I love teaching, I adore my students, and I’m fortunate enough to see some good results, as some of my students go on to build a writing career.

Yet, I am growing increasingly frustrated.

There is a missing component in the learning of these young people. Some take the initiative to fill in the blanks, but others aren’t even aware of what is missing.

By just taking courses, there is little chance you will survive the real world.

So what else do you need?

Let’s first look at the positive aspects of books, courses and gurus.

Book, Courses And Gurus

I have written about the merits of film school. You can learn a lot from the experts through books, courses and videos. I have the best memories of binge reading screenwriting books, and then attending lectures by the authors.

In some instances, you can speed up the process of understanding how screenplays work, what has worked in the past and what hasn’t.

You’ll also learn the systems and terminology used in our industry.

Courses give you a general overview, based on more material than you can process in a lifetime. You learn about genres and styles outside your taste, which will help you communicate with professionals.

Books and courses give you different perspectives. No matter how long you study a subject, you’ll still only see it through the lens of your own eyes.

Screenwriting courses may give you a wholly new, valuable point of view.

However, one of the biggest problems with courses, is that only little of what you learn specifically relates to the work that you (will) write.

Therefore it is essential that you get feedback to your own work. It will help improve your performance, and level up to the requirements of the market.

Talk, Don’t Write

One of the local film schools offers their students industry feedback. Professional script consultants come in to help the students improve their scripts from first to final draft. It’s great. Students love it.

Not only is this an introduction to how the industry works; it is an invaluable addition to the lectures. Lecturing is a transfer of knowledge in bulk. The consults provide bespoke feedback, different for each student. Even if two students struggle with the same issue, they may need different solutions.

Consults outclass written reports. In the studio system, notes are a standard form of communication with writers. But without produced credits, you will benefit far more from a direct two-way conversation.

In a live consultation, you are able to ask questions, and so can the consultant. This helps define your objectives, as well as the issues standing in the way of achieving them.

The Consult Is Your Inmost Cave

Most of us work better and faster when we can verbally discuss our work, rather than write or read about it in a snapshot report.

Many aspiring writers are not familiar with the lingo, and consultants should not have to explain or define every concept in a report.

A good script consultation is a mini-workshop, where client and consultant work together to determine the priorities for future work, and the way they could be addressed by the writer. The best consult is an intense, inspiring and rewarding experience for both sides.

A welcome side-effect of some consultations is that writers discover what they are actually writing about.

Often new writers are not aware of the themes they infuse their stories with.

As a consultant, you are in the privileged position of discovering these themes with the writer. What is their world view? What bugs them, and how do their stories comment on society?

A great consult creates an Inmost Cave, for writers to discover their own voice.

It allows them to develop their voice, and articulate their ideas in ways that the industry and the audience will understand. Sometimes it allows them to clarify, sharpen and refine their ideas.

Often these young writers are yet to find their path in life, and their writing provides a valuable introspection into their values, hopes and dreams. As a consultant, it is a humbling experience to be there, and witness this fascinating process.

And yet, no matter how inspiring, poetic and even mythical these experiences may be, they are no substitute for learning from the source.

Back To The Screenwriting Source

A few years back, a member of a screenwriting forum was eaten alive when he dared to ask for a method to learn screenwriting for free. Many of the readers had paid good money for their education, and they came down on the boy to annihilate him.

It turned out the boy didn’t know any better. He was new to screenwriting, and with a mental health disorder he didn’t know how to be diplomatic when asking his question.

It set me thinking.

Screenwriting books and gurus have only been around since the 1970’s, while some of the very best movies were written long before.

How did screenwriters learn the craft before there were any gurus around?

My guess? From reading great screenplays, stage plays, and novels.

It seems that we have collectively forgotten that the best learning lies in the best scripts. Yet, students these days seem to believe they can educate themselves without opening a single screenplay.

From reading lots of great scripts, you can learn style, structure and dialogue, virtually by osmosis.

One of my most dedicated students used to read a full-length feature screenplay every day, for months. This experience helped him so much, that he skyrocketed to the top of the best screenwriting contests, and was introduced to Hollywood agents. You can do this, too.

To be perfectly honest, though…

Just reading scripts is not going to cut it, either.

Enter Immersion

Thousands of screenplays are available online at any given time. They’re only a download away. So why don’t we all get to work, like, now?

It turns out to be a massive challenge to tell the wheat from the chaff.

Many are mere dialogue transcripts, which is utterly useless for the screenwriter who wants to learn how to use proper formatting and descriptive style.

Others are butchered versions, converted from one format to another, and ending up in a crappy TXT or – even worse – HTML format.

And only a few dozen scripts are available freely from their rights holders.

