The Rouge Wave: 1

Showing posts with label 1. Show all posts

Monday, June 30, 2008

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Snapshots of a Script

Readers are different from you and I. Well, different from you. Not I. The Wave-inatrix doesn't read boxes of twenty scripts at a time anymore but I do read a good six to eight scripts a week, easily. And something happens when one has to read that kind of volume. Writers on message boards encourage one another to read scripts - and that's damn good advice. But really, one just cannot imagine the sheer volume of reading that has to be done on a daily basis in Hollywood. It changes you.

Have you ever had that weird, mildly crushing, existential feeling of impending death when, at a public place you overhear someone conversing about something totally inane and then you realize it's you talking and you are in fact just like everybody else? And you panic for a moment because you thought you were different?

When one reads boxes and boxes of scripts a pattern becomes clear - and that is that there are truly only a limited number of stories, types of writers and levels of execution. And yes, you get jaded.

Is this just another blog post about how we readers are ever so sophisticated and in-the-know? God, that would be tiresome, wouldn't it? No, readers are just overworked, underpaid struggling writers who just happen to be the janitors in the hallways of production companies, sweeping up the piles of scripts and putting them into some kind of order for rejection or consideration.

No, this is a post to help put things into perspective for aspiring screenwriters. It's a harsh thing to say but if you think you and your script are all that amazing and special and genius - you're wrong. There are a lot of better writers and a lot of better scripts. Whoa - that's an awful thing for the Wave-inatrix to say! Well, it's bracing, isn't it? But think of the worth of the realization that your story is NOT utterly original and freakishly unique. Raises the bar, doesn't it?

Sure, you could believe that your writing is good enough, and deserving of accolades, money and fame - but if you're wrong - and depending on where you are as a writer, you probably are - then how far are you going to get laboring under that misapprehension? Overestimating your writing is an easy trap to fall into. It comes from that strange dichotomy of thinking borne of mixing confidence and stick-to-it-iveness with a fear of failure. Stir that up in a beaker, pour over the crackling, white hot mess that is Hollywood and the steam that arises smells an awful lot like failure and frustration.

So what is a writer to do? Know that writing anything is expiative and transformative and beautiful. But know that getting paid for it is another animal altogether. Know that there are plenty of writers worse - and better - than you. Know that your script can always be better. Know that your writing can, must and will improve. Know that every journey begins with a single step and that if you believe in anything, believe that you love this messed up thing called being a writer. It's bittersweet, it's absolutely awful - and we couldn't imagine doing anything else.

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Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Story Analyst Local 854

Most writers are aware that there are readers. But are you aware that there is a reader's guild? The Story Analyst Local 854 joined up with the National Editor's Guild in May of 2000. At that time, both guilds had a membership of 5,600. In the past, most readers were not guild members since being a member reduces the number of production companies a reader could work with from hundreds to a handful - the studios. Additionally, studio readers, while they get health insurance and benefits commensurate with a regular job have - well - a regular job. Meaning full time at a desk. Something most readers loathe.

Recently, there was a big shift within the guild relative to its relationships with production companies and as of June 11th, non-guild readers may no longer work for production companies with studio deals. Overnight, dozens and dozens of readers were out of work. Any Rouge Wavers thinking about getting into reading - think twice. The number of jobs available just plummetted and the number of readers looking for them just doubled. But it gets better: the guild is not accepting new membership. So what is a non-guild reader to do? And how will production companies respond?

The Wave-inatrix placed two calls earlier this week to the Assistant Director of the Guild to do some fact-checking. My calls have not been returned. If they are, I shall addend some pertinent facts and most importantly - the point of view of the guild to this blog post. It is my suspicion the guild is not keen to share their strategy or methodology with a non-guild member. If only I could join - oh, that's right, it's impossible and the bylines for membership are secretive and apparently completely arbitrary. If only I could fact-check and dialogue with the guild. Oh - they probably only dialogue with guild members. If only I could become a member...

So what's the upshot for writers? Will production companies with studio deals simply switch over to guild members without a hitch? We have to imagine that guild story analysts are significantly more expensive than freelance readers. Production companies are famously stingy when it comes to getting coverage in the first place. The going rate - $60 per script - is already quite low given the expertise of the readers, the hours involved and the fact that readers literally have to jump in their cars to go collect their work and in some cases to return it. So how will production companies respond to paying, say, $80 or $100 per script to guild members?

