Character Study: Geeks, Nerds, Slackers and Hipsters

First there was the nerd. Clean cut, intelligent, earnest and, well, totally uncool. They were social outcasts, mocked in high school and mildly ostracized in college, remaining virgins for unnatural periods of time. But they grew up and into themselves, got good jobs and had the last laugh at high school reunions. Still, nerds like George McFly just never had, well, nads.

Coolness is totally beyond the reach of the nerd. But - nerds, in the movies anyway, do have heart. They are the underdog, the one you sort of root for in the end. Why? Because oddly, many of us identify with the nerd. The nerd is the foundational visage of insecurity. No matter how cool you thought you were in high school, part of you felt outcast no matter what. The nerd just wore it on his or her sleeve.

The personal computer saw the rise of the geek - a nerd with mad computer skills. They spend hours alone, they play interactive online games and speak a sort of weird, yawn-inducing language nobody understands. Like the nerd, they are prone to sweaty palms and bad hair. But they had one thing their forefather the nerd did not - a skill set (computers) that is highly in demand. A geek is not such a, well, geek when you need your computer fixed, are they?

Then we have the slackers and the hipsters. I don't know about other urban areas but Los Angeles is awash with hipsters. They are literally everywhere, with their pork pie hats, tats, and man bags. Variations include chunky glasses, Doc Martens, soul patches, and either very coiffed or not-shampooed-lately hair. Is the hipster an outgrowth or expression of the nerd or the geek? Or are they in another category altogether? Is the slacker a slightly less cool, unemployed hipster? What about the metrosexual?

Connect the dots, Wavers - what is the evolution or provenance of the hipster? Do old-school nerds still exist? Are geeks really geeks anymore, or just people you pay a lot of money to to fix your computer? Are geeks sexy? How about hipsters? Cool? Or pretentious and annoying? Recently I had lunch with an unabashed nerd but I remember thinking to myself - man, this kid is one pork pie hat and tat away from being a hipster. He could go from social reject to trendy Angeleno in one afternoon. Are hipsters just nerds with more fashion sense? Or are they, as I suspect, inauthentic types, mining nerdom for irony and cool?

Do you fall into any of these categories? Do these categories apply to women as well? How many female geeks do you know? What category would Tracy Flick (Election) fall into? Do hipsters annoy you or do you aspire to be one? What makes a person hip, anyway? Is there an age cut off after which you're not a slacker...you're The Dude in The Big Lebowski?

Social labels are fascinating. Subtle shadings imply social strata, ambition and acceptance. Nerd, geek, slacker, hipster...is there a straight line of evolution? What's next? Who are your favorite movie nerds, geeks, slackers and hipsters?

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Character Accents

Dear Rouge Wave:

One of my characters speaks with an Irish accent. How do I indicate that? Do I write all his dialogue phonetically or do I indicate in a wryly every time he speaks that he has an accent?

-Top O' The Morning in Tipperary

Dear Top O' - when writin' a character wi' a wee bit of an accent, ye don't want te gobsmack the reader over and over agin wi' it, do ye then? It can become a wee bit annoyin', so? The reader'll sure te go arse over tea feckin' kettle wi' keepin' up wi' ye, isn't it?

Note the first time the character speaks that he or she has an accent and let it go at that. The reader will remember and beyond that, a more powerful way to really show that this character is from somewhere else is to us a few colloquialisms from their place of origin. In other words, if we're dealing with an Irishman, there's more to the fact that he's Irish than the way he speaks, right? Sure, you might use some specific words like arse or cuppa but don't over do it and don't bother trying to write the dialogue in a way that evokes the accent. That's for the actor to interpret. I have well and truly seen writers put a wryly that says (in a Spanish accent) over ever single line of dialogue for a character - which is super annoying - I got it the first time, thank you very much. Talk about ass over tea kettle and cluttering up your script. Don't do it.

What you are really indicating is that this person is from Ireland (or wherever). So you might throw in a few word choices that indicate that but beyond that, dig deeper - what does it mean that your character is from Ireland? It means your character has a different frame of reference, a different way of looking at the world and a slightly different way of expressing him or herself. If a character is from Canada, I don't need to literally see in the dialogue that he says "aboot" - I get it already. It's all in the set up of that character on the very first page that we meet him. If you do it well, I won't forget where he's from. If you hit me over the feckin' head wi' it, I'm gonna get real cranky on your arse.

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So Much Fear, So Little Time

So what are you worried about right now? Swine flu? Money? Relationships or lack of them? Your kids? Terrorism, global warming, your health, closing factories, the government? I find the world is growing more and more alarming - and alarmist. Every day I read the headlines and I think oh man, am I getting old or is stuff accelerating in negative ways? Am I shining a rose colored light on a few years back when I was younger or is stuff happening in our world that is rising in intensity? So much to fear, so little time.

So I work hard to feel better. Think globally act locally. Exercise. Meditation. Laughter. Focusing on the positive wherever it can be found. Unplugging from the media (or the weapon of mass distraction as a certain spiritual leader I admire would say). What do you do to try and feel better when there are so many things to worry and feel anxious about? Don't tell me you have no underground rivers of things you worry about. We all do.

And so do three-dimensional, unforgettable characters. Really great characters act and speak like real people, right? That's what makes them compelling. So what world do they live in beyond the construct of conflict you have engineered? Have you thought about the balance in your main character's checking account? Or how your main character feels about the issues in the media? You may not focus on some of the very real, real world issues happening within the world of your script; WHEN HARRY MET SALLY didn't focus on what was happening in the White House at that time - and it shouldn't have. Movies are escapist fare. But even if your script doesn't focus on global or personal realities, when writing a great character, those life realities are still happening beneath the surface. They have to be.

Every character has a family of origin. A past. A few pounds they'd like to lose. A bad habit they'd like to break. A lonely weekend. Moments of doubt. A spiritual belief system - or not. A world view and a world experience. They came from somewhere, they grew up and they lived in a world. So how has that impacted them over time? How has it impacted you?

As Tony Gilroy so truthfully wrote in MICHAEL CLAYTON - people are incomprehensible. So writing a character who feels real is a pretty tall order. Some writers, such as like Proust or Tolstoy, accomplish this with pointillist details. Others, like like TC Boyle or Denis Johnson, use a more graffiti-like way of writing, with broad strokes and bright colors that somehow coalesce into a realness on the page. In screenwriting, we can combine both tiny details and broad strokes to achieve an impact. But mostly, we have to use actions to define our characters. Which is both easier and much more difficult. We don't have the luxury of getting inside our characters' heads to tell a long backstory or reflect upon madelines. We have to be quick and dirty, which I personally think is the funnest thing about screenwriting. It's like puzzle solving - how can I show you that this is a lonely person? How can I show you that this is an optimistic person? A joker, a cynic or a worrier? How can I convey that quickly and effectively so that you the reader (or viewer) can plug into that person and get who they are?

I know what NOT to do and that is to write a character who is two-dimensional. Which is a charge often found in coverage reports. Two-dimensional writing is a character who is described physically and only concerned with what is happening right now - but who does not have foibles, traits, eccentricities or specificity as a human being. Even if your character is a type, it has to be a type that we can connect to. Oh yeah, I've met that guy before.

