center-of-attention.

Leading by example, we must become supportive and engaged tribespeople in circles other than our own.  As artists we must, first and foremost, show people what it means to be a patron.

A patron is neither a consumer of a product, nor a supporter of a cause, but rather someone who endorses and funds the work of an individual artist.  A patron spends $10 on a download (A book, a song, a movie, whatever) not necessarily for the product itself, but to directly support the people who made it.  What they get for their money is a relationship to the work and to the artists they admire.

Sadly, too many writers, filmmakers, and musicians (and I include myself in this criticism) busily ignore the work of other artists who desperately need their support. We all need to be better models of the kind of audience we want to attract for our own work.

Look around and ask yourself, whose work deserves wider notice?  Whose project needs your collaboration and endorsement? Whose Kickstarter campaign have you promoted other than your own? How many reviews of festival films or web series have you written just to trumpet the achievement of the people who made them? Do you spend time reading rough drafts, watching rough-cuts, and critiquing one-sheets so that you can offer your free advice and feedback?

How often to you post, tweet, comment, and blog about the creative work of others?

Being a patron means taking a break from writing your TV pilot, editing your micro-budget feature, or promoting your next gig. It means looking beyond yourself as the center of the creative universe. It means paying attention and reaching out. This is what we want our collaborators and audiences to do, so we should start by doing it ourselves.

Perhaps I'm writing this very article to challenge myself to practice what I preach: By being better tribespeople we take the first step in forming tribes of our own.

Creative Tribalism

Rather than count on fame and fortune, 21st-century writers, filmmakers, and artists ought to concentrate on building tribes of 30-100 people who are deeply engaged in their work. 

I do a lot of non-fiction reading in the areas of emerging technology and evolutionary biology, subjects which don't seem to have a direct relationship to creativity.  However, as I consider the deep sense of frustration I see among artists/storytellers trying to "break in" and "make it," I sense a disconnection between our global, technologically-driven economy and the natural psychology of the artist - one that emerged over the last million years.

In a recent book, The Second Machine Age - Work, Progress and Prosperity in a Time of Brilliant Technologies,  Erik Brynjolfsson and Andrew McAfee argue that we are in a second, digital "machine age" (the first being The Industrial Revolution.)  In this new environment, computer technology has produced an economy that favors superstars over local players.  Generally speaking, The internet and telecommunications technology have allows anyone in the world to take business from players who were once protected by barriers of geography and cultural access.

More specifically, or writers, filmmakers, and artists  this has created a "winner-take-all" marketplace in which a small number of superstars, like billionaire J.K. Rowling or franchise demi-god J.J. Abrams, reach a global audience and the rest of us, millions and millions of us, toil away in relative paucity and obscurity.  The internet may have allowed anyone to publish a book or upload a film, but the global flood of content drowns all but the lucky (and well-marketed) few.  Artists find their work reduced to memes struggling in a environment of survival-of-the-stickiest.

(Success is granted to a few top performers, with small differences in talent, effort or luck often giving rise to enormous differences in incomes.” Frank " and Cook, The Winner-Take-All Society)

Now, I myself loved reading the Harry Potter series to my daughter, and I'll be first in line to see the upcoming Star Wars film.  But, the problem for artists who don't happen to be global superstars is that the creative psyche evolved in a very different environment.

Frontier Magazine, No. 9.6, (2003)

In his books, The Third Chimpanzee and The World Before Yesterday, Jared Diamond reminds us that in terms of our DNA, we are basically a third species of chimpanzee, and for millions of years, until very, very recently, we lived in groups of only 30-100 individuals. Diamond suggests that many of our natural instincts that evolved in these small groups are ill-suited to the 21st Century, and that by looking back to our traditional way of life, we can shed light on basic human needs that are stifled in our technology-rich environment. Diamond covers areas like health, child care, and conflict resolution, but think that his strategy also applies to creativity.

