The Information Generation

God knows on the heels of a blog about time management, it seems ironic to post something about getting online and staying informed, but Rouge Wavers, keeping informed about what’s happening in the business should be part of your daily commitment to your writing career. Rouge Wavers are a savvy bunch – hey, you found the Rouge Wave, right? But here are a couple of resources I find really helpful and entertaining:

www.Hollywoodwiretap.com is a daily newsfeed; sort of a thumbnail best-of so you don’t have to read through every page of Variety or the Hollywood Reporter which is expensive, time consuming and sometimes tedious. Think of wiretap as information served up quick and dirty for writers on the go, movers and shakers, the double latté generation, i.e., Rouge Wavers.

Also, www.mediabistro.com where today I saw this listing:

Freelancing for Public Radio - March 17 in Los Angeles
Learn how to get your stories on shows like All Things Considered or This American Life.

How cool does that sound? I have wanted to get something on NPR for a long time. This American Life is going to the small screen on Showtime later this month or in April, I believe. Not sure how it will translate; I love radio, personally.

Also on Media Bistro.com today -

Eisner Seeks to Reprise Role of Content Guy on the Web (LAT)
Michael Eisner is making entertainment again. The former Walt Disney Co. chief executive said his Tornante Co. will shoot 80 episodes of a new series called Prom Queen, each lasting just 90 seconds. The series will start showing online April 2 at Vuguru.com, YouTube and Veoh.com, a video sharing service in which Eisner is an investor.

I think the growth of YouTube and similar outlets for filmmakers to experiment with is really exciting. I have a friend who worked on Spiderman 3 with Sam Raimi and he said one day on the set, a young, pierced, tattooed kid was visiting; looking at the monitor right over Raimi’s shoulder and when he asked who it was, the AD told him it was a kid who’d made a 2 minute zombie movie on YouTube. Someone saw it, showed it to Raimi and Raimi invited him onto the set for a visit. WOW. It’s a whole new era and the Eisner article above is that era writ large. It’s a big, fat gilded invitation for you writer/directors out there looking to break in.

I also noticed a very intriguing resource in Script Magazine (which, if you haven’t checked out the hard copy relaunch under the aegis of Final Draft, you really must) which is a diagram of the various aspects of a writer’s life. It’s free and you can find it at www.Scriptwriterslife.com.

Rouge Wavers with other resources so share, feel free to comment. Writers have to stick together; networking and sharing information is a significant component in the writer’s survival kit. That and little bottles of vodka and cans of Red Bull.

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Time Management

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven.....

Rouge Wavers, are you like me? Do you find yourself overwhelmed, overtired and frustrated? Do you find yourself wondering why you haven't worked on your script for a week or even a month? Do the obligations in your life leave you feeling hog-tied to a water buffalo?

We can overcome. With time management. Recently I tried something absolutely revolutionary in my world: ignoring my email. Or rather, more accurately, I put myself on a program in which I only check my email every two to three hours. I turn off the email and make it a no-fly zone until two hours have passed.

I find that often my time is very splintered; the phone, the email, the doorbell, the siren call of the internet....Calgon take me away! I am fortunate enough to work from my home but those who work in an office environment suffer the same distractions and then go home at the end of the day and try to carve out a precious few moments of whatever day is left and find themselves just too tired to do it.

When I set aside blocks of uninterrupted time to work - on anything - I am amazed at how much I can really get done. I have a dear friend who works out every day at the same time. Come rain, shine, deadlines or stress - his workout time is non-negotiable. He does it because it's important for his health. Many of us impose similar schedules; we drink our eight 8-oz. glasses of water each day, we take vitamins, wash the dishes, take out the trash on Wednesday night but for some reason, writing goes out the door. Rouge Wavers - it shouldn't.

Many writers trying to break in - the vast majority - have day jobs which take up all day five days a week. So writing time is at a premium and it takes a lot of dedication to sit down at the computer when you want to sleep in or when someone is asking you to vacuum.

I am not suggesting a vacuum-rebellion, far be it from the Wave-inatrix to endanger your home life. I am merely reminding us of what we know is so true: for writers, the act of writing is succor; it is a creative haven, an outlet and almost a physical need. It isn't selfish to set aside the time to do it, it's necessary - not just for your mental and emotional well-being, but also in order to be continuously in the act of growing your inventory as a writer and business person.

The thing we love the most should not be the first thing to go out the window. Make time to write. Manage your time effectively and make writing a priority. Doesn't necessarily matter what you write. Just write every day. Whether it's your script, a letter, a journal or a blog - write. Keep that brain working and do not let anyone tell you that it's selfish or self-centered or anything else. Build writing into your daily or weekly schedule as a non-negotiable commitment to your career and to your craft. Even if all you can give is thirty minutes a day late at night when everybody else is in bed - do it.