So back to today's topic - think about it - what is on your main character's mind that has nothing to do with the story at hand? Think about what you are worried about or anxious about and how you cope with that and ask yourself what your main character feels about the news of the day. Does your main character live in anxiety or blow it off? Do they drink or smoke it away? How evolved is your main character on a personal level? How do they deal with conflict and personal managment? Do they get lonely in a crowd? Do they have a savings account? Are they worried about that strange new mole? Give your character the same details that we all have.

In a SCRUBS episode a million years ago, Zach Braff coped by being in a bubble bath, surrounded by candles and singing Toto's Africa at the top of his lungs. It was hilarious, it was specific and it was real.

Update: You may be wondering about the Robotard 8000. They unfortunately had a last minute change of plans and my interview with them is on ice for the moment.

Now get back to work.

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The Flight of the Conchords

So have any Wavers watched HBO's FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS? What a strange, delightful, weird show. When I watched the very first episode of the very first season, after having heard friends rave about the show, I must admit I was flummoxed. It was funny - I guess. In a very awkward way. I mean, New Zealand accents are actually a little hard to understand and I didn't quite get the tone of the show. By the second episode, I was hooked. And the more I watched, the more I got hooked. Those Kiwis are addictive.

For those of you who know nothing about the F of the Cs, it's an HBO series that airs Sunday evenings at 10pm and is about to wrap up its second season. It's about a New Zealand folk music duo - Brett and Jemaine - who have moved to New York and are trying to book gigs through their dedicated but totally inept manager, Murray. They have one fan - stalker Mel - a hilarious, hilarious actor, and live in a crappy apartment. They are an odd brand of man/boy - they are quite naive and trusting but also clearly dim. It's the details of the show that crack me up. The posters touting New Zealand in the background at the consulate: New Zealand - Don't expect much. You'll love it! And of course, the music - the show is interspersed with songs by Brett and Jemaine and the lyrics are ridiculous. Not to mention the music. But Brett and Jemaine take themselves and their music quite seriously. Rhys Darby, who plays Murray, is for me the best part. He insists upon band meetings in which roll call is necessary. Brett: yes. Jemaine: yes. Murray: present. His devotion to the band is nothing short of delusional - and yet it is heartwarming.

Like SEINFELD, it's a show about not much. Brett and Jemaine face difficulties like getting mugged, needing new fans, going on a warm-up tour. Most of their gigs take place at libraries, aquariums and empty bars. They are unaware of the absolute lack of actual progress as a band. The episode in which a fruit vendor is racist because he thinks they're Aussies is my favorite. The constant poking fun at New Zealand is priceless. New Zealand! Rocks!

The attention to detail and backstory is great. Their one fan Mel is married to a man who plays solitaire in the basement and drives her to Conchords gigs. When Brett is in the bathroom at Mel's house, she pokes her head in the door to "check" on him and to her right, there is a picture on the wall - such a small detail - of a sketched nude male with both Brett's and Jemaine's heads cut from a picture and glued onto its head. Mel, by the way, is a junior professor of psychology. And, yes, a stalker. The New Zealand Consulate, where Murray works as an attache, is housed in the same building as businesses like All Asian Massage and a meat distributor.

If you haven't seen the show, rent or buy the first season. It's a cult favorite and it's highly entertaining once you become accustomed to the particularity of the world. The artful construct of that world, from a writing standpoint, is the strength of the show. Totally character driven, it highlights the ridiculous music and the naivete of the band. It's a fish out of water construct - but what fish.

World. Particularity. Irony. Details. FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS is a show that aspiring writers should watch at least once. Because this, Wavers, is how it's done.

To learn more about Brett, Jemaine and their journey as comedians and performers, click HERE.

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Character Introductions and Voice

The very first time we see a character in your script is a fantastic opportunity for you to show us in descriptive words, WHO this character is. We need to know their age, yes, but we need to know something about the totality of this person. Now, in reality, people are layered and complex and one glance can't possibly telegraph everything about them, can it? And yet one can get a snapshot of a person based on their clothing and mannerisms.

Here's an amalgam of BAD character introductions that I have seen approximately 1.3 million times:

JOHN PATRICK is 43 years old and is wearing khaki pants with a blue shirt and a green tie. He is the president and CEO of a large industrial company and he is uptight and judgmental. His WIFE is 38 and has blonde, curly hair and green eyes. She is dressed in a sexy dress and she is bored with her life.

So - here we have a collection of descriptive words that don't add up to a feeling of who this couple is. They both just stand there like mannequins. We have a lot of information here - and information, by the way, that we cannot SEE (the president and CEO of a company) and dull details that do not paint a picture of the essence of these people. What does "bored with her life" look like? Why the specificity of khaki pants and a blue shirt? What does that convey, actually? That he's conservative? Maybe.

I once read a script years ago in which an African American couple debarks a plane on a tropical island. As they walk down the steps to the tarmac, the writer described their clothing: JOHN wears jeans with a white tee-shirt, tucked in and tan loafers. GINA wears a red floral dress with pink and purple flowers, white sandals and a floppy hat made of straw.

TERRIFIC. What. In the heck. Does this mean? Why do I care? How about they are wearing casual vacation clothes? I mean - what is the meaning here? That they look like they are on vacation? A laundry list of clothing or attributes is just that - a laundry list. It doesn't feel like anything. Don't ask me why that terrible description stuck with me. I have no explanation.

Remember that in screenwriting, your job is to describe people and things in such a way that the reader picks up what you are laying down about a character in the macro and in the micro. The details of their clothing generally doesn't matter - unless it MATTERS.

Here are five key character introductions from JUNO that just sing on the page because they tell a whole mini-story about each character in an engaging, clever and voice-filled way:

JUNO MACGUFF stands on a placid street in a nondescript subdivision, facing the curb. It's FALL. Juno is 16 years old, an artfully bedraggled burnout kid in a Catholic school uniform.

PAUL BLEEKER steps onto the front porch of his house for early morning track practice. Bleeker is a frail 16 year-old kid who looks 14. He wears a cross country uniform that reads "DANCING ELK CONDORS." He is eating some kind of microwaved snack gimmick.

We see BREN cutting up LIBERTY'S food diligently. She's wearing a football sweatshirt over a turtleneck, and sporting the classic Minnesota mom bouffant.

VANESSA opens the door. She's a pretty, meticulous woman in her early 30s. Very Banana Republic.

MARK LORING sits in the austere LIVING ROOM with a woman in a business suit. He is boyishly attractive and in his mid-30s. He rises immediately upon seeing Juno and Mac.

Do Wavers see how entertaining and yet information-specific these introductions are? Do Wavers see the specific word choices that Cody made in order to convey a feeling of each character? Their ages and what they are wearing is noted but equally as much the way they do things speaks VOLUMES.

Bren cuts up her younger daughter's food diligently. Not precisely. Not efficiently. Diligently. Writers are wordsmiths - which is why one of my biggest pet peeves is screenwriters who do not have a love of or facility with language. Diligent is different than precise. It's a subtle difference - well, not really - it's a shading. Diligence conveys duty while precision conveys efficiency. Diligence is a trait that connotes working hard and precision connotes control. Is Bren a controlling mother? Not in the least.

