V.O. versus O.S.

Most of us know what (V.O.) means when it appears after your character's name on your script pages: voiceover. And then there's (O.S.) or (O.C.). Both mean the same thing: offscreen or off-camera. The upshot is that (O.S.) is used when we hear your character's voice but don't see them because they are in another room, behind a plant or other large object or just - and here's the fun part - out of our view for whatever reason. You'll see why that can be fun in a minute.

Voiceover means your character is NOT in the scene whatsoever but they are narrating something - potentially even something from the next scene. Yep - I know that sounds weird but let me give you some examples.

EXT. CORNFIELD - DAY

Rows of corn undulate under a blue sky.

DORIS (V.O.)
I grew up on a farm. And it was on this farm that I learned to be a man. Yes. A man.

A windmill picks up the wind and turns - crick crick crick.

DORIS (V.O.)
That's right. I was the first gender-awkward man in Tuolumne County.

- So our character is narrating this story over a view of her lovely corn farm in Tuolumne County. And that's a real county and it's pronounced "Twah-luh-me." Just FYI.

But then we might have:

EXT. CORNFIELD - DAY

The wind picks up. A storm is approaching. The hat FLIES off the scarecrow.

DORIS (V.O.)
And the biggest test I had as a man was the day the big storm came.

INT. EDITOR'S OFFICE - DAY

A fancy high rise in Manhattan. DORIS (32), slender, pre-op, a thin five o'clock shadow, in jeans and a flannel shirt, sits across from a literary editor.

DORIS
It was an F5 tornado. The only ones who were safe were the ones down in the coal mine.

EDITOR
Doris - I mean, Don - I have to stop you right there. Coal mine?
This is -

He looks down at his paperwork.

EDITOR
...California, right?

So we used V.O. with the images of the cornfield and then as we roll into the next scene, we see that Doris is sitting right there and that's where the V.O. came from. We didn't have to do that; we could have then jumped into the tornado scene and picked up the dialogue as the tornado is actually happening.

Another fun way to use V.O. is to use it for comedic or ironic effect - you can juxtapose the image with the content of the V.O. Right? Does that make sense?

INT. COAL MINE - DAY

MINERS sweat and toil in the inky darkness.

DORIS (V.O.)
Daddy worked hard for his money.

INT. CORPORATE OFFICE - DAY

An older man with a mane of silver hair winds up a phone call.

MAN
I don't care how many particulates they inhale! I need more coal!

He slams down the phone. Presses the button for his secretary.

MAN
Get my daughter on the phone, STAT!

So as long as you don't abuse it, there are a lot of fun ways to use V.O. for entertaining and informative purposes.

O.C. or O.S. means, once more, that the person is THERE somewhere, just not visible to us.

So you might have:

INT. CORPORATE OFFICE - DAY

MAN
I don't care how many particulates they inhale! I need more coal!

He slams down the phone. Presses the button for his secretary.

MAN
Get my daughter on the phone, STAT!

DORIS (O.S.)
You mean your son.

Doris hands her father piping hot coffee. His eyes widen.

MAN
Doris?

DORIS
It's Don now, Dad. It's Don.

So we used the O.S. just to make that little exchange more fun. It takes a sec to see Doris. It's like he/she is the sidler from Seinfeld.

So (V.O.) and (O.S.) are differentiated because one is literally a voice over a scene with the person being totally absent because this is perhaps a memory, or perhaps the origin of the voice is revealed in the following scene.

(O.S.) means the person is in the scene but they aren't visible for whatever reason - because they are in the bathroom and we hear them but can't see them. Because they are in another room. Because we just aren't showing them for a sec because it's funnier or scarier that way. For example:

EXT. FARMHOUSE - NIGHT

A man looks at a creaky, fall-down barn. Bats SWARM out of the rafters.

EDWARD
Let's start the tear-down tomorrow, Shirl!

MAN (O.S.)
I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Ed whirls around. He's face to face with his DEAD FATHER!

So V.O. and O.S. - know the difference and use them well. And before you ask, yes it's okay to use V.O. as long as you don't abuse it by being too expositional or heavy-handed. Use it for good, not evil. Don't be lazy.

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Action Lines: Opportunities Waiting to Happen

One of the weird things about table reads is that the action lines are read aloud along with the dialogue. It's slightly counter-intuitive because in the movie version of your script the action lines are, well, actions that are happening, not words someone is reading aloud. But when your script is read, there's that translation that happens in the mind of the reader - I'm reading your action lines and visualizing the actions you are describing. Right? I mean, we know that.

This is one of the things that makes screenwriting SO unique - action lines are meant to be READ at first, but read in such a way that they paint a picture. Then later, they will be read and interpreted into images and actions. So that, for example:

EXT. LAKE MICHIGAN - DAWN

The icy lake is steel grey, tinged with pale blue. A flock of GEESE flies overhead, HONKING. The sun begins to rise, bathing the lake with a honeyed glow.

....becomes a shot, right? And if this shot makes it into the final draft of your script and everyone loves it, a camera crew will shoot on location - might not be THAT great lake, might be some lake that looks really big and cold and steely. Might not be at dawn, might be at dusk. Might have to CG the geese or might get lucky. "Honeyed glow" might be a real sunrise or it might be done in post production. But you see, this very short, quick description of mine will now require a whole set of filmic actions to bring to life. But in that initial read, the reader is absorbing a mood , and the lake is setting that mood. Does it matter, then, if you wrote the same action line like this:

EXT. LAKE MICHIGAN - DAWN

The sun comes up over the large, cold lake. Geese fly overhead.

Well, no - look, it's the same shot, right? And the second example used way fewer words. But which description was more cinematic, sensory and memorable to you? It's all about finding YOUR voice and YOUR way of describing things, but I promise you that the more cinematic your writing, the more absorbed your reader will be in your script. And the better writer you are (better defined here as: both cinematic AND pithy) the better people will react to your script. Not to mention that an agent or manager will definitely not be impressed by or drawn to utilitarian writing that is there to just get the job done and move on.

Some screenwriters complain - hey, my action lines are just that - they are actions that are happening; camera movements and descriptions of visuals. So why do they have to be written WELL and held up to the same standards as prose? Because they will be READ, that's why. Read and seen and felt by a reader - then later, read, seen, felt and translated into images by the actors and the director.

At table reads, most writers are eager to hear how the dialogue sounds. That is the primary focus, usually. And they get a little yeah yeah, get through the action lines, I want to hear the characters interacting. But. Hearing your action lines read gives you a chance, for one thing, to hear how those action lines are translated by a reader. In other words, if your trusty narrator is stumbling over some of the words in your action lines, or sounds like they are going on and on as they read - it's a reflection upon the action lines themselves.

You might have too much black; you might have chosen alliterative or unnecessarily complicated words. Or you might be over-directing the characters. Take one recent example - a character in the pages is a cigar smoker. And he's veritably always holding onto, sniffing, smoking or otherwise fondling his cigar. So the writer wrote that in the action lines. Throughout the script. So that this character's lines of dialogue were always preceded and peppered with the business with his cigar - which interrupted the flow of the read. Because every single time this character spoke, we first had to read an action line about something he was doing with his cigar. Frustrating for the actor trying to just do his dialogue with flow and emotion and frustrating for the audience having to hear repetitive lines about a cigar.

Now: There are people (and characters) who are always fiddling with something - their hair, cigar, gun, cigarettes - whatever. But in general, if it's just fiddling that we're talking about, set it up early in the script and then leave it out after that. Why? Because the actor gets it already: I'm a cigar-fiddler. Micro-directing how that character is repeating personal gestures takes up space on your script pages and unnecessarily interrupts the flow of the read.

INT. PARLOR - NIGHT

Emil sniffs his cigar appreciatively.

EMIL: Your move, my friend.

He snips the end of his cigar.

FRANK: Ah, so it is.

Emil searches his jacket pocket for a lighter.

FRANK: Check and mate, my friend.

Emil lights his cigar and inhales. The smoke swirls around his face.

EMIL: Fair enough. I suppose you'll want your payment at the usual time?

Emil ashes his cigar.

FRANK: At dawn. By the lake. And bring rope.

AARRHGHGH - we get it with the cigar already! Because something really interesting is happening here; these two men have made a bet and Frank won and holy shit, by the lake with a rope? But the lines about the stupid cigar interrupt the flow of that. And Wavers, I know you think I make up examples to make my point in the most heavy-handed way possible and yet I swear upon my mother's blue eyes that this is the kind of action line writing I have seen many times over.

Remember, when someone is reading your script, they are primarily drawn to the lines of dialogue. Firstly, this is a visual thing - the dialogue is centered on the page. Secondly, the dialogue is where the story moves forward. Right? It is true that readers sometimes skim action lines, particularly if they are a bit dense. I don't mean SKIP - I mean SKIM. Because remember, readers have to time their reads - they have several more scripts to go this week and they just need the UPSHOT of your script. So if your action lines are dense and not particularly entertaining, they start skimming in order to facilitate just getting through the read.