Consider a Paleolithic tribe of about fifty members. Among the hunters and gathers, I'd argue that there were 1-3 individuals who were best suited to contribute to the group as a whole by being storytellers, mask-makers, or cave painters - in other words, artists.  Every tribe had there very own J.J Abrams and J.K Rowling.  I'd argue further that one out of every thirty or so people, has the genetic pre-disposition to be the tribe's "artist" and that this individual isn't likely to feel successful, happy or fulfilled doing anything else.

However, in our "winner-take-all" global environment of media superstars, an awfully large number of people are set up for for disappointment, frustration and even alienation.  For  one out of every thirty people on the planet, the chance of success and fulfillment is literally a million to one.

We all need a different model of success, one that requires creatively minded people to build circles of 30-100 people who are deeply engaged in their work.  Whether or not one "hits it big," this circle becomes the center-of-gravity for creative growth, psychological health, and spiritual meaning. I'm calling this "Creative Tribalism."

 You can think of it as a set of concentric circles. The first circle is 7-10 people, who are your core collaborators, people you have regular, face-to-face contact with.  This is your writer's circle, your acting troupe, or your gang of techies hacking I-phones in your garage.

The next circle is 30-100 people who make up your core audience - people with whom you have a direct two-way relationship and for whom you create your painting-film-whatever. These connections may be primarily internet driven, but this audience is deeply engaged with your work.

Further concentric circles may contain 3,000, 30,000 or even 300,000 passive consumers of your art, and the next ring in particular is necessary to make a living (more on that in future blogs.)

However, because our social behavior and emotional drives evolved in tribes of 30-100 people,  close relationships with the first two circles are what delivers the very sense of fulfillment and purpose that so many creative people crave.

In fact, I'd argue, the absence of a closely knit tribe is precisely what is missing from many "successful" artist's lives.  Without these relationships even superstars can become just as depressed, alienated, and unfulfilled as anyone else.  (This is a subject worthy of it's own blog article.) In order to continue developing and flourishing, artists at all levels must build a tribe.  (For a grim reminder, read
The Dangers of Success: Isolation and Loneliness)

Creative Tribalism is not the same as “networking.” I’m not talking about career advancement, attracting followers or inbound marketing. I’m arguing that direct and collaborative relationships with a small tribe — a group of people who deeply value an artist’s work — are essential to his and her sense of purpose and wellbeing.

In the upcoming summer issue of MovieMaker Magazine, I interviewed filmmaker Joe Swanberg and actress Melanie Lynsky.  In that article I argue that Creative Tribalism is precisely the model ALL emerging filmmakers should be using, whether they aspire to be the next Swanberg or the next Spielberg.

In future blog posts, I'll flesh out these ideas further.  Some might argue that artists-building-tribes is hardly anything new. But, I'll argue that Creative Tribalism is a distinctly 21st century phenomenon in which the artist uses the same globalizing technologies to build relationships and nurture a sense of fulfillment.

Specifically, for the first time, writers, filmmakers and artists have access to:

• Affordable technology that allows a single individual to create a piece (like a film, a song, or book) that previously required an industry. 
• The digital connectivity that allows an artist to identify potential collaborators. 
• The digital distribution needed to reach a widely-dispersed niche audience. 
• The social networking needed to maintain the engagement of that audience.

But more on that later...

Have thoughts on "Creative Tribalism?" I write this blog in order to connect with intelligent, ambitious, and creative people. If you leave a comment, you will inspire me to write more. If you liked the article, please share it. 

Writing The Feature Script: Week Three - The Treatment

Over the course of 15 weeks I will be teaching "Writing The Feature Script" at USC's School of Cinematic Arts. Week by week I will be writing blog articles about each topic that we discuss in class.  However, because I spent two weeks in Calgary (working an MTV movie, The Dorm), I've had to take a hiatus from writing the blog.  Don't worry, I'm back!