How much does: "...an artfully bedraggled burnout kid in a Catholic school uniform" convey about this main character? Not just bedraggled - artfully bedraggled. Not just artfully bedraggled but an artfully bedraggled burnout kid. Take away any one of these words and the picture shifts just slightly, doesn't it?

Or the detail that Bleeker "is eating some kind of microwaved snack gimmick." Not an apple. Not a muffin. A "microwaved snack gimmick." Which he is eating while standing on the porch.

Notice the fact that Mark Loring "rises immediately upon seeing Juno and Mac." He's polite. Or is he nervous?

I'm actually not the type who idolizes or mythologizes successful screenwriters, heaping them with super-human accolades - HOW did you THINK of that SCENE?? - but I know good writing when I see it. These character introductions of Cody's NAIL the characters; they are engaging and they smack of the tone and vibe of JUNO. I don't care who you are - Diablo Cody or Judy Henkstein from Nebraska - writing in an engaging, entertaining way is just good stuff and it's completely within your reach.

We talked yesterday about doing an action line pass on your script this week - seeking out and destroying various action line problems (too dense, too scattered, too detailed). How about this week at some point you go through your script, Wavers, and take a look at how you introduce your characters using the examples above as inspiration? If Cody can do it, you can do it. Lots of screenwriters can do it - it's not rocket science. It's having FUN when you introduce main characters. It's having FUN with the language you use. It's looking over your palette of word choices and choosing specific words to convey specific feelings. Which YOU and only YOU get to do. Because this is your story, Wavers. How do you want to tell it? How do you want me to feel when I read it?

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What B Movies Can Teach Us

The Mini-W and I have a rainy day pastime of renting B movies with titles like BLUE DEMON and SHARK HUNTER. Although we were a bit disappointed by the Sci-Fi Channel's IT WAITS because it wasn't that bad. SHARK SWARM, for a bevy of reasons, is still one of our all-time faves - a perfect storm, if you will. But I digress.

You have to love a B movie. There's a certain bonhomie present when the dollars are low, the motivation is high and the writing - well, whatever sort of works. We have been amazed and impressed at the directorial decisions that elevate budget constraints into cleverness - or camp. But one thing we have noticed, fairly consistently, is the presence of two-dimensional characters.

When you're watching a B movie, your expectations are much lower. In fact, you're pretty sure you're going to wind up with some pretty good belly laughs. And you usually do. But from a writer's perspective, even characters in a fairly ridiculous situation (a Yeti killing all the pretty college girls in the next cabin over, or giant alien-eels with telepathy attacking your submarine) should have SOME believability. Shouldn't they? Are writers like hairdressers at a party, doomed to observe what is NOT working and cringe?

Obviously, the writing in B movies is not meant to inspire, resonate or be otherwise organic by any measure. That goes out the window in the same way that Little Debbie Cakes are not meant to provide nutrition. And hey, I can respect that. However, if I were training a hairdresser to have a sharp eye for what is fashionable and what does and does not work, I would take that hairdresser to a romance writers convention in Kansas City and just roam the place with my Jack and Coke and soak it all in. That's what I'm recommending here.

B Movies are what they are - and there have been plenty of books written on the topic. And yet, they yield lessons for screenwriters with higher - no - different aspirations.

I've always maintained that reading bad scripts is more instructive than reading good ones. Good scripts are just - good. What works well works so harmoniously that they are not as easy to deconstruct. But bad scripts - it's like that scene in A BEAUTIFUL MIND when the numbers float into focus and create a pattern.

The Mini-W and I just watched a movie yesterday in which an ancillary character LOATHED the main character for believing that X monster was responsible for the undersea troubles at hand. LOATHED him. And we kept thinking - why? Was the actor over-emoting? Well, I think it's fair to answer yes to that one. But - what was going on for his character that the possibility of a crazy, outsized, paleolithic monster inspired rage? And, in the case of the main character, would a person be truly ANGRY for lo these 20+ years since his parents were killed by said monster? Seriously? Just pissed off and two dimensional for all this time? In every situation? I'm not sure which is more uncomfortable, listening to dialogue that bad or watching the actor try to work with it anyway.

To take one example of a character flaw so roughly hewn as to give one giant splinters: In SHARK HUNTER, our main character witnessed his parents being eaten by a megalodon when he looked to be about 10. We fast forward what appeared to be about 20 years or so and he is an edgy, bitter college professor of some kind, who designs state-of-the-art undersea exploratory stations. Okay I'm making that up - some kind of undersea something stations. It was hard to tell. Now he is needed to go down into the undersea something station and try to find out what destroyed another undersea station with one giant, blunt blow to the side. Something's fishy. And it really pisses our main character off. PISSES him off that he has to go on this adventure and that obviously what did it was the same megalodon that attacked his family 20+ years ago. And we know this because he emotes EDGY ANGER at all times. So you can see the writer's logic: family killed, guy pissed at megalodon this whole time. Now he has a chance to come face to face with it. So what's his character flaw? By the looks of it, that he is pissy and angry. Why? Parents were munched. And how does he pay for this flaw? Uh, he's unpleasant? And how does he overcome this flaw? Uh, he kills the megalodon in the end?

In IT WAITS our main character is a drinking, sobbing wreck because her backstory is that her friend died in a car crash for which she was responsible. The monster, a demon unleashed from a cave puts, the Unhinged Woman whose flaw is...not taking responsibility(?)...through the wringer until she calms down enough to (SPOILER ALERT) kill it good by mashing it back into the cave and blowing it up. And so now, she has taken responsibility and...the demon is dead and...well, you know, from the perspective of a viewer, the brushstrokes are pretty broad. She killed a demon. You know, like, she slayed HER demons and now she is prepared to live a life in jail but guilt free. Because the larger theme is: slaying your demons is important if you want to live a guilt-free life. A be a good person. Or something.

Do you see how these broad strokes are just a bit too simple to resonate? Now, in a B movie, these formulaic half-character-arcs can work because (as above) the jumping off point is not meant to be profound. But as an aspiring screenwriter trying to write something more mainstream and, let's face it, higher paying, one wants to delve deeper and use a scalpel, not a chainsaw when creating truly believable characters.

So watch some B movies sometime soon. It's good for you on many levels; revel in and enjoy what a filmmaker can do with 50 grand, a state park and a great rubber suit but also observe the rough hewn characters and ask yourself - what IS the flaw here? WHY does this character act this way? What would you do differently?

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What You Can Learn From Clark Rockefeller

Did anybody else read that article in Vanity Fair about "Clark Rockefeller," the German guy who successfully made up a number of mysterious and wealthy personas, including claiming to be a Rockefeller? His audacious and slightly alarming story makes the Catch Me If You Can guy look like a pussy cat by comparison.

What can we, as writers, learn from "Clark?" Anyone? Oh - I see a hand in the back. Yes, correct, we can learn that we all want to believe in the beautiful lie. In other words, people are willing to believe almost anything. Why just last evening, after watching Milla Jovovich complete an extraordinary martial arts stunt in RESIDENT EVIL, my best pal told me he is practicing the same one in his class. Seemed totally plausible to me - my friend is in great shape. Turns out he was joking. But how was I to know? I don't know anything about martial arts. Sure, looking back now, as my friend was lying flat on his back on my sofa eating popcorn, it may have been a suspicious claim. But in the moment - hell, who knows right?