Now - seriously - you don't want your action lines skimmed. So you have to make them melodious and interesting. You have to make them a value-added part of the experience of reading your script - a delightful, cinematic bonus. Just be careful not to overwrite your action lines; your character smokes cigars - we get it. And perhaps more importantly, the actor gets it. Set it up early and leave it alone. Or find another, more clever way of indicating the relationship between this character and his or her cigar, hair, gum, fingernails or zipper.

Try having your own table read. Have a friend or loved one play the narrator and the characters - have them read just a few pages. And listen to the way the action lines sound read aloud. Are they lengthy? Is your friend stumbling through them? Are certain gestures of a character crowding the pages or interrupting dialogue?

Action lines that are o-k-a-y get the job done. Action lines that are exceptional get writers repped and sold. It's pretty simple, Wavers. Interrupting your dialogue with action lines that micro-direct a character and his cigar is unclever-scriptus-interruptus-gimme-a-breakus.

Which is better writing - to show us repetitive details of fidgeting with a cigar or to write a character who is the essence of one who smokes cigars - whether that's expensive cubans or cheap cigarellos? What is the cigar really about, in other words? It's not just a prop; it's a way of being and thinking. So capture THAT rather than leaning on the prop itself.

Yes, action lines are, in part, utilitarian; but a good writer never leaves it at that. Why just state what's going on when you can show the reader your beautiful command of the language and your ability to direct the eye cinematically? Why have a cold lake when you can have a steel grey one with the honking of migrating geese echoing across it as the sun rises? Why do something just all right when you can do it exceptionally?

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Dense Action Lines = Kiss of Death

For many new screenwriters, action lines seem like the least of their concerns. That's just the part where you download what's happening, describe characters, etc., big deal, how hard can it be? I have seen many an aspiring screenwriter who writes in some other context, sometimes even on a high level of achievement (having been published or otherwise lauded), really take action lines for granted - which honestly, as a person who has written published essays and short fiction as well as scripts, irks me. Don't take action line writing so lightly - give it some respect.

Action lines are in some ways Screenwriting 101: Don't just tell me what's going on, lay it out as if I am watching what's going on. Huge difference. Yes, yes, one can adhere to "rules" like keep action lines to less than four lines in one paragraph but really, what sets action lines in a script apart from any other type of writing is that they are cinematic in nature. They have movement, they guide the eye, they set the tone. They don't just plunk us into the middle of a tableau and describe it to death: They are kinetic and elegant.

Don't ever just toss out action lines to simply describe something. Always take advantage and make them pull two and three times their weight. Don't describe a scene as if it is a static diorama. Remember that action lines are NOT subtitled; don't tell me that this dude is the CEO of Evil Corp. and that he's having an agitated conversation with someone. SHOW me what that looks like. Sorry I'm ranting a little; I read a script yesterday that had a great premise but that was absolutely sunk by action lines that did nothing to service the story and everything to take what should have been exciting and make it a describe-o-rama snorefest.

Let me give you an example that is scrambled for confidentiality's sake. This is an amalgam of every bad action line mistake you could make...but let me also say this is NOT an exaggeration. I repeat - NOT an exaggeration. This is sadly common:

LOUISE GINT is blonde, in her 50s but still looking good. She wears expensive clothing but she is annoyed. She is the president of the Junior Soccer League. She is in a high school gymnasium and stands at a podium set up on a stage and tries to get the crowd to quiet down to listen to her. Her vice president, LOU HALL is in his 30s and is a grumpy type who rarely smiles. All around them a crowd waits to hear the speech. A PHOTOGRAPHER with a beard stands toward the back and begins to snap pictures of the event. He is Louise's ex-husband and there is no love lost between them. Screens are on either side of the podium and the screens play footage of a soccer team in Ireland winning a game. Louise starts her speech.

Do you see how annoying this is? And this example is probably eight lines shorter than I commonly see. It is expository, it is boring, it is overwritten and it just sits there like a lump. It doesn't MOVE.

Now let's try it again:

A high school gym is crowded with SOCCER FANS. Parents, die-hards, teenagers. A bearded PHOTOGRAPHER jostles for position at the back. Suddenly, microphone feedback echoes throughout the gym -

LOUISE (O.S.): Ladies and gentleman! Quiet down please!

The crowd turns its attention to the commanding woman at the podium. LOUISE GINT (50s), blonde and confident in her Donna Karan, looks over the crowd.

LOUISE: Quiet please!

LOU HALL (30s), grim and unsmiling, leans in to Louise.

LOU (under his breath): This isn't going to be easy.

Louise covers the microphone with her hand.

LOUISE: Shut up and roll the footage, dammit!

Two large screens on either side of the podium flicker and come to life. Team Ireland plays a rousing, mud-spattered game.

LOUISE: It is my duty as Junior Soccer League President to present to you the incriminating footage of the game played last year in Dublin Heights.

MAN (O.S.): Miss Gint?! Miss Gint!

Louise swivels her head to someone in the back of the crowd. It's the photographer.

PHOTGRAPHER: Wasn't this footage obtained through illegal means?

The crowd grows silent. Lou leans closer to Louise and whispers.

LOU: Isn't that -

LOUISE: My ex husband. Bastard.

Etc.

So - you know - this is an example and it really goes nowhere but do Wavers see how both examples basically give out the same information but one does it in a way that is moving along and the other is just an action line DUMP?

Look, writing action lines vis a vis the first example is a natural way for new writers to do it. It's what you are used to; it uses a weird combination of pointillism and paint roller to set up what's going on. But the second example is how scripts (good ones) are actually written - information is doled out on an as-needed basis. As one example, in the first iteration, the writer just informs us that Louise is the president of the junior soccer league and that further, she is annoyed. But in the second example, we just let her BE the junior soccer league president - she tells us that as part of what she's doing. And she SOUNDS annoyed. We don't inform you the photographer is her ex, we discover that in a kinetic way. Louise sees him only after he asks a question. And we find out just who he is in a much more fun way.

It's like the difference between trotting out beauty contest girls and saying: Miss Corona Hills is 27, likes long walks on the beach and really loves puppies! Rather than introducing information as if she walks out onto the stage as an actor in a play - we gather information about her through the way she talks and acts - we gather the information, we look for it, we experience it.

And that sums up the vibe of good action lines, people. Don't information dump but rather, let the information wash over us incrementally. Because when you write that way, you have engaged me, the reader. I am experiencing what I am reading, not being hit over the head with it. This not a manual for a garbage disposal. This is like being led on a garden tour.

And that. Is my rant for the day. Thank you and get back to work.

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The Opening Image

We all know by now that screenwriters have very little time to grab the attention of a reader. Some say 10 pages, some say five - I'm going to blow your mind and say one page. Most experienced readers and consultants will often say privately to one another that they can tell if your script is good somewhere on the first page. Sometimes we sort of joke around with each other after a couple of cocktails - I can tell within two sentences. I can tell by halfway down the first page. I can tell by the first line of dialogue. I personally can tell by the first page. Can tell what? Whether you're a good writer and whether this script is going anywhere.

And how can I (we) tell? Your use of language, the pacing on that first page, succinct but compelling action lines, and a great opening image.

Now, the screenwriting world is divided into roughly two camps: The Film School Academics, who spout Eisenstein, and the Populists who spout just-effing-entertain-me. Then you have your subgroups: The Hero's Journey-ers, the Save-the-Cat-ers, the McKee-ers, the Syd Field-ers, the UCLA-ers, the USC-ers, the NYU-ers and the I-Never-Took-One-Class-ers.

What I try to do on the Rouge Wave is to synthesize those various points of view into actionable simplicity. Stuff that's easy to understand and to do. It doesn't have to be rocket science, in other words. Because if you want to talk Eisenstein, I can go there too but honestly, you don't have to go to film school to grok this stuff.

The opening image - it's right in the name - is literally the first thing we "see" when we read your script (or watch the movie, should you be so lucky). So, given that we all understand that your very first page better be provocative, compelling and totally engaging - what should you choose as your opening image?

The opening image could be a landscape, a home, a person, an event - but whatever it is, it should set the tone, genre and theme of your script up immediately, pleasingly and artfully.

This is the opening image from BLADE RUNNER:

EXT. HADES - DUSK
We are MOVING TOWARD the Tyrell Corporation across a vast
plain of industrialization, menacing shapes on the horizon,
stacks belching flames five hundred feet into the sky the
color of cigar ash.

This is the opening image from LA CONFIDENTIAL:

Over the opening strains of "I love you, California," a MONTAGE: a mixture of headlines, newsreel footage and live action. Economy Booming! Postwar Optimism! L.A.: City of the Future! But most prominent among them: GANGLAND! Police photographers document crime scenes. The meat wagon hauls ex-button men to the morgue. Where will it end?

This is the opening image from LOST IN TRANSLATION:

EXT. NARITA AIRPORT - NIGHT

We hear the sound of a plane landing over black.

INT. CHARLOTTE'S ROOM - NIGHT

The back of a GIRL in pink underwear, she leans at a big window, looking out over Tokyo.