This is a synopsis of Week Three.  You can read about our previous classes here:

Writing The Feature Script: Week One - OVERVIEW
Writing The Feature Script: Week Two -Finding the Story

So if you skim through this article you'll see that I've attached examples of beat sheets and treatments that I've written over the years.  They are all flawed, first-stab-in-the-dark attempts to realize a particular story.  Most are from less-than-prestigious projects that were none-the-less difficult to figure out.  I share them with you specifically because their format and approach serves a particular purpose.  Their ragged edges just underscore that screenwriting is a process of discovery, and you will rarely find everything you are looking for in the first pass.

In other words, if the first attempt at your treatment seems convoluted and hopeless, don't worry; everybody's does, to one degree or another.  The only "perfect treatments" are written about classic movies AFTER they have  been completed - AFTER a long process of revision in which the structure emerged.

Did you know that the first draft of Annie Hall was a drama centered on a murder mystery with a comic and romantic subplot?  Did you know that the shooting script for Punch Drunk Love, the love interest Lena was an Alien?  (I know this from having talked to set dressers who worked on the film.)

In fact, before you set out to write your beat sheet, consider this: one of the most "perfect" screenplays ever written is Chinatown. It has been analyzed thousands and thousands of times in screenwriting classes and textbooks. However, the first first draft of Chinatown was 178 pages long; screenwriter Robert Towne took 9 months to finish it saying that "...the writing of it was just tough: writing scenario, after scenario, after scenario was just so complicated that after a certain point, I thought I’d never get through it." Producer Robert Evans called the first draft brilliant but incomprehensible, and even Towne himself admitted that if the first draft had been shot, "it would have been a mess."  That "perfect beat sheet" that appears in screenplay books only emerged after a long process of restructuring, revision and clarification.  (See LA Times Article on the director/writer/producer collaboration in Chinatown.)

Then Why Write a Treatment?

A treatment is a tool for communication. There is no set format.  For me, the form is determined by what the treatment is supposed to communicate, and what kind of response the writer hopes to get from those who read it.  Sometimes I want feedback and notes, sometimes I just want a "yes" from someone so that I can start writing the script, and sometimes I just want to write it for myself, to try to make sense of my convoluted ideas.

The content of a treatment is basically the writer's first attempt to pin down the STORY STRUCTURE and identify key moments in the story such as the POINT OF ATTACK, the MIDPOINT, and 2ND ACT CULMINATION, using templates like Frank Daniel's SEQUENCE APPROACH.

(Other templates include Blake Snyder's BEAT SHEET and The Hero's Journey)

The important thing to remember here is that the story will change radically as the treatment is revised and multiple drafts of the script are written.  Almost all treatments have problems, and the purpose of the treatment is to take an initial crack at solving them.  The most common story problems at this point are.

1. Passivity. Generally speaking, we don't want a list of things that happen to the characters.  The story should be driven by characters DECISIONS and ACTIONS in pursuit of a goal.

2. Monotony. We want to avoid monotony by making sure the story is not just a list of disconnected events: and then this happens, and then this happens, and then this..." Instead, events should be linked in a series of BUT, THEREFORE (because of that), and MEANWHILE (for subplots.)  Storytellers as diverse as Trey Parker (see Six Days To Air), Randy Olsen (documentary filmmaker, author of Connection), and Frank Daniel himself have advocated going through one's story and replacing every AND with a BUT or THEREFORE.

In a lecture to students at AFI, Frank Daniel said, "If you don't have this 'but' and 'therefore' connection between the parts, the story becomes linear, monotonous, just narrative. Diaries and chronicles are written that way, but not scripts. There is no way of heightening the conflict and continuing the suspense in such a pattern."

In order for the story to have tension and conflict, the protagonist must face an escalating series of obstacles and each roadblock or complication that s/he faces must come as a result of the way s/he faced the previous obstacle.  In the Godfather, Michael doesn't want to be a man like his father, BUT his father is shot, THEREFORE, Michael has to kill the man who did it.  THEREFORE, a mob war starts. THEREFORE, Michael has to run away to Sicily where he starts a new life, BUT Michael's brother Sonny is shot... and so on, and so on...