Raymond Carver used to come home from his day job, sit in his car in the driveway and write for a few minutes before he rejoined his family inside. Now that is dedication. So let's collectively pledge to make writing an important priority each day; even a few minutes counts. Block off the time and don't judge how much you write or the quality of it. The very act of making writing a priority just put you ahead of your competition and brings to mind that old saw: writers write. Apply butt to chair. Take no enemies and make no apologies.

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The Perception Gap

You finish your script and you are en fuego – convinced that the script is going to change the landscape of film forever. The premise is extraordinarily unique, the characters rock and the dialogue is, well – you’re working on your Oscar speech, suffice it to say.

That fired up, passionate feeling is wonderful. And you need to really hang on to it, for that is the fuel that we writers need to keep going sometimes. That and high-octane coffee. But some writers, usually newer ones, run hard up against a terrible truth: No, their script really isn’t that great. And boy does it suck the wind right out of them. More experienced writers are often very neurotic. They are unsure their script is any good at all. In fact, it must suck. Through bitter and painful experience, they have learned not to overestimate their work because they have been struck down too many times by idiotic agents, self-indulgent actors or pure bum luck. Don’t count your eggs until they’re hatched. I don’t think this is a healthy space to be in either.

People often say – and I am one of them – that the horrible quality of scripts that flow into production offices is staggering. And it is. But that is not your competition. How can you get anywhere as a writer if you say – well, my script is not as horrible as most horrible scripts? That is no measure. Do not fall into the trap of comparing your script, career or talent against anyone else’s. Neither be too cocksure that the script is the next APOCALYPSE NOW nor be so neurotic that your incredible script lies fallow because you are sure it just can’t be that good.

Take a realistic view. Yes, there are tons of really bad scripts. Abysmal, even. But for every fifty really bad scripts gathering dust in an office somewhere, there is a really terrific writer nipping at their heels. A talented writer who has worked and studied hard. A writer who has invested time and energy into the craft. They might be from Nebraska, they might be from LA. But they are here, they are sending their scripts in and they are going to kick butt and take names.

Readers like to complain and joke quite a lot about the quality of scripts that we read. I’m guilty of it too. It’s much less sensational, however, to talk about the few really great ones we read. Not A-list great, but all hyperbole aside, promising as all get out. You haven’t heard these writers names, but they are out there, they are winning competitions, and they are the next generation. That is your competition.

Aspire to be part of the next generation. Be realistic. Maybe your script is totally terrific. Have you done your due diligence? Taken classes, read books, gotten feedback? Well then maybe you are right. Just don’t get too cocky; you surely aren’t the only one. Take the middle road. Respect your competition but also believe in yourself. I know I’ve said this before but it bears repeating: it generally takes having written several scripts before you write a truly competitive piece of material.

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What Does "Narrative" Mean in a Coverage?

What is the difference between narrative and structure? Well, structure is the spine upon which the story is hung. So that makes the narrative the flesh. Ew. All right let’s get a little more Joseph Campbell: structure is that good old-fashioned, old-as-time system of telling a story with markers that divide moments and acts so that the story resonates for us on a very primal, subconscious level. We’re talking about cave drawings around the campfire old.

Not all scripts, manuscripts or oral traditions follow exactly the same structure but we do know beginning, middle, end is a must. We know that certain guideposts make the story more satisfying. Think of Uncle Figgis and how he tells you about his vacations in such a droning way that you actually cross the street when you see him coming. What if Figgy were to punctuate his stories with reversals, cliffhangers and unexpected twists? Well, let’s just say he’d move up the table at Thanksgiving.

So, what is narrative? Narrative is the delivery system for the story or another way of putting that is- the way the story is told. Narrative refers to pacing, voice, style and certainly genre. The narrative should be a beautiful mountain range with peaks, valleys, sunlight and shadow.

The number one problem I see among newer writers is a flat or linear narrative. A linear narrative is one in which a chain of loosely connected events follow one another until we chug to Fade Out. Many screenwriting gurus and teachers have compared the trajectory of a script to a rollercoaster. And an apt comparison that is – perfect in fact. Newer writers often find themselves with something more closely resembling a moving sidewalk. We just sort of slowly motor past a series of tableaus that don’t add up to anything.

Think of that rollercoaster; that slow ratchet, ratchet, ratchet to the top of the hill until our necks are craned skyward and we are filled with anticipation. Now the rollercoaster lets loose and off we go, hanging on for dear life. Dips, curves, straight-aways and loops keep us thrilled and keen participants.

So what can a writer do to identify whether their narrative is flat? Well, it is important to remember that each scene is connected to the one before it and the one after it – there is a causality as we bump from one scene to the next. And that causality will be part of a build. Even slow build movies accomplish this; LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE is a great example of a slow but effective build; we know the family has got to get to California on time or they will miss the beauty pageant.