You see how each example is setting up the story to come with tone, visual theme and a compelling, interesting opening that describes, on a micro level, the story to come? So when it comes to your script - do that. Go to your page one right now - seriously, minimize The Rouge Wave and go to page one. I'll wait right here.

[muzak version of: You Light Up My Life]

Okay. What was your opening image? How does it speak to the story to come in a cinematic, thematic, tone-establishing way? Or does it do that at all? The opening image is fun. It is a creative opportunity to set the tone and to grab your reader. The opening image should grab YOU.

You know how you flip the channels on the TV and you take about 3 seconds (and guys, for you, that's 1 second for some weird reason) to decide whether to stay or keep flipping? That's how your script is read. You have one page, guys, to make me believe that you are a good writer and that I should turn the page and keep reading. Not for readers - you have one page to get them liking you enough to not be jaded and cranky as hell, since they HAVE to read the whole thing. But execs, agents and managers? One page. Maybe less. They have the luxury of the circular file. Don't tempt them into playing yet one more game of Script-In-The-Can.

Now get back to work.

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Decor - Does it Matter?

You can tell TONS about a person by what's in their home, right? Just tons. Next time you go over to someone's house, use your writer's eye and sweep the room. A lot of books? Is it super dusty and messy? Or clean as a whistle? Is there a prominent flat-screen TV and lots of movies lying around? How about the color scheme? Bright? Neutral? How about tchochkes? (Knick-knacks for you non-Yiddish speakers.) How about awards or artwork? Anything embroidered? Anything at all?

In my neighborhood, many people have their windows flung wide open at night, owing to the heat. And a stroll up and down the block will reveal an apartment with a huge, wide-screen tv with a lawn chair pulled up in front of it. And a living room painted bright red, strung with tiny Christmas lights. And a living room window peppered with children's drawings. Messy apartments, with stereo systems up on cinder blocks. Apartments with a lot of Hollywood posters of yesteryear. There are apartments that look very lived in. And apartments that look just moved in to.

What is important to us is revealed in our homes. This is our womb-like lair. Where we go home, after a long day, to relax and find safety and peace. It's where we can walk around in boxer shorts and ripped up tee shirts. It is our private space.

So I was reading a script recently which indicated that the main character's apartment was nice. That's all. No other details. Just"nice". While you don't want to take up an inordinate amount of space on your pages with design details, taking a second to describe your main character's domicile is a very good idea. Or, to state it in the reverse, not doing it is a missed opportunity. A big missed opportunity.

Sometimes writers will say that the place is "bare bones" or indicate that the main character is rich or has "good taste". But - neither one of those things really gives me a visual.

Take "bare bones" as an example. Okay, all right - but are the dishes stacked neatly near the sink or is the sink overflowing with dishes? Is the character a slob or a neatnik? Is this place bare bones because the character is broke or because they have no life? In other words, what does bare bones say about the psyche of the character?

You don't have to go into a lot of detail (which is another, very common mistake I see) but just sketch it out some. When you say they are rich and the apartment is nice, do you mean they have expensive antiques? Or so you mean they catalogue shop at Pottery Barn? Is the apartment or house stuffed with things or pretty minimalistic? Is it an overstuffed couch or leather? Is the decor feminine in nature or very masculine? Gloomy or bright?

Does your character care for plants? Or not even? How about pets? Anything slithering around or rubbing up against your leg? Could the place use a good cleaning or health inspector? Or does your character use a maid? Is your character's home a welcoming space or a cold, unwelcoming one?

Again, I cannot stress enough that in the big sweepstakes of significantly important qualities in your script: original premise, character arc, theme - decor is a detail that is not up there as one of the most important details. But not taking a few words to set the scene is a missed opportunity to tell us more about your character. Saying "nice" or "expensive" or "bare bones" is a cop out.

But nor should you catalogue everything in the room. No - broad strokes - but when you say the character is "rich, with expensive tastes" what does that mean, exactly? That tells me absolutely nothing. Is it gilded, Colombian drug lord "good taste" or is it eclectic, upscale-flea-market-collectors-finds "good taste"?

Do some research this week and look around at the home decor of your friends and neighbors. What stands out? How does this define your friend or neighbor? Our chosen decor does offer a glimpse into us, no doubt about that. Whether that decor is cardboard boxes and lawn chairs or priceless art and antiques.

Describing decor is ultimately a small detail of your script but don't miss an important opportunity to give is a glimpse into your character's soul.

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PACHEW! Sounds in Your Script

Is it okay to write sounds into your script? You know - stuff like BANG! RRRIPP! POW!

Yes, please. It makes the read a lot more fun. And it's fun to do. Your character might throw a rock into a lake with SPLASH or a soft plunk. The faucet might drrrip. DRIP DRIP DRIP. The door can open with a creak. And yeah, italics are okay once in awhile.

I have a client right now who is just the king of great sound effects. The genre of his script is such that sound effects are an important part of this story and man, does he do it well. On page one, our hero arrives in a cloud of dust in the middle ofa crowd with a BAWOOMPH! Later, bullets fly by with a SCHWIZZ! Laser guns fire PACHEW PACHEW! The ring of a phone breaks the silence with a BAAAA RING! This is not all on page or even on every page. Just here and there when the moment calls for it.

Recently, I read a script in which a rock flies through a glass window with a SPLAT! And I thought - splat? Wouldn't that go CRASH! or SHATTER! or CRACK ? And it really bothered me because I had to backtrack to see if I had read the action line wrong, if perhaps an egg had hit the window, or spit or bird poop. No - it was a rock. Rocks don't make glass go SPLAT, they just don't.

So be careful that indicating the sound gets you the cinematic effect you want, not confusion.

Experienced screenwriters know that a successful read of your script should immerse the reader in the simulated experience of seeing the movie. Choosing to write a sound effect here and there adds to the effing entertainingness of your pages.

Like anything, don't overdo sounds to the point that it's annoying. Don't use it as a crutch, use it for effect. Judiciously used, it's actually very fun and adds a lot of ZIP! to your script.

Remember, your script is essentially a seduction. You want the reader to become totally immersed in your story. Use absolutely everything at your disposal - use every one of your wiles. And if a well-placed FWAP! or BOOOOSH! adds to the experience of the moment in a scene, by all means go for it.

There are a lot of qualities that equal a PASS writer, but being boring is probably number one. Don't tempt the reader to hurl your script across the room with a THUD.

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Bad Action Line, Bad!

In response to a comment sent in from my dear friend Luzid about what I mean by bad action lines, I have for your viewing hilarity, created an amalgam of every bad, dense action line that I have read just today. On the couch. Wishing I was doing something else but for that one super cool horror script.

***

The heaving SEE tosses the boat closer to the glacer while the crab pots slide toward TONY, ruddy, a drinker (mid-30s but looks like he's 50) who glares at TRACEE (17, wishes she was 21) and RAIN pounds the deck while in the background, TOWERING OIL RIGS mone and sway in the wind. On the HORIZON a fleet of ships head toward a danger cliff and obscured by the storm, nobody can see the danger they will soon be in. Tony gropes for a rope, winds it around his left wrist, trying to help get the last crab pot in but a WAVE crashes over him and Tracee gets hit by the jib, which throws her overboard in an explosion of fome. She struggles but nobody sees her and the storm gets worse and the person reading the script starts having some kind of seizure and the WAVES of pain crash over there brain and they get a papercut and a migraine and close the script with SMASH CUT.

Too many lines, everything is run together, typos and misspells, saying not showing, bad character descriptions - a virtual bounty, an overflowing net of writhing, sardine-like action lines. Even if a person had no typos and wasn't a totally horrible writer, remember that feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when you first scrolled down and saw my example? How you kind of went oh GOD - not now. I like short, pithy Rouge Wave paragraphs - yeah. That feeling. Don't give a reader that feeling.

A too short action line might look like:

The boat rocks. Thunder overhead. Bad storm. Cliff approaches. Lightning.

It's like if Joe Friday and The Hulk had a baby. Hulk, smash!

I'm not going to be one of those people who says you have to use 3 or 4 action lines, no more. I don't think one can really pronounce that there's some limit, over or under which you will suddenly turn the reader off. Really, just make your action lines easy on the eye, make them evocative and colorful and fun. And if you find that you have blocks with more than say 5 lines of action - just ask yourself - what words can I lose or substitute to shorten this? Or is it fine the way it is? Just keep your eye on that.

There is a lot more information on the Rouge Wave if you click on "action lines" under Browse Topics.

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The Rouge Wave Mailbag

Dear Rougewave,

I keep running into the advice to never use "we see". People say that a lot of readers will throw my script into the "round filing cabinet" if I use it because in general they hate to see "we" in a script. They say I shouldn't take the chance. Is this true?! Do you guys really hate it that much? So much so that if I've written a killer script you'll toss it out just because I used "we" a couple of times? The thing is, I've seen it in all kinds of scripts, but the same people tell me those scripts are later drafts and that I'll rarely if ever see it in early drafts of spec scripts. But I thought spec drafts WERE what I was reading! Gah! I'm confused! Am I taking a chance by using it?

Sincerely,

Ed F.

