by The Single Screenwriter
And snapping gets in the way of the writing, no matter what form the meltdown takes – deviant binges, forced stays in a luxury padded cell, swat team take-downs – so writers naturally seek out others to guide them through the madness and to give them solid advice.

But sometimes, good advice can do more damage than a mob of hormonal teens with no adult supervision and a supply of booze.  Always take advice with a grain of salt.  Hell, if the advice isn’t working for you, dump an entire shaker of salt on the sucker and watch it writhe like a slug.

Here are the four worst offenders disguised as well meaning advice:

Stupid Advice Number 1: Write what you know

STFU with that.  People as a general rule are boring as hell.  And that includes you.

I know a whole heck of a lot about bone china, but my goal is to connect with the audience, not bore them to death.

Sure, a china shop could be a good setting, and the knowledge could make for some quirky character bits, but please, unless you work for NASA, or have some awesome kick-ass job in the sex industry (which you don’t ’cause you’re a writer) please don’t write what you know.

People don’t go to movies to watch other boring lives. They want space aliens, or cool undiscovered viruses.  Not lawn mowers and laundry.

Sure, there was that one time back in school where you and your friends did that awesome thing that you bring up every time you get together and get drunk, but… It probably isn’t that awesome to everyone else in the room, even with a good deal of embellishment.  And besides, you’ve already used variations of it in three previous scripts.

If writers stuck to what they knew, no one would go to movies.  There would be no space cowboys, no secret agents, no world leaders, no sex goddesses with seven breasts.
(Yes, some of these do exist, but do you think sex goddesses and secret agents have any time to write scripts?!)

Write what you don’t know.  It’s much more interesting.  And guess what?  You already know everything you need to know about all the stuff you don’t know, but you just don’t know it yet.

Write what you don’t know.  It’s much more interesting.

Huh?

Listen, what makes a good movie isn’t specific expertise in stuff like nanotechnology or world politics. That’s just window dressing.  It’s called research.  Any monkey with Google can do it.

What makes a movie worth watching is the universality of the human condition.  And if you’re human, you’re qualified.  Find the human element of the story and you can do whatever you want with it.

You’re a single dad with a mundane job who hasn’t had a date in five years?  You, sir, are the guy to write that script about being trapped with a mutant kid on that distant alien outpost.

Spend your day in a cubicle wishing the girl three cubicles over and one down to the left knew you existed?  You know way more than enough to write that superhero with the power of invisibility flick.  Who gives a crap if you have no clue about the science that would go into designing an invisibility cloak.

You don’t need a degree in bio-nuclear mechanical electromagnetic particle physics to give yourself permission to write it.

And if you turn tricks to pay the rent?  Ummm, I won’t touch that one, but trust me, you’re more than qualified to write one hell of a kick-ass script or several.

The point is, don’t get hung up on what you don’t know.

You don’t need a degree in bio-nuclear
mechanical electromagnetic particle physics
to give yourself permission to write it

Go ahead. Write whatever the hell you wanna write about.  Just remember to channel good ole’ Joe Campbell and find the universal human element in whatever crazy twisted story you run with, then you’ll be onto something good.

Stupid Advice Number 2: You can fix it in the rewrite

STFU.  Yeah, of course you can fix it in the rewrite.  Rewrites are for fixing!

But if these words are going through your brain in the middle of a first draft, it’s usually a sign that something’s really not working and hasn’t been well thought out at all.  For real.  You can either figure out the big problem and fix it now – be it story, character, pacing, whatever – or take the easy way out and leave it ’til the rewrite to do the heavy lifting.

Do it now.  Trust me.

Yeah, first drafts are usually crap and the magic happens in the rewrite, but man, give yourself a leg up and start with a solid foundation.  You’ll save yourself days, weeks, sometimes months, and cut way down on the number of rewrites if you fix it now.  Otherwise, you’ll waste so much time wandering aimlessly around making more problems as you try to fix crap you have no idea why you wrote in the first place, rather than using the rewrite for its real purpose – elevating and clarifying an already solid story.

On a similar note:

Stupid Advice Number 3: Just get it down

Again, STFU (see above).

Yeah, sometimes this is good advice, but sometimes getting it down is exactly the wrong thing to do.  Some concepts need to percolate.  Build.  Become more than they are.  Sometimes you have to take the time to explore every avenue before just getting it down, because just getting it down solidifies a direction (not necessarily the best), and cuts off alternate pathways that could lead to brilliance.  Sometimes just getting it down is settling for okay instead of pushing for great.  Sometimes this advice is just plain wrong.

Okay, if you’ve been percolating for 5 and a half years, you’re not doing it right.  You may think your wonderful percolating brilliance will pop out of your writer womb fully formed and be able to walk on water, but really, you’re just using the percolation thing as an excuse to procrastinate.  And procrastination is just one of many forms of writer’s block.

The above is usually followed quickly by this gem of advice:

Stupid Advice Number 4: There’s no such thing as writer’s block

Well, technically, there’s not.  But that doesn’t stop millions of wanna-be writers from suffering from this phantom disease.  In fact, there’s a 50/50 chance that you found this post because you Googled looking for a cure.