It is important to know what you are building toward: is it the big Thanksgiving dinner (HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS) the meteor streaking toward earth (ARMAGEDDON) or a simple beauty pageant? Everything builds in a direction of catharsis and resolution.

Characters in movies are driven toward something, inevitably. And as they get nearer to the ordeal or goal or challenge they will face, scenes begin to compress so that a sense of urgency begins to infuse the pages.

Review your scenes and sequences and ask yourself: what is happening in this sequence? Flip to the next scene and ask: …and how did it affect this scene? …and the one after that? Are the conflicts and stakes rising as you page through your script? Your scenes should start to get shorter, action should start to move faster. There should be a sense of movement.

It is my theory that newer writers fall into the “Well, I thought it was cool” trap. They will write a sequence or scene that entertains them but that does not serve the story. Never forget that the story is the master and the writer simply the humble water boy.

If you were to draw a graph of your story, using dots to mark where scenes hit really high or really low notes, would there ultimately be a chart showing rising tension? There better be. A flat, linear narrative is an absolute death knell for a script. Even if you have great characters, a boring narrative is sure to sink the ship. Right into the dancing rouge waves. No question about it.

Chart your scenes and look for a pattern of rising conflict. Look for moments that plummet your character very low then raise them very high. Be merciless; are the scenes, even your favorites – active enough to justify themselves?

Keep very much in mind the rollercoaster versus the moving sidewalk. It is sometimes so hard to be objective about your own work; scenes that thrill you may not thrill someone else. This is why I suggest getting out a red pencil and literally graphing the conflict and making sure your narrative offers us a many and varied topography. Don’t just show us things happening; characters must be at cross-purposes so that rising conflict paints us a picture of light and dark, fast and slow – a mountain range that ultimates in a satisfying ending.

One fun way to really nail your understanding of a kinetic, causal narrative with highs and lows is to think of a funny, strange or odd chain of events that happened to you recently. Think of it – you set the scene: So, we had just gotten off the plane in Jamaica. You add an “inciting incident”: Then we discovered our luggage was lost! Maybe a little complication: And we couldn’t pay the cabbie so we had to walk! Add some suspense: So then we were walking along, right? Past donkeys and fruit vendors and tin drums when you wouldn’t believe what we saw! Nice cliffhanger. Woody Harrelson! Sitting there playing the tin drums….and so on.

We all do it, we tell stories all the time. About our day, our vacation, our date. And when we tell stories, we maintain eye contact, we gesture with our hands and we pause for effect. We become animated because it is greatly validating and satisfying to watch the listener respond joyfully – for them to GET IT. How many times have you trailed off wistfully, seeing the listener is really not into it, and said “I guess you had to be there.”

Whether it is on the page or in person, when you tell a story, exploit it for maximum comedy, fear, grossness or whatever. We are all story tellers; it is our primal inheritance. Do it and have fun. Don’t be intimidated by the black and white of a script page. Think of it the same way – keep your audience hooked. Make them turn the page quickly – what happens next? Don’t let yourself become the crazy old lady with sideways lipstick, fuzzy hair and a cat who everybody avoids because her stories are so boring.

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Younger Writers versus Older - Who Has More to Say?

I have seen my share of message board arguments about whether young writers have anything to say versus older writers. The young types point out that youth rules Hollywood and that older writers are by definition cobwebby and embittered. Older writers point out the average age of a WGA member is 40 and that young writers are all piss and vinegar but have nothing to say.

Rouge Wavers know that the Wave-inatrix reads an awful lot of scripts. By young and old. Male and female. (Oddly, mostly male but that’s another blog). And I have this to say: bullshit.

I believe everybody has something to bring to the table. I won’t even weigh in on the side of older writers because obviously more life experience imbues a writer with perspective that a younger writer just doesn’t have. But I do believe that older writers (and by older I mean over 40) need to get off their dusty high horses and understand that young writers have a whole lot to say too. Yes, they break the rules, yes, they imagine sometimes that which feels foreign or disturbing or totally crazy and I say – bring it. I love it.

The only time I see young writers fail miserably in scripts is when they highly overestimate their talent and grossly underestimate the work that goes into becoming a decent screenwriter. Youth being what it is, this is not an uncommon occurrence. But as far as age and lack of experience, young writers bring a bite, a passion and an imagination to the table that is formidable.

Younger writers have quite a bit to say. They have grown up living with the mistakes of the generation that came before them. Like the groundswell of a wave, younger writers create what is new in this world as a reaction to what came before.

When you are 25 years old, there is nothing you think you can’t do. And that, dear readers, is amazing. Younger writers have the world at their fingertips and their imaginations roam over a landscape of possibility that older writers begin to shut themselves off from.

