Can Feedback Sabotage Your Story?

Rouge Waver Desiree wrote in and asked:

I've never had a pro to read any of my scripts, but various friends and fellow writers. It has its disadvantages, I know.

Several years ago I listened too much to the advice I got from a friend and one day I woke up and the story was no longer mine, it was his. Since then I have learned to trust my heart.

Would a situation like that ever appear with a pro reader? Would the reader see another potential than intended and give "wrong" advice and change the core of the story?

I have so many thoughts on these questions, Desiree, that it's gonna take me a moment to really get to the heart of it. First of all, this has happened to me, in the distant past. Asking for and receiving story advice that eventuated in my story changing altogether. But years and years and scripts later, I realize that the reason that happened to me is that I didn't know clearly what my story was anyway. So I cast about for opinions and suggestions to plug leaky holes in a weak story, didn't differentiate between the merits of this or that advice, and wound up cobbling it all together into a story that had no relationship to my original idea.

So yes, you will get advice from various people that could radically change your story - but the key is to develop the skill set to differentiate between what can add value to your story and what in fact degrades the central core of what turned you on about it in the first place. Additionally, writers should test changes and suggestions against the key components of the story: main character flaw, theme, the second act adventure (the meat of the premise) and the big battle scene in the end - the pivotal third act resolution. All of those particular components are actually hinged together quite neatly. Like a Rubik's Cube, the way they hinge can change - but they still have to click together and work. So if you change one thing, you affect the whole shape and mechanism of your script.

There is a right way and a wrong way to give feedback. Always be wary of someone who gives you numerous, specific ideas for changes without testing them against those key components. Not everybody is very well equipped to give feedback. But that's your responsibility when asking for it. I see that often on message boards - other screenwriters micromanage and give very specific advice to writers who have posted pages and then the script becomes a weird community project. Don't put yourself in that position.

Getting advice can be great; friends, colleagues or a pro reader might suggest something that opens up a whole new perspective. Just make sure you make it a collaborative experience and that ultimately you stay tethered to the fundamentals of your premise that got you excited in the first place. Test the suggestions against the components of your script, teasing out the outcome to see if it would alter your script in a desirable, surprising or value-added way.

Now: Would a pro reader give you story-changing advice? Maybe. Some. It depends. That goes beyond the scope of what readers get paid to do, generally speaking. At a company like mine, in which readers are paid to evaluate scripts but also to be encouraging and instructive, the readers will give examples and some suggestions, yes. But those readers will only give suggestions that still fit into the framework you came up with. Because when they give suggestions, they know the other key components of your script and they take into account the snowball affect.

I'm sure some pro readers or (not very good) consultants might try to more or less dictate what they would like your story to be - but if you feel those alarm bells going off, it's your responsibility to stop that flow and move on. Teasing great ideas out of a writer is much harder than just saying "look, I would do this." Teaching a writer to think critically and see opportunities instead of having the writer do what YOU think would work is where feedback and mentoring of writers becomes an art form. Anyone can dictate what THEY think YOU should do. But that's not their job. And you do not have to subject yourself to that.

Getting feedback is an interactive, participatory experience. Don't just get in the car blindfolded and be driven somewhere. Look around, ask questions, make your own suggestions and know the path you were originally on in the first place well enough to only deviate from it quite consciously. You are ultimately responsible for your story, where or if you get feedback on it, and what you then do with that feedback.

All of this said, because many Wavers might be members of writing groups or screenwriting message boards in which bad feedback runs rampant, this is probably a good time and place to talk about what good feedback looks like. When giving feedback to a writer, try putting the feedback in the form of a question. Two great ways to start off that question are "what if" and "maybe...?" So you might say, "What if the main character's flaw is actually that he's vain?" and then you and the writer can play with that for a moment. How would changing the flaw affect the theme? How would it affect the main character's arc of change? How would it affect the reversals and complications along the way? So you ask a question and then you follow through with testing how that possible change might affect the major components of the story.

So to summarize, Desiree -

Be careful who you get feedback from; avoid message board blowhards and total strangers who are not familiar with your premise, you or your process.

Check in with the clarity of your understanding of your premise and main character. Are YOU the expert of your own creation? Is your premise pithy, articulate and unique?

Test suggestions against the major components of your script to see if they add value or actually just loosen all the hinges and then require more jury-rigging.

Incorporate only the notes and feedback that resonate for you.

When you give feedback, pose it in the form of a question: "What if" and "maybe" are great starts.

If alarm bells go off because you're hearing multiple opinions and suggestions about your script, step away from the feedback, sleep on all of it and revisit your premise line. Remember, this is YOUR story that only YOU can tell.

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When is Enough Enough?

I was reading a script the other day as a favor to a friend. He asked how I liked it. Great, but I have some notes for you. Just little things to help make some moments pop. I could practically hear him deflate on the other end of the line. Oh - I don't really need more notes. I've had so many notes that at this point, I just need to be done with the script. Which is when I understood that my friend didn't really want or need notes, he just needed me to say the script was good and let him enjoy that feeling. I mean, I get it. I've definitely written and rewritten scripts to the point where when someone tells me a brilliant way to make x, y or z moment even better, I just smile and nod. No more. Enough.

So - how do you know when your script is done done? Is it that sick feeling that you cannot bear to hear one more thought about it? Or is it that wonderful feeling that it is 100% as good as it can be? Well - few of us ever enjoy that feeling, right? So how can you know? Being sick of your script is an indicator, for sure, but an indicator of what? That it's as done as done can be or that it's as done as you personally can get it?

One thing I do know for sure is that a script really can be tweaked into perpetuity and yes, improvement is always possible but if the changes are relatively micro, it's probably time to move on. It's about thinking over the best way for you to be spending your time, right? Is it worth tweaking endlessly when you could be working on a first draft of a fresh idea?

How do you know when to fold 'em, kiss that little darlin' goodbye and either put it in a drawer, enter it into a competition or send it to an agent or manager?

Well, if you've had more than four consecutive sets of notes, each of which resulted in a new draft, it's probably time to push the baby out of the nest, for better or for worse.

Or, alternatively, if you are now bored stupid at the thought of rewriting or tweaking your script - it's time to let the little fella fend for itself...and probably in a drawer if you seriously no longer get excited in any way, shape or form about it. If you can't get excited about your script, who else can?

Only you can know, Wavers, when enough is enough. But believe me, at a certain point in time, enough is enough. Your script is gonna have to stand on its own two legs ultimately, and it's the concept that's gonna knock someone dead, not whether the fairy godmother on page 10 gives her speech at the top of the stairs or the bottom.

Write, write, write. Keep moving, like a shark. Several pretty good scripts ultimately serves you better than one really good one that you've been working on for 10 years and oh wait, I need to rethink the scene on page 72...

Know when enough is enough. Trust yourself. Use your time well. Let go and move on to another script.

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Mixed Messages

Hello, Wavers! Did everybody have a nice Memorial Day weekend? I received a lengthy email from a client with a number of questions that I thought deserved a public answer since many of you may be able to relate. For ease of reading (and answering) I have translated the questions into very brief versions, distilling them down to the basic sentiments:

1. I keep getting different notes from different readers and different coverage companies. Some say "consider" and others say "pass." How the FRAK am I supposed to know what to do?

On this one, you have to take a deep breath and know that coverage, to a certain degree, is subjective. Though readers hew to certain standards, they are just people and until they invent the Auto-Reader 9000, you're stuck with that. The only advice I can give you is to take the notes that resonate for you and ignore those that do not.

2. Readers seem to have insanely high standards. It's like readers are keeping me out of Hollywood. How do I get around them? What do I make of ratings that I do not agree with?

Yes, readers have high standards. Most readers, and certainly those who work for The Script Department, come from the production company world, where giving a "consider" on a script is an act of putting one's job on the line. So readers are very hard on your script. They have to be. Giving a "consider" on a script means your boss has to read it this weekend. If your boss reads it over the weekend and disagrees that it warranted that - heads roll. So yes, sometimes readers will give a "pass" in lieu of "I'm not really sure." Believe it. I've been there. Sometimes a reader will lean on "consider with reservation" which amounts to "I'm not sure" but the production company world is quite harsh so readers work within that system. And it is a by-the-numbers system of rating and ranking scripts. Is it designed to keep you out? Yes, it is. But at a script coverage company such as The Script Department, we have no agenda except to help your writing improve. If we say your script is essentially a "pass" we mean it is not likely to fly at a production company.

Say you disagree. That's your prerogative and in fact, if you really, really disagree with that rating, then the choice is yours to go ahead and query/submit anyway. We in no way assume the authority or final word to tell you do NOT submit this script. We are just a safety system that gives you an idea of how it might fare at a production company if you submitted the draft we read.

Again, readers are tough and they are subjective. They try to be as objective as possible but they are just people doing a job. It is your gut feeling that rules what you do about your notes or about submitting the script, at the end of the day. We can't fish for you, but we can teach you how to fish. If you really disagree and think that the script just needs to get that one "yes" to get off the ground, you would be right - it does need one "yes" - that's all it takes. So it's possible that a "pass" rating by a script coverage reader might not dissuade an executive at just the right company for your script, who was in just the right mood. Use a system of odds: If three readers point out the same problem - you probably have a problem. If only one does, well, you have to use your gut instinct.