But the thing about writer’s block is, it’s only a symptom of something else.

Fear.

Fear of success.  Fear of failure.  Fear of frog feet.  Whatever.  Something outside of your writing is scaring you, and messing with the pathway between your brain and the page.

And the thing about fear is, there’s only one way to get over it.  Face it.  And by face it I mean slay the living crap out of it ’til it’s nothing but a pile of blood and bones and intestines ‘n shit.  If you don’t, you won’t write.  Simple as that.

It goes back to write what you know.  (No, I’m not talking about that sweet collection of boogers you keep in a matchbox under your bed.  I’m talking about what you know about the universal human condition ‘n shit.)  You may know jack all about medicine, but give your medical thriller a lead character facing a similar fear to your own, and voila!  You’ll force yourself to face your fear AND tap into the universal human crap that sells movies.  Two birds.  One stone.

(You’re welcome.  Expect my very over-priced bill for this therapy session in the mail.)

My advice when it comes to all this stupid advice?   Simple.  Embrace the fact that we’re all totally messed up and human.  Write what you want, how you want.  Use the rewrites wisely to save yourself a page one rewrite or twelve. And forget about writer’s block.

Write what you want, how you want.

Or don’t.  Doesn’t matter to me.   Do what works for you.

-The Single Screenwriter

I am a phenomenal screenwriter and self-appointed guru on all things.

I am here to spread wisdom to anyone stupid enough to listen to me.

Keep informed by following me on Twitter (bottom of left sidebar).

And don’t forget you can subscribe to our posts so you don’t miss any of this, ever.

• Bill Martell celebrates 50 years of NORTH BY NORTH WEST
• Take some time out at film school with Mystery Man
• Download American Beauty and Chinatown screenplays.
• How to make a Charlie Kaufman movie (if you really wanted)
• A movie is ultimately made in the edit. Why not write for the edit
• How to sell? Here’s the answer. Or rather: 101 answers.
• Pitch to yourself! After all, you are your worst critic.
• Did you ever stop to think the villian thinks he’s the good guy?
• Dropping product names, okay?
• Your first draft always sucks. Finish what you started.
• Where Fantastic 4 Rise of the Silver Surfer went wrong, so wrong
• Pixar writer/director Pete Docter: “A completely messy hodgepodge”
• How to write for editors: the last rewriters of the show.

With thanks to Sol.

Enjoy!

Karel

Noun: A compound used to fill cracks in plaster and produce a smooth surface.

What is ‘mental spackle’?
Merrel Davis explains how to ensure you fill all the gaps in your script.

Mental Spackle is a term I’ve coined to describe what the mind of a writer does when revising. As you go through each change, shift scenes, consolidate characters, details inevitably fall through the cracks.

With each minor adjustment, with each new scene, even the most dedicated and observant writers will miss minutiae that could ultimately cause their excellent, thoughtful script to be a pass.

While a story may exist fully in the writer’s mind, it almost never exists entirely on the page – certainly not in the first couple of revisions. It is very easy for a writer to gloss over holes or problems in story as they revise because as the old saying goes “you can’t see the forest for the trees.” Writers can unwittingly become blind nature walkers and every additional revision seems to solidify a layer of spackle somewhere.

Am I Spackling?

It is so easy to get lost “too inside your own head” during the writing process and forget there is a difference between subtext and nothing there at all. You won’t know you are spackling until after you have put away the putty knife.

As you write, you’ll gain a sense of depth and breadth of your character. After all, you are living with them every revision. But is it on the page? If you write like I do, then you have likely created detailed backgrounds for all your characters. 98% of this detail will never make it into the script outright.

If when you receive notes and you find yourself explaining how your protagonist needed that chocolate ice cream as a child in order to set up his current job loss as a engineering contractor at the end of Act Two, but the ice cream scene isn’t in there, nor mentioned, it is likely you are Spackling.

An example from one of my scripts: My protagonist must make a pointed decision at the age of eight, one which will forever change the direction of his life. In the first two revisions this decision took place off screen. I knew the decisions, based on the backstory I had developed so, in retrospect, I believed that the different lives he would lead as a result of those decisions would contrast enough. It didn’t.

In the next revision, the decision took place on screen, but it still didn’t pronounce in a truly effective manner. Even though I knew what was going on, there was a disconnect between what I knew in my head about the character and what was actually on the page. Mental Spackle struck at the most important incident of the first act! It happens to the best of us, but if you follow a few simple steps, this won’t happen to you.

How do I combat Mental Spackle?

As you are the closest person to your own work, it will always be hard to ferret out things that may seem obvious to others. That’s why it’s always important to have a group of readers whom you trust.

I have a friend that is excellent with grammar and typos. I have another who can critically deconstruct even the most challenging plot arcs with ease. I have actor friends who help me make dialogue more authentic.

Don’t fly solo.

