When Good People Write Bad Scripts
You know you have a drawer full of them. Bad scripts. And like your ratty, stained underwear, you keep them surreptitiously, not exactly knowing what to do with them. All that work – what, throw that in the recycling bin? What if, one fine day, you realize your animation script, STUMPY THE ONE-LEGGED FLAMINGO is box office gold?
In theory, every script we write is better than the last, right? That’s the hope, anyway, is that we learn something from every script. But – do we? How do we learn something about scripts we leave in our wake if we don’t revisit them and identify what went wrong?
Sometimes, it’s easy. You flip through it, read your atrocious dialogue and roll your eyes. Hey, that was ten years ago – it’s not worth discussing. But how about more recently? Exactly why didn’t ROMANCING THE ZYGOTE place in a single competition? Why were your queries unanswered? If your answer is a quick, certain “Because zygotes are too political.” and you maybe flush a little when you say it and your eyes dart around – you need to take a deep breath here.
Why, exactly, did the script garner zero traction with competitions, agents or managers? Because until you know, Wavers, you’re doomed to repeat the same mistakes.
For newer writers here is the checklist of just a very few reasons why your script may not have fared very well:
1) The premise was one or many of the following:
Soft
Unoriginal
Weird
Boring
Totally self-referential
2) The characters weren’t three-dimensional
3) The structure was loosey goosey (that’s straight from McKee)
4) The narrative was not compelling; not enough conflict, not enough at stake
Go ahead, open that cobwebby drawer and take your old scripts out into the light, which is the best disinfectant.
Spend a few minutes flipping through your old script(s). Become one with the pages. How does the dialogue read? Does the plot make sense? Are the pages engaging? Do you find yourself thinking HMMM I should rewrite this with my newly acquired experience and skills, or do you cringe and wonder what the heck peyote casserole you apparently ate the night before you wrote the script? Identify what didn’t work and check in with yourself – do you know better now? Is there a lesson STUMPY is just waiting to impart?
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6 comments:
Mmm...peyote casserole.
Could you give an example of a "soft" premise, and how one would make it-- um, I guess..."hard"?
Soft premise:
A boy becomes a man when he grows up and goes to college
Good premise (ha)
An autistic boy becomes a man when he gets a scholarship to Harvard only to suffer at the hands of an evil fraternity
So in the better example, we have our main character described, we have the crux of the conflict described, we have an antagonist and we get the Big Idea, so to speak, of what this movie will basically be like.
In the example of a soft premise, too much is left open and no conflict is indicated. So great, he grows up and goes to college. And then what? Where's the story? A very high percentage of new screenwriters spend 100+ pages of script belaboring a premise that is too "soft" - that is to say, uninteresting with little or no conflict, just a long wandering narrative usually only emotionally satisfying to the writer.
soft, loosey goosey, not enough at stake - have you been peeping in my drawer Julie??
:-)
i just went through a box of photos (ahhh the 90s) and now i have to relive the shame of lengthy slug lines and characters that occasionally change name!!
if you insist...
Hi, Julie.
Could you expand upon what a "self-referential" premise is?
Thanks.
-Goran
Touche!
But I still love my ZYGOTE.
totally self-referential premise:
How I - I mean "Bob" went to college and had a rad time drinking with his buddies and then I - I mean "Bob" got a great job and met Jennifer - I mean a "hot chick".
or
How I - I mean, "Susy" overcame breast cancer and now this script is going to beat into your brains how brave I - I mean "Susy" was.
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