3. A reader I had recently made some comments about a particular world and situation I had set up and it was clear to me that she wasn't familiar with that particular milieu, and some of her opinions were incorrect because of that. I'm frustrated by that!

Say you're writing a script about fly fishing, or ticket scalping or space algae harvesting. When you submit that script to a production company, a reader will vet the script first. There is no way of ensuring that reader or any reader will indeed be familiar with a particular world of your script. Them's the breaks. Not every reader can have intimate knowledge of the particularity of your world. Say they ding you for stuff that you researched and know is correct.

There are two reactions you can have. One, bummer dude, you got dinged. The reader didn't get it. Try another company or reader. Subjectivity, human error and shortcomings are all an unfortunate reality in getting your material read in any venue. Essays, fiction, short fiction, scripts. Deal with it. Two, it is possible that you didn't make clear the particularity of the job or world or situation you were depicting. It is possible that had you done a better job, the reader, unfamiliar with 17th century butter churning or 21st century boiler rooms would have gotten it.

In fact, you have to plan for the possibility that not every reader who reads your script will "get" what you've written about. On the whole, because readers read such a large volume of scripts, they do have at least an inkling of what you're talking about. If they don't, they don't. I understand researchers are hard at work on the Auto-Reader which will make all coverages identical, with identical standards and results. I don't mean to be sarcastic, I mean to remind you that readers are people trained to execute a particular skill set in rapid delivery.

Rotten Rejections is a really great, entertaining and ultimately inspiring collection of rejections that famous literary authors received before going on to have huge success with the same book so insultingly rejected. Nabokov, for example, was told in a rejection letter that it would best if Lolita were "buried under a rock for a thousand years."

In fact, any Waver planning to go to the Great American Pitch Fest in Burbank this June 13th and 14th should definitely take my class, Top Ten Things Readers Hate (I actually think they politically correctly retitled it Top Ten Things Readers Aren't Crazy About or something...) and you will learn a ton of the practicalities of the life of a reader - what they get paid, how much they are expected to read, how they review scripts quickly, and more.

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Buy My Script. Now.

For some reason The Script Department has received a plethora of inquiries lately from very new writers who are very out of the loop. The upshot of the inquiries is always the same - I've written this great story that I really think is amazing and now I'd like you to tell me how to sell it.

It's very easy, if you're on the inside track, to find that kind of inquiry incredibly naive if not a bit...unsmart. But we who have been at this for awhile and have been through the wringer need to step back and realize that the desire to tell a story is a far cry from having an understanding of how this industry works. Show business is like any other business, on a certain level. Profit, loss, competition, egos, percentages, up and down swings. You wouldn't design a new car and go to Ford and say hi, I've designed this new car so will you buy it? It's not that simple. A) who the hell are you? and B) having designed a new car doesn't then mean a manufacturer is going to pour money into that design and market and sell that car. You wouldn't do some stuff in your kitchen and go to Chanel and say hi, I've come up with a new perfume, would you buy it please? Are you guys with me?

There seem to be two schools of thought when it comes to screenwriters trying to break in: The aforementioned, hi, buy my script and geez, it's gonna be great when I buy that new car and Hollywood is an effed up, monolithic, exclusionary machine and I'll never, ever break in. Neither is true.

Being a screenwriter is not a one-off, it's a long journey. So you've written a great script that you think would make a wonderful movie - congratulations! That really is an accomplishment to be proud of. Now get ready for the what-it's-like-to-be-a-writer part. Rejection. Silence. Notes. More notes. Existential angst. You write another script you think is a great story. Rejection. Silence. Notes. More notes. Existential angst. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Listen up, bright smiley noobs - there is no short path through this. It's what all writers go through. You are not special, blessed or supernaturally lucky. You are a writer. Or - are you? Because if the thought of toiling away again and again and meeting with only rejection makes you want to forget it and go for the promotion at work instead - please, save yourself the heartbreak and go for it. Hewlett Packard has great benefits.

The initial goal should be to learn the craft and learn it well. Which is a step that can take a long time and a lot of bad scripts that you thought were good scripts. Trust me on this one. After you have a stockpile of scripts, most of which are pretty bad and you know it, then you start writing scripts that are actually not bad. But they won't be very original. Rejection. Silence. Notes. More notes. Existential angst.

You'll get pretty hot, dirty and tired in this process. You'll have bitter days when reading the latest script sales or trade news makes you crazy. You'll want to quit, again and again. But something keeps pulling you back in. And you keep writing. Then finally you say eff it, I love this script. I got good notes on it. I feel good about it.

And then and only then is it time to try to find an agent or manager who believes your scripts are competitive on the marketplace. Notice I didn't say brilliant - I said competitive on the marketplace. Because Hollywood is one big hurly-burly marketplace of buying and selling. The wares are stories. And the market is hot and crowded, trust me on this. The agent or manager who represents you is the barker at a stall, trying to hawk your wares. And the only way he or she makes money when they pack up their booth at the end of the day, is if they can sell your script.

So you arrive on your camel, from the hot, dry desert with your wares - will you sell this for me? The agent or manager is going to look at your script, kick it some, check its teeth and make a decision. Man, that market is hot and tiring - am I gonna make some coin on this? Because I have those four other stories that are pretty bright and shiny. So why this one? Why this writer?
Trying to race around the desert and not travel through it first is going to result in chasing a mirage. You are not different from other writers who made the trek. You do not get a free pass. I'm sure your story is amazing - to you. I'm sure it was great to write it. And that feeling is the water that you store to replenish yourself along this journey. Validation, networking, studying, enjoying movies - that's the food and water you need to pack. Because the journey is very long. No, I cannot take your script, sight unseen, and get it to an agent or manager who will summarily buy it and make you rich rich.

Chances are, if you're reading this, you're thinking oh man, what dumb clucks - I know this already. But at one time you didn't know it. You had to learn. Probably through bitter experience. I know I did. Hoo, boy. What a bummer that writing a script does not then mean you sell it and get rich. But that's what separates the writers from the dabblers. Sure, I had a script I thought was great, 10 years ago. And it went precisely nowhere. I bundled up, got back on the camel and kept going. And I have a script now that I think is great. Now I'm actually in the marketplace - I can see the hawkers, I can smell the spices and hear the jingling of bells...it's all so close. But man, am I hot and dusty. And I have no guarantee whatsoever that I'm going to get a cool drink and buy a new camel. So you trundle on and you keep writing.

In a certain mood, these types of inquiries make me a bit irate. What, you think the art and the craft of writing a movie is that easy? So easy you can do it once and sell it? You think it's just a bunch of words and that you can learn it from some book and pull it off? But I take a deep breath and I realize that what looks like hubris is actually ignorance. An ignorance that is part of the journey. We all thought it would be way easier than it is to write a good script. We all thought we could get meetings pretty easily. We all figured that a script sale was a good but not terribly difficult thing. We can look back in laughter now, can't we? But that ignorance serves two functions - it gives us the blissful unawareness necessary to join this camel train in good cheer, and it gives us a milestone to look back on. If I knew then what I know now...

It's okay to be totally naive to this industry - it's complicated and full of mirages. One such mirage is that of instant fame and money. Don't you believe it. Keep that water and food for your journey and keep following the North Star. The marketplace is there - that's quite real - you can smell the spices and hear the barkers shouting even now, can't you? But you cannot take a shortcut to it. And not everyone who gets there is going to see their wares for sale. But that's the thing, isn't it? The mystery, the surprise, the sheer adrenaline of trying?

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Be That Person

So I'm at a bridal shower the other day with several women I've never met before. You know how that is. Whatever, blah blah, nice to meet you. As the women are chatting over champagne, one says she's an exec at a production company that I fairly worship. My eyes almost bugged out of my head. THAT company? OMG! Must talk up this woman. Must make connection. Want to do that right this second! I clutched my champagne with white knuckles. When will I have an opportunity? How can I do this?

I took a deep breath. You know what? That's not the way to do it. Relax, drink more champagne, open gifts and enjoy the party. Which is what I did. Everyone there was hilariously funny and interesting and we talked about the upcoming wedding and jewelry and exercise and life in general. But then the moment came - the final opportunity. We're all saying goodbye and see ya at the wedding and what are you going to wear...What to do? How do you snatch an opportunity without seeming, well, unseemly? Forget it, I think to myself. I don't want to be that person. Then another part of myself said Julie, before she walks out that door, you make a connection or I'll kill you. Note to self: Must discuss these voices with doctor.

Then the moment arrived. We were walking out the door when I screwed up my courage and said hey, do you have Facebook? Why yes, yes I do. Great, great, I'll look you up. Cool! Listen, I own this company that helps out aspiring writers - is there any way, if I find a good script, that I could send it to you? SURE! Wow, we'd love that, we'd love an inside track on brand-new writers. Anytime!