Fortunately, some sites publish a curated offering of these scripts, so you don’t have to make the selection for yourself.

In my view, once you are reading a rock solid selection of the best scripts, the only other mandatory daily action you need to take, is: write.

This is why after teaching screenwriting courses for nearly ten years, I decided to completely overhaul the philosophy behind my teaching.

I made a thorough review of what had worked in the past, and what didn’t.

I looked at which students had been successful, and who failed. Then I looked at the practices of working screenwriters, and built a system that helps writers build better habits, and prepare them for the writing of a professional screenplay draft. All without a tutor.

I named the course Immersion Screenwriting.

The results have been phenomenal.

The writing exercises I designed for this course emulate some of the brain processes of the seasoned screenwriter. Others are meant to create a steady writing habit, while building some sort of format muscle memory.

By performing these exercises on a daily basis, you adopt the practices of the professional screenwriter effortlessly. The basic version of the course runs for seven weeks (50 days), enough to change or create a new habit.

Take Action

If this all sounds like something you’d like to try, head over here.

If you have spent hundreds or thousands of dollars on screenwriting courses and consults, rest assured that none of that was a waste. You will have acquired a top level understanding of the screenwriting trade.

But to get in the successful habit of writing effective screenplays, you need to not only know but feel what a great script looks like. This takes some time, and a fair amount of reading.

You need to know your genre inside out, you need to know its flagship movies and writing conventions. In addition, you need to be able to apply a contemporary writing style.

Readers want to enjoy your screenplay not only for its story, but also for its reading experience.

So, what script are you reading next?

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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With thanks to Cameron Pattison.

Jamie Campbell

Jamie Campbell is an author, screenwriter, and television addict.

Jamie is proud to be an Editor for The Story Department.

Her latest series Project Integrate is out now.

jamiecampbell.com.au

Tony Morphett has written or co-written seven feature films. Among his TV writing are ten telemovies, twelve miniseries, and some hundreds of episodes of TV series drama. He devised or co-devised seven TV series. He has won 14 industry awards for TV writing.

TV Writing in Australia

Q: Vince Gilligan sent in his episodes of X-files. He then started writing and co-producing X-files. That’s how he broke into TV writing.  How do writers typically break into TV writing in Australia?

A: Vince Gilligan followed a route a lot of aspiring screenwriters in LA try.  Write a spec script for a successful series and hope to get a gig. For him it turned up trumps. It’s a case of “many are called but few are chosen”.  But what the hell, it’s one way of getting past the gatekeepers.

Shane Brennan, now showrunning both NCIS series, was a successful screenwriter here. But he had an urge to work in LA. Every year he’d go over and pitch and finally pulled it off in a sensational way.  David Williamson came into screenwriting from stage.  He segued into movies and his first TV writing was on my 1970’s series Certain Women.  I’d seen The Removalist and was blown away and recommended him to our script editor Glyn Davies. 

Laura Jones also got her first TV writing gig on Certain Women after doing a screenwriting course. If memory serves, that was in Canberra. Debra Oswald, known for her TV writing on Offspring, I think, started as a stage playwright. Peter Gawler – Underbelly and lot of other credits – got a job at Crawford Productions. I think he was a 3^rd Assistant, segued into the script department, became a script editor, then the great writer he is today. 

Crawford’s was an amazing hot-house for TV writing talent.  A lot of people got their start there but there’s nothing quite like it today.  The film schools are turning out writers, some better than others.  The problem with some of the film schools, is that they encourage their students to follow the auteur filmmaker myth.

Directing and screenwriting are two very different disciplines. Each can take years to master. There are some who can do it, but not many.  Daniel Krige went to AFTRS to do screenwriting and segued into writing/directing.  His West is I think a good film, and he may be an exception to my rule.  He came to me when he was about 16, had left school, with a big lever arch file with the first handwritten draft of West inside. 

I agreed to read it and found to my horror that it was a good script. It needed work, but don’t they all? With a lot of nagging some friends, I got him into AFTRS when he was only 19. 

The problem with some of the film schools, it seems to me,
is that they encourage their students to follow the auteur film maker myth.

Me?  I’d written a novel called Dynasty about a media company owning family.  I’d spent 10 years in TV as an interviewer/documentary man and thought it’d make good television.  I pitched it to David Goddard, then head of ABC-TV drama, he commissioned a pilot. 

Then he went back to England and his place was taken by John Cameron, one of the best heads of drama I’ve known.  He commissioned a further 10 eps, then a further 13. I really learned TV writing on those series, primarily from Glyn Davies. He was my script editor, who had worked in the UK on No Hiding Place and The Rat Catchers.  I owe Glyn much, he was a mentor and friend.