Ed,

First off, close your eyes and take a deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep breath. A nice, relaxing, cleansing breath. Innnnnnnnn... ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut. Good. (Open your eyes.) Okay, here *we* go...

This is by far the most frequently asked screenwriting-related question (at least on the internet). And I have to be honest -- when Julie told me someone had asked it, I begged her to let me weigh in. Man, for ages, I've been waiting for someone to give a definitive answer. *The* answer. The one that would end all speculation. Well, I'm going to attempt to do that now. Yeah, yeah, I know the debate will rage on long after this blog entry has passed away and gone to cyber-heaven, but, what the heck, lemme tell you what *I* think...

"We xxx (see, hear, fly over, tumble through, etc.)" is part of the screenwriting lexicon. It's not quite a formatting tool, like INT. or EXT., but it's close. I have seen it used so often, I practically *expect* it now whenever I crack open a script (or scroll down in a pdf or FD document). And, yeah, early drafts of spec scripts that sold (and are in development or have been produced) are sometimes riddled with it. And since I know the *real* question is about early drafts of specs that broke their writers into the business, rest assured, you'll see it in those, too. (Check out Brad Inglesby's THE LOW DWELLER, James Simpson's ARMORED and Jon Spaihts' PASSENGERS, for starters.)

So put your mind at ease -- you can use it. Just use it wisely. And creatively. But that applies to everything, right? Instead of writing a bunch of random "We see Gary walking into the bar. We see Todd stumbling out of the bathroom. We see Veronica caving Fred's skull in with a hammer" sentences, think about exactly why you might want to use it on a given occasion. Perhaps it's to create a POV shot in your reader's mind: "We inch our way down the corridor... toward the blood spattered door." Or maybe it's to draw attention to something we see, but a character in the scene doesn't: "Right as Paul turns away from the closet, its door quietly swings open, and we see two glowing RED EYES peering out of it. Paul is oblivious, though, and we want to warn him, we want to scream "Watch out!" at the top of our lungs, as the dark, hulking SHAPE glides out of the closet..."

Crude examples, but you get the idea.

And, yeah, people will say, "Well, in both of those passages, you could omit 'we' and still have the same visual." And then they'll offer their rewrite and it *won't* be the same thing -- it *won't* imply the same visual. It won't have the same *feeling*. It won't have the same, dare I write it, Voice. I've seen that a million times.

Because here's the thing... the real issue: When you write a screenplay, your job is to give a reader (be it a reader-reader, an agent, a producer, a studio exec, an actor, a director, etc.) the experience of watching a movie. You want to immerse them in the film you've played over and over in your mind. Basically, you want them to feel as if they're watching *your* movie when they read your script.

I say use whatever tools you have to use to accomplish that. Use them creatively, use them wisely, and use them confidently.

"We back away, slowly, as the hordes of mutant anti-we-seers crawl out of the woodworks."

Tony Robenalt

****

Yeah. Tony's pretty cool. That's why he reads at The Script Department. If you want Tony's notes on your script you can request him personally. If you dare.

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Top Ten Things Readers HATE

Good morning, Wavers. I trust many of you, as usual, are busily thinking of a clever one page scene for the latest competition. There's nothing to lose and a $25 gift certificate to gain. Plus we like to have fun at the Rouge Wave, so, you know, you really gotta give it a whirl. Click HERE for the guidelines and click HERE to submit.

Also: just FYI, I have recently had requests from two production companies and a lit manager for some GREAT scripts. I have already submitted a few this week, from my client base but am definitely looking for great material to get out there. Obviously, I have to read the script first and yeah, that obviously means do some notes on the material, but the reputation of the Script Department has grown to the point where I am getting hit up for good scripts. So. Just put that in your pipe and smoke it. I am looking for anything well written, but also family, tentpole, action, horror and thriller.

So the happy, happy class who took Ten Things Readers HATE over the weekend requested that I repost that list here on the Rouge Wave. Now - you really had to to be there and I can't reprint everything that we discussed in a 90 minute class. But I will reprint the list itself just for fun. This list could have been much longer but this is what we discussed at the Great American Pitch Fest. And remember - because it's the Wave-inatrix - my list actually goes to 11.

Bear in mind that readers are often overworked and underpaid and your script may be the third script they read that day. So they're a little cranky, a little jaded and they really want to go to bed. But no. Your script is staring at them and they gotta get through it quickly so they can turn in the coverage that night so tomorrow they can go pick up six more scripts from another production company a long, smoggy drive away. So I've set the scene, right?

Top Ten Things Readers HATE:

#11 A script over 120 pages.

Reader thinks: Please kill me now. The writer doesn't have a good grasp of structure and tight story telling. Great. Just great.

#10 The writer sent weird shit in the mail with the script.

Reader thinks: Oh god. A rank amateur. Some kind of nut. What is this map/sketch/doll/polaroid/music and how fast can I toss it to the floor so I can just read the script already?

#9 Boring, derivative scripts in which nothing happens.

Reader thinks: Wtf? Where's the conflict? What is the bloody point here? I hate this writer! Why can't he or she just tell me a story already! I'm hungry. Maybe there's something in the fridge. Maybe I should throw some laundry in. But I have to get this script done and - I hate this writer!

#8 Wonky Tone or Genre

Reader thinks: Wait - I cannot draw a bead on this. It's funny, it's graphic, it's scary, it's got characters with more personalities than Sybil. I can't sum this up, I can't follow where it's going. There's no cohesion. I'm gonna PASS this writer so fast his head's gonna spin. Gd it.

#7 Bad, Confusing Sluglines

Reader thinks: My eyes! The humanity! These pages are cluttered and overslugged. Too many details in the slugs! Or - completely generic slugs - ext. house - day - oh come ON!

#6 Gratuitous, Shocking Sex or Violence

Reader thinks: Really? Am I supposed to be impressed or shaken by this? You're dealing with the wrong reader, pal. If it's not in keeping with the tone and narrative, if it's just there to pop wheelies and tell me way more than I ever wanted to know about your sexual fantasies or urge to scoop out eyeballs with a melon baller, then color me NOT impressed.

#5 On the Nose Dialogue

Reader thinks: Talk about an urge for violence - what do you think I am, stupid? This dialogue is patronizing, dull and amateur. But hey - this is going to be a fast read and an easy PASS. Bring it.

#4 Dense Action Lines

Reader thinks: Like I'm going to wade through this crap. I'm just trying to synopsize this quickly and efficiently. And this is killing my eyes, slowing down the read and adding exponentially to my already cranky mood.

#3 No Structure: the BOSH script

Reader thinks: Nothing is moving this story forward, it just goes and goes and goes. It's a BOSH script! (bunch of shit happens).

#2 Lame Characters

Reader thinks: These characters sound, act and look like robots. If there was one thing that might have gotten me into this story, it would have been characters I give a damn about. But no. Is this writer serious? Does he or she read this dialogue outloud? People don't act this way. These are types! Oh! I'm so cranky!!

#1 Typos and malaprops

Reader thinks: Oh come ON. Seriously? One or three is one thing but now I'm beginning to feel personally insulted. Proofread! Is it that hard? Do you want to be taken seriously??

Now, Wavers know that there is a remedy to every single one of these items. And if you are new to the Rouge Wave, look at the Browse by Topic and click on corresponding subject labels to read up on how to do a better job and improve your craft. Mostly, just do the opposite of each point made here. But of course, there's a lot more to it than that.

The larger point of the class is that you have to imagine yourself in the reader's shoes. And during the class, cruelly, that's just what I did, by passing out the first ten pages of a script that somehow managed to accomplish everything on this list save number 10 and that's just because I didn't bother to bring the map of the castle to the class. I gave everyone four minutes to read the pages (about how long a reader would spend, give or take) and asked that they circle those things that are slowing down the read for them. It was painful to watch, and I'm sorry, but it was effective, no?

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The Talking Head Tangapoo

By PJ McIlvaine

Writing scenes isn’t really all that difficult. Put one foot in front of the other and you’ll get from Point A to Point B…eventually. Creating a memorable scene is a whole other exotic animal. For your perusal and edification, let’s take a closer look at the Talking Head Tangapoo. Once almost considered extinct, the Talking Head Tangapoo has resurfaced in recent times thanks to the overwhelming proliferation of personal computers, screenwriting software, and well intentioned but misguided owners. These lost souls insist on feeding their Tangapoos a rich and flabby diet of lengthy, tedious back story which must be explained repeatedly, dull and dry exposition, flaccid action, on the nose dialogue, and just generally all around boring crapola with a capital BC.

When bred in this manner, the Talking Head Tangapoo, usually lean and mean, becomes a bloated beast prone to gout, ulcers, a slew of nasty digestive disorders, dandruff, cellulite, premature aging, psoriasis, migraines, bad breath and saggy breasts. It gets real ugly, real fast. Believe me, the last thing you want is a sick Tangapoo on your watch.

In the interest of the Endangered Species Act, let us study an example of a mistreated Talking Head Tangapoo.