Production companies unwilling to pay guild fees for their coverage will turn to interns and overworked assistants. Insert collective gasp here. While there are plenty of perfectly nice, intelligent interns out there, reading for them is a by-product of an internship and maybe one internship among a few while they decide whether they're cut out for the entertainment business. It's a pitstop not a destination. Interns have not read numerous scripts for numerous companies for years. Interns are inexperienced, in other words, and are literally not paid - so how carefully will your script be reviewed? Again, with all due respect, I'd rather have a seasoned reader give my script a thumbs up or down than an intern from Nebraska who has read a sum total of 10 scripts before mine.

We all know how hard assistants work - and script reading is definitely part of their job description; but it is my guess that many an over-worked assistant's job just became twice as exhausting because the workload just shot up. Now how well will your script be reviewed? An assistant, no matter how tired can still identify negative and positive aspects of your script. But will they be open to really unique, extraordinary stories? Will they see your potential as writer at 12:30am in Red Bull number three?

Many people are concerned about the potential WGA strike; SAG's contract runs out months later and there has been some talk of another potential strike. But few know or care about Story Analyst Local 854. It's a small story, one nobody cares about. In the larger machinations of Hollywood it seems not to matter. And yet readers are the very first professionals to review and analyze scripts. They are the gatekeepers.

What does this mean for readers who make a living analyzing material? It means they have to go find a day job because guild membership is not an option. What does this mean for writers? It means the suspicions you already harbored, out of insecurity, that your scripts are not being read carefully might just be true.

Perhaps things are not so dire. Perhaps the guild has an inclusive plan to ensure that all readers are given their due as professionals. Or perhaps, as the Wave-inatrix suspects, this is one guild which operates in unfair secrecy and is ironically unconcerned about the quality of readers out there and worse - their welfare. If the guild cared about readers why is membership not an option? Why is there no transparency when it comes to membership? I would love to have my suspicions and prejudices about this guild dispelled - and they may well be when we can get the guild to participate in the dialogue. Hopefully we will have an update soon. Just don't hold your breath.

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Monday, March 12, 2007

The Perception Gap

You finish your script and you are en fuego – convinced that the script is going to change the landscape of film forever. The premise is extraordinarily unique, the characters rock and the dialogue is, well – you’re working on your Oscar speech, suffice it to say.

That fired up, passionate feeling is wonderful. And you need to really hang on to it, for that is the fuel that we writers need to keep going sometimes. That and high-octane coffee. But some writers, usually newer ones, run hard up against a terrible truth: No, their script really isn’t that great. And boy does it suck the wind right out of them. More experienced writers are often very neurotic. They are unsure their script is any good at all. In fact, it must suck. Through bitter and painful experience, they have learned not to overestimate their work because they have been struck down too many times by idiotic agents, self-indulgent actors or pure bum luck. Don’t count your eggs until they’re hatched. I don’t think this is a healthy space to be in either.

People often say – and I am one of them – that the horrible quality of scripts that flow into production offices is staggering. And it is. But that is not your competition. How can you get anywhere as a writer if you say – well, my script is not as horrible as most horrible scripts? That is no measure. Do not fall into the trap of comparing your script, career or talent against anyone else’s. Neither be too cocksure that the script is the next APOCALYPSE NOW nor be so neurotic that your incredible script lies fallow because you are sure it just can’t be that good.

Take a realistic view. Yes, there are tons of really bad scripts. Abysmal, even. But for every fifty really bad scripts gathering dust in an office somewhere, there is a really terrific writer nipping at their heels. A talented writer who has worked and studied hard. A writer who has invested time and energy into the craft. They might be from Nebraska, they might be from LA. But they are here, they are sending their scripts in and they are going to kick butt and take names.

Readers like to complain and joke quite a lot about the quality of scripts that we read. I’m guilty of it too. It’s much less sensational, however, to talk about the few really great ones we read. Not A-list great, but all hyperbole aside, promising as all get out. You haven’t heard these writers names, but they are out there, they are winning competitions, and they are the next generation. That is your competition.