I suppose the lesson in all this is to get noticed somehow. And … to have the work to back it up when the chance comes. The one characteristic that all writers possess is that they write.  It’s not “one day when I get time I’ll sit down and write my novel/stage play/screenplay.”

It’s “sit on your arse and do it now.”

Writing for TV: The Showrunners

Q: Do show creators generally come from the ranks of staff writers?  What sort of staff writers generally rise up to create and run their own TV shows?

Reg Watson was on Grundy’s staff.  More recently Bevan Lee on staff at Seven has developed  great shows – A Place To Call Home, Winners and Losers, Packed to the Rafters.  Crawford’s shows were all, I think, developed in-house.

I’ve created or co-created seven series.  Debra Oswald won a NSW Premier’s award for the telemovie pilot of Offspring.  The pattern these days is for shows to be created in-house or by indy poducers. Blue Heelers was by me and Hal McElroy, Water Rats by me and John Hugginson, both freelancers but done for Hal McElroy.

Q: Does TV writing require a particular personality type?

A: Creating a show needs a writer’s brain. Running one needs a producer’s brain.  Some people like Shane Brennan and Bevan Lee  have both and can switch from one to the other. It’s a hard trick, and I’ve never been tempted to do it because running a show would take away from my TV writing time, which is my first love.  

Q: As you mentioned, the audience is more segmented than ever. How is the rise of social media/YouTube/VOD impacting on how TV shows are funded?

A: Yes, the audience is now segmented but TV goes on. I’m not up the business end, but my understanding is that advertising revenue remains strong.  Screen Australia will invest in telemovies and in miniseries but not episodics.  This policy can distort the nature of the show.  A natural episodic idea will now usually need a spine running through 13 episodes turning it into a miniseries. You can do this only 5 times (=65 eps) before ScreenOz cuts off investment funding. 

Sea Patrol and Underbelly both did this which is a factor in why both series ended at 65 eps apiece.  Generally speaking new technology doesn’t kill old.  Radio didn’t kill books, TV didn’t kill radio, the internet and smartphones and X Boxes have not killed TV.    

Q: Are Australian TV shows profitable in general?  What is being done to increase the profitability?

A: That depends on the ratings. If a show on commercial TV rates well it will attract advertising.  If a show doesn’t rate well, you’ll see it moved to a later time slot, and usually a different night and it won’t be picked up for another series.  No one promised us a rose garden and life in the jungle is tough.

 Q: Are there any Australian TV shows that do a great job of integrating social media and the internet to reach a greater audience?  How is this impacting the advertising model?

A: Like everyone in media, I’m watching social media/internet.  With downloads and YouTube and so on the way, ratings are counted has changed.  These days you get the Overnights and then the Consolidated Rating which gives you a better idea or how many people are watching but it doesn’t and never has tell you if anyone’s in the room or paying attention.  Kids multitask – they watch TV and their X Boxes simultaneously.  No system’s perfect.  

Q: How is TV writing changing in the age of digital media?

A: It’s perhaps got crisper and faster moving but the fundamentals haven’t changed since we sat around in caves telling stories to each other about the last Mastodon hunt.  Humans want to be told stories.  Why we do is a two bottle argument. My own view is that fiction is a training ground for real life.  You learn strategies for living from stories and live many other people’s lives.  

Q: What in your view, as a long-time successful practitioner, are some of the upsides and downsides of the change in the landscape of TV writing in Australia?

A: In many ways  we’ve become a coarser society.  In my youth, men generally didn’t use profanity in front of women, they kept it to the public bar.  Men were in that sense functionally bi-lingual, and women didn’t use language that would make a sailor blush. That age is now gone. 

The trap for younger writers in this is to  take the easy route when it comes to expressing, say, anger.  There’s also what I call the Fucking and Killing Sub-Genre which can get boring.  Think of the American studio films of the 40’s and 50’s. They didn’t need it to get their effects.  Deadwood, the most profane miniseries I have ever seen, was both beautifully made and suffered poverty in its dialogue.  Fuckety-fuckety-fuckety.  Noel Coward it is not. 

Q: Do you have an idea in the works that you’d like to see as a series.

A: Half a dozen which I won’t tell you about because they’re not yet as finished as I’d like.  If you want to see some of my orphan ideas, which have never seen light of day, go to www.tonymorphett.com and click Bottom Drawer then Miniseries and/or Episodic. 

It’s a heart-breaking old town, is it not?

Q: What is a project you’re working on currently?

A: Several, with several producers.  Also a science fiction novel which is a sequel to my Starship Home, now available as an Amazon Kindle eBook if I may for a moment indulge in blatant self-advertisement.