Index Cards and Beat Sheets

A true BEAT SHEET is basically a bullet point list (or sometimes a numbered list) of all the major scenes and story beats in a movie (usually between 60 to 90 beats.)  Because beat sheets are so skeletal and boring to read, they are usually only used by the writers themselves, to hash things out.  They are usually shown only to collaborators who know the story intimately (a writing partner, a collaborative director, a professor.)

Here is a beat sheet for Toy Story 3, that identifies the Save The Cat structure in about 75 beats/bullet points.  TOY STORY BEAT SHEET.

Notice how the story beats follow cause and effect, with BUT and THEREFORE, and notice how each beat can be distilled in reference to characters ACTIONS and DECISIONS.

But, again, remember that this is an ANALYSIS of a finished movie.  There are hundreds of screenwriting books with analyses of thousands of famous films, all fitting them into one theory of structure or another.  But analyzing a movie at the end of a creative process is not the same as writing a story on the blank page. 

Your beat sheet will never look like the post-facto analysis of a "perfect" finished film.  If it does, you're doing it wrong.  Story structure emerges from a process that should highlight intuition and inspiration.  If you have the SAVE THE CAT STRUCTURE pinned to your computer while forming the story, or you are literally filling in blanks on a template sheet, you are driving while looking at your GPS map instead of the road.

STORY STRUCTURE and BEAT SHEETS are maps, not the territory itself.  Your story, and its beats, will emerge from a process of discovery, continual retelling, and revision.

The point of this blog article is to give you an idea of what real "first draft" treatments look like, with all their warts and cellulite, so that you don't expect your own to be "perfect" (like the Toy Story 3 beat sheet) the first time around. 

Think of your first beat sheet or treatment as an extremely plastic and protean document.  You are liable to change it over and over again, as you work on your story.  For that reason, rather than write my story beats down on paper, I tend to put them on INDEX CARDS.  

Index cards lend themselves to shifting around, crumpling up, and tagging with random post-its.  Sometimes a single card turns into an entire sequence.  Sometimes a moment that you thought was the END OF THE FIRST ACT, turns out to be a POINT OF ATTACK.  Sometimes whole subplots appear and disappear like phantoms.  Cards can be color-coded to track subplots, characters, and tension.  You can stand back and get a sense of your movie as a whole.

The idea is not to ask yourself  "What is my midpoint?" or "What's my 'Hightower Surprise.'"  You just start assembling the ideas you have for character actions and their consequences, adding evocative images and set pieces that excite you, seeing where those imaginative elements might fit in an overall structure, and looking for how those points might be sharpened and improved.  Play with those beats.  Move them around. Create them and throw them away.  The structure, in all its monomythical glory, will emerge.

Three Page Treatment

Often I write 3-5 page treatments.  These are written in prose form and usually contain a logline, a character list, and a short synopsis of the story.   I write these when I have a story idea that I'm not yet ready to write as a screenplay, but that I may want to show to a producer, executive, or agent in order to get them interested in the idea (i.e. I just want them to say "yes.")  These treatments need to be short and easy-to-read so that a non-writer can make the simple judgement, "Is this a good idea for a movie?"

Unlike a beat sheet, which I write for myself in order to expose story flaws and to inspire further re-thinking and rewriting, this short treatment is meant to "sell" the idea, so I try to make the story seem as airtight and compelling as possible (even though it's not, and I know that the actual screenwriting process will radically change it.)  It's okay to write these treatments with a little flourish if that helps define the movie.

Here's a story idea I showed around many years ago...

• Body Electric

The answer on Body Electric, for one reason or another, was "No, I don't see it as a movie." Perhaps you don't either.  But that's the point.  The format of this kind of treatment is written for a clear yes or no.

I might also write a three-page treatment when I have been hired on a project, but a powerful producer or director must "sign off" on a synopsis before I go to script.  These "higher-ups" rarely have much spare time or attention, so the goal of the treatment is to just summarize what I plan to write in a simple and easy-to-read way.  (Again, I'm hoping to get a "yes") Here is the synopsis I wrote for Rambo: Last Stand.