And that, Wavers, is how it's done. Phew. If you're lucky enough to be in an environment where there are people who could help your career, don't be the person who pounces on someone, much as you'd like to. Get to know them a little bit, find some way to connect. And then - be that person. The person who takes an opportunity and makes a connection. Because the answer might just surprise you. And now I have a pipeline for my clients to a GREAT production company that has made some of my absolute favorite films. Booyah.

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How Do You Find Your Way In?

Different writers have very different methodologies for finding their way into creating story or developing character. If you have ever worked with a writing partner, you know this. It's quite remarkable, actually, the differences in the ways writers understand story - or try to make sense of a nascent story. Some use a particular methodology that they may have read in a how-to screenwriting book and others are more gut-driven.

Having studied many ways of approaching screenwriting, I'm one of those people who has done a lot of writing and had a lot of experience writing good and bad scripts so I tend to put down the cookbook and salt to taste at this point. Many writers love Blake Snyder's approach or The Hero's Journey and hew to their choice very closely. When I went to the Writer's Boot Camp I remember learning their methodology and becoming very confused - but - where's the elixir?! There are so many different terms for the same thing - plot point, turning point, threshold - and I think I blew a gasket at one point - why can't there be one universal way of understanding the way stories are told?!

You have to use the method that works and makes sense for YOU and nobody else. If applying specific terminology or methodology feels cumbersome - step away from the book and feel your way in more organically. If you get hung up on screenwriting labels and fixated on them (I seriously got really hung up on the terminology of The Hero's Journey for awhile there) then that's a sign that you're paying more attention to the way somebody else defines story than to the intuitive feel you need to develop on your own.

I personally think the most descriptive words about writing a story are: Get your character up a tree and throw rocks at him. I know that's pretty reductive, but for me personally, I write story from a very character-driven perspective. What's the overarching premise? What does the character want? What do they need? It is the conflict between that want and need that drives the story forward. You can't drop a plot onto any old character and have a necessarily entertaining outcome.

In the first 10 pages of your script, you establish the world your character lives in. You establish his or her flaw (which is the tension between the want and the need) and you throw a giant rock into the pond - what goes wrong? What new situation arises that forces your character to change? Mind you - characters will do anything NOT to change and not to deal with their flaws.

For my money, templates do not apply to all stories or to all characters, so saying thus and such methodology/philosophy must happen in thus and such sequence is confining and too one-size-fits-all. But there are writers who work with a prefab construct just fine, and can take that way outside of the box, too. But not me. I need more freedom. I need to put down the cookbook and play. I know I need to be entertaining. I know my main character needs to have a satisfying arc. I know where the act breaks need to go and I know there needs to be a highly entertaining "battle scene" (see, WBC lingo; I can't escape it) in the next to last sequence. That's enough for me.

So - what works for you? Is there a particular method you use when sketching out your story? Or have you concocted your own way? Do you combine different methods? How close or far are you from throwing down the cookbook and intuiting story?

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Where Do Your Ideas Come From?

It all starts very mysteriously, doesn't it? That first inkling of an idea? You see or do something and suddenly this little light bulb goes off. That was neat/scary/romantic but what if THIS also happened? What if the person it happened to was in thus and such situation? What if it happened in reverse? What if, what if, maybe this? That's what writers spend a lot of time doing. Musing, thinking, imagining...

The thriller that my partner JP Smith and I wrote together came from a newspaper article I read years ago, about a person waiting for an organ donation. And I remember thinking - huh - wouldn't that be a weird feeling? To know that someone needs to die in order for you to live? Wouldn't you watch the local news and get slightly excited when you heard about a train accident that killed 10 people? And wouldn't you be repulsed by your own thinking, just a little bit? And that little kernel gave birth to a dark thriller that took on a life of its own.

I just had an idea yesterday, based on something really odd that happened. The idea didn't arrive until hours later but unfortunately, I only entertained it for five minutes because I then realized it's inspiring but not at all unusual. I haven't even done a keyword look up on IMDB to check but I know in my heart of hearts the basic setup has definitely been done. It feels familiar to me. Bummer. So I filed it away under "well, maybe someday some other component of that idea will make itself known to me and make the idea unique."

So where did you get the idea for the script you are currently working on? What was the genesis of it? Did the idea emerge from something that happened to you or someone you know? Did you get the idea from something you read or saw somewhere? What is at the core of your idea - is it a situation or an object or a character? How long did you think about it before it began to take a shape? Do you have a filing system for your ideas? Do you write them down and save them? How do you know (or find out) if your idea really is that unique?

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Is There a Fast Track?

From the Script Department mailbag, a question that our lovely assistant Chaia answered with aplomb:

Hello,

I am just about to graduate college. I guess you could say that I am a freelance screenwriter. I will be honest and upfront, I have no money (like I said, I'm just about to graduate), and there is no way I can afford to pay for your services. I am simply asking if you have any contacts of people for me to send my work to. I have a big idea on my hands here. Any help would be forever appreciated. Thank you so much.

Fast Tracker in Tennessee


Hi, FT! This is Chaia, The Script Department's assistant. Congratulations on your impending graduation, and thank you so much for your inquiry.

The best thing that you can do for yourself as a writer looking to sell is to a) recognize that this is a persistence game of b) building relationships over time. Move to Los Angeles (if you aren't here already), read the screenwriting boards and blogs, go to the mixers, work as an intern/PA/assistant. Do the footwork, stick around, and slowly people will start to ask to read your work. Let them. Offer to read theirs (or to scratch their back in some other relevant fashion). Expect that it will take way, way longer for your career to happen than you want it to. When you get impatient, self-produce and self-promote a short so you can get that instant gratification itch scratched. Representation and buyers both want writers who can deliver great script after great script. Think marathon and longevity. Keep reading, and above all, keep writing.

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The Writer's Season

Good morning, Wavers! How is everybody doing? For many screenwriters, the focal point of the screenwriting year is competition season - most competitions have deadlines right around May 1st or June 1st and it is during this time that there is a flurry of work to get those scripts turned in for a shot at winning cash, prizes and hopefully, a career boost. TV writers push all year to have a great spec ready for the TV spec season (also happening right now).

But - then what? We know that in general, the rhythm of Hollywood says that "spec season," - i.e., when agents and managers prefer to go out with scripts - is generally between January and August each year. Many production companies start their fiscals year in November but of course we know that November and December are so jam-packed with holidays that that's not a great time - so it really begins in January. So we're still very much in spec season - really up until mid-August or so, buyers are out there reviewing material.

What does your writing season look like? There are two events each year that screenwriters should think about attending - three if you have the budget and time: The Great American Pitch Fest in June, The Creative Screenwriting Expo (October this year) and The Austin Film Festival. That last one is a bonus - again, if you can afford it, you should go. If not, go to the GAPF and the Expo. If you can only go to ONE event, go to the Expo. It's fun, there are a lot of great classes and just about everybody goes so you'll meet a lot of people.

So - when you're not going to festivals or events or tuning up your script to enter it into competitions - what do you do? Write. You should always, always be writing. Yes, there are those key points on the calendar but the writer's season is the longest season of all because you just can't stop. Even during the holidays, when Hollywood virtually shuts down for a couple of months, you want to take advantage and be working on your material for the following spec season. In the fall, after the spec season is over - next year is already queuing up and clicking forward.

Ideally, you should be writing at least two scripts a year. Now, I know - that's not always possible. Some writers write faster than others. Many of us have day jobs and all of us have busy lives filled with family obligations and the various vicissitudes of life. It's ultimately about how badly you want to have a career as a writer. The more you want it, the more you better be writing. Because again, your competition is not the writers who write one script every couple of years, or total beginners who are not at all ready for prime-time. Your competition is writers who are on the cusp of breaking in because their talent is honed, they have some relationships and connections and they continue to create fresh material.

Set goals for yourself. Do not allow yourself to dwell on one script for too long: Don't do rewrite after rewrite that spills into different seasons. Write two to three brand new scripts per year, enter them into competitions, get feedback, write them to the best of your ability and query with them. If nothing happens with those scripts whatsoever, you're already working on more. If your script gets no action, take it out of the ring and make room for new material.

And you should always be generating ideas. Keep a file folder of your crazy ideas - one of those crazy ideas might just click with something else and become the great script you are going to write next year.

You are the general commanding your troops for battle. There are soldiers on the front lines lobbing out queries and making forays into events and opportunities, but if you don't have enough munitions, you're never gonna win the war. Pretty soon there won't be anything new and fresh to query, pitch or otherwise lob out into the fray. You must always be generating new material. And the good news is that every script you start is a fresh chance to nail it this time and have the stars align for you. Every event you go to could introduce you to a person who might change your trajectory in large or small ways.

The writer's season is evergreen, not deciduous. You should always be writing and when you're not writing you should be generating ideas and simultaneous to all of that you should be gearing up for querying or a competition or an event. Hollywood has a rhythm and a season, sort of like school being in session for eight months of the year. Writers go to school year-round.

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So You Think You Can Read?