If someone told you that he or she had lived in Brazil for six months and helped indigenous people build new thatch huts while fighting off tarantulas and a neighboring, warlike tribe BEFORE returning to Yale where he or she was studying the Sociology of Indigenous South American Tribes, would you buy that? Because that could possibly be true, well, what reason would you have to disbelieve it?

Yesterday I watched YES MAN - there's a nose-wheely stunt done on a Ducati. Real? Or a movie stunt with some CGI benefit? Real, as it turns out. I'd not know the difference and I don't care - it was a good moment in the movie. In BIG, Zoltar grants Tom Hank's wish. We know in real life this couldn't happen but in the movie - we willingly suspend our disbelief. A willing suspension of disbelief is the free ticket handed to you, the screenwriter, by every audience member going to see your movie.

But taking this idea a step further, or perhaps backwards and to the left - when thinking about your characters - who do they want people to believe they are? Who do you want people to believe YOU are? You see, Clark Rockefeller was motivated by more than a need to scam money, rides in private jets and exclusive club memberships - he reveled in the feeling he got from the perception that he was monied and blue blooded. Imagine how differently a Rockefeller is treated making dinner reservations at the most expensive restaurant. Imagine the carte blanche that gives you. Even if you are not writing a character who is a pathological liar - being that that is the extreme - everyone has a self and public image that they cultivate. I'm the nice dad, the crazy artist, the neurotic writer, the dependable friend. But that's just on the surface - in the bathroom mirror - all alone - who is your character, really? Who are you - really?

Every one of us is playing a role - if not several. You might be one person at work, another person to your family, another person to your lover or friends. Now, we all know that healthy people don't have huge differences in these different roles - but remember, your main character, at the top of the story, isn't totally healthy and balanced - they need to change. And you, the writer (aka God in this script) are going to force that change. In the arc of your character, he/she is going to unite inner and outer selves - the external want and the internal need - so that he/she is healthier and more realized and fulfilled in the end. It is that tension between who your character wants to be and who they need to be that fuels their arc.

As the truth began to sneak up on Clark Rockefeller, his lies grew more and more farfetched. He was desperately avoiding being found out and he got sloppy. Or began to dissemble psychologically. Yeah, well, probably the latter, but if he were a character in a movie, his fall apart would coincide with an epiphany - he'd finally come face to face with what it is he's been running from. Again there's Reality and then there's Movie Reality. In Reality, "Rockefeller" will probably just sit in jail for years believing his own lies then writing a book about the experience. But in Movie Reality, he'd have a flash of insight that would lead to personal growth and a satisfying ending.

There are several lessons to draw from this convoluted and, I hope, entertaining post:

1. Read the paper and/or magazines: If you hadn't heard of Clark Rockefeller til now, you've missed out on just one of trillions of fascinating real life stories that can inspire your writing and your understanding of character.

2. Audiences are like a group of people at a party standing in a circle around that one totally fascinating dude - they've had a couple of drinks and will buy almost anything. Exploit that.

3. Your main character is one person on the exterior but someone else on the inside. It's your job to unite those two selves in a satisfying way. Your main character will hate you for trying.

4. The more you think about what makes people tick - everyone from yourself to crazy, pathological liars to that enormously cranky woman who works at the post office - the deeper your writing can explore that.

5. People are weird. We all are. It's a matter of degree. But movie characters are not like you and me - they are composite, escalated versions of who we fear we'll become if we don't find love, spontaneity, courage - you name it. And in the end, they are who we'd like to be. They are life writ large, they are on a journey with a happy, tragic or in some way conclusive and definable ending. Audiences crave it. So do you. Deliver on that.

6. Writers are weavers of The Beautiful Lie. We are that dude at the party. We are Clark Rockefeller. Have fun with it.

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The Importance of Backstory

Good writers know that they must get the story moving as soon as possible at the top of the script. Jump into scenes late, make every scene count and only write those details that are illustrative and evocative of your character's - well, character.

We don't need to watch our character pour his or her coffee, take a shower and choose clothes for the day because this is a movie, with Movie Time and Movie Reality. We don't show the blow-by-blow or the minutia. Unless it matters or is adding up to something.

But what many writers conveniently forget is that when we meet your main character on page one, he or she has lived an entire lifetime before that moment. Let me repeat that: your main character has lived an entire lifetime before we meet them on page one.

All sorts of factors have shaped your character long before we meet them. Whether we see any of these factors or not. Your character has a backstory, in other words. And it made them who they are on page one - flawed, quirky - specific.

Coming up with backstory can seem like a superfluous detail, especially the kind of backstory I'm talking about. I have mentioned before needing to have a page negative ten for your character. By that I mean what was going on in your character's life two weeks or three months before this story begins - did they get fired, married, divorced, hit by a car, win the lottery, move into a new town, buy a new car - what was going on JUST BEFORE your story begins. The relatively recent past.

But today I'm talking about a deeper type of backstory. Those formative life events, situations and choices which slowly shaped your character. This is writing and character creation on a deep level - some of this stuff won't be necessarily obvious on the page at all, but it's stuff that you need to know about every significant character in your script.

Now, we know that in real life, we judge people by their appearances and the details of their lives all the time. Wow, can't believe he drives a Hummer. What an arrogant, insecure jerk, right? She goes to therapy three times a week - ruh oh. She has a huge amount of credit card debt - what an irresponsible person! And so on. You meet people, maybe as a new friend, maybe as a love interest, and these details about them add up and paint a picture - rightly or wrongly. You've heard the expression to have your house in order, meaning to take care of your Body, Mind and Spirit. Does your main character have his or her house in order? Hopefully not on page one, right?

Imagine you are getting to know someone over a glass of wine. A person you are thinking of dating. Wouldn't you like to know this stuff? It could prevent a lot of problems down the line, right? I think we've all gotten to know a great person only to find out later they've had a DUI, have three dollars in savings, tons of credit card debt and got fired from his last three jobs under mysterious circumstances. Oh - maybe that was just my experience. You know who you are. Kidding! I'm kidding!

Rightly or wrongly, in real life, the details of a person's past and present allow us to create a composite judgment. In the movies, these details matter too. Because they shape our main characters into somebody whole, organic, flawed and interesting.

So here are some questions about your character, divided into formative and house-in-order categories:

Formative
Does your character have siblings? How many? What is his or her birth order?
Where did he or she grow up?
Are his or her parents still living?
Does your character have an education? How much?
Is or was your character spiritual or religious? If so, of what nature?
Who was he or she in high school? Nerd? Jock? Shy kid? Prom queen?
Did he or she have money growing up or did the family struggle?

House in Order
What does your character drive? Why?
Does he or she have a savings account? How much is in it?
Has he or she every done anything illegal? What? When and why?
Does your character drink? How often? How much? Why?
Does your character eat well and exercise? Why? Why not?
Does he or she have a close relationship with family? Or estranged? Why?

These are just some starter questions but clearly, there are millions of questions you can ask and answer about your main character. Ask yourself, if you could be totally nosy and ask anyone anything you wanted, what would you ask your boss? Your lover? Your new friend? If a potential new lover revealed that he had twenty eight dollars in savings, does that then turn you off to him? Is there more to that story or is he just irresponsible? Ah but that's where being a writer comes in. Maybe he has no savings because he paid for his brother's kidney transplant surgery. Or maybe he has no savings because he has a gambling problem. Big difference. Which is it?