• Rambo:  Last Stand

When I wrote the Rambo script (which has since been discarded by the producers and Mr. Stallone) much of the story changed.  If I re-wrote the synopsis based on that screenplay, it would look much different.  If the script went through the usual rounds of rewrites, the story synopsis would look even MORE different.  And, if the movie were ever made (but there are no plans to make it) the story synopsis would have changed again.

In general, I don't write treatments in simple straightforward prose form that are longer than five pages.  Long treatments read like extremely pedestrian short stories, and they are rarely very entertaining.  However, some sort of longer format is often necessary...

The Extended Treatment

The extended treatment is a kind of hybrid of the beat sheet and a traditional treatment.  On the one hand, it has bullet points and bold simple sentences describing all the main beats of the story, like a beat sheet.  But these beats are fleshed out in a way that expands on characterization, setting, and other important details, like a prose treatment. The format is easy to read, but it is also easy to skim.

The point of the extended treatment is to get NOTES and FEEDBACK.  Those who read it are likely to be producers, executives, agents, directors, fellow writers in writing groups, and others who are collaborating closely in the writing process.  The bullet points allow the readers to skim for an overview of the structure, but also allow them to read closely and explore the finer details.  

I write these treatments to the best of my ability, but I allow warts and cellulite to show so that others can give me notes, ideas, and suggestions for improvement.  Again, the point is not to write it perfectly.  The point is to write it well enough so that it's possible to gather feedback.

The first draft is essentially a rewrite of the treatment and just another cycle in an ongoing  REWRITE PROCESS.  Here's an example of a treatment I wrote before embarking on a first draft:

• Nellie Bly (aka Blackwell)

My students who wrote treatments in this format were able to get rounds of very specific and cogent feedback from the 10 other screenwriters in the class.

Another way to write an extended treatment is to take your beat sheet and put it in Screenplay Format such that each beat/scene has its own slugline followed by a scene description. Most students like to write in this format because it's easy to transition from extended treatment to writing the screenplay. The disadvantage is that it isn't as lucid as the Hybrid Treatment above.

A Screenplay Format Treatment looks like this...

The Leave Behind

Often writers have to "pitch for writing assignments."  A production company or studio has a general idea of a movie they want to make, such as a sequel to Turistas or The Haunting in Connecticut, and a series of writers come in with their "take" on the material.

Sometimes when I pitch an idea for a sequel, remake, or adaptation, I give the executives listening to the pitch a "leave behind" which is a short synopsis of my "take."  The point of this document is to remind them of the story I've pitched so that they can discuss it later, and to provide extra details, like production illustrations (which I draw myself.)

Here is a treatment I wrote to try to land the job to write Turistas 2.  Ultimately, no writer was hired and the movie was never made. (probably for the best, no?)

• Turistas 2

Here is the treatment I wrote for The Haunting In New York. Notice how flashy I get with colors and pictures to try to convince the readers to give me the job.  As it turned out,  I got it, and I wrote the screenplay, but because The Haunting in Georgia did poorly at the box office, the series was abandoned and my script was never shot.

• The Haunting in New York

If you bother reading any of these documents, you'll no doubt be able to find all sorts of structural weakness, plot holes, and dumb ideas.  Again, other than just sharing the format, this is precisely why I'm showing them to you.

Treatments are your first draft of your first draft.  If you are engaging in the creative process in a dynamic and authentic way, your treatment will shimmer with inspiration and at the same time reveal unanticipated and daunting story problems.  And, that's right where you want to be!

If you write the "perfect treatment" according to SAVE THE CAT, THE SEQUENCE APPROACH, or the HERO'S JOURNEY, it is likely only "perfect" because you have filled in the blanks with hackneyed, easy, inauthentic, or implausible choices.  You can do better.  

Now get writing... and when you are finished with the treatment, show it to as many people as you can and find out just what those challenges are.

I write this blog in order to connect with intelligent, ambitious, and creative people. If you leave a comment, you will inspire me to write more. If you liked the article, please share it.

