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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Character Introductions and Voice

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Focused Rewriting: Action Lines

You're doing it all the time. Rewriting your script. They say that writing IS rewriting and I think this is self-evident. This is why we must not judge ourselves so harshly. Your writing can always improve. In the early stages of writing your script, mostly you just want to get it down on paper. Just get those pages going.

Rewriting is a necessary, fun and challenging part of improving those pages.

But it's easy to go back over pages and tweak them to death with no actual goal in mind. You start off by thinking - I'll just make this better. In fact, going over previous pages from where you left off can sometimes be a time-wasting way to avoid not writing the new pages you need to write. I know when I sit down to write, even if I left off on page 42, I start back at page one and read/skim the previous pages and of course make a few changes here and there before returning to page 42 and making that turn into page 48. Ain't nothin' wrong with that. But imagine the efficiency of doing a focused rewrite pass.

How about this week Wavers collectively do an Action Line Rewrite Pass?

Start on page one and go through the script with a laser focus and look at every single action line paragraph:

Are your action lines written in the present continuous tense? Harold is walking, is sitting, is loading his gun - NO NO NO - rather, Harold walks, or he sits or he loads his gun. Action lines should be written in the present simple tense.

Are there ANY typos, misspells or homophones? (two, too, they're, their, your, you're)

Are there any DENSE blocks of action lines? Screw up your eyes and look at your pages. Any block-like patterns? Seek out and destroy them.

Are there scattered action lines that interrupt virtually every line of dialogue? Seek and destroy.

Are you action lines as pithy and efficient as possible? REALLY as efficient as possible?

Have you chosen evocative words that suit the mood, tone and genre of your script?

Are there widows (single words occupying one whole line)?

Are characters described briefly yet effectively?

Are there sounds in your script, which help make the read more cinematic?

Is there a minimum of "business" in your script?

Are there repeated words you've used? Is there too much alliteration?

Go ahead. Start on page one and ask yourself if your script has any of these problems within the action lines. And spend a day or two improving upon these issues. It's good for your script, it's great exercise for you as a writer and once you really, really GET how to write great action lines, you'll never have to worry about it again. But it takes practice and repetition. It really does.

You see, your script can and might have any number of problems ranging from global to specific - structure, theme, logic or character issues - but bad action lines really are the KISS OF DEATH. Because when your action lines suck, then it follows, in a reader's mind, that your whole script sucks. Because action lines are the plate upon which your whole script is served up. I read a script the other day with a GREAT core premise - really, really fascinating. But the action lines absolutely blew the concept out of the water because they were so bad. Don't let this happen to you. There's no excuse when you have resources all around you instructing you how to do it right.

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Diagnosing Your Script: The Charmin Effect

So I have read - oh gosh - a thousand scripts? Fifteen hundred? I have no idea anymore, I've stopped counting. These days I take it easy; I don't read all that much, maybe 3 to 4 scripts a week. And more than ever, I realize the value of having another pair of eyes on a script. What to me is obvious - a weak complication, two-dimensional character or front-loaded script - to you is a nagging mystery until I point it out. Because after spending so much time with one script, you can't see the forest for the trees. And I don't blame you.

The only thing I have that you don't have is perspective and a thousand scripts under my belt. I have not stared at your script day in and day out for six months. I have not lived with your characters. I am like a doctor. I sit your script down on the exam table and I look at what's there in the here and now. And it might hurt juuuust a little. Close your eyes if you don't like needles or a whack on the knee. But I always send my patients back home with a lollypop and a smile.

It takes a lot of courage to go to the doctor. We all want to get a clean bill of health. But people come to The Script Department because they have a weird itch, limp or rash and they don't know why. We all want to hear we're going to be fine and that there's nothing we have to change or worry about. We all want to hear that if we take the doctor's advice, we WILL win the marathon or gold medal. But the doctor can make no guarantees. Only diagnose and send you home with a prescription.

If I had to name the most common script problems I see, the problems I point out over and over and over each week, I would have to say The Charmin Effect.

DIAGNOSIS of the CHARMIN EFFECT
Soft character arcs, soft premise and soft structure.