INT. CONOVER HOUSE/DINING ROOM-DAY
Rebecca, dressed in a flowing gown size 14 which she got on sale at Marshalls, puts the finishing touches on her table to die for: china, silverware, candles, fresh flowers, chilled wine (1965 Moet & Chandon, a very good year). Rebecca is going all out, you see, because once she tells Warren her great news, it’s going to be the happiest night of her and Warren’s life, the man she married seven years ago a year after his first wife died of breast cancer and left him with an infant to raise. Everything has to be perfect like a Gordon Ramsay dinner service. Not like when her first husband died and she never got the chance to tell him goodbye. See, Dennis, her first husband, was an undercover cop who died in an undercover bust gone badly and they had to keep his casket close because the undertaker couldn’t do a thing with him. Warren’s a cop too, but he’s being groomed to be Commissioner one day, and he hates being stuck behind a desk like mayo on scrambled eggs, but we’ll go into that later. Cue original “Born to Be Wild” song.

Warren, a balding kind of guy, maybe David Morse or David Straithairn could play him, sits down and takes a load off his tired dogs. Warren hasn’t played basketball in years, and he’s got a Coors pot belly.

Rebecca (or Laura Linney, yeah, she’d be good too, or maybe Sharon Stone, nah, she’s washed up, let’s stay with Laura) sashays in with a plate of meat loaf and a bowl of mashed potatoes, which she sets pompously before Warren. The meat loaf is in the shape of a stork and she’s stuck pink and blue toothpicks like flags in the potatoes. Yum yum!

WARREN
Gee, honey, you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble, I would’ve been happy with burgers. Remember the time we were at that greasy Mexican restaurant and we came down with food poisoning? I can never look at a taco again, much less eat one of them babies.

Rebecca sits down and begins eating like the prim and proper lady that she is.

REBECCA
I remember, dear, how could I forget? We were on our honeymoon and we ended up staying at that flea infested motel. It was the worst vacation of my life, bar none. Even beats the trip when I was six years old in the Poconos and the head gasket blew and we had to sleep in the bear infested forest.

Warren chomps on his meat and potatoes.

WARREN
Yeah, that does sound bad, but our honeymoon still takes the cake. Our honeymoon seven years was really, really bad. And I didn’t even get laid.

REBECCA
Speaking of getting laid, darling, I have some wonderful, exciting news for you, news we’ve been waiting to hear for years, oh I can’t wait to tell you, you’re going to be so excited, I’m ready to pee in my pants. After three miscarriages and countless attempts at fornication, some successful, some not, I can hardly believe it myself. Oh, the joy! I think I’m going to cry again, like I did when Dennis, my first husband died in that undercover bust gone badly and the undertaker couldn’t do a thing with him so we had to have a closed casket. I hope he didn’t suffer too much. We’ll never know, will we? I lay awake at night thinking about it. It’s all so very sad.

Warren opens his mouth, pulls a toothpick out.

WARREN
You know you can tell me anything, sweetie-poo, light of my life, the woman who took my poor motherless infant under her wing. Did you make your monthly sales goal? Hey, can I buy that fishing pole I saw on TV? Man, if I wasn’t a cop, I’d like to be a bass fisherman. Speaking of fish, I still haven’t figured out why your father blew his brains out. But you know, that’s how life goes. When Olivia, my first wife, kicked the bucket I thought my life would never the same. And now, look at me, we’re married and so happy together that I want to break out in song. Isn’t life funny? You never know when you’re going to bite into a cherry and choke on a pit.

Rebecca flashes her gown open and reveals the bump of all baby bumps.

WARREN
That’s all? You got fat? Hell, I knew that. That’s why I haven’t touched you in months.

Rebecca dumps the bowl of mashed potatoes on Warren’s head, the first wise thing she’s done since her father blew his brains out.

Okay, I’m exaggerating…but not by much. Unfortunately, our poor little furry creature is ready to drop from sheer exhaustion, not to mention the reader of this turgid heap of freshly laid Tangapoo.
Now let’s see a tight and taut Talking Head Tangapoo.
INT. CONOVER HOUSE/KITCHEN-NIGHT
Rebecca, eyes swollen and bloodshot, sets out two plates of hot dogs and beans.

Warren walks in, sits down, eats with gusto.

Rebecca joins him, pecks forlornly.

REBECCA
Well? Did you talk to the Medical Examiner?

Warren sighs.

REBECCA
Is he going to change his report?

WARREN
Honey---

Rebecca angrily tosses her fork on her plate.

REBECCA
I don’t care what he says. I know my father didn’t---

WARREN
Did you make an appointment with the doctor?

REBECCA
I don’t have to. I know what’s wrong with me. I’ve got a bun in the oven.
And it’s not yours.

Warren chokes on his hot dog.

Okay, after consultation with my Talking Head Tangapoo, she says that’s a little too lean and mean and she’s in mortal danger of dropping from anorexia, so let’s give it another try.

INT. CONOVER HOUSE/KITCHEN-DAY

Rebecca, her eyes swollen and red, dressed in a ratty robe and slippers, carelessly slops macaroni and cheese on two plates.

Warren enters, neatly hangs his suit jacket over his chair, revealing his shoulder holster and the golden detective shield clipped on his belt. He warmly kisses Rebecca, but she barely acknowledges him.

Rebecca plops the plates on the table.

WARRREN
Where’s Lily?

REBECCA
She’s doing her homework. She was too hungry to wait.

Warren gives Rebecca a big smile as he takes his first bite.

WARREN
Honey, this is delicious.

Rebecca shrugs.

REBECCA
It’s just macaroni and cheese.

WARREN
I know, but it’s an art. Too much milk and it’s too soupy, not enough cheese---

Rebecca impatiently drums her fingers.

REBECCA
Did you talk to the Medical Examiner?

Warren clears his throat.

WARREN
We had a brief discussion, yes.

Rebecca’s eyes fill.

REBECCA
It’s not right! Dad didn’t, he couldn’t---

Warren kneels by her side and enfolds her in his embrace.

WARREN
Baby, you have to let this go. It’s tearing you apart. It’s tearing us all apart. You know what they say, when God closes one door, he opens another.

After a long moment, Rebecca reaches inside her sleeve, takes out a folded piece of paper, slips it to Warren.

WARREN
What is this?

REBECCA
Our open door.

Ahhh, those cute cooing sounds in the background is my little Tangapoo pleasantly satiated, her tummy full but not too full, and now she’s ready for beddy. On that note, and on behalf of all her brothers and sisters, I beg you, follow the Talking Head Tangapoo rules. Less is definitely more. That is, unless you want to buy stock in Pampers.

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Action Line Interruptus

This is an old Rouge Wave post, Wavers, but it's so relevant and at this point so buried in the archives that I thought it would be a good topic to revisit. Why? Because we have had a massive influx of new Wavers lately and, really, are they supposed to dig through the whole archive for gems like this? I think not. We have better things to do like visit Jesus Christ Superstar Dress Up.

So: here we go. Again. Action Line Interruptus and Why it Sucks:

Open up your script. Turn to a sample page. Stare at it and get a visual. Don't read the words, just observe its appearance. How are those action lines looking? Any dense blocks? That's something that most of us know we should avoid - "too much black". But did you ever think about the fact that you can actually have too many short action lines which interrupt the flow of dialogue? Prodco readers tend to focus on your dialogue. Because it is in dialogue that the story moves forward. And they have to synopsize your script later. Of course they read the action lines too but particularly if the actions within them are stock and descriptive, they read about half the sentence and move on - because they get it, they're not that interested - they want to know what happens next. When readers review your script they are reading it FAST. So action lines don't really "stick" unless they are tremendously entertaining.

Here is an example of the way in which too many short action lines, peppered throughout your page interrupts the flow of dialogue and therefore - plot. It's a little excruciating, but the Wave-inatrix wants to put you through a sample experience. To put you in the shoes of a reader:

***

Henry: I miss the farm, don’t you?

Amos flips the pancakes and looks out the window at the Philly skyline.

Amos: Sure do.

Henry puts the syrup on the table.

Henry: Sometimes I wish we could just go out back and get syrup the way we used to.

Amos plates the pancakes.

Amos: Yeah, those were the days.

Henry looks at the pancakes, licks his lips and puts his napkin on his lap.

Henry: Course, things changed after the avalanche took mom and dad out.

Amos sits down opposite Henry.

Amos: I sure do miss ‘em.

Henry butters his pancakes.

Henry: Probably shouldna set that blast so close to 'em. You knew they were berry picking below the mountain.

Henry wipes his mouth and looks at his brother pointedly. Amos points his fork at his brother.

Amos: It was your idea, remember? You said enough was enough and I guess I just took that literally.

He gestures at their shabby studio apartment.

Amos: And they didn't leave us hardly nothin' in their will.

Henry pushes back from the table.

Henry: Guess we shoulda thoughta that.

Amos: Funeral took up most of it.

Henry: Suppose we should go visit the cemetery this weekend?

Amos digs in to his food.

Amos: We’ll bring their favorite flowers; Arctic Poppies.