Discuss your work with your trusted peers. The simplest of spackle jobs can be addressed with a read through by someone other than you. Send it out for a round of informal notes. This will catch the top level stuff; grammar, wording, formatting and spelling problems.

Have professional coverage written on your script.

Getting coverage on your script can really help you make your story a concise, precise and marketable piece of work. A good analyst will deconstruct your story, find your mistakes and missteps and tell you what may be holding your script back. It is through this analysis that you’ll know what works, if your highs are where they belong, and if your characters’ arcs read correctly.

Organize a table read with real actors.

There is nothing more helpful than hearing the words you’ve written coming form the mouths of actors. A table read is not for performance sake, it is to hear your dialogue and action text spoken aloud. Does it seem natural? Does it make sense? Does the pacing work?

I personally like to have the actors read the script cold. If my characters and their voices are strong, the actors will be able to find their groove easily and spot embarrassing mistakes.

Revise, Revise, Revise!

Each pass through of your script you’ll find something new to adjust, sweeten and tweak. I know writing is an eager process and instant gratification is the solution for excited writers. And while it may feel like it’s done at the end of revision two or three, it probably isn’t.

Space out your revisions. Editing back to back will increase the likelihood that you will accidentally spackle right over major problems because you’re too close to your project to notice.

Workshop your script.

Workshops provide an immediate, collaborative environment to vet your work. If you are able to get into a workshop with a strong workshop leader and committed participants you’ll find it a worthwhile endeavor. Plus, you never know what comment will spark that “Eureka!” moment that will help you fix your script.

Most importantly, Step away for a bit.

If you have the luxury, let the work breathe. You can’t eat a pie straight from the oven, and you can’t finish a script and shoot it out to the world before really making sure that every detail, every character, every scene is perfect.

For every writer there is a want, a need to finish a revision and share it with the world. That urgency is healthy. But being hasty can be your downfall.

Avoiding Mental Spackle altogether is impossible. Your mind will always fill in your character’s gaps, confuse removed scenes from five drafts ago with your current version and think like they are still a part of the script.

Plan ahead and be methodical. If you don’t, you may end up like my friend Emery. He wrote a script that took place in Kansas; it was subsequently moved to outer space. Apparently, Emery didn’t catch that when he changed the meet-cute from the Wichita Wal-Mart to his new location planet Merrilia, he left the stage directions the same.

But who knows, maybe Emery knows something about inter-stellar retail that we don’t.

Merrel Davis.

(Article written with contributions from Xandy Sussan)

Merrel Davis is a script analyst based in Los Angeles. He’s worked as a video editor, writer, producer, director, graphic designer and cinematographer on various projects including cutting HD video for the 2008 Bejing Olympics. He’s the creator of ‘Screenwriter Karaoke‘, a successful monthly networking event and is currently working on a feature and a web miniseries.

Cherie Lee

I studied acting for three years and hold a graduate diploma in writing from Sydney’s UTS. My interest in film and writing was solidified through interning at The Story Department and gave me the opportunity to fine tune my skills. I’ve been involved with several film projects, the most recent of which was shortlisted for Tropfest.

With the knowledge gained from university and my experience at The Story Department, I’m now specialising in professional feedback on short films and documentaries.

Here’s my weekly selection from the blogosphere. Feel free to recommend anything or give your feedback in the Questions and Comments below.

And don’t forget you can subscribe to our posts so you don’t miss any of this, ever.

• Sometimes the best rewrite is going back to the index cards.
• Don’t twitter a tweet, Hollywood contracts keeping it confidential
• Applying your faith: Advice on making Christian films
• For Akiva Goldsmith all it takes is genius, madness
• Where the Wild Things Are, script now online
• I’ve done my list of annoyances before, here is Julie Gray’s
• Mad Max 4 pre-production underway.
• Know your story elements: Act One
• Story elements cheat sheet: an index card checklist
• To co-write? Are two minds really better than one?
• Never summarize the scene: how to keep pace
• Matt Weiner of Mad Men won’t say “agent”

COMING SOON to the Story Department:

• Merrel Davis on ‘Avoiding Mental Spackle’
• Structural breakdown of THE UNTOUCHABLES
• Paul Gulino: Screenwriting, the Deadline Approach

Enjoy!

Karel

REPLICANTS, SCREENWRITERS AND DOGSWhen last year the restored BLADE RUNNER screened in Sydney in all its 4k digital splendour, I was present at the Cremorne Orpheum, on the hunt for story weaknesses. It didn’t take me long. After fifteen minutes and thirty seconds, I put the scalpel aside and thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the film, i.e. Act Two and Three. (For Premium Subscribers, my brief analysis is here.)

This year the Coen brothers snatched the top Oscars despite issues with the ending of NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN. I won’t add to that discussion but if you would like to read some incisive thoughts, check out this article on the Mystery Man on Film blog.

Long before the Coen brothers won their first Oscar with FARGO, they had established themselves as favourites of the Cannes film festival with a Golden Palm for BARTON FINK. I have watched it a few times since and I still enjoy its Faustian slant, the flamboyant performances of Michael Lerner and John Goodman and the wonderful production design.