Since I started teaching the I Want To Be A Reader course, a number of students have signed up and completed it. But none with the enthusiasm and insight of Rouge Waver Michael Brownlee, who whipped up a frothy blog post about his experience:

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Rouge Wave Pictures presents a new workplace thriller –

I WANT TO BE A READER

“Selfless coverage pro, Julie Gray, with only a computer, an internet connection and her vast knowledge of the craft, has only four weeks to turn a know-it-all screenwriter into a professional reader without losing her sanity or her professional credibility.”

Can she do it? Is four weeks enough? Can a know-it-all screenwriter be taught anything?

Spoiler Alert: Yes. Yes. And, thank god, Yes.

When I learned that studios hire people to read and cover screenplays I thought - How hard can it be? I know how to read. Besides, it’s got to be a better “industry job” than cleaning some junior executive’s cat litter box. Right? But after signing up for Julie’s I Want To Be A Reader course I discovered that there’s more to doing coverage than just reading a script.

The very first week I was blown away by how many elements a reader has to be on the lookout for. I quickly realized that reading a script for coverage would be nothing like reading one for pleasure. To start with I’d have to turn off my inner critic. One of the first assignments was a screenplay written with a dialect, where the words were phonetically spelled out. I loathe reading these. To be a professional reader you have to keep a certain distance and leave your personal feelings at the door. You read only what’s on the pages. That was probably the hardest and most valuable lesson I learned. (And one that’s actually helped me with my own screenwriting.)

As I read the scripts for homework, I felt like I was trying to keep a dozen plates spinning at once. Are the characters fleshed out? Does the structure work? Is the dialogue believable? With each week more plates were added. Writer’s voice. Synopsis writing. Reader comments. Trying to keep track of everything took constant focus. I struggled not to stop and jot down notes as I went along. After all, speed and efficiency are the reader’s two chief allies.

I was feeling pretty proud of myself when I finished reading a screenplay in under two hours. Then Week Three rolled around I learned that this probably wouldn’t cut it. Because a pro can read a screenplay and cover it in about two hours. Not only that, but she’ll do it three times a day five days in a row. What the what? I had been using every minute of the week between assignments to go back over my comments. Tinker with the synopsis a little. Even re-read parts of the screenplay to make sure I had all my ducks in a row. And we hadn’t even put all the elements of coverage together yet.

But when Week Four finally rolled around, and I had to write full coverage of three scripts, I was actually looking forward to the challenge. Because of the way the course is structured, learning one or two elements a week, I never felt overwhelmed. Challenged, yes. It felt good to get through those final screenplays, knowing what needed to be done and that I had been given all the tools to properly complete the job. It also felt good to have solved the mystery of what coverage is. Sure, there’s a lot more work than just reading a script, but now there’s also pride in being able to say “I can do that.”

Over four weeks, Julie walked me through all the steps needed to become a professional reader; from writing a synopsis that faithfully represents the script to keeping comments professional and on point to where to look for work. I highly recommend this course to anyone who’s thinking about becoming a professional reader. Now I have three samples and a letter of recommendation from Julie - a major foot in the door. And even if you aren't looking to become a reader, but are constantly looking for ways to improve your screenwriting, I would suggest you take it as well. After completing the course, I can honestly say that I’ll never look at a screenplay, my own or someone else's, the same way again. It’s like having new eyes. And that is worth the price of admission alone.

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I am proud to say that Michael graduated with flying colors. Take advantage of my Economic Stimulus Discount, pay as you go and change the way you read scripts forever. Whether you're looking for work as a pro reader or just want to learn how to read scripts the way readers do, I promise you, you'll improve your own writing a thousand-fold. For more information, click HERE.

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The Longest Journey

Getting your thoughts and ideas out of your head and onto the page is the longest journey in the world. We can see the scene, we can feel the emotion, but we have to use keystrokes and words to get it onto that white sheet of paper. And it's not easy, right? Because now we are constrained by a certain way of expressing that on paper - the screenwriting way. Or the prose way. Or the poetry way. Contrary to the saying, we are not a bunch of monkeys in a room.

Being a writer doesn't simply mean you have a lot of neat ideas in your head. It's all in the name: w-r-i-t-e-r. You write it down. And it's more than wanting or needing to write down your ideas and stories, it's the ability to write it down in such a way that other people reading it are engaged, surprised, touched and entertained by the words you took out of your head and put on the page.

Think of someone you know who is very funny. Think of the way that they command the room with their joking, imitations or comments. They love it. They love to bask in the glow of the laughter they evoke. They might be naturally funny, they may have a unique, wry, cynical way of looking at the world. But they don't sit around by themselves and crack jokes.

Any Rouge Waver reading this knows the wonderful feeling when someone says, wow, what you wrote in my birthday card made me cry. Or wow, your short story really surprised me and made me see things in a new way. And maybe you haven't had this particular experience, but when an editor says, yes, your essay or short story will be published - WOW - it means it did its job and that now, thousands of people will also be able to read what you wrote and integrate it into their own lives and point of view. I get that WOW feeling from the Rouge Wave - if a Rouge Waver says, thanks, I learned from that, or that made me laugh - geez, that means using the characters of the alphabet and my keyboard, I took what was in my head and wrote it down in such a way that it made a difference to you. Because a writer not getting read is like one hand clapping.

That's what we all want ultimately, right? To entertain others? To have an impact on them? To change their thinking, crack them up, scare them to death or otherwise make them FEEL something? We don't write just for our own benefit. Or maybe we do. But that's called journaling. Nothing wrong with that - it's therapy, it's reflection - but it's not for public consumption.

Before your writing can possibly have an impact on a reader, you must be adept at using the language. Spelling, grammar but more than that - the lyricism of the language itself. Here is a bit from a TC Boyle short story: Fall settled in early that year, a succession of damp glistening days that took the leaves off the trees and fed on the breath of the wind. Fed on the breath of the wind. Ah, TC, how I love you so.

Can you write a sentence like that? No, it's not screenwriting, it's prose - a different beast altogether - but screenwriting can also be lyrical and beautiful. Believe it. It's not just a blueprint, it's a gorgeous blueprint/presentation and words are your only tools with which to create it.

Are you a good writer? I mean - are you really? I don't mean have you sold a script or have you published a novel or have you come up with the best idea in the universe, but what is your facility with the words on the page full stop? Can you look out the window right now and write 250 words about what you see in such a way that I would be entertained by it? Can you make me see the buildings, the streets, the flowers or the rail car going by?

Screenwriters should watch a lot of movies. If you haven't checked out the GASP list, please do so and begin checking movies off it. If you are a television writer, get those hours of TV in. But remember, before your words hit the screen, they hit the page. So read good writing. And read it a lot. Take pride in the way you wield the words on the page. At the end of the day it's unimportant whether it's screenwriting, prose, essay writing or anything else. You have a gift. Use it, expand upon it and spend time daily getting it out of your head and onto the page.

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Sending out Queries

Dear Rouge Wave:

Earlier today, I called about 10 smallish, indie production companies that I researched and thought would be right for my script and asked them if they read query letters. Only one company responded in the affirmative and I think that was because she didn't really know the answer. Everyone is always saying aspiring screenwriters have to query and see how the response is. So my question is, how (why) are we supposed to send our query when they admittedly don't / won't read it? I don't want to waste my time faxing a bunch of places only for my letter to be trashed. Am I going about things the wrong way? I have lived in LA for over a year and don't have many industry connections and have to start somewhere, so any advice you have would be great!

-Flummoxed in Florida

Dear Flummoxed,

There are two routes for an aspiring screenwriter to take when querying. Querying agents and managers or querying production companies directly. Most production companies do not accept unsolicited material; but of course there are some that do. If you are wanting to send your script (ultimately, right?) to a production company and simply want to know if they'll read your query, you're doing the right thing - you just call and ask. But. You want to ask in such a way that they think gee whiz - we should definitely read this script!

So in other words, rather than calling and saying hello, do you accept queries - which leaves the door open for a quick "nope, goodbye," you want to call and introduce yourself as the writer of a great horror script (or whatever genre that production company tends to produce - please tell me you did your homework on that part) and you'd love to send it in for a read and who should you direct the query to? Sometimes the person answering the phone is an assistant or intern whose main directive is to keep random callers away from their boss. Sometimes the person answering the phone IS the boss - it depends on the company. So be very respectful when you call because you just don't know what the situation is in that particular company.

So my nutshell advice would be to research each company a bit first using IMDB Pro, the HCD Online or if you're very lucky, Studio System. Make sure that what you've written is at all a fit for this company. Second, when you call, really pitch yourself. Do it briefly but do it effectively. So for example:

Hi, my name is Melody Writesalot and I'm a writer with a great romantic comedy that I think might be a great fit for your company - are you looking for material right now? When they answer yes, say fantastic, can I send a logline and synopsis? And to whom should I direct that?