Aspire to be part of the next generation. Be realistic. Maybe your script is totally terrific. Have you done your due diligence? Taken classes, read books, gotten feedback? Well then maybe you are right. Just don’t get too cocky; you surely aren’t the only one. Take the middle road. Respect your competition but also believe in yourself. I know I’ve said this before but it bears repeating: it generally takes having written several scripts before you write a truly competitive piece of material.

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Thursday, March 1, 2007

Is Reading For You?

Does being a reader make you a better writer? Short answer – yes. In my case, anyway. Absolutely. I had taken umpteen million writing classes, programs etc. before I began reading, and had written at least seven feature scripts, three TV specs, innumerable essays and short stories. But still, reading pile upon pile of scripts definitely made a huge difference.

As a reader you see very clearly what not to do. And you see it over and over and over. When we read a great script it’s not like the thing that made the script great is really possible to emulate because it’s ephemeral – it’s just good. Great dialogue, characters, overall execution and a fascinating plot – well, sure I could emulate that – conceptually. Not so easy. But what NOT to do, well, you could make a bullet-point list and tape it to your computer.

Often writers counsel other writers to read produced scripts; I counter that actually more can be learned from reading unproduced, novice scripts. I am in no way, shape or form saying don’t read great scripts – it’s a treat and of course it’s a lesson. But the real lesson is in learning from the mistakes of the many while appreciating the talent of the few.

Though I read for some major production companies (less and less as I segue into consulting privately) and have quite a bit of writing experience, I still seek out notes on my own work. Not as much as I used to when I was just starting out – I am very selective about whom I ask to read my stuff. Additionally, the writing program that I attended for two years (The Writer’s Boot Camp in Santa Monica) really did stress becoming “your own authority on your work” and I have to say, the program really did teach me that.

But no matter how experienced you are or what writing program you graduated from, or even how many scripts you read each week, you always need an outside opinion. I make sure I choose someone whom I consider at or above my level of experience as a writer. I make sure to choose someone who has no hidden agenda of ego gratification via criticism of one who is supposed to be “good” at this. I choose someone who won’t pull any punches either. I recently gave a comedy of mine to a wonderful friend (hi Paul, I know you’re reading this) who gave me fantastic, detailed notes that were invaluable to me. Even though it wasn’t exactly his genre and even though I started off as his consultant before we became friends, his notes were detailed and spot on.

If you live in the LA area, doing some reading can actually be a fantastic way to see what’s going on around town – who’s reading what and what kind of scripts are crossing desks. One of the prodcos I read for is Bedford Falls. I love talking to the execs and finding out what’s up on deck with the company. Becoming a reader isn’t rocket science – but it does take a lot of hard work. You get good through repetition and experience. It doesn’t hurt if you are a pretty good writer yourself – I’m sure we’ve all read a poorly written coverage. It makes the bad news sting so much more when the writing is inexpert, doesn’t it?

My friend Pilar Alessandra teaches a great class on becoming a reader. You can check her course listings at http://www.onthepage.tv/. Once you take Pilar’s class – that’s what I did, anyway - you do some cold-calling and find out if there is a competition you can read for, or if you can find a small production company that might give you a few scripts to read for free. Yes – for free. You can’t expect to get paid at first. You have to pay those dues. Let me tell you, the competition can be fierce even for the free reading jobs! Why? INTERNS. Man, I grew to hate them. Bless their pointy little blonde heads. The cold calling absolutely sucks. Oh, I hated it so very much. But if you just set aside feeling stupid, somebody will eventually bite. It’s just a matter of persistence and luck. I called Walden asking if they needed readers and the receptionist said sure, send me your resume. I did. I never heard back. Probably three weeks later I called to follow up. A different receptionist put me on hold. An executive picked up. I asked about my resume. What resume? He’d never gotten it and never heard of me before whatsoever. But if I would fax in a resume, he had a reader who just quit. Wow, what timing. And a beautiful relationship was born. I love working at Walden – great execs and great company.

Being a reader for only a few weeks or months just to get the experience can really fast track your learning curve – I guarantee it. But it is most definitely not for everyone and you can’t just jump right in. In my case, reading opened up a new world for me and one that I couldn’t have predicted. I made some cool reader friends, I have made great connections with executives, and of course, it led to my decision to start the Script Whisperer.