Why could BARTON FINK never appeal to a mainstream audience? It is about a screenwriter. But more importantly, the end of Act One makes a promise, then Act Two doesn’t deliver. Variety wrote at the time:

“After a little more than an hour, the pic is thrown in a wholly unexpected direction. There is a shocking murder, the presence of a mysterious box in Fink’s room, the revelation of another’s character’s sinister true identity, three more killings, a truly weird hotel fire and the humiliation of the writer after he believes he’s finally turned out a fine script.”

In essence there is nothing wrong with ‘a wholly unexpected direction’ but the problem is: no new promise is made. What do I mean by that?

The end of act one shows us what the protagonist’s objective is: Fink wants to write a screenplay. It promises a clear direction for the film. Once the murder is introduced, Fink doesn’t really have a clear objective and the story suffers from that. The film as a whole survives because of the exquisitely funny references to the real world of Hollywood in the 1940’s, the sensational performances, the amazing sound design etc.

Recently somebody mentioned WAG THE DOG (1997) to me, written by Hilary Henkin and David Mamet. In my memory, this movie was a hilarious touch of genius. Upon re-viewing, I was dumbfounded as not much of the exhilaration from ten years ago had survived for me.

Again, problemo numero uno: Hollywood behind the scenes. No matter how important we believe the workings of Hollywood are, no-one cares.

Secondly: no matter how clever, genuinely funny and genuinely TRUE the premise – don’t trust your president when he goes to war, the story is preaching to the converted. I don’t believe one single vote was gained or lost because of this film.

The core problems with this film lie on a pure story level. It seems Robert De Niro is the protagonist, his objective: fix a potential presidential scandal. Then we shift to Dustin Hoffman. His objective: stage a war. Soon, however, it appears neither are really facing any seemingly unsurmountable obstacles. Problems are solved as quickly as they arise.

Ultimately the film industry outsider is left with a self-indulgent, unsatisfying and uninvolving story. Mamet’s dialogue is brilliant but this is not the type of film I can watch more than once without an element of disappointment.

Whatever I may say about WAG THE DOG, the fans will rightfully point at the film’s respectable BO figures. Oh well. Star-power saved the dog.

PAGE RANK FOUR!

The Story Dept.’s Page Rank has gone up a full notch and I’m now in the company of such excellent PR4 blogs as The Unknown Screenwriter and the above mentioned Mystery Man on Film.

If you have the Google Tool Bar installed, you can see a white/green strip indicating the PageRank of the page you are visiting. It is usually located in the top middle of your page, under the address bar.

Last year, the world of SEO was turned on its head when millions of web sites saw their Page Rank drop. OZZYWOOD Films was one of the victims, sliding from a respectable Rank 4 to an okay 3.

In all fairness and humility, this web site may be on par for PR with Mystery Man and UNK, but no need to say yours truly will have a long way to go to deserve equal status with these boys.


THE LAW OF DIMINISHING RETURNS

Your second draft is the easiest of all. Why? Because the first draft is so bad each problem sticks out like a sore thumb. It is full of great ideas, but the execution stinks. To your editor/consultant it will be instantly obvious what needs fixing first. Hence, improving your story massively, immediately is actually a breeze.

On the other hand: the final draft is the hardest. Almost everything is as almost good as you can get it. Still, those few minor details that need fixing, jeopardise the entire rest of the script. Not only is it technically challenging, you aren’t quite sure which one is the right move. You can’t see the wood for the trees any longer.

Worst of all: after a long development you are so worn out you may be sick of this script and want to move on. You will need all the support and encouragement you can get, from your producer, your editor, your mum and dad (or wife and kids).

To move from draft one to two, it really takes only basic to intermediate skills. To move from draft eleven to twelve, it takes tremendous craftsmanship, talent and arduous persistence. Early on you will get heaps of great tips and advice from your story/script editor; towards the final draft more and more decisions will be yours: here is where your instinct comes into play.The comforting factor: it is often no longer a matter of working or not working, but of good or great. At this stage, you might have also shown the script to a few industry people, who should be encouraging you to run the last mile.

NEXT POST

With Michael Hauge’s Australia tour in May, I’ll be publishing a podcast and interview transcription, in conjunction with Inscription.

Also:
– Movie structure breakdowns (Premium)
– RATATOUILLE’s deleted scene
– Why the ‘3 Act Structure’?

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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(Report by John Haly,
Thank you to Tony Chu)

Karel -a Belgian producer and script consultant – founded OZZYWOOD Films and The Story Department (which is a unique Australian blog and online resource for screen story theory). Karel headed production and programming at London’s Digital Broadcasting Company and was a film buyer for CANAL+, (Europe’s largest pay TV service). He was the host for a movie show for MTV Europe. His production credits included two short dramas, a documentary and a feature film. In post-production, he has a short animation and a feature film. As a script consultant, he has clients both in Australia and overseas. Of interest to Nafa members, he also runs regular workshops on script writing. A notable fact is that the 2007 nominees and also the winner of the Australian Writer Guild Monte Miller Award were Karel’s clients. Accordingly, if you are a script writer, you will, indeed, be well advised to pay particular attention to his views on ‘What our industry needs is a Story Revolution’.

