Typos

Often neophyte writers, particularly on discussion boards, will argue at length about the necessity of following every “rule”’; how many brads to use, is it “who” or “whom”, never use VO, never use flashback, avoid ellipses…and the list goes on. The truth of the matter is that what Peter Guber once said - There are no rules in Hollywood, but break them at your own risk – is absolutely true.

I am of the opinion that pedantry kills creativity. Story is the number one most important signifier of a good script. Yes, execution is important, but the bottom line is: does this writer have a good story to tell? One the reader or exec hasn’t seen before? One that is compelling, exciting and resonant? I know, I know, that is getting old – but it is the truest thing I can ever say about writing a script that will get noticed.

Readers are very often writers themselves. Being a reader puts a writer in the catbird seat, so to speak. It also makes us tend to be cinefiles and wordfreaks. So while we might not comment on “flair gun” instead of “flare gun”, we will notice it. If errors are peppered throughout the script, the reader will begin to feel that this writer has no respect for, much less command of the language. And that makes us cranky. Readers are entrusted to be the gatekeepers. Of course, we do have rules and regulations: Be fast. Be tough. Be professional. By professional I mean it is not cool for a reader to really slam a writer. Even if the material is horrific, it’s just not done. If you want to keep your job that is. But there is definitely some wiggle room. Readers are subjective, at the end of the day. We can slant our coverage to sound encouraging and upbeat – even if it’s a pass. Or the coverage can be a bit biting if the writer has annoyed us to a great degree. Avoid annoying anyone who reads your script. A pass because the material isn’t that great or isn’t a fit for the company is nothing to be ashamed of. But you do not want a coverage circulating in the office that slams you as a writer with polite but slightly sarcastic comments about your writing skill-set. Your rep will read that coverage too. Your overall reputation will dim. When you’re just starting off, you can’t afford to go downhill in the estimation of professionals reading your work.

An insider tip: it is actually considered poor form for a reader to point out spelling or grammar mistakes in a coverage. Unless the number of mistakes warrant the mention. Many coverages include two pass/consider/recommend categories: the script – and the writer. A writer with a number of mistakes will get a pass writer – for sure. Even if the material is actually a “consider”. Why? Because the whole idea of rating the writer is a way of setting this writer aside for future consideration for other projects. A writer who has a character “slam on his breaks” is not a writer this company will consider for an assignment. Why? Because as I mentioned above, there are a whole lot of gifted writers out there who don’t have any typos in their scripts. So who would you choose to hire?

Of particular concern are the mistakes that the spell-check won’t find: Break for brake. Bizarre for bazaar. Rouge instead of rogue. Flair for flare. Now, here’s the thing: the worst kind of typo you could possibly have is the one that will make the reader or exec laugh out loud. Nothing kills a moment like a guffaw. The flair gun which titles this missive is a real example and one that gave me a much appreciated belly laugh and images of a gun shooting fabulous clothing and great shoes. But I really don’t think the writer was going for laughter in that moment.

Obviously, you want to have a perfect script. I can’t stress often enough how stiff the competition is. For every dilettante writing pretentious scripts that you sneer at, there are ten gifted writers with scripts circulating in the business right now. And they are repped and they are making deals. And if they aren’t now, they will be soon. So the bar is pretty high.

People have oft argued whether trouble with spelling and grammar is indicative of overall ineptitude with language. Not necessarily, no. But it doesn’t bode well. It’s like showing up for a job interview with a ketchup stain on your clothes. It makes you look like a schmuck. The solution is simple: get your script proofread by someone with a good eye for such things. And don’t sweat buckets if there are one or two mistakes left in anyway. We don’t care that much, we really don’t. Unless it’s clear that you don’t.

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Writing Dialogue

Bird: Caw, caw, caw. Etc.

That scintillating reproduction of a crow was in a script I recently read. The character was a bird. Not a central bird, just, you know, some bird in the vicinity. That knew how to say “etcetera”. That is one talented crow. Of course his cousin Vinny can say “ex post facto”.

Well written dialogue is a stealth weapon for a writer. It doesn’t draw attention to itself, it just is. The reader moves down the page, following the story with ease. Subliminally, we find ourselves becoming more and more invested in the character. We laugh when they say something particularly clever. Our throats get tight when they say something painful or poignant. We turn the page. What happens next? We find ourselves liking this writer on a subconscious level because the characters sound honest and real.