What does "soft" mean, exactly? It means that there's too much subtlety in whichever element. As we are all aware, in real life, things are often complex and multi-layered and things almost never resolve neatly. Complications and reversals can land on us like a ton of bricks or they can accrete over time. In real life we muddle through our problems and we are quite good at not allowing anything to force us to change. Some of us literally never change.

In the movies, however, audiences crave resolution, for one thing, and they need to see things writ large. Now, of course there is a difference between character arc in a movie like THE SAVAGES and in a movie like THE MUMMY; you have to service your genre appropriately.

Soft premise, soft character and soft structure - these things are all related. It's all the same problem. Not going BIG enough. Put it another way: not enough going on in the premise to warrant a whole feature script, passive main character and complications and act breaks which don't move the story forward in a significant way. This all combines to create a boring script, or the BOSH script - bunch of stuff happens. Kiss of death, my friends. Flat line on the monitor.

CAUSE
A soft premise is the result of fear of conflict not really thinking the premise all the way through. Writers get stuck in their heads sometimes and tell a story which has mild emotional and usually autobiographical interest to them but not to anyone else. A woman inherits a house from her grandmother and learns that like her grandmother, she loves photography. Wha-? Movies are about conflict. Major conflict. Movies are uncomfortable and filled with tension. In real life most of us avoid conflict like the plague. But the movies are centered on it. Writing a script is a time to scrap being polite, proper or careful. Movies are conflict.

Newer writers are too easy on their characters because they model them too closely after themselves or people they know. But your character is not you or a friend - a character is a symbol that represents Jealousy, Power, Innocence, Betrayal, Justice or Heartbreak. Writers are often loathe to be too hard on their characters. They like them too much to give them a meaningful, active flaw. They start them out pretty nice and they wind up nicer. Characters must have an arc of change and they can't wind up changed if they started out pretty okay in the first place. Something has to be majorly amiss in your character on page one. Not a little amiss like they are shy and want a date. That's boring. We all want a date. Go. Bigger.

Soft structure is bound, hand and foot to soft premise and soft character arcs. You cannot separate these three elements. If you're too soft on your characters, the turning points and complications will be soft too. Your pages will just blur in to one another with nothing significant moving the story forward. And you wind up with a script with the consistency, color and flavor of oatmeal instead of a script with the consistency, color and flavor of paella.

THE CURE
Don't avoid conflict - seek it out. Take the gloves off. Don't be so polite and so careful. Writing is a down and dirty occupation and don't let anybody tell you any different.

Write down your premise line. Do you have an antagonist? A crux of CONFLICT, major turning points and a big sacrifice or choice the main character will have to make? Stare at your premise line. Is it going to get anyone outside your immediate family excited? Does it have a hook and a unique concept?

It takes courage to Go Big in your script. Writers are afraid to really think bigger and sometimes they are too lazy to do the work. That's right, I said it. Too lazy. Where is the backstory for your character? Where is the outline for your script? Where is the killer logline that you should have worked out before you started writing the script? Laziness, timidity and a loathing to really put your characters through the wringer is the reason that the word "soft" would apply to so many scripts.

I know most writers don't have the access to read a thousand scripts in order to gain the perspective that lends a person. But you have the Rouge Wave and a million other resources. Ask yourself if you're really writing about conflict, change and catharsis. Not kind of - but truly.

Watch movies that are in any way similar to your script idea. Push the pause button when you think you spot a major complication. Look at the timer on your dvd player - notice that it's right about 10, 25 and 50 minutes into the movie that these things happen? Gain some cajones, Wavers - are you writing about conflict or are you writing about CONFLICT? Are you being too easy on your main character? Is your premise SERIOUSLY worth several million dollars to make? Who would the audience be for this movie? You and your family? Or millions of people all around the world?

Writers who are unafraid to really go there - whether in the premise and in the execution or whether that means going to the doctor to find out how they did - are writers who have a million times more chance of actually having a writing career than a writer who is stuck in his or her head, too timid and too vacuum-sealed to get outside perspective and to push their characters harder and further than they thought possible - or nice - or convenient.