If they say no, obviously you thank them very professionally and get off the line. Keep it brief, be prepared to send a synopsis, and make sure you have targeted the production company carefully. Many writers can, do and will circumvent the phone call and just go ahead and query via email. But I personally think a phone call is a faster, more effective way to make sure you don't send an unwanted query. You can make the same inquiry via email, by the way. Almost as effective except your email can also be ignored. And yes, there are some companies that don't really want the phone calls either. You really have no way of knowing until you try. Letters can be ignored. Emails can be ignored. Phone calls can get shut down. There's no one right way and there's no guarantee. Get used to it.

Don't feel bad about the nine companies that said "no" about accepting query letters. That's the way it goes. Could be they aren't looking for new material right now. Could be they don't accept scripts or queries that don't come from an agent or manager. Rejection is the norm for writers. You have joined a grand tradition of suckage. I know how frustrating it is, believe me.

If you continue to hear "no" time after time, you may want to pursue representation instead. Now, normally, I would absolutely recommend representation as the first tack, not the second, but sometimes, smaller production companies are not super concerned with that and if they read your script, liked it and wanted to work with you, you can use an entertainment attorney or you can then get on the phone with some smaller managers and say look, I have X production company who would like to work with me and this script and I need rep.

The biggest mistake you can make is obviously sending a script that is not ready for prime-time. If you're going to pre-query via phone, have your excellent, brief, scintillating little speech down pat. Be prepared to get shut down rudely. Be prepared to be asked some questions. Be prepared to send a GREAT logline and synopsis. Be prepared to send a GREAT script.

If you have done all of the above and are still getting "no thanks" when you call, take it in stride. It's the way it goes. Just keep trying.

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But - Why?

Once in awhile we get them at The Script Department. And at competitions and production companies too. Grand Guignol, slasher, gorenography scripts. I remember reading one in particular, years ago when I worked for another script coverage service, that made me physically ill. I told my boss - don't ever assign a script like that to me again. I felt violated. As if by reading this awful stuff, my mind had been invaded by the nightmares of a twisted writer. Thanks for that. Thanks for letting me get a peek into your world. And what did I get in return? An insight? An amazing twist? No. Just images that will take me weeks if not months to erase from my mind.

Now, it would seem as if the era of gorenography is well and truly over. But you still see the scripts, now and again. And they are so off-putting that even readers cringe. Which is saying a lot. You have to get up pretty early in the morning to shock a reader. But it's not shock so much as total revulsion. And it's pretty darn hard to assess the box office potential, theme and craft of a script when you want to puke your guts out while reading it. And, as chance would have it, one of my readers was assigned a script recently that gave her the same feeling. How could she cover a script when she felt physically ill reading it? Well - it's hard.

But the number one question to ask the writer when reading a script like this is: Why? What does it mean? What are you really saying here? And who is your audience? After the shock, after the horror, after the needing to barf behind the theater - what will audiences take away from this experience? What new insights will they have?

Now, I know that this topic applies to only .5% of the screenwriting population because scripts of this nature are few and far between. Thank goodness. But the larger lesson still applies - why? Why are you telling this story? What will audiences take away from it? After the explosions, after the romantic encounter, why are you telling this story? What is your contribution to the story telling tradition?

Audiences, and cave people gathered around a fire before them, simply want to be entertained. They want to take their minds off of their own lives for two hours. But they have a deeper need as well. They want to feel. We need to feel. Dread, hope, anger, love - that's why we go to the movies.

So whether you're writing drama, romcom, sci-fi or horror - what is your audience getting in the way of entertainment and feeling? Not YOU - the audience. Now, we know that you need to feel the same emotions yourself as you write the script but you have to bear in mind that you are, at the end of the day, creating a product meant to interact with an audience. So take a step back from your script and ask - how and why is this entertaining...not to you but to millions of movie-goers?

And if you are writing something deeply shocking, doubly so you must ask - why? What is the meaning of this material? Being shocking is easy. Being violent is easy. Stirring up primal feelings is easy. We all fear being murdered. We all want to throw up when we see someone being dismembered. But - why?

In GOODFELLAS the opening scene - a man being stabbed in the trunk of a car - is fairly shocking. But as the story begins to unfold, we learn about the world within which this type of violence exists and why. It isn't violence for violence's sake - it is grounded in time, place and character. Pesci is a loose cannon. And he will ultimately pay for that. Even in the world of brutal mob violence, there is a code and there are consequences.

THE STRANGERS is actually a pretty good movie, and the bottom line was that there was no reason for the events that took place. When asked why the attackers were targeting the doomed couple, they say "because you were home." Which is a very memorable - and awful - moment. And while THE STRANGERS is a very scary and somewhat upsetting movie, it didn't cross the line of out-and-out tendon snapping, organ pulsing, brain matter spattering. I took away an insight into disconnect, chaos and random violence. To me, THE STRANGERS speaks to that basic fear we all have that as ordered as our own lives are, random violence still lurks. But again, this was not pure gorenography, either.

Readers are just people. People with families, pets and rent to pay. If what you've written is an orgy of blood spatters and shock value so off-putting that the reader gives the script back and says nope, I won't read this - Houston, you got quite a problem. Because readers are the gatekeepers. Yes, they have specialized skills and have read hundreds if not thousands of scripts but think of readers as Every Audience Member. And if you can't get past a reader, you're sunk.

So pull it back, tone it down or at minimum answer the big question: Why? What are audiences going to feel beyond terror and revulsion? Alfred Hitchcock knew that real, primal fear comes from what you do NOT see. A bomb ticking under the table of a group of unaware diners is a thousand times scarier than a person coming straight at a character with a knife. Dread is much more potent than simply watching something play out. If we wanted to see a body dismembered, we'd sign up for an anatomy class.

Write what you will, write what you care about, but check in with yourself and make sure you aren't writing something shocking just to be shocking. Because the shock factor alone will not be enough to hide poor character development, weak structure, lack of theme or anything else.

Once the reader has regained some equilibrium and decided against lunch for a couple more hours, he or she is going to ask: How does this material comment on humanity? What does it reveal about us? What is entertaining about this? How will audiences react? If a reader can't stomach your script, then the exec in charge won't be able to either.

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Lessons From American Idol: Part II

Yeah, yeah, I know I'm eight seasons too late to be interested in AMERICAN IDOL. I avoided it for a long time. But I'm really struck by the parallels between this show and the journey of writers. Everything from the early auditions, when people think they can sing because their friends and parents told them so, to the current episodes in which singers are adept but not 100% unique.

In particular, there is one singer, Lil Rounds, who has a great voice. The girl can sing. But her choices so far have been homages to other artists but without her own touch - and that has held her back from greatness. She's imitating, not innovating. And that can be the death of many a talented screenwriter.

The same but different is something we've all heard before. It's supposedly what audiences want in a movie. Something that is a little familiar to them, and yet something that surprises and delights them too.

Last week, when Adam Lambert performed "Mad World," we had the perfect example of "the same but different." A familiar song, but he took it to another level of its potential. He put his own stamp on it. A performance like that makes you want to listen to the original again (or even the cover by Gary Jules, featured on the DONNIE DARKO soundtrack) AND to listen to Adam's rendition again and again.

There's no question that all of the finalists on AMERICAN IDOL can sing. They are all talented, no doubt about that. But, the question then becomes who can perform under pressure and pull it out time after time and who can stand out from the pack in terms of originality? Or, as we writers would say - who has a VOICE?

Every day, as I am wont to say, hundreds and hundreds of scripts arrive in Hollywood. The vast majority of them are not competitive. Think of this phase as those early AMERICAN IDOL auditions when you have thousands of screaming would-be competitors crowded into auditoriums, waiting for a chance to try out. Some are delusional, some are clowns - and some - a very few, can actually sing.

You're not worried about the delusional and the clowns. Your competition is the writers who can actually write. Now we come down to meaningful competition. But of those who can actually write - how many are also good in a room, able to handle pressure and able to write not one good script - but another one and another after that? Now the competition dwindles to just a handful.

The sorting process goes something like this:

Writers who can actually write
Writers who can write more than one good script
Writers who write consistently, with discipline
Writers who can handle feedback and take notes
Writers who can handle rejection, disappointment and setbacks
Writers who can generate fresh ideas
Writers who are good in a room and can pitch well
Writers who are fearless and confident

...and even then, Wavers, even when you reach the top tier of confidence, experience, professionalism and consistent writing, the odds are very much against you. But you have to go through the various auditions - the points along the way when other writers either drop out or get sorted out of the running.

There are troubling signs along the way that can sometimes indicate a writer doesn't have what it takes. New writers who get IRATE about notes or feedback - not a good sign. Writers who take rejection too much to heart. Writers who stay on the same level of doing great karaoke but who can't break through to find their own unique voice. But the good news is you can work to break through any of these levels. As they say, the difference between writers in this town who make it and those who don't is that those who made it never gave up trying.

But in order to evolve, you have to recognize where you are on the scale. You have to listen to the feedback you are receiving - sometimes it's silent feedback in the form of not getting read requests off of queries. Maybe it's pass after pass. Maybe you go postal when you get notes you don't like or agree with. Maybe you FREEZE in a room. Maybe you write well but your scripts are soft and derivative. It's okay - just be honest about where you are. That's the only way to reach the next level.

