Guest Blog: PJ McIlvane

While Julie, our esteemed Rouge Waver founder and mentor, takes time off (hopefully not too much time, we need those writing exercises to sharpen our creativity), she asked me if it wouldn’t be too much trouble to post some of my musings, rants, ravings and otherwise general babbling nonsense on this great, frustrating, wonderful thing we call screenwriting and other related matters. After a half second ( I had to give it some thought), I nonchalantly answered, sure, no problem.

I think---I hope---that I know a thing or two about screenwriting. Which is to say, in the grand scheme of things, probably not that much at all? I’m still learning, still poking my way around.

So here goes. I’ve read dozens of scripts. No, make that hundreds. And each script was different. Yes, those scripts shared common denominators in that they all looked like scripts down to the two brads and the impeccable formatting and the card stock cover. I’m talking about the faux script, which resembles a screenplay in any other respect except where it really matters.

In the story, or, more precisely, in the voice. I freely admit that this is a topic dear to my heart. Julie and I have briefly discussed this, and I have no doubt that we will again. I blame IBM for this revolting development. Well, not really, but since the advent of the personal computer (and the widespread proliferation of screenwriting software), anyone with access to a keyboard can write a screenplay.

Sometimes this is a very good thing. Sometimes…not so good.

Look, we’ve all heard this old saw (or the Law of Probabilities, to put a scientific point on it) that eventually, if you put enough monkeys in front of enough typewriters and let them have at it, one day they will write Shakespeare. Or War in Peace. Or Stephen King. Take your pick.

Typing can be taught. Talent and voice cannot. We can become better writers, better articulators as it were, than when we started out, but I cling to the notion that if you don’t possess that inner spark, that nagging and infuriating creative muse whispering in your ear night and day, day and night, hounding you like a rabid dog, making you forsake family and friends to confront the devil on the blank page---you may be a transcriptionist, you could be a mimic, but truly, deep down, you’re not a writer.

My brother, God rest his soul, looked like Eric Clapton. And he played the guitar like Eric Clapton. His long hair hanging, the groupies swooning around him, my brother had the look of a rock star. He certainly had the excesses down pat. The one thing my brother lacked was talent. He could mimic Clapton’s guitar solo down to the last riff, but he had no natural talent of his own. This is not to say that my brother couldn’t have been the next great rock legend---other rock legends have become legends on a whole lot less---and he might have, through discipline and hard work, become a better guitar player. But original like Jimi Hendrix? No.

It’s what makes Eric Clapton who he is. And John Lennon, Janis Joplin and Pavarotti. And Spencer Tracy, Katherine Hepburn, Paul Newman, Humphrey Bogart, Daniel Day-Lewis, Billy Wilder, Tony Gilroy, Ron Bass, Akiva Goldsman, Diablo Cody…the list goes on.

We worry about the unnecessary things. Like how many brads to use. What about beats? Parathenticals? More’s and continued’s? How do I write a logline or a query letter? You might as well ask me how to get George Lucas to read your script. Heck, I’m still trying to get him to read my script.

Or should I say, my voice. Because that’s what it’s all about. What makes you unique, what makes you stand out from that pack of hungry wolves (i.e. writers), behind you at the gate, breathing down your neck.

I don’t want to write like anyone else. And you shouldn’t either. A producer or director can always get someone else. You don’t want them to get someone else. You want them to demand you.

Your voice. Your vision. Your sound.

There are many violin players. But there is only one Natalie MacMaster. That, boys and girls, is a devil worth fighting. Ask Stephen King.

PJ McIlvaine (aka Patricia McIlvaine in another galaxy) is the writer of the highly entertaining, critically acclaimed, Emmy nominated Showtime original movie MY HORRIBLE YEAR with Eric Stoltz, Mimi Rogers and Karen Allen, which many say (okay, PJ says) was the precursor of Kim Possible, Zoey 101, Miley Cyrus, High School Musical and Zombies in Toyland. PJ also has an indie holiday film THE TOWN THAT BANNED CHRISTMAS with Matt McCoy, Hunter Gomez, Jane Sibbett and Carol Alt currently awaiting distribution, hopefully for 2008. Her notes, wisdom, experience and humor are available through The Script Department.

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