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Tuesday, January 16, 2007

The Reader Cabal: Sorting Fact from Fiction

It is a little known fact that we readers are a secret society with an underground headquarters, special hand signals and a hazing ritual that few survive. Conspiracy theorists have speculated as to the location of our lair but so far we have eluded discovery. We are super elite, we know more about films, writing and life than you ever will. We are trained killers, just waiting to assassinate your script. We want to crush your hopes and dreams beyond repair. We laugh about you during our secret meetings.

None of those things could be further from the truth. Except the secret handshake. But here are some truths that might be helpful:

Readers are usually also writers. We usually work at home. We read for generally two or three companies at the same time. We don’t really care which companies they are but in Reader World, the higher profile the company, the more respect we gain. We read between five and ten scripts a week depending on time, energy and the availability of scripts. We have to drive to go pick up scripts. We do not get paid mileage. If we do not make ourselves available to pick up scripts, the work goes to someone else. If we are not available for a week or two, we stop receiving requests. During the holidays and film festivals, we don’t get much work. We bill for our work and sometimes it takes upwards of four weeks to get paid. We get paid extra for “overnights” which is to say dropping everything at say 5pm, driving to the production company, picking up the work and then turning it in before 9am the next day. Sometimes executives are really nice to us, they ask how we are and they talk with us about what we’ve read. Other times, they only cast us cold, reptilian stares as if we are the algae on the bottom of a rock.

We don’t care which genre we read. The first thing we do is pour a big cup of coffee or tea, sit down and flip to page one. We read about two lines. Then we flip to the last page and see how many pages there are. We learn something about what kind of writer you are instantly, from that page count. We take out the brads and get out a highlighter and a pen. Sometimes a notepad too. We read quickly and scan over action lines that are poorly written and dense. Dialogue lines tell us what is happening the most, so we zoom in on those. We highlight names, places and dates so the script is easier to synopsize. If the script is boring or otherwise bad, we take breaks to put another load of laundry in or answer the phone. If the script is really great, we look up and notice we haven’t budged for the hour it took to read it. When we read something really great or funny we scribble – GREAT – next to it. When we read something really awful or poorly written we write things like KILL ME NOW or NO WAY next to it.

We finish the script and pull the pages with notes. We write the synopsis usually from memory only. We have to write about a page and a half of synopsis; it depends. Some production companies want really detailed synopses, others not so much. If the script was really great, we spend more time on the synopsis. If we have to refer to the script pages more than once or twice to write the synopsis, this tells us the writer didn’t execute the story that well because it was convoluted or confusing. Then we write about one and a half pages of commentary. We start off with a nice comment, even if it’s lukewarm. We have to. The writer could be the executive’s wife, cousin or best friend. We never know. And we have had bad experiences with that before. After the nice comment in which we find something – anything – nice to say, we say in one sentence why the script is a go or no-go. Top reasons the script is a pass would include:

• Unoriginal premise
• Two dimensional characters/bad dialogue
• Poor structure, unsatisfying payoff
• Little or no commercial appeal; this is not a money maker
• This script is too much like some other movie this company already made or another movie currently out in theaters
• This script does not match the mandate of the company

Then in the coverage, we dig a little deeper and cite examples of our no-go reasons. We hesitate to give a script a “consider”. Sometimes we wuss out and give a script a “consider with reservation”. We do this because once we say “consider”, our asses are on the line. Remember the execs with the cold, reptilian gaze? You haven’t lived until you’ve had one of those call you into their office and ask why you gave this script a consider. Now you have to defend the script. It’s rare that we really want to put our reputations on the line for a script. Sometimes we pass on a script and later read about a six-figure sale of the same script in the trades. We just shrug it off and chalk it up to subjectivity. Sometimes the weight of our subjectivity wears on us; we are paid for our opinions. It’s a big responsibility. Are we correct? How do we know the market – that’s the execs job! But this is what we are paid to do. And if we buckle, if we show weakness, another reader will take our job. Confidence, speed and professionalism help us keep our jobs. It helps if our own writing is pretty good. That way the execs respect us. We might get a Christmas card or small gift during the holidays. Depends on the company. We hang on to our good jobs because they are hard to come by. We learn a lot from your mistakes. We feel bad for you sometimes. Sometimes you make us pretty cranky. We get inordinately happy when your work is good. You just made our day. We can’t believe we get paid to read such good stuff. At the end of the day, we are you. We are writers too. And we’re pulling for you.