*****
In this first example, not only are the characters micro-managed, their dialogue, which is ad hoc, silly, and yet on a certain level, powerful, is not delivered in such a way that we are really taking it in. Because we have interrupted the flow terribly with action lines. These two brothers have parents who died in an avalanche. They miss their old life. And they uh, they did it. This is important information to convey.

Now let’s try that again:

Henry: I miss the farm, don’t you?

Amos flips the pancakes and looks out the window at the Philly skyline.

Amos: Sure do.

Henry: Sometimes I wish we could just go out back and get syrup the way we used to.

Amos: Yeah, those were the days.

Henry: Course, things changed after the avalanche took mom and dad out.

Amos sits down opposite Henry.

Amos: I sure do miss ‘em.

Henry: Probably shouldna set that blast so close to 'em. You knew they were berry picking below the mountain.

Amos: It was your idea, remember? You said enough was enough and I guess I just took that literally.

He gestures at their shabby studio apartment.

Amos: And they didn't leave us hardly nothin' in their will.

Henry: Guess we shoulda thoughta that.

Amos: Funeral took up most of it.

Henry: Suppose we should go visit the cemetery this weekend?

Amos: We’ll bring their favorite flowers; Artic Poppies.

**
So review your scenes and make sure that they flow easily and well. Do not overuse or pepper action lines over your pages such that dialogue is split up and watered down.

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Get Your Action On

As promised, this week on the Rouge Wave, we're recapping some discussions we've had of some of the basic elements of screenwriting. With the strike giving the appearance of possibly ending soon and with competition season arriving shortly, it's time to fire up your engines, Wavers. So I've compiled and compressed Rouge Wave blog posts from various points in time to create a sort of brief "best-of" on each element.

***

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.

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. 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.

Which Tense?

I have read more than a handful of scripts in which action lines are written in what we would technically call the "present continuous tense":

Joseph is wading across the baby pool.

...rather than the proper tense for a script which is the "present simple"

Joseph wades across the baby pool.

Stepping away from grammar labels momentarily, the reason the first example is not appropriate for a script is that it distances the reader from the action in a small but subtle way. So rather than being in the scene with Joseph, in a sensory way, we are distanced because you are telling me what he is doing. I don't watch it myself - you narrate it to me. As if I am a sight-challenged person. Joseph is wading across the baby pool.

When an action line is written properly, I observe the action myself. I watch it happen. Joseph wades across the baby pool. You aren't telling me it's happening, it just IS happening.

Action lines SHOULD:

Be like haiku: brief, economical and as sensory and colorful as possible

ALL CAP and briefly describe new characters - even extras like the NURSE.

Be written in the present-simple: The Wave-inatrix, in her polka-dot bikini, sips her bourbon and writes her blog.

Action lines SHOULD NOT:

Be dense and long-winded. Try to keep them to about 4 lines. Particularly on your first few pages.

Be so brief that they are choppy and weird sounding. Seriously, don't economize so much you leave out the fundamentals of sentence structure.

Save for few examples, be written in any other tense than the present simple. No "stirring" "dancing" or "murdering". He stirs, she dances, he murders. Keep it in the now.

The absolute best way to build your skill set with action lines is to read produced scripts. Or heck, just a good script, doesn't have to be produced. If you read quite a number of scripts you'll notice that naturally - and thank god - writes have pronounced styles. You'll see every rule broken, you'll swoon when you see Shane Black speak to you, the reader, on the page - (he's just so brilliant). But what you will not see is a screenwriter informing you, the reader, of what you are watching. Action lines should not describe a scene as if we are watching the characters in a diorama: Look, Bob is chopping carrots! Suzy is licking the spatula. The cat is meowing.

Rather, plunk a reader into the middle of the scene and describe what's happening as if it is in surround-sound and 3-D: Bob chops celery while Suzy licks the spatula. The cat meows piteously.

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Beats Which Repeat Repeat Repeat

Do you have repeated beats in your script? Things which repeat? Which are just the same thing happening but put in another way? Repeating? In your script?

Well, how the heck do you know? First of all, what is a beat, exactly? As in we got the beat, thank you Go-Gos? As in beet soup or beat poets? As in beat a dead horse?

Simply put, a beat in a script is a moment in which something happens. I know, know, there are much headier ways of expressing it but the Rouge Wave is all about keeping it real for the people.

Do the Wave-inatrix a favor. Grab a highlighter, open your script to a scene and skim the scene looking for the beat. That’s what readers are doing when they read your script. Reading quickly looking for the beat.

Here’s a lame example, because we love lame examples at the Rouge Wave:

Louella puts down her cross stitch project and pokes the fire.

Louella: You want tea, Earl?

Earl: Yup. Take your time, darlin’. I ain’t in no hurry.

Louella smiles at her loving husband, walks to the kitchen and flicks on the light.

Louella: You sell the gun today?

Earl: Sure did, sweetie.

Earl watches after her and smiles. He shifts his pipe in his mouth, opens a drawer and gently removes a pistol.

Now: what is the beat in that scene? I know, I know, it’s obvious, right? Louella goes to get tea. No no no no no no. Earl lied about the gun.

Now, a repeated beat would be something like….two scenes later:

Louella takes her pills off her night table, drinks water and slips under the covers next to Earl. Earl smiles up at the ceiling.

Louella: So how much did you get for the gun?

Earl: Thirty nine fifty.

Louella: I’m so glad to be rid of that thing.

Earl: Me too.

So what is the beat in this scene? Earl lies about the gun. So we have two scenes doing the same damn thing. That, my friends, is a repeated beat and let me tell you something – readers hate them with a passion. As do execs. Because it says something about you as a writer – it says you are repeating yourself, thusly you are not the master of your material because you are not being effective or efficient.

So open your script and skim each scene, highlighting the beat in each scene. Just the essence of the beat. For example, as above, it does not work to say that the first beat is Earl lies about the gun while in the living room and the other beat is that Earl lies about the price of the gun. Nice try, slick.

Comb your script identifying each beat. If there is a repeated beat – search for and destroy it without mercy. Can the two scenes be combined? Is there a way to deliver this information in a shorter, more entertaining way? Is there a different beat that is needed?

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Writing Detailed Descriptions

This blog post is dedicated to Crafty. You know who you are.

How fine tuned are your powers of description when it comes to objects? The size and shape of a room? The measurement of a cabinet in the other room? When writing descriptive action lines, in general it will not serve your script to say:

Michael and Edward walk to the drawing room for a cigar. The room measured fifteen by twenty feet and had a ten foot ceiling.

In this instance, we would withhold the actual measurements and just infer that the room is large and luxurious - I mean, who has a drawing room, right? That's luxurious right out of the gate.

But sometimes writers do have to be a little more precise. Perhaps you are writing a car chase scene. Or a sequence of scenes that take place in a variety of locations all within on larger location like an amusement park, hospital or shopping mall. Do you feel you can write simply but with precision? Many writers over or under write careful descriptions. You want to shoot for the middle: simple, descriptive and easy to visualize.

Here's a little exercise to work that part of your writing brain:

Describe the room in which you write without turning around to look at it. Where is the desk placed relative to the door? Is there a window? What is the lighting like? Write this description in a paragraph about the size of this one. If it helps, imagine that you are writing a murder scene set in this room; the exact placement of everything will matter very much in this scene.

Describe the outside of your house or apartment building. Where do you live relative to other structures? How are the cars parked outside? Are there trees or thick foliage nearby? Again, strive to keep your description no longer than this paragraph. If it helps, imagine that you are writing a break-in scene with more than one person breaking in. How are we to visualize this scene as it happens? Who goes where?

Describe a piece of furniture in your house. Could be anything. What color is it? About how wide is it? How tall? Is it an antique? Or something from Ikea? Where is it placed in the room? If it helps, imagine that you are writing a scene in which somebody is selling this furniture to a blind person.

Writing takes so many muscles in the brain; keep them sharp by doing writing exercises now and again. That's why I write prose - heck, even the Rouge Wave is exercising a totally different muscle for the Wave-inatrix than screenwriting. Writers write. Happy Sunday, Rouge Wavers!

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Perambulation

As always, Rouge Wavers, I save up interesting or comical mistakes I find in scripts for your entertainment and edification. That is to say, I hope you more than chuckle, you also take a lesson away from a given example.

Puzzled as if over the results of a random number generator, the Wave-inatrix often finds odd errors clustered not just in one script but in several scripts within one week. And recently, I found three scripts in one week that used the wrong synonym for "walk". Writers know that choosing descriptors with a finer point on them is important for writing interesting pages. In other words if every character simply "walks" across a room, that gets dull quickly. This is a truth fundamental to all writing, naturally. Writers are wordsmiths so our vocabulary knowledge is generally several points higher than the general public. Or at least - it should be. Here are three examples of synonyms for "walk" which were completely and totally, 100% contextually wrong:

His automatic weapon in hand, the secret serviceman waddled to the edge of the building to take aim.

WADDLED?? Like a baby with a dirty diaper? Or an obese old lady?

MARINE GUNNERY SERGEANT ROGERS picked up his baseball bat and angrily sauntered over to the fight.