Q: As a female, I’m curious to find out whether the actresses in Australia have the same problems as in Hollywood.  That is, there are too many actresses (more women than men study drama) and not enough leading roles.

A: I think it’s the same here.  What may change it is the trend for more and more women becoming heads of drama and/or development.  This has come about, I think, because for several decades women have become producers, script producers and script editors for TV writing.  Sue Masters, Caroline Stanton, Susan Bower, sister of the late great Lynn Bayonas. She was also distinguished in this field. Kim Wilson, the list goes on and on. Having said that there are some women who bring audiences with then. To name a few,  Lisa McCune, Asher Keddie, Rebecca Gibney, Claudia Karvan and Essie Davis, currently tearing up the set as Phryne Fisher.  She’s had an Olivier Award for Best Supporting Actress, and a Tony nomination.  She was the stand-out actor in The Slap, and I’d happily watch her read the phone book.  These are genuine stars in television

 Q: You’re an author of science fiction novels too.  What do you think will be some of the things we’ll see in the future?

Technology changes but human nature remains the same.  In the 50’s, it was a convention in SF that computers would get bigger and bigger – sometimes planet sized.  The chairman of IBM once said that there was maybe a market for 5 computers to service the world. These would be 30 ton Godzillas.Then Jobs and Wozniak put together the  personal computer and couldn’t get Atari and Hewlett Packard to come aboard.  Then Facebook came along and I thought it was a campus fad. Kid stuff. 

Then Twitter and I thought “what can you say in 140 letters or less?”  1984 and Brave New World were once thought of as either/or visions of the future but it turns out that both Orwell and Huxley were right.  For me, the best SF tells speculative stories in exotic, imagined  locations.  It’s like historical fiction played out in imaginary worlds.

But I wouldn’t bet the house on any of it coming true.  

Thank you Tony for agreeing to this interview, and providing such insightful answers about your experience in TV writing.

-Eda Utku

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With thanks to Jamie C.

Enjoy!

Karel

Jamie Campbell

Jamie Campbell is an author, screenwriter, and television addict.

Jamie is proud to be an Editor for The Story Department.

Her latest series Project Integrate is out now.

jamiecampbell.com.au

For years, I blindly followed this dogma, as it seemed to make a lot of sense. Learn from good and bad examples. Don’t we all do that in other fields? With hundreds of screenplays readily available for download from www.script-o-rama.com, www.imsdb.com and other sources, it appeared to be a quick and easy way to study the craft of scriptwriting.

But does it?

On average, I try to watch a movie a day, either in the cinema or on DVD. With the birth of my son late 2004, that became a bit more of a challenge. I found myself falling asleep in the second act. To remedy the ‘early fatherhood syndrome’, I would make notes, forcing myself to stay awake. As long as I had the discipline, I would even type them up into structural diagrams.

Suddenly, I had a revelation: the more I liked the film, the easier it was to find the Aristotelian three act structure and the principles of dramatic tension.

Revelation? Hardly.

What was truly phenomenal was that to crack the key to the film’s story structure, it had taken me only the duration of the film plus a few minutes. If I had read the screenplay instead, I’d have spent hours reading and taking notes – and only then would I be able to start work on piecing together the structure. A finished film underscores the drama in ways that help you identify the importance of the beat, scene or sequence: through music, fades or the use of light and colour (Soderbergh’s TRAFFIC is an extreme example).

At the time of writing I was developing a story with Wojciech – “Aerosol” – Wawrzyniak, whose structure is vaguely similar to Kenneth Brannagh’s MARY SHELLEY’S FRANKENSTEIN (thank you, Chris) so we decided to read the screenplay and watch the movie.

That’s when the true value in reading screenplays became apparent: it allows you to compare script and finished film. It shows the areas where filmmakers struggled, where what was on the page didn’t translate into what was onscreen.

Comparing script and film also reveals where directors made last minute decisions because they didn’t believe the script worked (or more often, the money ran out). A great example is the Chicago Train Station climax in THE UNTOUCHABLES. Mamet’s original Third Act had Capone’s accountant going on the train, with a chase and shootout following. However, De Palma had blown the budget and was forced to improvise.

For years, De Palma had been dreaming of shooting a homage to Eisenstein ‘Odessa Steps’ sequence from THE BATTLESHIP POTEMKIN. A budget issue in THE UNTOUCHABLES finally threw the opportunity into his lap. In my view, reading lots of screenplays is the hard way to learning how to write good stories. However, analyzing a few classic scripts in terms of language, style and formatting may help you find the right balance to turn your final draft into a better read.