Writing The Feature Script: Week Two - Finding The Story

Over the course of 15 weeks I will be teaching "Writing The Feature Script" at USC's School of Cinematic Arts. Week by week I will be writing blog articles about each topic that we discuss in class. My hope is that beginning screenwriters, working screenwriters in writing groups, and screenwriting professors might benefit from "auditing" my class online.  

This is a synopsis of Week Two.  You can read about our previous class here:  Writing The Feature Script: Week One - OVERVIEW

A Writing Group

If you are indeed following this course week by week on my blog, and you want to get the most out of it, you need to do two things:  First you need to write a 1-2 page synopses of your story idea.  Second, you need to show that idea to at least three trusted people and get feedback. 

Ideally, you would join, or create, a writing group.  Screenwriting isn't something learned by reading a book or a blog; it's a process of telling, retelling, and revising pages with continual feedback from one's peers. Involving yourself creatively in other writers' projects, giving notes and work-shopping stories besides your own is far more valuable than learning "writing theory."  In class, my USC students get is an intense, impassioned, and supportive engagement with their work by nine other ambitious and talented students (as well as the TA and the instructor) every step of the way.  You should seek that out as well.

Ultimately, all writers need a group of trusted collaborators, fellow writers, and filmmakers with whom they share feedback.  Whether your aspire to be Ingmar Bergman or Brett Ratner, Kathryn Bigelow or Maya Deren, you need your inner circle.

The Story

Last week, students uploaded their synopses to a Dropbox file so that they all could read one another's work.  Most of the ideas, at this point, were fragmentary.  Students had imagined characters, conflicts, and worlds that deeply inspired them, but now they needed to take a first shot at putting these ideas in the form of a STORY.

So, we discussed and evaluated each idea in terms of the simplest definition of a story that I have encountered:

A story is about someone who wants something very badly and is having trouble getting it.

More precisely, we discussed each story in terms of each piece of this definition. "A story is..."

"About someone..."  Whose story is it?  Through whose eyes, and more importantly through whose emotions do we experience the story? Who takes the actions that drive the story forward? This is the first big choice the storyteller must make, and there is always more than one answer.

"...who wants something..."  What does this protagonist want? What primary desire is forcing him/her/them to take action? Whether or not they get it is the DRAMATIC QUESTION that the story tracks and ultimately answers.

"...very badly..." Why does s/he want it so much?  What's going to happen if he/she DOESN'T get it?  This defines the STAKES of your story.

"...but is having trouble getting it."  What are the obstacles? Who is the antagonist, or what are the antagonistic forces that is keeping the protagonist from getting what s/he/they want?

Telling the Story

Once, these basic (but difficult!) questions are answered, we can take a shot at telling the story.  Brian McDonald, in both his blog and book Invisible Ink, claims that all effective stories have the basic structure of a fairy tale:

Once upon a time_____________
And every day________________
Until one day_________________
And because of this___________
And because of this___________
And because of this___________
Until finally__________________
And ever since that day_______

Does a fairy tale template seem too simplistic for your grown-up, complex story?  It's not.  Even three hour epics like The Godfather can be told this way.

1. Once upon a time there was a Godfather who ran a family business.
2. And every day the Godfather did favors and got favors in return.
3. Until one day, the Godfather did not grant a favor, and the snubbed rival tried to kill him.
4. And because of this the Godfather's sons took over the family business: Sonny started a war and Michael killed the rival.
5. And because of this Michael was exiled and Sonny was murdered in the war.
6. And because of this The Godfather made peace.
7. And because of this Micheal returned to take his father’s place, but the family was weakened by the Godfather’s sickness and eventual death.
8. Until finally the rival family bosses turned against Michael, and so Michael killed each and every one.
9. And ever since that day Michael was the new Godfather.

What we want to avoid when getting a general idea of our story is a series of disconnected events. "And then this happens, and then this happens, and then this happens." Telling a story as fairy tale beats forces the writer to think of the narrative as a chain of cause-and-effect driven by the choices of the protagonist.

Take a shot at telling your story in this way.