Karel began by delving back into his personal history stating that he had started in Radio as a reporter who would phone in initial reviews of films for night radio – a far cry from the online internet reviewing of films of the contemporary culture. His first venture into a screenplay dates back to 1989, although he admits to abandoning that path because of early criticism by an established script writer. His next attempt was twelve years later, and he promptly lost the first draft.

In 2001, he moved to Australia where he co-produced a documentary and then a short film, but the last didn’t go anywhere. The next film was “Aerosol” which was dispatched to, and was selected by a few film festivals, but won no significant prizes. As a consequence, he then contemplated a change of direction and began studying and reading in an effort to get new insights as to the creative writing process.

The author at the top of his reading list was Robert McKee. McKee’s book, ‘Story’ is considered by some as the “screenwriters’ bible”. When purchasing the software for screen writing called ‘Power Structure’, he was offered at a reduced price a DVD called ‘The Hero’s 2 Journeys’ which was promoted as extremely enlightening material capable of educating writers and which revealed the template upon which the vast majority of successful stories and Hollywood blockbusters are based. Michael Hauge and Christopher Vogler’s DVD opened Karel’s eyes as it offered a unique insiders’ understanding of the ways screenplay structure, character, and theme must combine to be successful.

Karel became aware of the sad fact that there seemed to be little by the way of ‘Story Education’ available in Australia. Michael Hauge’s principles were applied in advising writers of script plays. With the aid of AFC funding, it became possible to produce a following accompanied by good results. He educated writers that the structure of writing was important, particularly from the perspective of Character. His insight centred on the question: Where does drama happen? He emphasises that it is not in the visualisation of the story, but the subtext beneath the story that good scriptwriting lies.

The fault to which many writers fall prey is that of visualising the scene as they are writing, thus thinking in terms of pictures. As it is a visual media up with which we end, we must keep in mind into what it is that a visual story latches in the minds of the audience – for example, that of ‘Desire’! The question that ought to be at the centre of your script should focus on the desires and objectives of your characters because film ‘hangs together’ with the emotions of “Desire”.

A frequent criticism of Australian films is that they have weak protagonists, (i.e. those without will power). If you give your protagonist a visible goal with a desire and will to get there, then you are more likely to engage your audience. The essence of Michael Hauge’s proposition is that you need a character who has a visible goal with a clearly defined end-point.

Karel recalled the Columbia University educator, Frank Daniel, who was noted for his development of the sequence paradigm of Screenwriting. Frank’s conception of a good protagonist was ‘somebody who wants something badly and has difficulty getting it.”

Karel turned to the audience to ask, ‘As a screen writer what is your primary goal?’ After a few financial and entertaining replies, someone suggested ‘to tell a story’. Karel then asked, ‘Why are you telling that story?’ Quoting Michael Hauge, his answer was two words, ‘elicit emotion’. In order to do this, there are three things with which a screen writer can play. 1. Character, 2. Desire, 3. Conflict.

The best way Karel can find to illustrate this is simply through the examples of successful films, which is what he uses when he runs his workshops. Irrespective of whether it is a Mainline or Arthouse movie, they all follow the same structure. The film ‘Die Hard’ deals with a man seeking to stop the criminals. ‘Jaws’ relates to a man’s desire to stop the Shark. Consider an Oscar winning Arthouse movie: “The Lives of Others’ where in the first half, the protagonist desires to expose the director while in the second half, he wishes to protect him.

As a screenwriter, you need to structure the desire. (Characters need structure in their desire). Your audience needs to know in the first act what that desire is. Your character also needs to resonate with the audience, exhibiting his or her human flaws. It is the flaw that holds the need of the protagonist. In ‘Die Hard, while desiring to stop the criminals, his flaw was that he was afraid to tackle the criminals who held his wife hostage. In the “The Lives of Others”, the protagonist changes his mind mid way. Audiences expect to perceive this desire, even if it is not spelled out.

As Aristotle distinguishes: a whole is that which has a beginning, a middle, and an end. In the beginning, the audience is introduced to the setting, the characters, their situation,/conflict and the goal they desire. In short, something happens, unexpectedly, which defines the story to come. To paraphrase Aristotle, ‘A beginning is that which does not itself follow anything by causal necessity, but after which something naturally is or comes to be’.

In ‘Die Hard’ the building is stopped while John McClane goes up to the highest floor to get a bird’s eye perspective and think through his options. He says to himself, ‘Think, think, think’. [KS: The exact same words are used by Woody in Toy Story 2 after Wheezy is taken away.] The initial plot point of confusion [KS: In the Hero’s Journey the ‘Mentor’ stage, ‘Refusing the Call’] shifts to the derivation of a plan and new plot point – an event followed by a reaction. Something happens, a plan evolves and the pursuit of activity begins and continues all the way to a resolution.

