Writing the Sad Moment

When was the last time you cried? I mean – really cried? Do you cry easily? Or does it take a lot? And when you do cry, do you try to hide it from onlookers? Do you wipe away the tears angrily? Or do you fall apart with gut wrenching sobs? Do you weep quietly and in private? Are you one of those people who openly cries during a sad movie? Or are you a hider like me? Sneaking little dabs of the tissue?

How about the first time you saw one of your parents cry? Do you recall how deeply upsetting it was? Have you ever been smacked by one of your parents and felt your face grow hot for a moment and your eyes burn before the tears of humiliation trickle? Have you ever sat with your hand on a friends shoulder while they cried and cried and you felt totally helpless?

We all fall apart. It's part of being human. And if you haven't fallen apart in a long time, I would suggest you do something to let off some steam because the tears are there. Tears, someone once told me, are a mechanism for self-soothing. We need to cry. But how we fall apart depends on gender, culture, our upbringing and of course the situation at hand. If you have just been told your spouse has died in an accident, crying is not the first thing that’s going to happen. Shock is. The crying comes later.

People experiencing loss can cry for weeks and months intermittently. But usually, when a person cries, there is that moment or three as they struggle with it. We try to maintain control. We try to hold it in. We try to hang on to our dignity in the situation - a peculiarity to WASP and some European cultures. Crying is humiliating. It shows weakness.

In some Middle Eastern cultures crying loudly and publically - keening and wailing dramatically in fact - is not only appropriate when mourning loss, it is expected. It is a show of respect and grief for the person who has passed. In other cultures, crying is a mark of weakness. Does anybody remember that iconic ad campaign from the 1970's, in which a Native American Indian looks at a dump and a tear rolls down his craggy face? The ad was effective and moving and extremely memorable because a proud Indian Chief would NEVER cry. But here, as he views the devastation of his land, he does. For those of us in the I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing generation, we will never forget that ad.

My point is this: when writing a scene in which a character cries, dig down deep into your own experiences and into your character and write a crying moment that feels real – so real, in fact, that as we read the scene or watch it onscreen, we get a sympathy lump in our throats.

Crying is a tremendous release. It is us at our most vulnerable. It is us forgetting who we are or where we are. It is us just experiencing pure, raw emotion. Avoid the temptation to quickly write: He cries. She sobs. Tears stream down her face as she….

I cannot tell you how often I have seen crying or falling apart written with that little emotion. I honestly have never seen a person have tears just stream down their face without that having been preceded by a mighty powerful emotional moment. And remember – crying is messy. When we really cry, we heave our chests, our faces twist into a weird grimace, snot runs from our noses. It’s not pretty. I think sometimes writers go for the “tears stream down her face” as the easy, prettier way out. It’s very Claudette Colbert with Vaseline on the lens.

Dig deeper, summon your own experiences, and do not skip over a crying or falling apart moment so you can hurry up and get to the good part. Crying is one of the good parts. It’s cathartic for the character – and it’s cathartic for us. Don’t cheat us out of that.

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Developing Voice

A lot of new screenwriters are afraid to really let ‘er rip when they write. They’ve read all the books on screenwriting, they’ve maybe gotten beaten up a little on Triggerstreet or DoneDeal and, well, they become dogmatic, pedantic or both. The truth is a writer with a “voice” is the one that readers really notice and appreciate. This whole writing thing is supposed to be fun; yes it’s a serious business and yes it’s a difficult business but if you aren’t being entertained while you’re working on your script, chances are the reader won’t be entertained while they read it.

Of course there are many elements to hammer out that aren’t exactly a gas: premise, theme, character work, dialogue, structure and narrative, but assuming you have a fairly good grasp of those elements, you will grab your reader very quickly if your personality comes through on the pages. I have a client who wrote a fantastic horror script. But I wasn’t sure how fantastic it was on page two; I just knew that this writer was cracking me up! He just went all out and wrote the action lines in a way that reflected his South Boston roots. When we spoke of it later, he said really? I was worried that my attitude might be too much on the pages. No. Way. I loved it. That is what kept me turning the pages because it was a double-whammy; a good premise executed in a very compelling, entertaining way.

What is “voice” anyway? It’s personality. Read Shane Black for a great example of “voice”. William Goldman would be another great example. In fact, Goldman reads like a person telling you a story around a campfire. I read an unproduced script by Goldman a few months ago in which he said (to paraphrase slightly) that the mayor of Los Angeles “…turns around and IT’S WILFORD BRIMLELY! No, it’s not. But it looks like him.” I mean, that was just so golden. We get it, we laugh and we move on. Clever, funny, entertaining. Above and beyond the story itself. Again, paraphrased, Shane Black in LETHAL WEAPON describes a fight scene thusly: “I basically pulverized him.” Again, funny, entertaining and most importantly, we get it.

When writers try to keep it serious and technical the material begins to feel sodden. And for a weary reader, already frankly exhausted, the affect is sleep-inducing. Scripts are blueprints, yes. But a script also exists in and of itself. I remember a young girl in a writing program I was in for a couple of years. She was writing a very complicated science-fiction drama. During class, we would sometimes read pages aloud for feedback. She would sit there and read her pages in a monotone and we’d all grow completely glassy-eyed and slowly slump lower and lower until she was done. There followed a bored silence. The thing was – interesting things were happening on the page, but the execution on the page was so deadly dull nobody cared. I’ve never heard a chase scene executed in a duller way, honestly. It doesn’t have to be that way. In fact – it better not be that way. In my experience, nothing gives away a newbie faster than dull pages.

But – can you go too far in the other direction? Yes. That I have seen too. Sometimes a writer will use the same jokey tone that they might share with their friends. The pages feel very “insidey” and har har. And worse – the talent level and material simply don’t warrant a smart-alec tone. That’s when you’re just about sunk as far as the reader is concerned. The more experienced you are, the more naturally your own “voice” seeps into the material effortlessly and organically. It becomes a matter of course.

I recommend writing your first couple of drafts in a fairly straight up manner. At this point you are working on nailing your premise and structure. As the drafts progress, then you can start to loosen up and imbue the pages with your personality. Let your attitude toward the characters and situations show. Until scripts can be generated by computers – and that day may come – all we have at our disposal is human beings or as we like to call them in the business – writers. Show the reader that no one else could have written this story but you. It is your voice that is going to make this story special. There’s a good reason for this. When you’re up for an assignment? The executive is going to review the notes on any other material you may have submitted in the past. Say the exec is looking for a writer to rewrite a horror script. The exec will thumb through the files and he will see writers who had a very elegant, understated, serious voice. He will see writers who had a very playful, intense voice. He will see writers who had a very gruesome, graphic, scary voice. He will not see, among the writers to choose from, the guy whose writing was just okay. You simply won’t be on the radar.

Readers are using a magnifying glass while we examine your script, true enough. But don’t forget – we’re people too. And we like to laugh. Or be horrified or scared. I’ve cried reading scripts because the writer just let loose and went to the poignant place and imbued the script with such feeling. You’re reading scripts all day. You’re pooped. Which would you rather read: the mayor turns and he’s older with gray hair, a friendly face and a pot belly. Or he “…turns around and IT’S WILFORD BRIMLELY! See, now you’ve made me laugh. And I want more.

This business we’re in is called the entertainment industry. So entertain the reader* and you’re ten steps ahead.

*Moms and friends excluded.

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