The answers to these questions, just like in real life, color the way your character makes decisions and choices in the now. And it is those decisions and choices - conscious and subconscious - that fuel the story you are about to tell. So please do take the time to get to know your characters, past and present. These details may not show up on your pages but like invisible ink, they are there, underscoring every choice and opinion your character has about the situation you are creating to entertain us.

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Origin Stories

So the Mini-W and I watched IRON MAN over the weekend and we both gave it a big thumbs up. And, as the Mini-W is still in the learning stages of movie appreciation, we discussed the fact that IRON MAN is an origin story. Origin as in the comic book world, not the world of mythology that the Mini-W was immersed in for years, being the product of many years of Waldorf School. To this day the kid can knit while discussing Loki, play the violin and sing ancient Teutonic songs about the coming of winter while laying pine boughs in a pleasing circular pattern.

In the world of comic books, origin stories are the back stories for the superhero in question. How, why and when our superhero began his or her trajectory of internal pain and superhero-ness. You know - Batman and his murdered parents, Spiderman, the radioactive spider and his uncle's death for which he blames himself, Superman and his destroyed planet. Luke Skywalker and the loss of his aunt, uncle and very home. Wait - he's not a superhero. But this is still his origin story, isn't it? The beginnings of a lifelong adventure. A pivotal point in his life that changed him forever.

So all of this got me to thinking - what is your main character's origin story? Regardless of genre, your main character is on an arc of change, right? What was that moment that defined the hole your main character has been trying to fill ever since? What defined them long before your story began? If there was a moment of origin for your main character, your script is then going to be the second most defining moment of their lives, right? Because your script is in some ways the continuation of a story that already began long ago.

Your main character's origin story doesn't have to be tragic - you might be writing a comedy - but the point is that something in your main character's life set them upon a path, positive or negative and now, because screenwriters get to play god, you are going to set a story in motion that will irrevocably change your main character once more. Change the direction of their orbit forever. And it's deeply satisfying, as a writer, because in real life while many do have defining moments, often it's more of a cumulative effect, right? Experiences pile up, one atop the other and slowly shape us, like a rock being being battered by the sea. As we get older, we begin to soften and change.

But movies are life writ large - there are defining moments, pivotal conversations, forced decisions and cathartic, satisfying changes. I'm convinced that that's why we like to go to the movies - to look for patterns, closure and exciting outcomes when in real life, things can seem to move at a glacial pace. Even so - look at your own life - do you have a moment that defined you? Or a period of time? Something about where you grew up, something that happened in your family? A bully at school? A teacher who believed in you? That jerk who fired you and led you to your career today? Were you lucky enough to find the love of your life and that person lifted you up to a whole new level because they love you so? Or did you lose someone and that profound loss lent you a whole new point of view?

We writers have more in common with our main characters than we like to admit. Our main characters live out our fantasies - they get revenge when we were unable to. They speak the truth when we weren't heard. They overcome their fears. They have the perfect come back, romantic gesture or courageous response. They turn heartbreak into triumph, they take chances and they discover the truth about themselves. They overcome grief and find grace. They are us the way we wish we were.

What was your defining moment? Can you name one? Or maybe a defining period of time that led you where you are in your life right now?

Now think about your main character - your antagonist, that's fun too - and explore what his or her origin story is. What defined your character on page negative 50, long before your page one was written?

Origin story - back story - defining moment - they're not just for superheroes. We all have those moments and so does your main character. Be the main character you're writing, slide into his or her skin and feel that pain, joy or loss in order to write a satisfying arc of change in the now.

I often tell writers that because you get to play god, the journey you set your character upon should be exactly relative to the change you want to see in your character. Could Tom Cruise have GONE on a more painful journey of change as he drove his mentally handicapped brother cross country in RAINMAN? Here is a character who needs to reconnect with his past, forgive his father and heal his wounds. They say that the Universe never gives us more than we can handle but often our limits are pushed. And we rise to our potential if we have to. If everything is on the line. Otherwise we lead a life of mediocrity and quiet desperation and our characters inhabit a dull movie. I think living a life of quiet desperation is a kind of living death. And so does your main character. They just won't admit it.

So do some spelunking - find that origin story - that pivotal moment that happened long before your script began and then trace it forward - now your main character has reached some kind of uneasy equilibrium and by page ten, you're going to be the finger of god, upset the balance and set change in motion.

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Now, Doggone it, Get in Character!

How many Rouge Wavers watched the Palin/Biden debate yesterday evening? I know I was glued to it, admittedly waiting (and hoping) for a Palin gaffe that never happened. But my oh my did Governor Palin crank up her down home, regional accent for effect. She peppered her language not only with soft enunciations like "ya" instead of "you" and all the usual "goin's" and "shoulda's", but also a couple of well placed "doggone it's". The effect was quite calculated - this is a down home, all American, kitchen-table mom that you can relate to. Now, for someone like me, this was an annoying affectation - but for the voters Palin was trying to connect with, it was canny slam dunk. She understands ya. And maybe she won't answer questions the way ya'd like her ta, but Americans are just wantin' straight talk. Dontcha know.

From the linked article above:

Reaction to Palin's speech has been highly varied. Some people dislike it, finding it harsh or grating; others regard it as charming or authentic. These are common responses to a distinctive accent. Depending on the context, such an accent can make a person seem stupid or uneducated or, conversely, honest and folksily trustworthy—often at the same time. Some people exploit this for effect, emphasizing and de-emphasizing dialect features to prompt a particular reaction. Linguists call this code-switching. In this Palin interview with Katie Couric, you can hear her enunciating her -ings and her yous more clearly in responses where she appeared to have a ready answer, and returning to her more natural -in' and ya when she seemed stumped, which suggests that Palin may have been deliberately attempting to minimize her dialect features for that audience.

Yes, this code-switching...Palin does what I call a "Zelig". You know, that great Woody Allen movie about a guy who instantly becomes just like everyone around him at a given moment in order to fit in?

Full disclosure: I am a born and bred Democrat from an educated, East Coast family that doggone moved west but retained a regional loyalty toward everything Boston and a love of literature and discussion. My grandmother attended the Leland Powers School of Elocution in fact, though she could never quite rid herself of her Brahmin Boston accent, i.e., driving the cah to the pahk. For me, while Palin's diction, colloquialisms and overall diction is clearly a result of where she is from, there is an affectation that I find patronizing and which frankly galls me. Do ya know what I'm sayin'?

But moving on my from personal predilections and prejudices re Palin, I thought it an interesting lesson for screenwriters when it comes to dialogue. Palin employed a particular speech pattern for powerful effect: she was in character. Did she come across as warm, folksy and honest? That was the intent.

But to be both fair and realistic, we all have a bit of Zelig in us. How we want to be perceived varies from situation to situation. The way we speak tells others volumes about us. About where we're from, our socio-economic status, our education and our world view. We are all in character.

I know that while I might seem fairly polite on the Rouge Wave, in real life, I use the eff word and a thousand variations of it very liberally when hanging around with my friends. Wouldn't do that around my parents or around someone that I didn't know very well. When I'm around people who are quite educated and who show that in their speech - I'm right there with 'em too. My speech patterns and diction vary by situation. And your does too.