Karel advised that as a Script writer you should ask yourself, ‘What is the reason this story is being told?’. As for Karel himself, he was sitting here talking to us because he was strongly motivated by the desire to see a revolution in the way Australian Script writers create stories. He proclaimed, ‘Make sure there is a connection between yourself and the story you are telling. There is a requirement to want to connect to an audience.’

It is in the tribal ethos of ancient days that the storyteller tells stories relevant to their tribes. They are told not only to get the message across, but also to create such impact that the stories are repeatedly retold to subsequent generations of that tribe. It is important whether you be scriptwriters or producers or directors, that you choose the scripts that can best tell the story.

Be aware that the contemporary tribe of humanity is being conditioned by the way a story is being told in film and theatre. Be conscious of writing structure as it is entering an arena, a tribe, a society that is accustomed to perceive in a specific manner. Don’t be dismissive of the formula for telling the story in film just because you want to be ‘different’, or because your audience has been conditionally seasoned, even if they are not consciously aware of being told a story with a definite style.

Karel moved on to seek to discredit a few commonly held myths. The first one is that writers should rush out and buy specific Screen Writing Software such as ‘Final Draft’. In the first place, there are plenty of free alternatives out there for Microsoft word templates, [KS: Celtx] etc. Primarily, it initially tempts you to write in scenes, when it is the story you first need to relate. Reading scripts to get the format right as a pre-requisite encourages the visualisation of scenes when first, you should be concentrating on the story. Try watching a movie, break it down and decode it yourself rather than reading or writing a script (story first, script last).

The next myth concerns language. Some writers love flowery prose. Question yourself as to whether your objective is to write something that only reads well, or do you wish to write a story of substance? Identify: where is the story? Do you have a character with a desire? Where is the conflict in the story? This, as your primary guideline becomes the focus of the storyline.

The next myth concerns Log Lines. (A Log Line is a brief summary of the film, often providing both a synopsis of the program’s plot, and an emotional “hook” to stimulate interest). Karel confessed for a long time that he believed that the Log Line was the last thing you wrote after the script and synopsis. He is now firmly convinced the opposite is true.

If you want to know more about the importance of Log Lines go to ‘The Unknown Screen Writer’ and ‘Mystery Man on Film‘. These will help you to use correctly the Log Lines – a procedure the importance of which cannot be overestimated. These are the selling lines of your film which you must know before you start writing. Formulate a Log Line of: who is your character? What does the character want?- and- What is the obstacle(s) in his way? Try to compose your log line by writing it down as soon as possible as this keeps you in focus. That great idea that pops into your head during the writing! Does it fit into your Log Line? If not, put it aside because it has no place in your story. Keep it for your next script.

Karel then suggested that the biggest mistake people make in the attempt to sell their scripts is to dispatch them too early. Sending and then resending draft versions is the quickest way to ensure that the people reading the dispatched articles lose interest. By resending a newer, updated version of the script, you are admitting to the producer or director that you sent them a previous script that you well knew wasn’t ready.

Following on from that theme, Karel pointed out that formatting the script is not important until you have the story written. As Art Arthur said: ‘Don’t get it right, get it written!’ Once it is written in the final draft, THEN there are formatting rules to which you need to comply. It is then that those slug lines, script punctation and the absence of typos needs to be scrupulously addressed.

Karel noted that studies of the Australian Government Feature Film Funding have shown that only about 19 out of some 419 films actually made money. He impressively expressed the point that our essential requirement was to think about the market. Again, he reiterated the need for writers to understand and act on the principles espoused in “The Hero’s Journey”.

Despite the perception that both Germans and Australians possess an inherent hero phobia, explore the successful films in our own industry, and that, in itself, will disabuse any such notion.

At this point, Jeanie opened the floor to questions. These included ones concerning the cultural differences between countries when it came to making films. This, in turn, raised the topic of our anxiety of being commercially successful. Questions about breaking the rules for film structure returned a reply of: ‘how about mastering the ‘Rules‘ first BEFORE contemplating breaking them- not the other way around.

Tony concluded the evening by thanking Karel for his contribution. Karel spoke privately to people as they approached him and eventually the evening broke up, as actors, producers and director’s networks chatted on before being kindly ejected by the Bar Staff wishing to close. Some of us spilled out onto the sidewalks to continue our conversations till the passing night drew us to the consideration that we should be homeward bound.

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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Some call it retail therapy.

You are not a screenwriter until you have made that sacrifice, until you have invested money in your career, right?

I call it a waste of $250.

Your first draft should be a quick and dirty braindump. “Don’t get it right, get it written,” dixit Art Arthur.

Of course, it has its advantages to write your first draft in some sort of a script format. See it as an exercise in format and style, plus you have a rough idea of the screen time.

However, for this they have invented free MS Word templates, style sheets or even better: Celtx.

Format and style are totally irrelevant.

If you are fiddling to get the wording of your action right, to make your characters sound like ‘real people’, to come up with really cool visuals, you are wasting your time.

If this is your first draft, nobody will ever see it, except your story editor or script consultant. And if the first script feedback is all about format, style, dialogue and scene construction, you haven’t given the editor the right brief.