I wonder, when a contestant on AMERICAN IDOL goes home - what do they do next? Do they bitterly voodoo curse Simon Cowell and rage to the skies that they were unfairly treated? Or do they take what they learned and use it to become a better singer/performer? Well, I suppose either choice is a legitimate one. What would you do? Are you going to use your experiences to build a case that the world is not fair to you and that nobody gets your brilliance? Or are you going to make an honest assessment and use the information you gather to recharge yourself and your writing to keep evolving and improving?

Continuing to evolve, being open to feedback and continuing to put that behind in a chair is what separates the men from the mice. Yes, sometimes it's exhausting. Some writers just think you know what, I just don't have the passion, eight scripts in, to keep up with this. And that's okay, that's a legitimate life choice. But you out there, you writers who can see no other life for yourselves than to break into Hollywood and write a produced movie? You are on an Iron Man Triathlon. Others will fall away, the path may sometimes feel lonely and difficult, but nurture that core passion and get back up and keep writing. That's the only way through to the end game. And when you reach that end game, you'll find the most ironic thing of all - it's not the end, it's a new beginning. So you wrote a script that sold and was produced. Can you do it again? Can you stay relevant? Now that you made it onto Sold Writer Island, can you manage not to get voted off?

Writing, particularly writing for entertainment, is not for babies. It's only that weird, slightly obsessive part of yourself, the part that makes you NEED to write, that can be your sword and your shield on this strange journey. Don't be afraid to take stock of who you are and where you are. There's no shame in being like Lil Rounds - she's amazing - she's made it very far. She can sing better than 99% of the population. But in a competition, that's not good enough. If that thought makes you quail, you may not have what it takes. There's only one way to find out. Keep. Writing.

And yes, you will have very bad writing days. I had one just yesterday. Bad writing, not having fun, not feeling the love. Writing sucks, let's just be honest. But it's not going to stop me from sitting back down today and getting back to work. Being a writer is like marriage: for better or for worse, through sickness and health, for richer or poorer. Good writers have bad days. Bad writers have good days. For my money, the absolute worst stage you could be at is not the doubt, not the rejection, not the freezing in a room, but being a screaming contestant sure you can sing but the truth is - you can't. That is horrible. To not honestly know what your skills are.

I find that the intensity of writers is usually inversely proportionate to their talent. I have not done a scientific study but I have worked with hundreds of writers and I have found this to be a pattern. Good or even great writers are generally fairly mellow and humble. Bad writers are usually strident, defensive and insistent that they are great. I think when you're good and you know it, you don't have the need to insist or be validated. When you're not so good, a defense mechanism can kick in, making you need to insist that you are GOOD as a way of coping with the fact that in reality, the idea of being a writer is what you are in love with.

There are Wavers reading this right now who fall into every category I have listed or mentioned in this whole blog post. All up and down the scale. I can't know whether each and every one of you can or cannot write, will or will not succeed. It doesn't matter what I think. It just matters that you be honest with yourself. If your GPS is not set to the true starting point, you'll never get to your destination.

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Can You Hold My Attention?

I wouldn't describe myself as a script reader these days. Readers read two to three scripts per day. Now that I run a company that hires readers, I might read one or two scripts a week. And when I do, I really look forward to it. Oh for a quiet hour or so to sit with your script, turning the pages and getting lost in the world that you created. I get all comfy with some coffee or tea, turn down the radio and open the script.

I read a few pages. The phone rings. I ignore it and keep reading. My email chimes. Three times. I glance up to see what's up but return to the reading. The phone rings again; it's the director of the Attic Theater about tonight's table read - I gotta take it. After a 10 minute conversation, I return to your script - which page was I on? Oh, page 17, okay. I continue reading. Email keeps chiming. Oh shoot, that email has to be responded to right NOW. I jot off a quick reply. Now. Back to your script. What was happening? Where was I? And so on and so forth. There is no such thing as totally quiet, dedicated script reading time. It will get interrupted. And I'm just me - imagine an agent or manager reading your script. Multiply the phone calls and emails and knocks on the door by 1000.

But something strange happens when your script is engrossing. Suddenly, everything else around me goes quiet - I can't tear myself away from the pages. Yeah, yeah, I'll return that phone call but I just gotta see what happens, I'm just so swept up in these pages. Yesterday in the late afternoon that happened. I had to GO, I had a table read to host. But the script was really engaging me and I had to finish it. I kept glancing at the clock - gotta go - gotta go - but just two more pages. Just five more pages. Gotta finish this, gotta see how it ends...

On the other hand, and I'm sorry to say, this is the majority of the time, if your script is executed poorly - if I'm just not getting into the characters, if there are errors on the pages, if the storytelling itself is pedantic and unexciting, then the email chimes, phone calls and lunch dates suddenly become more pressing than your pages.

So Wavers, this is what you're up against. Because my situation is pretty normal. Even a script reader who does this as a full time job gets hungry for lunch, gets emails, phone calls and roommates poking their head in the door asking whose turn it is to vacuum. Nobody reads your script in a 100% ideal situation - i.e. uninterrupted, blissful silence.

So how can you overcome that fact? You need cinematic writing that moves. You need unforgettable characters. You need a premise that is unique and exciting. Those are the scripts that make the phone calls and other interruptions fade into the background. You can have whatever opinion you want about BALLS OUT, the Robotard Mystery Script, but it is, if nothing else, very engaging. It MOVES. It surprises, it offends and it makes you laugh. It is, in a word, engaging.

Engaging the reader. That's your job.

The first thing to overcome for you, the writer, is the difference between what engages YOU and what will engage and involve someone else. If you asked 10 writers whether their script is engaging, all 10 would say yes it is. Nobody ever tries to write a script that isn't. Right?

But the relationship between a writer and his or her script is inherently incestuous. You're too close to the material to imagine that it may not be as great to someone else as it is to you. You've read it and worked on it ad infinitum, so you have no perspective anymore. Is it entertaining? Well, sure, to YOU it is.

But is it really? Is it interruption proof? Will it make a professional reading your script ignore the ringing phone and be late for lunch?

That would make a great rating on the rating grid - engaging/entertaining/compelling. Fair, Good or Excellent. Maybe we should think about including that at The Script Department. Mama shall think that one over. But do you really want to hear the answer?

The most heartbreaking instance is when a script is executed just fine - no typos, clean action lines, a good page length - but the story is just, well, dull. It's fine. It's okay. It's just not that interesting.

Many of you may read scripts from time to time and you're thinking - hey! I stick to it! I don't get interrupted, my attention is held the whole time. Well, there's a wide gulf between you and a professional reader. For one thing, you are probably reading a professionally written and/or produced script in which the writer has a very high skill set. Or barring that, you're reading a script as a favor to someone and you're all amped up to do it. And another thing - you might read two or three scripts a month. Try reading two or three scripts a DAY and imagine then, that of the minimally 15 scripts you read in a week, that 13 made your eyes bleed.

Reading can sometimes be a real grind. Believe it. And your script enters into that grind as a new, fresh hope for that reader. Maybe THIS one will be a quick read. Maybe THIS one will crack me up or scare me or make me cry. Maybe THIS one will remind me how much I love good writing.

That's why readers get SO excited when your script rocks. Wow! One stood out! This writer changed my perspective, just a little bit. This writer entertained me, moved me and delighted me. God I love that feeling. It's the best feeling in the world. Well, you know, in the top 10.

Imagine this: You pick up a book and read a few pages. Not turning you on. You give it another few pages. Still not doing anything for you. You flip ahead. Eh. You look at the cover again. Meh. You read the author's bio on the back. Hmm. And you make the painful decision to put the book down. If you're a reader, you don't have that latitude. You MUST read the whole damn thing. And then write up your thoughts about it. If it was slow, unoriginal, laborious and filled with typos and mistakes, your coverage is going to reflect that without mercy.

So remember, after you've read all of your Save the Cats and Storys and Writing Great Character Blah-Blah books, after you've read The Rouge Wave everyday, the onus is still on you to write pages that engage and entertain. Your job is to write pages and tell a story that engages the reader. Your pages have to make the world go away.

There's no book that can tell you how to do that. It's called talent. And it's making sure that your premise - before you write the bloody script - is an interesting, original, entertaining one. Feedback helps. Being honest with yourself helps. So often newer writers can be very self-indulgent. How can the thinly veiled autobiographical story of how hard it was for you to find love when you were a student at UC San Diego not be TOTALLY exciting to someone else? Hint: It won't be.

Readers are jaded. J-a-d-e-d. We have already read every script known to man. The same stories are told over and over. What you think is totally original, to us is a script we read last week. Believe it. I know it's a very harsh truth. Your totally original sci-fi script? Yeah,I've read it before and it was better.

Awful awful awful, right? Well, it's the truth.

Get honest feedback from someone who either doesn't know you or someone willing to be 100% honest. So that rules out your mom, spouse and friends. Work HARD on hammering out a premise that is the same - but different. Dig down deep into the particularity of the world you are creating. Take the time to develop characters that really are unique. Write pages that move quickly and that are cinematic, colorful and entertaining.