– Karel

As much as I loved it for its characters and situations, my first screenplay turned out to be 132 pages long, twelve pages over the 120 page limit for screenplays.  I knew that I had to cut it down to size and began the editing process.  I came to the conclusion that I was trying to throw too much into one screenplay.  As an excited amateur, I tried to stuff all these ideas I had into 120 pages, and it wasn’t going to work. I also found that many elements of the story weren’t working together.  I was trying to force a lot of situations that just didn’t seem all that natural.

DO I NEED FRANK?

One thing I noticed in particular was my struggle to close a character’s storyline.  His name was Frank, and he was supposed to be ultimately revealed as a figment of the protagonist’s imagination, a fractured creation of his mind due to the trauma of the experiences we see him go through.
I found it wiser to question whether or not I needed Frank. He was something that I fumbled with, something that just would not fit.  It was in my issues with Frank that I realized something important.  Frank may have been memorable, but he was extraneous to the overall plot.  He was a shortcut to explain certain things about the protagonist.  I had taken the cheap way out.  And because of that, ultimately Frank was cut out of the screenplay, and the story reworked.  The lesson that I learned here: All characters must exist for a reason, and a good one.

So, to elaborate on the topic of those who inhabit the world you are creating for an audience: my expertise is in the creation of unique and interesting characters.  These characters are fueled by my real life observations of all the people around me.  By simply opening up my eyes and ears, I overhear little tidbits of conversations of real people who are leading real lives, all with very authentic and genuine emotions.  I like to think that each individual is just that: an individual.  I find out what makes them unique, what drives them to do the things that they do.
In learning these things about a person, you can create a character in the same way.  Use your imagination.  Why does your protagonist do the things he does, why are those emotions in his heart?  Keep asking yourself why.  In the same way that you get to know a person, become very intimate with your character.

THE ROUNDABOUT WAY

Great characters are not all a good screenplay needs.  As great as I was at introducing quirks and writing a unique voice for each of my characters, my screenplays often lacked a strong structure.

I’m a very verbose and structureless person.  And it’s reflected in my writing and my screenplays.  Considering that it’s in my nature to tell stories in a way that are rather indirect and in a roundabout way, changing my writing style was one of my greatest challenges.  If you asked me how to get to the Trump International Hotel in Manhattan, I’d probably tell you that you could go take the D train to 59th St-Columbus Circle stop.  I know this because I used to work the area as an outside salesman.  You get up from the station, and look north.  Across the street and down a block is a store that I made my first sale for that company.  And boy, let me tell you, it was quite a thrill.  From that day on, I decided that I would become the best salesman ever and learn to close 90% of the time.  That’s how I ended up coming across this book entitled Influence, which I bought on Amazon.  Did you know that Amazon has some of the best prices?  You can even get free shipping and…..

And somewhere along the way, I’d forget to tell you precisely how to get there.  Though you’d end up with a great story about my experience as a salesman, you’d also probably be thinking, “Okay…well, that’s great, but how do I get to the hotel?”

The same goes for your screenplay: each moment in your screenplay must be moving towards something.  Your screenplay may have great character depth, but if those characters have no clear direction, your audience will become uninterested and bored as they watch you wander around with the hero in a disjointed fashion.  As such, you have to create a compelling and dramatic story.  Remember to ask yourself, where am I going with this scene?  Does it enhance the drama?  What does it show the audience?

A screenplay is not just pages and pages of dialogue taking place in various locations.  Nor is it simply a pair of talking heads.  It is the blueprint for a film, the culmination of dramatic story telling and compelling characters.  It is an emotional experience.  It is cinema.

INT. LUANNE’S APARTMENT – DAY

Later that day I meet up with Luanne and tell her about my dream.  I am a little hesitant to tell her about the extended hug.  But I tell her everything and lay it out for her, shot by shot.  As I finish recounting my dream to her, she replies with a sophomoric, “Ewww…”  I was right: she’s not very sensitive.  I make a mental note: if I ever need an insensitive and unfeminine figure in my screenplay, I’ll look to Luanne.

-Terry Ip
Self-styled perennial student of film working towards a career with a pension.

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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Jason Kottke was tipped off on some scripts of The Wire that are accessible through an online file server.

The Wire is to my taste (and many others) the best TV drama you will find.

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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Aspiring screenwriter Terrence ponders over a question that has bugged all of us at some point: “Is screenwriting for me?”

Post: Terrence
Editor: Cleo Mees

The bustling streets of lower Manhattan. Ubiquitous blue planks of wood, held up by rusty bars of steel. A pedestrian crowd waves in and out of the shade falling from the skyscrapers.

CU of LUANNE, emerging from the crowd.

PULL BACK to reveal her blue sunflower-print dress. With a big smile, she waves from across the street.