Take a look at your script pages and ask two questions of the dialogue: what affect is your character trying to have in the situation and what dialogue and diction choices have you made for your character in order to establish and reinforce personality?

How do you want your character to come across? What kind of vocabulary and diction do your characters use and to what affect? Oh dear, now I'm getting that paranoid feeling that I'm mixing my affects and my effects up. I probably am. And for every smarty pants Rouge Waver who writes in with the definitions of each and both, here's a preemptive cupcake for you.

The bottom line is that however you felt about the Palin/Biden debate, Palin had a little lesson packed into her speech for us screenwriters. Dialogue defines character.

For more on the debate click HERE.

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Rain Drops Keep Fallin' On My Head...

So it was pretty sad to wake up today to the news of Paul Newman's death. But I try not to allow myself to get too sad about the passing of a writer, actor or notable personage; rather, I shoot for appreciation and gratitude. Paul Newman lived a good long life and left behind a cinematic legacy.

When I was growing up, Paul Newman and Robert Redford were the George Clooney and Brad Pitt of their time. They were the epitome of handsome, sexy, movie-stars. I am sure that I have not seen every Paul Newman performance - there are some notable absences that I plan to rectify. I have not seen HUD, for one.

The performances that spring to mind that I really loved were :

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
Cool Hand Luke
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
The Sting
The Color of Money

Probably my favorite was Butch Cassidy. Which, incidentally, I rewatched not long ago and while the great moments were as great as I recall, was also rather dated in a number of ways. But that movie still has one of the best movie endings ever. Who can forget that scene as Butch and Sundance talk about their next heist opportunity in Australia, knowing full well it will never happen and then rush out to a hail of bullets?

Mr. and Mrs. Bridge was a disappointment to me - I had read the books and absolutely LOVED them - (the movie collapsed two books into one movie). The performances were good but the movie just didn't deliver the same experience as the books by far.

What's your favorite Paul Newman performance?

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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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The Impact Character

Wonderful Chris Huntley of The Write Brothers, the man behind Dramatica Software and MovieMagic was my booth neighbor at the Fade In Pitch Fest this weekend. We wound up spending some time together and Chris shared with me a series of video clips he put together in which the "impact character" identifies with the main character. This series of clips illustrates Chris' point beautifully.

So - what is this "impact character"? At The Writers Boot Camp, this was called the "dynamic character" - a character who can variously be an antagonist, mentor or co-protagonist. This is a character who shares, in a sense, a parallel journey with your main character - a character who is in many ways opposite from your main character and yet ultimately more like the main character than the main character would like to admit. Enjoy these great movie moments which illustrate the way in which a secondary character influences the main character:

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Misery Loves Company

Do you ever rent a movie that you saw when it came out but not since, just to refresh yourself? Last evening, The Wave-inatrix and the Mini-W watched MISERY and were (re)blown away. Well, The Mini-W had never seen it, since it was made before she was born, but I was reblown away and the Mini-W, a fan and child of obviously much more current fare, became an unmitigated fan. It is also a source of great pride for me to note that the Mini-W made intelligent observations about the thematic similarities between MISERY and WHATEVER HAPPENED TO BABY JANE.

MISERY works so perfectly on so many levels. Great character arcs, tight structure, ticking clock(s), simple, terrifying premise and also, I mean really - Annie Wilkes has got to be one of the most memorable movie characters of all time. Her strange, developmentally stunted dialogue: He didn't get out of the COCKADOODIE CAR!

And so it led us to have a conversation - if you had to make a list of the most unforgettable movie characters who would be on it?

Off the top of my head, my (starter) list would be:

Travis Bickle
Annie Wilkes
Hannibal Lecter
Austin Powers
Annie Hall
Dirty Harry
Tyler Durden
Ferris Bueller
Norma Desmond
Claus Von Bulow
Jake Gittes

Notice I didn't say Tim Robbins in THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION - another brilliant movie, good actor and memorable role - but the difference here is the name of the character is what comes to mind, not the actor - because the character was so uniquely memorable that he or she subsumes the actor. Was Marilyn Monroe unforgettable in SOME LIKE IT HOT? Yes. But that's because it was Marilyn, not her character, Sugar Kane. Alec Baldwin was great in THE DEPARTED too (really great) but the difference between those mentions and the ones above, is that the characters in my short list above are so memorable, they stand out from the actor and many of us can quote their particularly memorable lines of dialogue.

What lists would Wavers make? Who are your most memorable movie characters? Can you quote them? Do you quote them from time to time -

You lookin' at me?

You have no idea.

All right Mr. Demille, I'm ready for my close up.

Yeah, baby, yeah!

And more importantly - are you writing characters this memorable? It's not easy, god no - but it's what we should strive for, right? Writing a character so memorable that what your character says will wind up in the lexicon of great movie dialogue.

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Do You Neglect Important People in Your Life?

Guest Blog

By Robert Chomiak

Oops, anyone read that title and experience a pang of guilt? Or are you able to strike a balance by spending enough time with those who matter to you? And what in the world does this have to do with screenwriting?

As someone who has written analyses on hundreds of specs, I’ve noticed a conspicuous number commits the cardinal sin of ignoring important characters. I’ll be knee deep in Act 2 when it occurs to me that the hero’s friend hasn’t been heard from for some time.

That’s why I prefer reading searchable PDF files rather than hard copies of scripts. It’s so much easier to type in a character’s name to confirm in seconds that, yup, the friend doesn’t appear from pages 23 to 61.

Usually it’s the confidante. Another casualty is the parents. The love interest is also neglected big time. And even—nope, I’m not making this up—the protagonist.

Now, I am not advocating equal time for everybody. It’s impossible to do it in real life, so don’t even attempt it in your script.

The key here is balance.

Some people don’t enjoy being the center of attention. But more importantly, no one likes to be forgotten. As Oscar Wilde said, “The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.”

Remember what happened to Michael Douglas when he stopped paying attention to Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction? Eventually she turned up with a carving knife and the ominous line “I’m not gonna be ignored.”

What follows are actual examples of scripts in which writers neglected significant characters. Details have been altered to protect the innocent.

In one screenplay, a detective has fallen for a deli worker while trying to solve a case. The relationship takes a few baby steps in Act 1 and starts to flourish at the top of Act 2. But from that point to the middle of Act 3, the detective is mired in his case and makes no attempt to contact the love interest. There is one obligatory scene somewhere in Act 3 in which she shows up to offer tea and sympathy, then the detective doesn’t bother to meet with her until the resolution.

The major problem is that it’s unconvincing the detective could hook up with this woman again without some issue over his absence. The relationship offers no chance to shake things up for him. This is a clear example of the value of subplots. The love interest here isn’t threaded into the story to give the detective opportunities to explore the emotional aspect of his life. Instead, for a large chunk of the story, we are made to feel the importance of his case. For 40 pages the script feels like a police procedural instead of a detective story.

In another script, a single dad suddenly finds himself pink slipped. He has to move heaven and earth to secure employment, which will allow him to maintain custody of his two daughters. No problem here, the stakes are pretty solid. The dad takes on a crappy job completely beneath him in order to pay the bills and later becomes embroiled in a kidnapping plot. He tries to mind his own business but keeps getting pulled into the caper until he has no choice. An unlikely low-level worker is suddenly forced to play hero by saving a teen girl from her captor.