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Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Handling Notes

You just didn’t get it! That’s what a fair percentage of writers say when they don’t like the notes they receive. I just didn’t get it. This to a person who reads anywhere between six and eight scripts a week. That’s right. I didn’t get it. Because it wasn’t on the page. I know that sounds callous. But remember, I am a writer too. I have a manager and work that “goes out” to executives in the industry. That means I am also on the receiving end of “notes”. It’s tough to handle, I understand that from experience. But because I work with so many writers myself, I have noticed a trend: the more experienced the writer is, the easier notes go down. Because experienced writers know how to handle receiving notes. It is the inexperienced writers who shriek like the Wicked Witch of the West after the bucket of water has been thrown on her. Or you sometimes get the quiet, disgruntled writer. Oh. I see. Well. I worked really hard on that. I guess you just - wait for it – didn’t get it.

Handling notes is easy when you can remember one simple thing. It’s not about you. It’s about the story. If you don’t have to kill some darlings then you may not be getting totally honest notes. Want to know how to handle notes better? Here’s how: Just write all the notes down. Don’t judge them, don’t get your hackles up, just nod and scribble. If you are in a meeting situation you may need to dialogue about the notes right there in the moment. But I am talking about receiving notes from a consultant, coverage or even a friend who was nice enough to read your script.

There are different kinds of notes. Notes about set up (I didn’t buy that the character was really all that desperate). Notes about logic (how could the murderer have been in all those places at once?). Notes about tone or genre (I know it was supposed to be a comedy but I didn’t laugh.) Notes about execution (I got confused. Was the murder in space or on earth?). Notes about the premise itself (I feel like the story was very familiar to me).

Notes are not personal attacks. Notes are opportunities for you, the writer, to improve your story. Set your ego aside and get selfish. Yes, selfish. Do you want the best script ever? Grab those notes, wring them out and see what you can use to improve your script. Check your ego, kill your darlings and don’t get defensive.

Some of the hardest notes to handle are the outright suggestions: Why don’t you make the husband a cross-dresser? What if the killer is from Poughkeepsie? Oh! I know! If you make the lion a hippo, it would be *way* scarier! The way to handle notes like this is exactly the same. Nod and write them down…

Because what you are going to do later (and it’s not only permissible it’s wise not to have answers right there in the moment) is look at your notes and separate them by element. This note is a character issue. This note is a tone issue. This note is a premise or logic issue. This note is structural in nature. Take an inventory – do your notes all have something in common? Maybe your structure is not working. Maybe your characters need a lot more development. Some of the notes will feel vague and you won’t be sure how to interpret them. But here’s how you can try. If the note is something like – it would be really cool if the killer attacked the police woman in this scene! This note probably translates to there’s not enough exciting action in this segment of the script. If the note is – I didn’t buy that the character really *had* to find the treasure. This note is about character motivation and set up.

Make sure you do some quality control when seeking notes. Get notes from experienced writers and get notes from some regular folks – who are smart and like movies. Don’t get notes from your cousin Jimmy or your mom. They won’t be helpful. Absolutely, no matter what, you will get some notes that are ridiculous. That’s okay. Write them down, categorize and evaluate them – and toss them out. This is your story after all. If you use a consultant, you shouldn’t really get any completely ridiculous notes. If the consultant is any good, the notes will be fairly organized and generally spot-on. Yes, personality comes into it. Some people just won’t like your script. Full stop. They don’t like the genre, the type of humor or a particular character. A professional won’t have those personal issues; they will remain objective and judge the script in a mechanical way.

An interesting litmus test is this: if the note really upsets you? Take a hard look at that note. Sleep on it. What is pinging for you? Why are you feeling defensive? Nine times out of ten it’s because the note is spot on but the issue at hand is a darling and you’ll be damned if you’ll kill it. These are the most valuable notes of all. The ones that really get to you.

So here’s the primer on receiving notes:

• Breathe it out – don’t take it personally. That’s rule one.
• Nod and scribble. Write it all down.
• Sort out the notes, look for a pattern.
• Interpret notes that weren’t clear to you. Look for the underlying note.
• Thank the note giver and buy them a drink. They deserve it. If you react with graciousness and sincerity – they might just read for you again.

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Monday, December 4, 2006

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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