On the flip side, nothing says amateur as fast as bad dialogue. And nothing annoys a studio reader faster than an amateur. Because we have to read the script. The whole thing. Because the script has to be synopsized. Bad dialogue is a stand-out element which is hard to suffer through. So when the time comes to write the comments, instead of a simple “pass” with some academic-sounding comments about the plot resolution or lack of conflict, our comments will sound a bit, well – cranky. And you don’t want an executive to read biting comments about why your script sucked.

Bad dialogue can fall under several categories but generally it’s bad for one of two reasons. 1) It’s on the nose or 2) it’s unnatural sounding. Or both. What’s important when writing good dialogue is to remember that dialogue is not real conversation. It is the essence of conversation. In other words, it’s über-real conversation. In reality, most people communicate in a variety of ways when speaking. They can be obsequious, sarcastic, ironic, blunt or entirely elliptical. People don’t usually say what they really mean. The thing is never the thing. A couple can be fighting about a sock left on the floor but really the fight is about something much deeper. Next time you go to a café, listen to the conversations around you. Pay attention to the way people interact at a restaurant. The amount of eye contact, touch, laughter and silence.

Sometimes a writer is anxious to get the point across and will wind up with dialogue that is on-the-nose:

HE: Where were you? Out with my best friend Steve?
SHE: Are you accusing me of cheating?

Rather than something more interesting like:

HE: You’re late.
SHE: I bumped into Steve.
HE: Oh yeah? I thought he was home sick.
SHE: You want some coffee?

Notice in the second example that HE is trying to act pretty casual about his suspicions and SHE is changing the subject. Perhaps even turning her body away. Great way to try to shift the tension in the room. Sometimes it is helpful to read your dialogue out-loud. Does it come out of your mouth naturally? Or does it feel wordy or stiff? Is the dialogue organic to the character? Is your boy sounding like a girl? Is your Southerner sounding an awful lot like they are from your hometown, Milwaukee?

The ability to write great dialogue is a quality that will set you apart as a writer. Good dialogue writers are sought after and respected. The key to becoming better at it is to really perfect your listening skills and as importantly, to get so far inside the head of your character, that it seems as if their words are just coming through your fingers. I know that can sound strange, but most writers will tell you that they know and understand that strange experience. The more time you spend developing your character, the more naturally they will speak in their own, unique voice.

From a reader perspective, if your script is a “pass” because the structure or premise is too soft, that’s a ding against you. But if your dialogue stinks, that is a black mark you won’t soon shake. Every element is important in a script, make no mistake, but poor dialogue is probably the element that most quickly marks you as an inept writer. Even the best writers sometimes have a premise that’s a bit too soft. Or action lines that are a bit too dense. But dialogue is the gold standard. Good dialogue inspires faith in the writer because it is the invisible wind beneath a great character. Readers often skim over action lines, something I mentioned in my last post. We go straight to dialogue lines because this is where the story moves forward most visibly. So write great dialogue. Make it natural, make it specific to the character and don’t forget the silences in-between which reveal so much.

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Life of a Reader: Between the Brads

I am a dreaded reader. Script reader, that is. Don't hate me. I am one of a rare, misunderstood tribe. Readers are usually writers ourselves, we freelance reading scripts because it helps pay the bills while we wait for our big break. And it keeps us "in the business". That is to say, it's better than shredding paper in some office building. It sharpens our own writing skills. Everyday we get paid to analyze scripts and break them down into what is working and what is not working. We read everything from the sublime to the utterly ridiculous. Mostly, it's pretty bad stuff. We accumulate some pretty funny stories. Like the Rouge Wave. It was in a slugline and was supposed to read: A giant rogue wave sweeps over the oil rig. But this writer didn't catch the mistake and instead I was left wondering if it was rouge as in Chanel's Cherry Blossom or perhaps more of a Clinique Sunkissed Peach. I wept for the oil rig workers. To be drowned in a wave of rouge is just too cruel! I really think the writer was going for a more dramatic feeling there. But I appreciated the laugh, I really did.