Hm, and all the while, who exactly is taking care of his own daughters? Apparently his prepubescent offspring can feed, entertain and discipline themselves. When we do check in with them, there is little conflict with the dad’s original goal of trying to maintain custody. Think Pursuit of Happyness without the actual day-to-day routine of raising the kid.

In this final example, a down-and-out fighter enters a championship contest to pay for his pet’s operation. In the first 12 pages we are made to feel the importance of that pet, because it represents the fighter’s glory days; symbolically he wants to keep the dream alive. For the next four pages he makes half-hearted attempts to earn some money before settling on the boxing competition. He spends the next 15 pages convincing others to help him: his mother, his brother, a former fighter. He jumps headlong into his training for the next 20 pages, getting into all sorts of trouble and finding his goal to be an uphill battle. And what is all this for, exactly?

I almost couldn’t remember. For there is a 40-page gap where the pet is absent, even though its presence is vital to remind us of the fighter’s goal. As with the detective and the dad, the fighter becomes focused on the task at hand until the story is all action and little heart.

The careful management of characters should be thought of as a host who spends just the right amount of time with guests to make the party a success. Of course, that doesn’t mean running around trying to please everybody and ending up pleasing no one.

Sometimes a character isn’t heard from for the specific purpose of creating mystery, yearning, tension, anticipation. But you can pretty much tell the writer who is intentionally keeping characters off-screen versus the writer who is merely neglecting them.

So, if this article has inadvertently guilted you into getting in touch with someone you haven’t talked to in a while, sit down later with your script to see if an important character hasn’t been heard from for several pages.

Odds are you’ll suddenly be struck with inspiration to write incredibly cool scenes that seemed to be missing from your script. Scenes that allow your characters time to reflect and to develop, to have their goal or beliefs challenged, to bond together or break up.

In other words, to make your characters complex and interesting.

This awareness of your cast will also prove to be a useful tool when you get stuck asking “What happens next?” The better question will be “Who hasn’t been heard from in a while?”

Robert Chomiak is co-writer of the zom-com feature Fido. He has also written a sitcom episode and adaptations for three animated theatrical features and 207 episodes on seven animated series.

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The Shrink is IN

My good friend and our new resident psychologist at The Script Department, Jeff Cotton took five questions from Rouge Wavers last week and wrote up some great answers. Today we have Jeff's response to the first two questions:

Dear Doctor Jeff:

One problem I've encountered with my characters (in my drama specs) is that I hesitate to really put them through the wringer. In other words, intellectually I understand that Very Bad Things must happen to them, after all it's a drama, but emotionally, I can't bring myself to do it. I find myself shying away and doing The Next Bad Thing That Isn't So Bad. How can I overcome this?
-Too Nice in Toronto

Dear Too Nice:

One of the questions to ask yourself is “have I gone through the wringer in my own life and am I better because of it?” If the answer’s “No, I haven’t gone through it” or “No, I’m not better because of it,” then I don’t blame you from shying away from putting your hero/heroine through hell. Yet, most life situations that have taken us right to, and sometimes right over, the edge and we healed from, become our great teachers and allies; the places we are wisest because of our personal experience.

I watched Russell Crowe on “Inside The Actor’s Studio”, talk about not falling too in love with your character because either you won’t want them to have flaws or resist having them go pain. To not have our characters go through life is akin to putting the “high filter button’ on my old stereo. The high filter button was used when an album was too scratchy. While the high filter diminished some scratchiness, it also dulled the music. --- I encourage you to go for it.

Dear Doctor Jeff:

Is there is a book out there on reviewing the psychology of a movies/scripts like "Silence of the Lambs" or "Batman" or 'Hellboy" or "Pan's Labyrinth"?
-Curious in Cleveland

Dear Curious:

I had a friend call Samuel French bookstore. Either he didn’t ask the right questions, but they did not know of a book that did. He checked out websites and came up with these. See if they’re useful.

http://www.gointothestory.com/2008/05/villains-it-doesnt-take-much-to.html

http://www.scriptologist.com/Store/Exercise/exercise.html

http://www.smartwomeninvest.com/screen.htm

http://www.craftyscreenwriting.com/secret.html

I remember reading ‘Red Dragon’ forerunner of ‘Silence Of The Lambs.’ Graham, the FBI hunter of serial killers said (not quite a quote) “I grieve for the little boy that was tortured into becoming a monster.” It seems important to recognize that monsters are created, rather than born. Also, as much as movie like to give it the “it” moment that created us (our personalities), it’s generally a lot less black and white and more created over time, than in an instant.

A good rule of thumb is that the younger (and more helpless) the child was during the trauma(s) either the more helpless they become in later life…. OR the more monster-like they become to protect the helpless child inside.

Okay Wavers, stay tuned for more questions for Doctor Jeff and his illuminating answers.

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The Psychology of Your Characters

One of the delightful benefits of working with and getting to know writers from all over the world is that the Wave-inatrix not only makes many friends and connections but my client list is a virtual fountain of talent and resources.

One example is Jeff Cotton. He is a client, a friend and a psychologist of great accomplishment and experience. Jeff was kind enough to invite me to one of his recent training sessions to see him at work and I was blown away.

Yesterday, as Jeff and I were chatting, our conversation turned to a sociopathic antagonist I am currently writing. We spoke at length about the banner symptoms, past and present, of sociopaths. What can drive them to violence. What makes them tick. What their childhood is usually like. Just where that sociopathy comes from.

I took probably four pages of notes about my antagonist as a result of our conversation yesterday - and about my main character as well. Because who is a nice, ripe victim for a predatory sociopath? My main character's flaw leaves her wide open for such a person to come into her life. But why? Jeff gave me so many insights it was amazing.

The thing I love about Jeff is that he keeps it real. No lavender-scented office and piped in Enya for Jeff - he has, in his own words, been to hell and back in his own life and between that and his many years of working in his field has pretty much seen it all.

Suddenly, in the middle of this amazing, informed conversation, the Wave-inatrix had a brilliant idea. What if you could email or chat with Jeff with any psychological questions you might have about your characters?

The Script Department will soon announce Jeff's availability to consult with writers about the psychology of their characters for a nominal fee but for a short time only, the next five Rouge Wavers who order any Script Department service* will be eligible for a drawing and one winner will win a free 30-minute phone consultation with Jeff.

I know many are on vacation this weekend, or otherwise hanging out with family, but in addition, for TODAY only, you can email your (brief) questions to me and I will forward them to Jeff for his review. I will accept a limit of five email questions for Jeff and the cut-off is today at 5pm pacific time. Email your questions HERE.

So take advantage and truly dig deeper into your characters with the help of Jeff Cotton, our resident psychologist.

Have a good, productive weekend, everybody!

*minimum service - basic coverage

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We are Miners

A little Cowboy Junkies ref for those closest to the Wave-inatrix's cupcake heart.