It's up to you whether you take the cure. We are not all getting in shape for a sprint here, that's the good news. This is a marathon. So you've made some mistakes. So what. It's never too late to get it together so you can really compete with the thousands of scripts that flood into Hollywood every single day.

Bigger, better, faster, more. It's the way of the movies.

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Whatchoo Got in Your Drawers?

Rouge Wavers, it's sad. It's just sad that the Wave-inatrix increasingly has a mind like a sieve. But it's true. I cannot remember whether I already posted this on the Rouge Wave and I'm too lazy to find out. But it strikes me that whether it's a rerun or not, this is a great topic for this time of year:

Do you have a script in the drawer that you never quite finished? Or that you did but something was just not working? We all have skeletons in our closet – er, scripts in the drawer. Some we forget about – maybe we even take them out back and put them out of their misery in a trash bin with some gasoline and a match - or maybe that’s just me. But some scripts from our pasts we just can’t forget about. Every few months, they whisper softly, in a sexy siren call that they’d like to be resurrected. That they never had a chance. That you’re so much better as a writer now that surely, surely this time you can make those pages sing.

How do you know whether you really should resurrect a script or whether that voice in your head is just like the other voices and should be ignored at all costs, especially in public?

Nobody wants to waste time on a script. God knows it’s hard enough to find the time to write even on a good week. So what do you do – move onward, ever onward, or take stock of your older material to see if there’s a diamond in the rough that deserves another shot?

There is no sure-fire answer but it is the Wave-inatrix’s opinion that your decision-making process should largely be driven by your passion for the story. Sure, maybe the script is in bad shape, maybe the premise is not executed well and the structure sucks. But if there’s something essentially fascinating, moving, funny or nightmarish about the original idea that you just can’t shake – it might be worth another look.

So what do you do if you decide to get back to work on old material? What does that process look like? I’d suggest sitting down with the script in a quiet, focused environment and simply reading it through – don’t take notes, just read. What is your impression? Do you still connect with the material?

Make a list of what is working and not working. Now read the script again, this time with a highlighter in hand and take a few notes – are there distinct problem areas? Now make a list for the script. In order for it to reach it’s highest creative potential, what is the laundry list of issues, by element, that the script seems to need work in?

If this sounds a whole lot like you’re being a reader for your own script – you are. The one downside is that this is your baby and it’s hard to create and maintain objective distance. If you can afford to hire a consultant such as myself to do this process for you, that’s a great idea. If you’d rather do it yourself, for whatever set of reasons, just be sure to put that Objective Hat on – press it down hard, you’ll need it.

Now make a rewrite plan for your script beginning with the overarching premise and how that’s working. Go element by element in terms of that rewrite plan: premise, character/dialogue, structure/narrative, logic/world, craft/style, execution – where is the script lacking? How can your more developed skill set be brought to bear?

No one can afford to waste time, that’s for sure. But could it be that you have a script lying around that is deserving of your attention and that would otherwise become just a dusty experiment that never got its due? We can’t waste time but we can’t waste our stories, either. Take a look at your inventory. Anything with potential there?

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The Sideways Rewrite

I love my job. I love reading, I love writing, I love writers. There are upsides and downsides but mostly I can't believe I get paid to read stories all day. But there's one task I really hate and that's telling a writer, the second time I see their script, that their rewrite was no improvement. In fact, now the script just has a whole new set of similar problems. I call this the Sideways rewrite.

Here's what usually happens. The writer gets notes from me - and my notes are usually over-arching in nature - I don't micromanage and I don't try to take over your creative process. But for some writers, these over-arching notes are their darlings. They listen to me, they nod earnestly and I think they may even take notes. But they don't want to really take a hard look at the main character's passive flaw. Or the crux of the conflict in the premise. No - they want to write the same script they just wrote. So they do. They simply rewrite it and come up with a whole new set of problems because they didn't address the larger issues.

How can you make sure, as you approach a rewrite, that you are really going to be effective? You don't want to do as above and rearrange the script so that you have the same script with new problems, nor do you want to absolutely eviscerate the script so that you have the same problems with a different story or worse - wind up with Frankenscript; born of desperation, stitched together clumsily and chased out of town by torch-bearing villagers.