Because the entertainment factor is everything. It is simply everything. And the golden pathway to that ineffable quality of engaging and entertaining is paved by everything above and then the one, magical ingredient that rules them all: VOICE.

How do you develop your voice? By writing. A lot. By letting go some and having fun on the pages. By being a little playful. By being unafraid to be uniquely you.

Generally, new writers go through several phases:

The first, horrible, awful two to three scripts: You have read all the books, taken all the classes and your writing is pedantic, tight and unoriginal. You get shut down immediately when you try to query or enter a competition. People smile thinly at you and encourage you to "keep trying!"

The mediocre three to four scripts after that: You don't have to refer to your Trottier book 18 times a day anymore to check on how to deal with structure. But your premises are not unique or entertaining. Your scripts are o-k-a-y but dull. You get shut down wherever you query. Your writing group encourages you but nobody really believes you have that "it" factor. You're a statistic: one of millions of aspiring screenwriters all over the world trying to break in and failing.

The mediocre and derivative couple of scripts after that: Now you're getting mad. What the hell?! Why is this not coming together?! You get shut down again. But you aren't quitting. WHERE is the golden premise that will enable you to write a great script? You've learned all there is to learn (you think), you write every day, your pages are pretty good but success still eludes you.

Then it happens. You say okay you know what? Screw it. I'm going to write this crazy story and I don't care what anyone says. I'm sick of this shit. I LOVE this story and I'm going to go nuts on it and my skill set is high but my temper is higher and I'm having fun on these pages. And that, Wavers, is the script that will break you into Hollywood.

But here's the rub: You CANNOT fast forward and write that great break-in script without going through writing several bad scripts first. It doesn't happen. Because you have to get good and frustrated first. And you HAVE to learn all that screenwriting craft stuff first. Oh, there are many who bleat - But what about Diablo Cody! She did it! And so can I! I'm just so talented! I deserve this! I need the money! I want the fame! Do not listen to the siren call of the Entitled Diva. It will dash you against the rocks.

You can't go around it, you can't go over it, you have to learn this lesson through experience.

So this script was kinda crappy. Fine. Start over and write another one. So that one was derivative and boring. FINE. Start over and write another one. And another. And another. One day you'll get good and mad - and determined - and you'll let loose. And that is the best feeling in the world for me, selfishly, because your script just made me miss my lunch date and three phone calls - and I don't care. Victory on the page!

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Failing Upward: Writing Group Blues

Dear Rouge Wave:

I recently joined a writing group here in NYC. It was a labor intensive application process - essays, writing samples, personal interview, audit session. I had some questions re: the leader in terms of his personality and how we would work together but I put them aside and went to the audit session. The other members were very nice and gave me some valuable feedback on my script. So, my problem is this: When I read their scripts, I was not impressed - at all. Now, I know I am a newbie and have a TON to learn but it was pretty clear to me that they need to learn even more. Without patting myself on the back too hard, it just seems like I am at a more advanced stage than they are and so, I'm wondering if it's worth the effort to continue. I'm kind of thinking about it like my tennis game - when I play people who are worse than me, I typically play to their level...and vice versa - if my opponent is better than me, I play better. I know I only improve my game when I play people better than me, not when I play someone worse. Do you think this applies to screenwriting? Can I really only get better by having more advanced, knowledgeable writers critique my work? So...what do you think? Is it worth it to make the effort and join the group? Oh, I should also mention that I now know for a fact that the leader will drive me nuts (controlling, arrogant, condescending), though I did like everyone else. This is my first experience with a writing group. Help!!

-Annoyed in Annapolis

Dear Annoyed:

I can see where the audition to even get IN this writing group would be a bit, well, annoying. On the other hand, you have to give this group kudos for being very careful about who they admit to the group. You say that you are not impressed and that it's clear many members of this group still have a lot to learn: Do you mean that in terms of basic craft and execution? And if so - what percentage of the group is literally writing bad pages? By bad pages I mean too much black, clumsy action lines, two-dimensional characters and wooden dialogue. Or do you mean to say that you weren't impressed because you didn't think the scripts you read were commercially viable without theme or universality?

Well - in any event, there are two ways to look at this:

Get Out Now
If you're already annoyed and having doubts, if your attitude (fair or not) is that you are a much better writer - get out and get out now. If nothing else, your attitude about this is going to poison what you contribute to this group and certainly what you'll get out of it.

Chillax, Man
A writing group really does have room in it for all sorts of skill sets. That said, it depends on how advanced you really are. You are a self-admitted newbie so we're not talking about plunking John August into this group, right? Measure the distance between yourself and your fellow group members and ask - is the distance such that I can still get valuable, insightful and intelligent feedback? And is it such that I can give valuable, insightful and intelligent feedback as well? Or will you spend time nicely explaining why the 15 page flashback (suspiciously similar to a scene in THE DARK KNIGHT) is probably not a good idea to a high school senior from Poughkeepsie? Unless the distance between you and the rest of the group is that vast, you probably have more to learn and to gain from your fellow group members than you think.

Here's what is a big drag to have in a writing group:

The Whiners: spend their allotted time complaining about how they couldn't write this week and they have to get a root canal. Or they whine about the story and how hard it is and how unfair Hollywood is.

The Long Talkers: take their turn and then 3/4 of someone else's. They are self-centered and go on for miles about the backstory of their main character and how Mamet-like their dialogue is. They bore everybody else and they do not hear comments as much as use them for mulch and a jumping off point for their next rant. When they DO give comments on your work, they go on and on til even you are bored.

The Takers: show up late and leave early. They don't attend every week. When they do, they're all about THEM. They pretend to listen to your pages and your questions but they don't care and it shows. Ambition drives them, but a self-centered attitude guarantees that if the apocalypse came during writing group, they would be the first out the door.

The Know-it-Alls: Their comments are brusque and opinionated. They don't ask questions of your material, they make statements and give directives. They leave you feeling confused and annoyed and attacked.

The Emotional Tinderbox: cries at group a lot. Always has personal drama. Takes up time talking about break-up with boyfriend and how writing sucks and Hollywood is unfair. Will seize upon something in your script, even positively, and will gush over it to an embarrassing degree.

In my opinion, Annoyed, a good writing group should have one, underlying mission statement and that is to support one another with positive feedback, thoughtful criticism and intelligent conversation, no matter where each writer is on the curve. Even a very new, not very good writer can give some great feedback. You seem to want to know what's in it for you. But you need to be thinking also about what you can bring to the table for the others. Don't be so quick to judge; you might be surprised.

That said - if your gut tells you this really isn't going to be a fit in terms of the group leader's personality (I find that alone slightly odd; writing groups I have been a member of have been fairly egalitarian) and you feel strongly that the other writers are ALL at the very beginning of the learning curve, get out while you're ahead.

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Quitting When You're Ahead

Sorry Wavers, but you are weird. So am I. Creatives are just strange. The way we think, our emotionality, the way we are always observing other people. The way we are always thinking about our writing and our stories. You gotta have some empathy for our family and friends who don't get it. I mean, seriously, we must be tough to be around sometimes.

One of the weirdest things about us is how our brains work when we are in the zone. I've been working almost every single afternoon lately with my raconteur, Mr. Perri, on figuring out the loglines for several script ideas and the beats for a particular script. Particularly when you are brainstorming with another person, you notice the way the creative energy ebbs and flows. I've noticed, for Perri and me, that we can brainstorm for about three hours before suddenly, the creative plug gets pulled. The room feels too hot. Our conversation slows. We get stuck on one particular point. We start circling and circling the same point. We can't bust out. We suddenly feel overwhelmed and...tired of thinking. Which is when we pull the plug for that day. Enough. We look at what we DID accomplish and we call it a day. I am of the opinion and the experience that you just can't push it.

So what do we do? We have to make regular writing/brainstorming/outlining time in our day to day, we know that, right? But we also have to know when it's enough for that day. Because pushing it beyond the limits of having fun kills creativity. You'll start to generate bad ideas, you'll start to mess up what you had done with your story.

So make sure you quit when you're ahead, Wavers. For whatever reason, Creativity Fatigue kicks in at some point and you have to recognize it and be okay with walking away from it for that day. I'm always talking about balance in our lives, right? You don't have to crack your story or an aspect of it on a particular day. Don't forget that as much as we need Behind in the Chair time, we also need Subconscious Mulling Time.

Most of us creatives - and I include musicians, poets, writers and artists in that - get ideas and breakthroughs and inspirations when we aren't even trying. We have to be still to let it in sometimes.

Flannery O'Connor, who wrote my absolute, hands-down favorite short story of all time "Revelation" (seriously, please check it out) once said, and I am paraphrasing, that every day she'd put a blank piece of paper in her typewriter and just sit for four hours. That way if a good idea did come, she wouldn't miss it. Flannery did pretty well with that methodology.

So that's the Behind-in-Chair discipline, which is SO important. But we also need to honor the Wait-and-it-Will-Come method. Our brains are so endlessly complex and fascinating. Malcolm Gladwell's book Blink is a great read if you are interested in the topic. In fact, the rest of the title of that book is "The Power of Thinking Without Thinking."