When we think about the flaws of our main characters - the flaw that will be changed or resolved at the end of their character arc, we have to be sure that the flaw is an active one. In other words being "shy" as a flaw doesn't connote much in the way of this character driving the action because of it. Your character's flaw should be something that affects every aspect of his or her life so that because of this flaw, stuff keeps raining down on the character's head in such a way that he/she cannot deal with it effectively. Until the lightbulb goes off over the character's head.

Writing good characters is all about digging deeper. Mining for the details.

Being vain is a flaw. But it's not a really good flaw until we know WHY your character is vain. Or why your character is a bully. Or a doormat. Or has anger management issues. Why, why, why? Therein lies the answer to creating a really active, interesting flaw.

I like to get to the flaw like this: I ask a client what the flaw is and they usually say something like "he wants his father's approval." Nnnnnot really working. It's not specific enough. So then I ask - why? What is the backstory to that flaw? Well, his father was distant and distracted growing up. Okay, so he didn't get the attention he wanted and you've sketched out what that arises from. Still not a flaw. It's a need. His father's attention and approval.

So let's try this: What does the character overtly WANT in his life? To be wealthy and respected. No - what does the character WANT right now, in this moment in time? To cut a deal and sell 10 Lamborghinis. Okay. But what does the character NEED?

To feel respected and loved by his father. Nnnooo....actually, digging deeper, he needs a sense of self-worth. So - the character cannot get what he wants until he gets what he needs. Car sale, i.e., money and success ain't gonna happen until he has a sense of self-worth.

And how is this character going to find a sense of self-worth over the course of your story? Ohhh how about by finding out he has a mentally deficient brother tucked away in a home? How about the bright idea of kidnapping that brother in order to share the inheritance more fairly? But what happens on that memorable road trip in THE RAIN MAN? Tom Cruise learns more about himself through his brother than at any other time in his life. So by the end of the story - the money and the success - this no longer is Cruise's goal. It's hanging onto the brother he never knew he had.

All character flaws are rooted in some kind psychic wound. A lot like life, right? Something messed with your character's head earlier in life. But here's the thing - just like us 3-d people, characters will do anything rather than just plain face that psychic wound. Often, we can't even really articulate it. But as a screenwriter, you get to be the Universe (g-d, Yahweh, Spirit...) You get to deal the psychic wound, you get to decide in what way your character acts that wound up via flaw and you get to decide what the real NEED of your character is.

Because wanting a father's respect is not the healthy answer to the psychic wound. It's about self-respect. You've been to therapy, Wavers. The thing is never the thing.

So do this exercise:

What is your character's flaw?
What psychic wound does it stem from?
What is your character's want/goal at the beginning of the story?
How does that want unconsciously relate to the healing of the psychic wound?
What does your character really need, then?
So again, what is the flaw? How is it a lame, sideways way of having the psychic wound healed?

NOW you have arrived at the actual, interesting, active flaw. A good character arc is like therapy writ large.

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Blake Snyder

A dear friend of The Script Department, Blake Snyder is the well-known writer of Save the Cat and Save the Cat Goes to the Movies. In addition, he is one of the most genteel, funny and kind people the Wave-inatrix has met. Today he was kind enough to guest blog about the big T - transformation.

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The Transformation Machine

All stories are about transformation.

And seeing this as a good thing is the starting point of writing a successful story of any kind.

Something has to happen, change has got to occur. That's why the Opening Image (the snapshot of the world BEFORE) of a movie script has to be the opposite of the Final Image (the snapshot of the world AFTER.)

When breaking a story that's always where I start -- and what most listeners I am pitching to want to know: What HAPPENS? Well, the way to chart that is to ask who your hero is at the start and who he is by the end.

And that's what makes Act Two what I like to call The Transformation Machine. Heroes go into Act Two --- but they don't come out. And as storytellers, our job is to take our audience by the hand and explain that process. You the audience and I the writer, I like to say, are standing on a train platform, we're getting on the train... and we're not coming back.

The best part of the Blake Snyder Beat Sheet (the infamous BS2), the structure strategy for breaking down these story points, is the Transformation Machine of Act Two. By charting "Fun and Games," "Midpoint," "Bad Guys Close In", "All is Lost," and "Dark Night of the Soul," we have a map to show how that transformation occurs in our hero.

And when you add in the vital "B Story" hinge points at page 30 (when the "helper story" is introduced) to the "Midpoint" and "Break into Three" where A and B stories cross, the meaning of this transformation is discussed as well.

All stories are the caterpillar turning into a butterfly in some sense. All stories require a death and rebirth to make that painful and glorious process happen.

And it occurs in movies... and in life.

We transform every day, re-awaken to new concepts about the world around us, overcome conflict, and triumph over death... only to start again each morning.

It's why stories that follow this pattern resonate. Because each day is a transformation machine, and so are our lives.

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A Vast Horde of Souls

Here is a (politically correct) excerpt from what the Wave-inatrix considers the best short story of all time. The Waver who can identity this writer gets a cupcake. I really mean it this time.

There was only a purple streak in the sky, cutting through a field of crimson and leading, like an extension of the highway, into the descending dusk. She raised her hands from the side of the pen in a gesture hieratic and profound. A visionary light settled into her eyes. She saw the streak as a vast swinging bridge extending upward from the earth through a field of living fire. Upon it a vast horde of souls were rumbling toward heaven. There were whole companies of white trash, clean for the first time in their lives and bands of blacks in white robes, and battalions of freaks and lunatics shouting and clapping and leaping like frogs. And bringing up the end of the procession was a tribe of people whom she recognized at once as those who, like herself and Claude, had always had a little of everything and the God-given wit to use it right. She leaned forward to observe them closer. They were marching behind the others with great dignity, accountable as they had always been for good order and common sense and respectable behavior. They alone were on key. Yet she could see by their shocked and altered faces that even their virtues were being burned away....

Aside from the fact that the paragraph above is writing so good it hurts, what does a vast horde of souls, leaping and clapping have to do with screenwriting?

All weekend, The Wave-inatrix sat in my booth at the LA Times Festival of Books with my dear friend Jeff and watched the parade of humanity swirl and cluster into and out of booths. And Wavers, it was unparalleled people watching. The shufflers, the apple-grabbers, the twitchers and the quiet observers. The tall lady dressed in a mango-colored dress and hat with a foreign accent, a tongue piercing and dubious gender identification. The children with face paint, eager, bright-eyed and direct. The limping older guy with a desert hat, ZZ top beard and braces.

Jeff and I, both writers, when we weren't establishing what kind of facial hair would be best on Jeff or the writings of Trotsky and Freud, managed to beat out 85% of a great new action-adventure idea over that long, hot weekend. It's amazing what you discuss when you're bonding in a hot tent.

But in-between our brilliant ideas, we were transfixed by the way people wear their personalities on their exteriors. Baldly so. Their clothing, speech and posture spoke loud and clear. Probably because we are writers, we are more observant. Perhaps because we are writers we embellished with our imaginations.

It struck me that with the endless, infinite range of personalities, exteriors and back stories, no screenwriter ever has an excuse to write a two-dimensional, nondescript character. Take your cue from real life, Wavers. Today be observant of the vast horde of humanity that you co-exist with. Can you imagine back stories for who you see today based on their look and attitude? Can you try to guess what's going on in the life of the guy next to you at the red light? He may look normal, even bored in his car. But as I say to clients all the time - dig deeper.

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