When you get notes, write them down and group them by element. Then make a rewrite plan. And each time you open your script to work on it, work only on that particular element. Keep focused, in other words, on the element at hand: main character, ticking clock, structure, dialogue - whatever it happens to be. Do not wander off into making a scene funnier or scarier - stay on task.

I know the temptation to make changes but not improvements. My writing partner and I recently got a note on our latest psychological thriller that irritated and confounded us. So we had a meeting to talk it through. We each came up with some excellent, scary moments that would be just GREAT for the first act. But we stopped and realized that was not the problem. Our note was not add more scary moments. It was activate the story earlier. Big difference. But we love writing scary moments - we have more ways to kill a character than you'd ever want to know. But the meat-and-potatoes of the note was actually structural in nature. We had to stop funning around with scary moments and do the harder work of reviewing the structure and making creative choices that were not so easy to toss out on the spur of the moment.

How do you know you're doing a Sideways rewrite? Well - you'll feel vaguely as if you're going around in circles. You'll make a change on page 12, then go to page 37, then page 101 and back again. You'll tweak, in other words. And there will be a slight feeling of defiance within you as you rewrite. Defiance mixed with dread. You know in your gut the script is not really improving.

The most heartbreaking thing I have to tell a writer is that he or she just wasted an entire rewrite and two to three months of their time because they did a Sideways rewrite. It happens to the best of us - I've been guilty of it myself. But as with so many things, awareness is the first step to breaking the pattern. If your rewrite feels too easy - it probably is. Slow down, make a rewrite plan and stay focused. Have specific rewrite goals in mind. Articulate them. And make sure you don't wind up with another version of what wasn't working the first time.

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Don't be a Tweaker

You know you do it. You compulsively tweak your script. A little here a little there, you can't leave it alone. You go back through the pages and change dialogue. And change it back. And fix an action line. And fix it back. But then the real trouble begins. You tweak something on page thirty-two which necessitates changing something on page seventeen. And page forty-nine. Now you're done. Time to send that script off to a competition, consultant, friend - whoever. But wait - one more tweak r-i-g-h-t here...

When does a writer know when to leave well enough (or bad enough) alone? Make sure that every time you open your script you have an actual goal in mind. Maybe you are in the midst of adding new scenes, aka actually completing your script. Maybe you just got some notes and you're addressing the pertinent sequences. Maybe you're just rereading it one last time and OH LOOK there's something to tweak.

The problem with tweaking ad infinitum is that you can't see the forest for the trees. Yes, tweaking can improve your pages, but if you do it compulsively, sort of like chewing a fingernail, you can actually damage your script and/or just be wasting your valuable time. Because your time is very valuable, as a screenwriter. Anyone can go back through and rearrange punctuation, but what actually improved and shifted in your last session with your script?

So before you open your script for the day ask yourself: what is the goal of this writing session? Am I tweaking here and there but ultimately getting the work done? Or am I stalled out in tweak-mode? In many ways, tweaking is the way screenwriters justify to themselves that they are working on the script so lay off! But - it's a little lie they tell themselves because they aren't actually being productive at all.

It's like saying you're going to clean the kitchen and then making yourself a snack. You ARE in the kitchen, right? Right.

So make sure to set goals for your writing sessions and keep it real: are you achieving the goals you set or are you rearranging words to kill time and feel productive?

This tip might work only for the total geek Wavers but hey - trying something new can't hurt, right? When you sit down to write, look at the clock. Give yourself a time-limit. Now say to yourself: I am writing for 45 minutes. And when I open this script the goal is: [insert goal here].

Goals might include:

finish pages 25 through 35
write the murder scene
review script for character development of Myrtle
work on dialogue in the sex scene
review the big battle, make sure I didn't cop out

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Rewriting

So you’ve gotten some notes and you have to rewrite your script. Your stomach drops, confusion sets in and the thought of where to begin brings about a generalized sense of morbid anxiety only rivaled by the Sadie Hawkins dance in 1978.

You’ve had six sets of notes and know something has to change – but what? Ask yourself: is this a page one rewrite? That’s industry parlance for wow you have a lot of work to do. Or do you simply need to get in there and do some surgery? Which one is it – chainsaw or scalpel?