So if you're writing and you suddenly feel the walls closing in, if your ideas are drying up, if you're not having fun anymore - walk away. Go do something else. Just put your behind in that chair again tomorrow and trust that in between, your brain really is still working out the problem. It will save you the awful feeling of Creative Fatigue, it could save your script from some really bad decisions and hey - how many other people in life get to walk away from the work and know the brain will still figure it out? It's pretty cool.

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Quality Writing Time

So you've made the time to write which feels terrific except now...you have to write. And you stare at your computer screen. And you wonder...do they have wireless at this cafe? I should check. You check. They do. Your finger hovers over the "accept this sketchy wireless connection" message. You click it. You get wireless but it's pretty bad. You check your email and the weather and it takes forever to load so you give up and click back on your script. You tweak some dialogue and then scroll down to the next blank page where you need to write a new scene. You type EXT. and then start sweating. You open your outline. Where were you? Ahhhhh, right. Right, right, right. But - is this outline really working? You spend ten minutes going over it. A terrible feeling starts to overwhelm you. You put your chin in your hands and stare around the cafe at the other writers. They all seem so busy and immersed. But you - but - this script - this is terrible. The outline is terrible. The pages are terrible. You know what? Let's see if the weather page finally loaded. It didn't. Just write, you idiot, you think to yourself. Back to the blank page after the terrible page on page fourteen. EXT. - FBI BUILDING....oh man is this scene DAY or NIGHT? You know what? Your coffee is getting cold. You go get another latte. And as you stand at the counter waiting for it, you look around at the cozy scene inside the cafe and you feel suddenly quite writerly. Look at all these writers click-clicking away. This is the life! I am part of a community! A silent one, but still! We are all here creating. You get slightly high from that feeling mixed with the sound of the espresso machine and clink of coffee cups and the sharp scent of coffee.

But every step back to your seat is like walking the green mile. There's the blank page again. But this time, fueled even momentarily by your this-is-the-life thoughts, you sit back down and start writing. Click-clicking away, you write a scene. And it's beyond bad. It's awful. But you don't care. Two terrible pages flow out of you when suddenly you are gripped with the realization that now you have to go back to page two and explain something. God writing is awful! You fix the thing on page two. Huh. This is starting to feel okay. These pages are not bad. The outline is carrying you forth like the yellow brick road. You get in the groove. You feel like you can't stop. You look at the time - oooohhh man, gotta wrap up. In just a few minutes. Just a few....INT....more....OPERATING ROOM....minutes....NIGHT.

Two hours later and you pack up your computer. You've written five whole new pages and worked on previously existing pages too. You've run the gamut from self-loathing to self-congratulatory pretension and back. You've had two lattes and then bought a water because you feel guilty about how the cafe owner is possibly making enough money with all these writers perched like trolls, occupying tables for hours. You think, if this cafe owner charged ten bucks for table rental, you'd pay it. You hope this doesn't occur to the cafe owner. As you walk home you think to yourself, what Woody Allen said is true: 80% of success is showing up. Even if showing up for your script is a hero's journey filled with doubt, pitfalls, horror and highs.

And you know what you've just had? A great writing day. Because this IS what writing looks like. If you have some sort of fantasy in your mind that other writers experience anything much different than this, you're laboring under an illusion.

Like the 7 circles of hell, the wireless checking, the going to get more coffee ploy, the loathing of your pages, the checking and re-checking of the outline - this is all normal. It's what we have to do in order to get to the good part.

Here's the biggest secret to writing. Ready? Ass + chair + time. That's it.

Now get back to work.

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Networking: Jucandoit!

Good morning, Wavers. I have spoken before about the importance of networking in building and growing your writing career. It's part of the Five-a-Day (Write, Promote, Network, Learn, Live Well). But sometimes networking can give writers an anxiety attack. When do you network and when do you not network? Network all the time at any opportunity. But say you are going to an event specifically designed for networking. How can you handle the anxiety, shyness or overwhelm-ment that can be attendant to such things?

Today we have a guest blog written by Keith Tutera, the newly hired Creative Director for The Script Department. If you've seen our new website and marveled at the look and the catchy copy, you have Keith to thank. He's young, he's hip, he's hilarious and he can network like nobody's bidness. Indeed, part of his job description is making connections and growing relationships. And we couldn't have hired anybody more skilled at doing just that. So today Keith has a few words for Wavers who know they should be networking but may need some tips and motivation:

***

So you’ve managed to gussy yourself up, find parking, and make an entrance without face-planting. Now what? For those of us who weren’t endowed with networking chops from birth (i.e. most writers), attending a networking event can be intimidating, even downright scary. EEK!

Fear not, Wavers, with a little bit of courage and a lot of common sense you’ll have them eating out of your hand. But like any good scout you must come prepared. And that doesn’t just mean having stacks of freshly printed cards on impressive card stock a la American Psycho. You’ve got to be mentally prepared.

Begin your night with some simple visualization exercises. Envision yourself meeting lots of people, having a great time, and exchanging lots of cards. Concentrate on your breathing as you do this, and as you begin to feel the excitement and confidence build — hold onto that feeling, and (here’s the tricky part) EXPECT to feel it again when you arrive. Your successful night will become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

For those of you who are reading this thinking that sounds like some California flim-flam hocus-pocus (ok, I am writing this from Venice Beach), allow me to offer an alternate suggestion — laughter. It can defuse tension in pretty much any situation.

Consider the following:

Last night my friend Linda and I attended a networking event for the Ivy Plus Society as guests of our friend, Adam. Being that neither of us are Ivy Leaguers (I myself went to UT, a “Public Ivy” and Linda went to UA, a fine institution, but nonetheless, no Ivy) we were both mildly intimidated. Especially since we were all arriving separately. Would they smell our non-Ivyness a mile away and pin us with The Scarlet Letter? Would we be tarred, feathered, and ridden out on a rail?

So what did we do about it? Did we fret, lament, and pull our hair out in neurotic anticipation? No, we made jokes. Linda told me that if anyone asked where I went to school, I should look them straight in the face and tell them that I just got my Associates degree from El Camino Community College. I laughed about that the entire drive to Hollywood. And if anyone asked where she was from, I told her to tell them that she grew up on a pile of dirt and was a 100% self-made woman. She got a kick out of that one.

And do you know what happened? We got to the insanely crowded venue in such good moods that we were relaxed and good to go. And we ended up meeting a bunch of really, really nice, interesting people. And we never even had to use our lines. In fact, I think one person asked me where I went to school the entire night and when I told her she was complimentary and kind.

Now, on to some networking tips:

Establish rapport first
Play it cool. Make sure there’s a vibe. When there isn’t - and someone thinks there is - you feel like you’re, well, being networked. It’s kinda hard to describe if you’ve never experienced it, but to suffice it to say it feels like an invasive procedure.

Once you’ve established a rapport, use it to network
About 99% of the people I met last night were lawyers, and I wanted to meet entertainment industry folk. So you know what I did? I asked some of the lawyers I got chummy with if they knew anyone there in the industry. Genius, right? Guess what — it worked. Introductions were made and it went very smoothly. But you gotta go with your gut — if I’d asked someone who wasn’t feeling it, I could have received a very awkward, “uhm...well...uh...”

Don’t be afraid to be bold - push yourself out of your comfort zone
At another event last week I walked by a group of people, one of whom I overheard saying that he had just posted an ad on Craigslist for a script doctor. I took a big swig of my beer, steeled myself, and went over and handed him a Script Department card and introduced myself in front of the whole group. He was super cool - as was the whole group - and before I knew it the rest of the group was asking me for cards, too. But this isn’t for everybody - it’s important to know your limitations. Whatever you do, do it with confidence, or don’t do it at all.

Should you drink? How much?
Ahh...the ubiquitous alcohol — a blessing and a curse. I recommend drinking enough to grease the wheels in the beginning, and then enough throughout to keep them greased, but not so much that they fall off the car. This is business, remember? The last thing you want to be is the guy that got sloshed and started getting handsy with the wrong girl. You know, that guy.

Above all else, DON’T BE PUSHY. And READ THE SIGNALS. They’re there
I met a guy at an event a few months ago who wanted me to teach an online course on his website. Faintly interested, I asked him to send me the link to his site, and told him that I would follow up with him if it seemed like a good fit, but [hint, hint] that I had a lot going on. No sooner did I get the words out of my mouth then he asked if it would be ok to follow up with me in a week or so. No, it’s not ok. I just told you I would follow up with you IF I were interested.

So get out there, Wavers. You have something to offer - remember that.

Position yourself as a center of influence - the one who knows the movers and shakers. People will respond to that, and you'll soon become what you project.
~Bob Burg

Originally from Washington, DC, Keith Tutera is a proud Public Ivy Graduate of the University of Texas at Austin where he earned a Master's Degree in Advertising. Having worked at illustrious ad agencies like DDB, McCann Erickson and Deutsch, Keith is an award-winning copywriter and master networker. The Script Department couldn't be prouder or happier to have him on board.

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