This guy, who has a handlebar mustache, by the way, and now runs a rowdy bar with drunken patrons, is very upset in this scene. So he saunters?

DR. CARRIGAN scampers down the hall as he responds to the Code Blue.

Scampers? Like a kitten? This is an emergency room doctor in a hellish, low budget hospital. He's overworked, he's losing his mind a bit and he - scampers?

So Rouge Wavers, be aware that an excellent vocabulary is a requisite part of being a writer and if you aren't sure if you're using the right word, look it up.

Synonyms have shades of meaning; connotations and implications that shift the tone slightly in one direction or another. Use your words with precision. Because using an inappropriate synonym can inadvertently make the difference between a great description and a laugh at your expense. I don't know about you, but I don't want any waddling security guys protecting ME.

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Don't Cop Out

Very often, Rouge Wavers, my blog posts are inspired by real-life experiences I have with the latest script I read for my business or a production company or perhaps something that is going on with a peer, friend or colleague. And so this weekend I read a script that said, simply:

There is a furious battle.

I flipped to the next page. Nada. We move on to the next scene. I flip back. What?? Where'd the furious battle go? I look at the page numbers - has the writer left out a page? No, the writer didn't. The writer simply didn't write the scene.

Rouge Wavers, this is as bad as over-writing the scene. It makes the writer look lazy, inept or both and it cheats the script out of a really great setpiece. A furious battle? Well – what does that look like? What does it sound like? What does it feel like? Scripts are like amusement park rides – so thrill us. Simply stating that there IS a battle, chase, sex or gunfight scene does not work whatsoever.

Never, ever miss an opportunity to show off your chops as a writer. We want to hear the clanging swords and be flecked with mud – we want to see the ladies watching and fanning themselves, we want to hear the THUD of the horses….

Anything less is a cop-out of huge proportions.

If you’re really intimidated by writing a great action scene, I recommend getting ahold of and reading some great….wait for it….action scripts. Check out DIE HARD (any) or LETHAL WEAPON – heck, THE ISLAND has a fantastic action sequence. MISSION IMPOSSIBLE, THE FRENCH CONNECTION, THE LAST SAMURAI…

The list is long. Don’t be intimidated, do your homework and figure it out. But don’t simply cop out, it will take all the zing out of your script, deflate the read and make you look like an amateur.

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Business

What is “business” on your script page? Well, that’s short for “stage business” and that’s an old-fashioned term which means folding laundry, opening a coke, answering the phone, stacking the mail, hanging up the dishtowel – all those little actions. Because movies are not real life – they are real life condensed, compressed and put under an entertaining spotlight, we don’t show a fraction of the “business” that goes on in real life when we write our scripts. Add up everything you did in the past 30 minutes. You made coffee or tea, you had your morning ritual, you chose your clothing, you made your bed (or not) you got into the car to go to work, you greeted the guy in the parking lot….a lot of business. And let’s be honest – it ain’t that fascinating, is it? So in movies – we skip over most of that stuff so we can get to the good part.

The word “business” is by definition negative, in fact. If someone comments on the “business” in your scene – they are not complimenting you, they are saying, in essence, that your action lines are cluttered, with too much going on. If what’s going is distracting and doesn’t add depth or meaning from a thematic or character standpoint – your action lines will be labeled “business”. If what’s going on adds a layer of depth and flows seamlessly, it won’t be mentioned at all. But it will be appreciated.

In other words, one writer throws in that the character brushes his teeth, then flosses then uses mouthwash. Somehow, it’s not working, it doesn’t feel organic, it feels like it was bedtime and the writer figured they better show bedtime ritual. Another writer chose consciously to show this character get ready for bed because it illuminates him in an amusing or otherwise elucidatory way. It’s not well, it’s bedtime, I have to fill page space by showing him get ready for bed. It’s – check out the way this guy gets ready for bed. And watch that tooth floss. It's going to come back later in the story...

Every single word you write in your script is scrutinized for meaning. If you have two characters discussing something in a scene and one character gets up in the midst of that scene, answers the phone and tells the dry cleaner that if they can’t get the stain out of the dress they should just toss it – I am going to wonder why that just happened and I am going to try to assign some meaning to it. Because nothing in a script is accidental. Yes, in real life, quite often our conversations are punctuated with the UPS man’s arrival or opening bills or kicking the fridge door shut. Because real life continues to go on around us and we just swim in it as we try to achieve our larger goals. But in movies, everything flows into the story.

If you have a character kick the fridge door shut we then would ask of that scene: did they just get a beer out? Or a chocolate pie? Is there a magnet on the fridge that falls off after the kick-shut and the magnet says: Eat to live? In other words choose actions very consciously. Choose your actions to make a point. Yes, I know that in real life people scratch and move a dishtowel and doodle. But in movies, I don’t care. Unless it matters. So if you show your character doodle, I am going to watch that carefully for some kind of meaning. And if it ain’t there – now I wonder why you wasted the gesture.

New writers tend to write a scene and think well, I’ve got to make this more life-like and add a phone call, a dog bark or some laundry folding and mail sorting because my two characters can’t just sit there and statically talk. True enough, they can’t just sit there and statically talk. Unless you’ve written MY DINNER WITH ANDRE and what they are saying is so brilliant that you can get away with the minimalist action of ordering more wine or espresso.

What are you characters doing in each scene? What is going on around them? Look for a balance of adding that layer of the reality of their world versus simply giving your character something to do so they don’t sit still. If you’re just not sure – write the dialogue in the scene, move on and come back to it. Don’t add actions simply so they are there. It’s okay to come back and then add a layer that you couldn’t think of in the moment.

Make every scene count, make every word count, make every action count. Otherwise – it’s just business.

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Action Line Don'ts

Here are three examples of bad action line writing that I came across very recently:

They’ve been friends since high school.

He enjoys impressing people even though he has no connections.

He has a hot temper

Now go with me here, Wavers – remember the basic tenet that action lines do not appear on the screen, yes? Does everybody see what is patently wrong with these examples?

So how does “They’ve been friends since high school” work in an action line? It absolutely does not. Because I can’t see that, you’re just telling me that. You’re going to have to work that fact in to the scene in some other, organic way. How about:

Darleen: I’m so fat! I can’t fit into this dress!
Roberta: Remember that Clamato juice diet we did in the 9th grade?
Darleen: What were we thinking?!

There are so many creative ways to let us know that these two have been friends since high school. This can be indicated in dialogue as above, it might be indicated by possessions, shared memories, or even someone else making a comment. Don't cop out and simply announce to us what this relationship is. It's lazy writing, it doesn't work, it is the mark of an amateur and it will get you a PASS.

How about this one – “He enjoys impressing people even though he has no connections.” Show it don’t say it and certainly do not describe your character as if you are introducing him or her on a gameshow: Dexter loves spotted dogs, flying kites and impressing people, though he has no connections.

No, no and NO. Maybe Dexter compensates by wearing a gold pinky ring. Maybe he has a vast Rolodex on his desk. Only we see that most of the cards are blank. Certainly in his dialogue, he’s going to speak pretentiously. The scene in LA STORY when Steve Martin tries to book a table at an impossibly pretentious French restaurant is a great example of a character trying to impress someone but having absolutely no luck whatsoever.

On the other hand, crafty and skillful writers can say things in action lines like:

Robert sits down on the piano bench. Wishing he were anywhere but here.

Floyd files his nails – can jury selection go any more slowly?

Rachel winds her kite back in. Bored.

Why can you get away with things like this? Because these are sentiments generally accompanied by facial expressions or body language. Can you see Rachel winding her kite back in - bored? How about if she wound her kite back in, frightened? Or annoyed? Well, I can picture those things. But I can't picture the fact that she never gets dates. And Wavers, it is my sad duty to inform you that yes indeed I have read action lines like: Rachel likes to fly kites and never gets dates. Sometimes she overeats when she's lonely. What is the Wave-inatrix disclaimer that comes right around now...? I wish I made this stuff up.

Remember - show it, don't say it. Evidence things, do not list them. Do not introduce your characters as if they are on The Price is Right. You don't have to tell us everything about your character immediately. Take your time. Let your character's quirks, predilections and personal history come out bit by bit, as the scene and situation calls for it. Did we know that Raymond Babbitt had to have fish sticks on Tuesdays and that he bought his underwear at Kmart on the first page we met him? No. We got to know his habits and routines little by little until they build like a drumbeat, driving his brother crazy.

When introducing a character ask yourself:

Is this piece of information or history important to convey here and now? Or might it make an interesting reveal, later?

Is this character evidencing the history or habit or am I just noting it for the reader?

Is this a sentiment or an opinion? Can my character act it out rather than my just saying it?

Which is more economical and clever here, naming the sentiment or acting it out?

and always, always, as a fail safe, read the action line again and ask yourself: what does "he likes to impress people" look like?