First, seriously, take a week or two off from thinking about the script. If you have the luxury – do it. Ruminate on the rewrite, gain some distance, do something else. Then, come up with a Rewrite Plan.

What is a rewrite plan? Well, gather your notes all in one place and categorize them:

Soft, unoriginal or confusing premise
Faulty main character arc
Missing or lame antagonist
Not enough conflict; linear narrative
Missing stakes
No ticking clock
Action lines need work
Logic or world issues
Missing theme
Scenes are too long
Structure in trouble

…and so forth. Now, if you have that kind of all-encompassing list – you are looking at a page one rewrite. Do not waver; writing is not for the faint of heart. Put on your Saint George coat of armor, unsheathe that sword and prepare to kill your darlings.

What most writers do is start to rewrite without a plan. That is to say, they change as they go. We’ve all done it. You make a change on page three and then you have to page forward to page sixteen, then page forty-six, page seventy-nine and again on - oops! – page twelve and nineteen too. The change(s) ripple forth in a wave of destruction. It is a living nightmare, impossible keep track of and what you will generally wind up with is a heap of sticks on the beach a thousand times worse than the draft pre-rewrite. Stop. List your notes. Make a plan. Focus and set goals.

If your biggest note was a soft, unoriginal or confusing premise, you have a big decision to make (cue the Clash): Should I stay or should I go? If most of the feedback you got was centered on that premise, and if you perceive that ever so nicely, your peers or friends are giving you the kindly hint that the script is really DOA – ask yourself this: how much passion do I have for this material? Was this perhaps an exercise? Or are you absolutely positive that this material is worth reviving?

If you don’t want to give up on the script then your premise is where you need to get out the chainsaw. If it’s not original – how can you dig deeper and make it so? Is there a new twist or way in to this story you hadn’t thought of before? Can you come up with a more conceitful main character with conflict and stakes attendant to that completely original, one-of-a-kind, eccentric personality? Perhaps the premise might be recast in a different genre; try swapping genres to see if the premise perks up. Maybe your main character is really your antagonist and vice versa. Walk or rewrite – which is it gonna be? If you are willing to do a page one write on a soft premise, then by all means go for it.

Say your premise is fine but some other elements are problematic. Start from the top of your priority list: don’t mess with action lines, scene descriptions and the like until you’ve worked out the larger problems. It’s up to you to decide in which order you will approach this rewrite but generally, I’d recommend starting with character. What is the note, exactly? Your character feels two-dimensional? If this note strikes a chord, then take a step back and do some character work on ol’ Felicity or Ferdinand. Write a backstory, answer some character questions, imagine the actor you’d like to see in the role. Now open your pages and add, delete or otherwise imbue your character what more dimension. Now when you do this, you will be tempted to write a whole new, hiliarious set piece! Don’t do it. Stay very focused.

This is not to say that if you are doing a rewrite pass on character work and you get sidetracked with a fantastic description of the forest through which Felicity is streaking that you can’t do it. Just remember to set focused goals for yourself.

Today I will:
Work out
Get jumbo latté
Kill time on internet, reading The Rouge Wave
Work on rewrite: Do character work on Felicity; first act only
Therapy
Make cocktail
Catch Oprah
Etc.

Don’t jump into the script, in other words, and go all Rambo on it. Your script will turn into a bombed out mess and you’ll find yourself with the worst imaginable problem: a whole new set of problems. Which you will hear about in your notes. A whole new set of notes. Like an Alaskan sled dog running the Iditarod, you will run out of notes, readers, friends and the will to live in short order. You will come to in a darkened igloo. Alone and afraid.

It pays to make a plan. Get notes from someone you really trust. Make a list of priorities for the rewrite. Stay focused, make a plan and above all, don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater. When you review scenes, before you hit that delete key ask yourself whether the scene might be better combined with another scene or whether it might work better in a different spot. Can two characters be combined to make one super character? Maybe your midpoint is really your page ten. Avoid the temptation to write or add new material, but rather pluck out of the ruins what is really working or has the potential to work. Truss up the foundation first, think about adding on that new den/family room later - if ever. Don’t slash and burn. Stay calm. Use what you have.

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