Or perhaps you should change editors.

You should be working on that story, which currently may not even be a story yet. If McKee’s statistics are right, ninety percent of what you have written will go. Won’t make it to the screen. At least not for this film.

Now, because of my emphasis on story, it may seem as if I think the presentation of the screenplay is less important.

But can you afford to shop around an excellent story but scripted in a way that looks sloppy and rushed?

Of course you can’t.

I was talking about early drafts.

Once you are sending a script for consideration to producers, studios or talent, it has to be immaculate. Nothing must distract from a smooth read.

Your formatting has to be completely in line with the standards of the country (Letter format if you’re based in the US, A4 elsewhere), the company (if it’s a major studio) or even the person (if it’s, say, Spielberg) you are sending the script to.

Why am I so paranoid about this?

Because others are.

Imagine this: a reader or executive has just read an ‘okay’ story. But it was a terrific read: an elegantly flowing script, no typos, great style, a fast read with “lots of white”.

Your script is next.

Your story is on par with the previous one, but by page 10 this reader has found three typos, a couple of “we see”‘s and some awkward sluglines.

Your story may have had the same potential. Yes, it could have been produced for less money and audiences might have loved the movie better.

Still, you’re out.

The other writer might have been equally talented; he was more professional. If you want to play with the pros, you’ll have to be ready to write fast, re-write fast, and keep the same level of professionalism. If you can’t even get that first spec script right – which they know you have laboured over for years – you’re not up for the challenge.

And guess what: in the books of this reader, producer or company, not just your script but even you may be history. They probably have a sufficient amount of fresh offerings every day so they feel perfectly happy to bar you from ever submitting anything ever again.

If you are serious about earning six or seven figure fees in your new career, prove it. Before you send out your script, invest a few hundred dollars in having it read and polished by a pro.

Now…

Did you just realise your script has gone out to more than one company? Like… all of them?

Bad format and style can kill your career.

Better start thinking about a cool ‘nom de plume’.

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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1. STAGE ONE ($99)
– story + text analysis of the synopsis.
– written notes + 1 hour tele-conference.

Pay AUD$99
(incl. GST)

At the conceptual stage, this service helps you determine the strengths and weaknesses of your story or story idea.

At a later draft stage, this service helps you to make sure you are selling your story in the best possible way, to producers, potential investors or government agencies.

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2. STAGE TWO ($389)

– story analysis based on the step outline.
– written notes + up to 3hs consultation.

Pay AUD$389
(incl. GST)

This is the most powerful development stage, as it works on the story level, yet lays the foundations for the scenes to be (re-)written.

The step outline session can be taken after the conceptual stage, to test if you are heading the right direction with the plot, even before writing a single scene.

Once past the first draft, this stage will strip the flesh from your script and test the strength of its skeletal story.

When you take the consultancy for the first time, I will give you guidelines on how to prepare for the session.

Every professional writer will tell you you will have to go through this stage numerous times before confidently moving to the screenplay stage. Inquire about a development plan that includes a number of Stage Two session, so you can benefit from the loyalty discount.

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3. STAGE THREE ($489)
– full draft script notes, prioritising areas of major concern.
– up to one hour discussion.

Pay AUD$489
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To use a different payment method, visit the payments page.

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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It sounds as if I am simplifying things, but once you have cracked the essence of drama, it really is that simple.

To understand what follows, it is useful to read the word action as what a character does to pursue its objectives / desires.

When you brainstorm plot points, all you need to come up with is the trigger events. In other words:

DON’T BRAINSTORM ACTIONS; BRAINSTORM EVENTS

A character’s actions follow necessarily from these events. The nature of the resulting action will also show whether the trigger event was strong enough or not.

When you find a particularly powerful event, it may be triggering a sequence climax. Or even an act climax (also called Turning Point). Or a mid-point reversal. The two most powerful events in your story must be the inciting incident and the reversal. The first one triggers your hero’s main objective (which will define the ‘dramatic question’) and the second will make your hero decide to change the course of the second act.

A feature film needs between 40 and 60 plot points. Unfortunately only 10% of your first draft will end up in the final draft. So be generous when brainstorming plot points. Don’t stop at 40. Try 400.

Here is a test for finding strong plot points. Ask yourself the question “Does the event complicate the previous action?”. In a well-written story, the trigger event of one plot point will ‘interrupt’ a previous plot point. In other words: while your hero is responding to one event, a next event happens, which will force him to re-direct his actions and respond to this new event.

AN EVENT MUST COMPLICATE THE PREVIOUS ACTION

Or put differently: the event must provide an obstacle to the character’s objective(s) or desire(s).

Let’s go back to my earlier statement and explain why you should not brainstorm ACTIONS but rather EVENTS.

Once you have established a character, i.e. decided what is specific, unique about this specific character, you will show this by showing the character’s response to certain events. Therefore, you have no choice about the resulting action: it will follow necessarily from the combination of event + character.

Conversely, if you want your character to take a particular action, you will need to find an event that would trigger that specific action.