Luanne walks against the crowd and crosses the street to meet ME. We hug for a long time. She gives me a warm grab of the arms. I relax into her and hold on tight. But she breaks off contact and I slouch, rejected.

She walks off and disappears back into the crowd.

LONG SHOT of me, standing still as the crowd floods around me. I become indiscernible. CUT TO BLACK.

Fade in.

This is me waking up from a dream. For the longest time, I have dreamed in a cinematic format. From framing to camera angles to cuts and fades, even sound mixing, my dreams were the stuff of film.

I only started becoming cognizant of these little quirks when I stumbled across the special features on some DVD that I can no longer recall.  It talked about framing shots, creating movement, and a lot more.  I had no idea what a lot of these cinematic principals were at the time, but it certainly opened up my eyes to the true art of motion picture.  After watching those special features I understood that every frame of that movie was by design.  Every shot, every cut, every dolly in and every close up, they were put there for a reason.

When Netflix blessed me with a service center that was not 5 miles away from me, I became obsessed with movies.  I loved rating the movies that I watched.  After all, Netflix did provide viewing suggestions based on your ratings.  By the end of a couple of months, I had rated over 800 movies, and within a year I had watched and rated more than a thousand movies.  At first, they merely served as entertainment, sometimes a distraction from the hustle and bustle and pain of daily life.  But then I started to become more of a discerning consumer.  I started to take an active interest in films.  I started noticing how there would often be shots of actors only from the chest up.  Sometimes one actor’s face would fill nearly the entire frame.  And then sometimes their presence on the screen was a small one, a small dot in the center of an aerial shot.

IS SCREENWRITING FOR ME?

Not having a formal education in film as an art form, I was a self-proclaimed student of film by way of self-study.  My education consisted of my own observations and notes about the hundreds of movies I had watched…Until the day came when I had to register for classes at my college.  It wasn’t a liberal arts college, so I was rather excited to see that there was a new class being offered.  It was Drama 106: Introduction to Film Appreciation.  Boy was I ecstatic!

Throughout the semester, we watched and studied films like The Cabinet of Dr. Galligari, Citizen Kane, Nosferatu, and surprisingly even The Graduate.  As we progressed through the syllabus, I gained a new appreciation for film.  I came to learn the lingo used in film and why we see two-shots, close-ups, how high angles and low angles are used.  I learned about mise en scene, lighting, the use of sound.  I absorbed all of this new knowledge with a great enthusiasm and appreciation.

Shortly after the semester’s end, I began penning a screenplay.  I noticed that the format felt incredibly natural to me.  Scenes started with a time and a place, new characters were introduced, dialogue was written.  The flow of it came easily – everything just seemed to make sense in a movie.  In fact, I saw my life as fitting into little scenes.  Before entering a classroom, I thought to myself, INT. CLASSROOM – DAY.  People became characters to me, and I studied them as such. I remembered bits and pieces of people I saw, be they bums on the street corner or a pretty lady in the New York City subway.

The question this leads us to is, how do you know if screenwriting is for you?  It may not come as naturally to you as it did for me.  I feel that the only way to see if the format is a good fit for you is to go and try to write one.  Just write out a story that you’d like to tell and put it into a screenplay format.  Also, find something that interests you, something that you’re passionate about.  Authenticity comes from real experience and expertise.

-Terry Ip
Self-styled perennial student of film working towards a career with a pension.

Cleo Mees

Cleo Mees is a Sydney-based writer, filmmaker and dancer. With a background across several disciplines, her interest is in finding out how these different disciplines can intersect and inform each other.

Since writing the below post, I have come to realise that the mid point may well be the last checkpoint to make sure you have the most powerful story you can get.

I believe the mid point can only exist if everything else works. Without knowing exactly what the outer objective is (Turning Point 1) and how the character changes (Turning Point 2) it is impossible to create the right mid point. The mid point changes the direction of the visible goal (Outer Journey), sometimes it completely changes the goal altogether. It also accelerates the Inner Journey as the protagonist is now committed to resolving the Need.

I have added some notes on THE INCREDIBLES and THE LIVES OF OTHERS to the examples below.

Many unsuccessful movies run out of steam halfway. Even a fair few memorable pics are weak in the middle, or have a ‘soft belly’. The Second Act seems to be the hardest nut to crack. But why? Perhaps because the protagonist is chasing the same objective all along? After all we have a massive chunk of script to fill, about an hour of screentime on average. One remedy is to chop the movie up in quarters. First and last act are roughly one quarter each already, so Act Two we just cut in two.