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Landing Your Moments

My daughter, the Mini-W, is addicted to America’s Next Top Model. And slowly but surely, I have found myself also glued to each episode. It has actually fascinated me, how much more there is to modeling than I could have imagined. What strikes me is that the way the models go from sleepy and complaining to ON – the minute they are asked to. They know that everything changes when they are being watched – and judged. Most of us don't go to fashion shows and many of us may not have much serious regard for Tyra Banks and her television empire, but one thing is definitely true - say what you will about runway models - it's hard to take your eyes off of them.

So let's talk about your writing. You know in your head what you want to happen in a scene, and you type it out quietly, between sips of coffee - but this scene is destined to be read by some executive, assistant, reader or intern out there and that scene better be absolutely smoking-hot; all long legs and penetrating eyes. Your scene better be riveting, in other words.

No lazy strolls, no dense action lines of information - put your words on the catwalk so that all eyes are glued on them and so that when something happens, you draw attention to it. Land your moments, nail them - do not write them at the pace of a lazy stroll.

All of this “landing” scenes and moments and comparing it to runway models might be a bit of a reach. What in the heck is the Wave-inatrix talking about? Let me illustrate.

Here’s a changed-up and paraphrased example from something my partner and I wrote not long ago. It appears on the very last page of a psychological thriller. The previous scene was an intense battle scene between the main character and antagonist. We fade to black after a gunshot blast. You don't know how it ended... We cut to a quiet dock in New England.

A seagull feather floats down above the dock gently. A HAND catches it.

Alice smiles directly into the camera.

Less experienced writers might not have taken advantage of such a big reveal. I very often see the same type of moment written like this:

A seagull feather floats down above the dock gently. Alice catches it She smiles directly into the camera.

See how much more fun the first example was? See how that landed? It was a pleasure to read. We delivered the same information but notice that we used a HAND – so the reader knows this is significant, whoever it is…then we put a blank line between that and the reveal. Why? Because it literally makes you wait another second before you get the answer. A nanosecond – but an important one. A crucial one. A fun one. The second example contains the reveal but it doesn't LAND it.

I have read action lines in scripts in which clearly, some big, fun, scary or otherwise important piece of information is delivered in the same flow of words as the ones you’re reading right now so that if the murderer is your brother and he’s standing right behind you with an ice pick and you sip your coffee but before you can whirl around the ice pick appears through a clavicle, that is about the way you would experience that moment. That was pretty fun, huh? Quite a wild ride. As always, Rouge Wavers, I do not make my examples up. I might paraphrase but I have read what was supposed to be terrifying or hilarious set pieces in paragraphs like this one in which the writer laundry-lists the big Moment and it lands like a damp towel.

Use all-capped words, use spaces, use tension and mystery - use everything in your toolbox as a screenwriter to make the moment memorable. So let's have that writer be murdered by his brother once more:

The writer peers at his blinking computer screen as he reads the Rouge Wave. He chuckles to himself. Unseen by him, a shadow falls on his desk.

SUDDENLY an ice pick BURSTS through his shirt! Blood stains his blue oxford in a macabre blossom. The writer slumps over and turns weakly toward his attacker. His eyes widen.

Writer: Richard! I thought you were dead!

Parse the information out a little. Make us wait for it. Land your laughs or reveals. How things land is particularly important in comedy and in horror or thriller. But really, honestly, it’s always important. You script is on the catwalk. Strutting, winking, smoldering. Pivot, hands on hips, and stare into the eyes of your reader when something big happens. Work it. You want all eyes on you. Dull action lines in which information and actions just spool out are the equivalent of watching a very old person hobble across a crosswalk while you wait at the now green light. Come on already. COME ON ALREADY!! No. We want a Willie Wonka tumble to surprise us. Bam! Land it.

How are your moments landing?

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(V.O.) and (O.S.) in Dialogue

(O.S.) indicates that the dialogue of that particular character is heard while the character is nearby but not on camera. In a different room, behind the door, in the closet –whatever. So that you might have:

*****

FRANCIS (28), thinning hair and a potbelly, sits at the chipped kitchen table eating a plateful of something burnt. The radio plays Vince Gil in the background.

Francis: Damn, burnt pork-n-beans again!

Sue-Ellen (O.S.) I heard that!

SUE-ELLEN (32) corpulent and angry enters the kitchen with the remote in hand.

Sue-Ellen: Maybe if you didn’t work at the Dairy Queen we could afford better!

Dad (O.S.) Told you to keep your mouth shut, son!

Sue-Ellen: And I’m so tired of your dad living here! You said it would be one week! That was six years ago!

Dad (O.S.) Bring me a beer when you come back, Sue-Ellen.

Sue-Ellen looks over her shoulder toward the living room.

Sue-Ellen: So help me god I’m gonna kill him one day. When you’re done listening to your radio, go to the cellar and bring me up some dessert.

*****

Or you might do something like:

*****

Francis peers into a dark corner of the cellar when –

Man (O.S.) I’ve been waiting for you.

Francis whirls around and there he is – the Creamsicle Killer!

In that last example, the man was in the same room – but he wasn’t on camera. Using (O.S.) is fun; it can be used in a moment like the one above to scare or surprise the character and it can be used for comic effect as well. But do remember that technically it simply means the character can be heard but not seen. But they are in the vicinity.

(V.O.)

(V.O.) literally means “voice-over” which indicates that the voice of a character is heard and the character is not only not on camera, they are not anywhere around. Well, they might be on camera, silently doing something and you might hear their own voice-over ….Let’s clarify with a few examples:

*****

Francis climbs down the cellar stairs slowly.

Francis (V.O.) In retrospect, I shouldn’t have gone down those stairs. For it was there in the cellar, that I was to meet my greatest fear. I mean - aside from Sue-Ellen.

Francis peers into a dark corner of the cellar when –

Man (O.S.) I’ve been waiting for you.

Francis turns chalk-white and stumbles backward a step -

Francis (V.O.) Suddenly, I no longer cared about Sue-Ellen, or my job at Dairy Queen or anything at all. For I knew that I had a bonafide killer right before my eyes. All I hadda do was talk him into leaving me alone and going upstairs. Then all my problems would be over.

Francis: I got beer up in the kitchen? You want one?

*****

Now, there are those who get all pink-faced and hysterical when it comes to discussing using that kind of voice-over. Spittle flies and they shake all over. Don’t do it! It’s expositional! It’s one of the first things a reader or exec will PASS! Rouge Wavers, in my experience, having read hundreds of scripts both by complete novices and much more experienced writers, I have yet to see a gross violation of expositional voice-over. Obviously avoid telling your whole story that way. Use voice-over judiciously, use it to achieve an effect but don’t get all hysterically pedantic about not using it either. It is the opinion of the Wave-inatrix that those aspiring screenwriters with major don’t-use-voice-over issues need to find a hobby like knitting or perhaps scuba diving.

But. (V.O.) is used in many other instances. Again, remember (O.S.) means the character is unseen but nearby. (V.O.) unless we’re using the example above, means the character is nowhere around but we can hear their voice. So we might have:

*****

Bob drives down a long, dark country road. He turns up the radio.

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Yep, that’s right folks, the Creamsicle Killer was spotted at the Dairy Queen just yesterday so watch your tootsies.

Click. Bob turns off the radio and grins.

Bob: (to himself) And that was a damn fine burger, too.

*****

Oh – got a wrylie in there, or more properly, a parenthetical – but we’ve covered that.

All right, so the radio announcer was a (V.O.) because we’re hearing him but not seeing him. What if we see him too? Well, then he’s not (V.O.) anymore, is he?

*****

Bob drives down a long, dark country road. He turns up the radio.

RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.) Yep, that’s right folks, the Creamsicle Killer was spotted at the Dairy Queen just yesterday so watch your tootsies.

Click. Bob turns off the radio and grins.

Bob: (to himself) And that was a damn fine burger, too.

INT. RADIO STATION – SIMULTANEOUS

The RADIO ANNOUNCER takes off his headphones and rubs his forehead.

Radio Announcer: Hope to god they catch that monster.

The phone rings. He picks up.

Radio Announcer: KFRK. What can I do you for?

Man (V.O.) It is I. The Creamsicle Killer.

*****

See? The caller is (V.O.) because – why? – Right, because we can hear him but he’s not on camera.

Now, some fancy pants screenwriters like to use (FILTERED) rather than (V.O.) in these particular instances of phone calls. (FILTERED) sort of emulates or indicates the way a person sounds on the phone – sort of distant and – well, filtered, I guess. Does this work? Is it acceptable? Yes, perfectly. But only for phone calls. And do not combine it with (V.O.) because to indicate both is redundant.

Another (V.O.) instance might be something like:

*****

Bob parks his Oldsmobile and creeps through a cellar window. Safety at last. He finds a dark corner. Ah - a freezer. He opens it. And it's full of Creamsicles.

Radio Announcer (V.O.) So I recommend that folks lock their cellar windows and put away their Creamsicles tonight.

UPSTAIRS

Francis clicks off the radio and turns toward the living room.

Francis: Anyone else feel like a creamsicle?

Sue-Ellen: (O.S.) I told you to get those at the beginning of this blog you idiot! America’s Funniest Home Video’s is comin’ on so hurry!

Francis scoots his chair back and heads for the cellar.

*****

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