Finally there is the kind of event that creates a (seeming) dilemma to the character. These are simply the very best. Robert McKee has dealt with this extensively so I won’t elaborate at this point. I put the word ‘seeming’ between brackets as I don’t believe these are REAL dilemma’s. If the function of the event is to bring out the truth of the character, there shouldn’t necessarily be two ‘irreconcilable goods’ or ‘evils’. Exactly because of the core quality of the character, there should only be one

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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“an overt focus on structure may be to the detriment of the script overall. He prefers to discuss scripts using more generic terms such as beginning, middle and end. The hero’s journey (a la Campbell and Vogler) should be approached warily.”

Not only does it show a grave lack of understanding of the depth and importance of the Hero’s Journey, it goes directly against most forms of successful storytelling.

I find it a dangerous statement, as aspiring screenwriters may have taken it as sound advice from a working screenwriter. The fact that it hasn’t sparked more controversy in the industry is another symptom of a film industry lacking a genuine storytelling culture.

On the other hand, Karin Altmann’s views on script editing are completely in line with those held by successful professionals around the world.

The following article, containing the quote, was reprinted with the kind permission of ScreenHub.

NSC 2007 – Script Editing
by: Anne Richey
Screen Hub – Monday 22 October, 2007

The first draft’s done. The characters are in place, and the story has been established along with what you would like to say. Except for maybe that character – that scene – the way the story is resolved – Time to call in a script editor.

The next question is who do you choose? With places like the AFC unable to recommend script editors to you, the best way is probably to ask around, and to find a script editor with the style you will best respond to. And their styles do vary.

To illustrate this point, Keith Thompson and Karin Altmann outlined the different methods they use to assist the writer to improve the script.

Keith Thompson, script editor on more than 20 produced feature films and five or six mini series, takes a very fluid approach. He considers his role to be the editor of the writer, not the script. He looks for a way for the writer to find the truth in what they are writing, whether through getting to know the characters better, preventing self-censorship, or any of the variety of other hurdles which the writer must find their way over.

In order to find the truth in the script, the writer must first reach a place where they can recognise what the script is about, and just as importantly, why they should be the one to write the story rather than anyone else, Taking this kind of psychological approach creates a less defensive atmosphere where the writer feels more confident in developing the script further.

Importantly, the script editor should not make suggestions about the script, but rather, encourage the writer on a path to finding the answers for themselves. The aim of the game is to emphasise the good and reduce the bad.

Keith is wary of scripting how-to books, believing that they hold the potential for all movies to end up looking the same. Similarly, an overt focus on structure may be to the detriment of the script overall. He prefers to discuss scripts using more generic terms such as beginning, middle and end. The hero’s journey (a la Campbell and Vogler) should be approached warily.

Unlike Karin Altmann’s approach, he also prefers to avoid the use of cards to work out the structure of a script. He prefers overall to avoid theory and stick to encouraging the writer and developing the script. Karin takes a structuralist approach in a similar way to Robert McKee, starting with the logline, premise, one pager, treatment and then on to developing the script. While Keith agreed that this does work in some cases, he certainly doesn’t believe that it works in all. His theory is that sometimes people need to work out the script while writing it, particularly the first draft.

Engaging in weekly meetings with the writers he’s working with, his role is more that of an encouraging spectator, facilitating ways for the writer to achieve the right outcome. As people only get one chance to read a script for the first time, Keith uses a colour code method for the first draft read-though notes, with a different colour once he knows what the story is about and how it ends. He finds it to be a helpful way of differentiating what should be worked on, depending on the perspective taken,

Karin Altmann’s approach is far more analytical and mechanical. She believes that a script editor shouldn’t get involved with the first draft, and that the script editor’s purpose in the ensuing drafts is to assist the writer’s internal judge. To her, the script editor’s role is to identify not solve problems, and it is not their place to provide scenes, lines or dialogue. They should always remember that they are the script editor, not the collaborator.

Script editors really take the role that producers and directors should be taking if they were better trained at the role, as they have an ongoing investment in making the project as viable as possible. She believes that as time goes on, and more training is developed in the industry, script editor role will gradually disappear, replaced by others with a vested interest in the film.

When editing, she tends to focus on the story more than the writer. She wants to know not only what the story is about, and why the writer is doing it, she also wants to know what the story is really about and why the writer is really doing it. When reading a script for the first time, she likes to imagine it as though watching a movie. On the second read, she uses the one-line scene breakdown method. She finds this to be the best way to determine the strengths of the emotional logic, rhythm and narrative logic. It help in identifying the gaps between the intention and the result, and provides a strategy for moving forward.

Ultimately, the script editor is the servant of the story, not the writer or the producer. They identify the places where the script is in need of resolution, and provide the writer with the pathways to achieving a better script, rather than rewriting it on their behalf. Stop banging your head against the keyboard when trying to move forward with your next draft. A good script editor is all you need.

Anne Richey
Anne Richey is a writer with an engaging demeanor, a systematic approach to organisation, and a criminal mind.

(Reprinted with kind permission of ScreenHub)

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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