Telling the Story Well

The last thing that we talked about was the idea of TENSION, which we will come back to again and again throughout the semester.  Good storytellers constantly engage the audience's emotions by orienting their attention to the future.  In the beginning of the story they stoke the audience's CURIOSITY by showing them intriguing characters and situations that they want to learn more about.  In the middle of the story, they lock the audience's attention by manipulating the audiences HOPE and FEAR: the audience HOPES that things will turn out well for the people they care about, and FEAR that things will turn out badly.  Thus, the audience stays in their seats waiting to see how things turn out in the end.

With that in mind, even at this early stage of hashing out a story, writers should think about why the audience should have some EMPATHY for their protagonists.  How does the story present problems, ordeals, and CHOICES to the protagonist so that the audience cares about what will happen later?  How does the story make the audience imagine and dread bad outcomes, while hoping for good ones?

When I talk to script readers, producers, and judges in screenplay contests, they all say that most scripts fail because of two things.  Either we don't care about the characters (EMPATHY,) or the story lacks TENSION, or both.  It's a good idea to start thinking about these questions now.

Screenplay Structure

In future classes, we will go over screenplay structure in a more detailed way. We will consider Frank Daniel's Sequence Approach, as well as other templates. However, at this point in the process, an over-emphasis on act breaks, reversals, culminations and climaxes can lead to weak plots and poor characterization... as well as a lot of anxiety.  It's better, for now, to look at structure more loosely.

Ultimately structure is something that emerges from the process of telling, retelling and revising your story over and over and over again.

Think of it this way: all writing manuals and screenplay instructors can offer are maps, but the maps are not the territory.  A screenplay is not something that you engineer according to rules or even principles. Your story is something that you discover, like an archaeologist searching for an ancient long-buried city. The maps give you some idea of where the ruins are buried, but you won't really know the structure until you start digging.  As you dig, you may change your mind about what you find.  What you thought was a central square could turn out to be an inner sanctum.  What you thought was the city gates may turn out to be the entrance to a temple.  Storytelling is not so much a process of creation as it is one of discovery.

Even The Hero's Journey or Monomyth, touted by screenplay guru's as the mystical template of all stories, will only give you a hazy abstract notion of the shape of your particular story.  As I've argued in the past, Real Myths are Weird.

Character and World

Students left this week's class class with a Glossary of Screenwriting Terms, a list of  Recommended Books, Blogs, and Online Resources and a synopsis of Story Structure.  (click on the links to check these out yourself.)

Each student is now writing a 1-2 page Character Monologue or an Exploration of World.  Here are two examples of this exercise written by my students in the past.  The first is a wonderfully detailed description of a Taiwanese Hospital:  The World.  The other is a vivid monologue of a potential protagonist: Monologue. Notice how Lulu tells her story and the writer explores the character's voice, relationships, conflicts, and attitude.

These exercises underscore two different ways of exploring your story: inside out and outside in.  Actors who work "inside out" are generally start with emotions, senses and psychology- Method Acting - and work out.  Actors who work "outside in" begin with the expressions of the body, external details of character, and script analysis - Classical Acting - and work in.

Screenwriters are similar in that some of them seem to start with CHARACTER - emotions, situations and conflicts- and work out, to discover plot and structure. While others start with the WORLD -  the external circumstances and story structure - and then work in, to find the life of their characters.  No one way is "better" than the other, and there is nothing wrong with doing both.

Class Teaching Assistant

Lastly, I'd like to introduce my talented teaching assistant, Levin Menekse, who is primarily responsible for writing the glossary definitions, and will be writing guest blogs throughout the semester.  He hails from Turkey, reveres the writing of David Foster Wallace and the filmmaking of P.T. Anderson, and writes brilliant and mysterious screenplays.  He was singled out as "most likely to be a screenwriting professor" among graduate students at USC.

Click Here to go on to WEEK THREE:The Treatment.

I write this blog in order to connect with intelligent, ambitious, and creative people. If you leave a comment, you will inspire me to write more. If you liked the article, please share it.