I read a script for a competition that had a slugline, about midway through that said, simply: This scene not included pending rewrite. In a competition. I read a comedy about a veterinarian that was 530 pages long. When scripts are generally 100-125 tops. It wasn't a story, it was 530 pages of pointless riffing. Oh yeah, and there was a vet in there somewhere.

I read for several pretty big, pretty cool production companies and I consider myself lucky. I also read for an A-list celebrity, looking for material he can star in. The pay is no better but it's fun to say I work for him. I also do script consulting privately and that is something I really love to do. Production company coverage is pretty brutal; we don't get paid to encourage a writer to do better, we get paid to tell an exec, in about a page and a half, how much the script sucks and why. Writers do not realize the pressure readers are under. I have been called on the carpet for being "too nice" to material. If I give a script a "consider" then that exec has to take it home and read it themselves. They really don't appreciate that unless the script actually has merit. There is no such rating for scripts as "Nice try!" or "Cool idea, but can you take a class?" or "You seem really nice!" It's simple: PASS, CONSIDER or the rare blue-footed booby of ratings: RECOMMEND.

Over time, I have accumulated some pretty funny reading stories. The two or three up above are only the tip of the iceberg. If you stay tuned, I'll keep you plenty entertained with more. Just in case, god forbid, I have read your script, be assured I scramble the information a little bit. Sorry rouge wave person.

Once in awhile - once in a GREAT while - I read a script that rocks my world. But that's pretty rare. I thought that perhaps sharing my point of view might be helpful for writers trying to make it over the moat of snapping crocodiles called Readers. We may not be the highest paid people in entertainment, but we are the vanguard. If you can't make it past a reader, you're not in good shape. But don't be discouraged; there are many ways to improve.

Each week, I will post a tip of the week. This week the topic is ACTION LINES.

Action lines are not just paragraphs which describe the building, or the car or the dusty street the character is walking down. They aren't just to tell us the character is wearing "khaki pants, a white shirt and dress shoes". Action lines are like paintings. They should be kinetic, pithy and evocative. What do I mean by that? If a writer is describing a mid-19th century street in Nevada and the day is hot and the bad guy is about to gallop up on his horse, then focus on using that action line to really convey all of that. Let us hear a carriage creaking by. Let us feel the hot sun. Let us choke on the dust and hear the sound of the boots over the wooden walkways. Choose words, in other words, that match the mood of the scene and the tone of the script overall. Read produced scripts and notice the way a horror script will use dark, scary words in the action lines. Notice the way a romantic comedy will use lighter, funnier, bouncier words in the action lines. Make the scene come alive. Don't be afraid to sound like you, not some pedantic machine who's read a how-to screenwriting book one too many times.

Here's a little secret: most readers, and by extension, executives and producers, skim over action lines quickly. Particularly if they are dense. We are only looking for key words so we can orient ourselves. The dialogue is the primary place where the plot is going to play out. Put yourself in our shoes: you are reading anywhere from 5 to 10 scripts a week. You are tired. You have to synopsize this story. And then write at least a page and a half of commentary. You just need to know what happens already. So don't write dense action lines. We won't read them thoroughly anyway, and even if we must or it won't make sense, we will ding you as a writer because the action lines were dry, overly detailed and poorly written. Don't tell us things we cannot see. Action lines are not subtitled. For example, do not say "the viewer will notice immediately how rich with silver money Nevada has grown." Huh? Oh - you mean there's a lot of silver being gambled on the tables? Okay, so just say that. Describe the saloon then. What kind of music is playing? Is the money clinking? Are people shouting when they win and groaning when they lose? Is it a bunch of miners and roughnecks or guys in cravats and monocles? We've all seen movies - describe the scene as if it's a movie. I know that sounds stupid but scripts are not just blueprints of movies, they are facsimiles of movies. We should read them and almost see the scenes recreated in our minds. Another example: a character shouldn't just "note" something. What does that mean? Do they raise their eyebrow? Blush? Look away? Change the subject? Jot it down on a cocktail napkin? Action lines are like paintings. They should move and breathe. They should be brief. We should want to read them because they are part of the pleasure of the script. When in doubt, challenge yourself to cut your action line down by fully half. Review it for words that are adding to the mood and feel you want to evoke. Homework: read even a few sample pages of THE SALTON SEA by Tony Gayton. That is a writer with voice to be reckoned with.

Stay tuned for another Rouge Wave topic of the week!

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