It’s variously called the mid-act climax, the mid-point, first culmination or the mid-point reversal. I prefer the latter, although it is not always a strict 180 degree turn. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a climax either but it must be a ‘major turning point’. Things will be dramatically different from this point onwards.

Syd Field describes it something like this: “An important scene in the middle of the script, often a reversal of fortune or revelation that changes the direction of the story.” Field suggests that driving the story towards the Midpoint keeps the second act from sagging. For once I find Field more helpful than others. An executive at the talent agency ICM is trying to get his head around it:

“An event occurs wherein the character cannot give up his pursuit. It is a “no turning back point.” The bridge has been burned behind him (figuratively speaking), and he can only move forward. Often, this is manifested as a TICKING CLOCK. In classically structure (sic) romantic comedies, this is the point where the man and woman sleep together.” Hmmm… Not sure about that last one.

Here’s my favourite definition, from Frank Daniel:

“Mid-Point or First Culmination: a Major Reversal of fortune, making Main Character’s task even more difficult. Often, give the audience a very clear glimpse of an answer to the Central Dramatic Question “‘ the hope that Main Character will actually succeed at resolving his problem “‘ only to see circumstances turn the story the other way. First Culmination may be a glimpse at the actual resolution of the picture, or its mirror opposite.”

Let’s look at a few examples to understand the mid point better:

THE UNTOUCHABLES – Not only a well-structured, commercial movie with a top notch cast; it has a midpoint that ticks all three boxes: After a shootout on the Canadian border far away from the crime-ridden streets of Chicago, Eliot Ness and his team find out they can get to Capone through his accountant.

The mid-point sequence happens halfway the movie (ironically, not all midpoints really do), it changes the course of the story (Ness is no longer after Capone but after his accountant) and it takes place in a very different environment/change of scenery from the rest of the movie. And indeed: catching the accountant does get Capone in court. Important for the Inner Journey at this point is Ness’ response to the criticism on the way Malone forces a confession out of one of Capone’s men. When he says “Well, you’re not from Chicago”, it proves Ness is now open to approaching things ‘the Chicago Way’, as taught by his mentor Malone.

JAWS – It’s more than thirty years old and scary as ever, and not because of its state-of-the-art FX. Look closely and you’ll see: that plastic shark is a big joke! This is one piece of brilliant writing. Police Chief Brody (Roy Scheider) has been unsuccessful in trying to stop the shark killings by urging the mayor to close the beaches. When his own son narrowly escapes death, he is forced to change tactics (different direction): he must go and attack the shark in its own habitat. It brings a fresh turn to the movie with a change of scenery and the stakes are heightened because we are now fighting the killer on his own territory. What’s more: the protagonist is under greater jeopardy because he can’t swim. At Brody’s Inner Journey mid point, he is committed to tackle things at the core in stead of dealing with the symptoms. See also my notes at the bottom of the structural overview of Jaws.

ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST – In his book THE SEQUENCE APPROACH, Paul Gulino mentions another function of the midpoint: it gives the protagonist a flavour of the possible outcome of the story (Frank Daniel’s “glimpse of an answer to the Central Dramatic Question“). Here, Nicholson’s character tastes freedom when he takes the patients out on a trip. The reality however is that after this point he learns he may never leave the asylum again. A powerful reversal: rather than proving he’s insane, he now has to try and get out. The scene/sequence of the mad men’s outing is another beautiful example of a change of scenery. At one stage during the edit, director Milos Forman cut the sequence out. About the result he says: “I cut it down television style, under two hours. And you know what was funny? It felt much longer.”

I wouldn’t necessarily call the following movies class examples but I’ll give them any way because their mid-points worked really well for me:

THE PARALLAX VIEW – Bang in the middle of this classic conspiracy thriller, Warren Beatty’s character undergoes a five minute brainwashing. The scene is borderline unbearable and would have probably been cut by today’s studio heads. We undergo the character’s psychological torture first hand while we stare at the seemingly random images, exactly like the protagonist experiences them. After this, Beatty’s character is no longer the curious outsider vs. the mysterious corporation; he is fighting the system from within, which will ultimately lead to his demise.

GIU LA TESTA (A FISTFUL OF DYNAMITE) – Very much like in THE PARALLAX VIEW, we share the point of view of Rod Steiger’s character Juan while he watches what will cause a major change in his personality and in the course of the movie. At the very midpoint in the movie Juan witnesses a lengthy, traumatic shootout with a life-changing effect: from a mindless and merciless robber dreaming of the ultimate big heist he has now become a freedom fighter and finally commits to the cause of his alter-ego Sean (incarnated wonderfully by James Coburn).

THE QUEEN – The Queen is stuck in the lonely hills near Balmoral, her Land Rover having let her down. Without help from anybody she is out of her comfort zone when she notices the deer her grandsons have been stalking, upon her own advice and encouragement. A moment of realisation (with a lot of symbolism) leads to the decision to chase the dear away in an attempt to save its life from the hunters. The parallel with Princess Diana’s end becomes even more apparent when it turns out the deer was shot by a group of hunters after a chase on a neighbouring land (France?). The Queen has witnessed something that has changed her view and we see it externalised in her lukewarm response to the Queen Mother’s statements about the British people in a following scene.

NORTH BY NORTHWEST – The single most memorably scene of this film sits right in the very middle: the famous cropduster scene. Again, an entirely new setting in the movie, with hardly any other characters around. While most of the movie is rather talky, this sequence offers pure visual cinema with minimal sound design, then gradually picking up the pace and finally (literally) exploding in a symphony of action and music. The reversal: Roger Thornhill learns that Eve has betrayed him.

THE INCREDIBLES – Mister Incredible has successfully completed the task he travelled to the Special World for: eliminating the evil robot. Now, for the first time he is about to meet with his employer.

The reversal happens when his mission turns out to have been a setup to get him killed. The employer is effectively his arch-enemy Syndrome and the mid point delivers two major reversals: 1) in stead of staying on the island, he will have to escape 2) in stead of working alone, he’ll have to collaborate with his family.

THE LIVES OF OTHERS – In the first half of this 2007 Oscar winning drama, Captain Wiesler tries to expose the suspected playwright Dreyer to satisfy his superior at the Stasi (the former Eastern German State Security Service). While listening to a phone call, he learns that Dreyers best friend and mentor has committed suicide. Wiesler realises his work is not doing the good he had always believed it would. He is effectively killing people. When Dreyer plays the piano music he received as a gift from his mentor, Wiesler is so moved that he decides to not expose but protect Dreyer from this point on. To my taste, this is one of the most wonderful and moving mid points in cinema in recent years.

In my earlier blog “STRUCTURING THE FACTS” I briefly mention the midpoint reversal in UNITED 97: The passengers learn this is a suicide flight, therefore they have to change their tactics from trying to notify their relatives on the ground to actively fight back the terrorists.

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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The start of Act Two is a good place to move to the antagonist’s POV.

We have just seen that our protagonist is ready to take on the main mission of the film. He knows what he is up against, he may even have a plan on how to approach it.

At the beginning of Act Two, you can immediately increase the stakes by creating dramatic irony. You show the protagonist only knows half of the truth and the antagonist is really a lot more powerful and the protagonist may be missing a crucial piece of information.

The shift can happen to any other character, exceptionally even to an omniscient POV. But the most powerful and most frequently used POV outside the protagonist will be that of the antagonist.

Almost always does this increase the stakes as you show how well the villain is prepared, how much stronger this character is than we (and the protagonist) believed and what he/she is capable of.

One of my favourite Act Two opening scenes is in NORTH BY NORTHWEST. Roger Thornhill has to clear his name of the UN murder and he must find out why he is being mistaken for the mysterious Mr. Roger Kaplan.

At the opening of Act Two we are in a boardroom full of unknown faces. The audience’s instinctive reaction will be to find a character to empathise with, to latch on to. None such in this scene.

This is the Secret Service, discussing a fictitious agent, created by them as a decoy for the spies. Now Roger Thornhill has been identified by the spies as this imaginary agent, the secret’s service’s plan works better than hoped for.

Not only do we now know Thornhill’s predicament, we also realise he cannot expect any support from the government as confirmed in the last line of the scene, spoken by one of the agents:

SECRET AGENT
Goodbye, Mr. Thornhill, wherever you are.

This scene shows how powerful a shift of POV can be to reveal an important piece of information the protagonist doesn’t have.

Another favorite example of dramatic irony created by a shifting point of view is taken from ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO’S NEST and it constitutes the Mid Point Reversal.

McMurphy has just been on a fishing trip with his mates, sampling freedom outside the asylum.

The next scene shows the staff of the asylum discussing his fate, whether they should send him back to the work farm or keep him. McMurphy’s antagonist nurse Ratched drives the scene and the outcome is disastrous: he will stay in the asylum indefinitely.

See also:

Omniscient POV
Shifting POV
When to Shift?
POV in Ratatouille’s Deleted Scene
POV as Controller of Tone

Karel FG Segers

Karel Segers wrote his first produced screenplay at age 17. Today he is a story analyst with experience in acquisition, development and production. He has trained students worldwide, and worked with half a dozen Academy Award nominees. Karel speaks more European languages than he has fingers on his left hand, which he is still trying to find a use for in his hometown of Sydney, Australia. The languages, not the fingers.

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