I say that writers are writers and we need not have silly in-fighting about who has more to say. We have different things to say when we’re 45 versus 22. One does not obviate the other.

Each end of the spectrum has pitfalls and advantages. I encourage young writers to be aware that age 22 is a bit young to write a coming-of-age story; they haven’t quite come of age yet themselves. And I remind older writers to take risks in their writing but moreso – to respect and encourage young writers. You were there once too. So you thought you had the world by the tail and you were wrong. Get over it. Make room for the new.

In my opinion, that Hollywood is a youth culture is exaggerated. Hollywood is a money culture. You write a movie which will make money – you’re in like Flynn. Yes, the clubbers and celebrities are young but we don’t care about them. The only way an older writer can blow it in the room is to be pompous and out-of-touch; to judge today’s culture as somehow inferior to what was going on in “their day”. Yes, that will shut down your meeting rather quickly because what it says to an exec is that you have stopped growing.

Older writers can sometimes feel threatened; why haven’t they made it by now? Everybody has a unique path. You get there when you get there.

Younger writers want to be a sizzling hot, instant success. Newsflash: the instant success is a myth at any age. You get there when you get there.

It’s not a competition. Well, it is, but we should be inspired by our competition, we should draft off of each other and not in fight. Writers need to support other writers.

Young writers – I love you. You rock. But remember, as impatient and passionate and excited as you are, the writing life is a long and circuitous path. Your entire life does not ride on this one script. Slow down, take a deep breath and get out from behind the computer a bit more. Older writers, relax, the young un’s aren’t swiping your work or stealing your opportunities. If they write stories that shock or upset you – ask yourself why that is. You are good enough, smart enough and gosh darn it, people like you. Screw ‘em. You haven’t lived the life you’ve lived to get sidelined by some brilliant 25 year old. That kid might just inspire your next idea. Or marry your daughter but that’s another blog.

Nothing wrong with being young and needing to grow – but there is everything wrong with being older and having stopped. Stop worrying about age and get back to work.

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Slugging Your Script

INT. YOUR DESK – DAY

Most of us have a basic understanding of how a slug line works. Slugs are the bits that establish where and when we are. Easy enough, right? But sometimes it gets confusing. We move locations from room to room, day to day and sometimes from one era to another. Slug lines can easily become very cluttered and difficult to read.

Let’s review the most common mistakes that I see in sluglines:

• Putting too much information in the slug
• Indicating times too specifically
• Slugging every single room in the house

The most infamous slugline ever: INT. BRAIN – DAY
Done Dealers will recognize that golden oldie instantly. Those were good times.

While there are no hard and fast rules and while any one can come up with exceptions, Rouge Wavers, I read an awful lot of scripts each week. And so I have a perspective on what is usually done. And not done. So let me further elucidate:

Too Much Information:

EXT. BOMBAY – LAXMI MARKETPLACE – MANGO STALL – 1922 – MORNING

Here is the better way:

EXT. BOMBAY – LAXMI MARKET PLACE - 1922– DAY
Ghandi examines a mango at the mango stall. It’s first thing in the morning and the fruit is fresh and covered with dew.

Or

EXT. BOMBAY – 1922 – DAY
It is early. The Laxmi Marketplace is bustling with vendors and shoppers.

AT THE MANGO STALL
Ghandi examines the fresh fruit.

Whatever works, whatever keeps it simple, whatever suits your style.

Time of Day:

Really, the time of day should be limited to: DAY, NIGHT, DUSK, DAWN, LATE AFTERNOON, EARLY MORNING.

You can also note things like: LATER, MOMENTS LATER, SIMULTANEOUS or CONTINUOUS. We’ll come back to continuous and simultaneous.

Moving From Room to Room:

There are differing styles of indicating moving from one room to another. I like to use the mini-slug. A mini-slug is an all-capped – well, mini slug. Let me give you an example.

INT. BOB’S GAMESHOW SET – DAY
Bob wraps the show, thumbs-up the director and heads offstage.

THE GREEN ROOM
The door opens and Bob goes straight for the water bottle and pours it over his head.

Or

INT. THE CRAIG FAMILY LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
Dad sips his bourbon and watches football stoically.

IN THE KITCHEN
Melanie chops onions and cries.

A Comprehensive Bad Example:

Hewing to my belief that you can learn more from bad examples than good, here is some slugging that I very often see cluttering up newbie scripts and in this really annoying example, you'll see every mistake being made - too much information, time of day repeats, noting every single room and location to the nth:

INT. THE VAN DER HOOVLE HOME – LIVING ROOM – EVENING
Dad sips a Pabst Blue Ribbon and irons his shirt for tomorrow while the TV blares.

INT. THE VAN DER HOOVLE HOME – DANNY’S BEDROOM – EVENING
Danny uses a quill pen to draw a delicate dragon on his forearm. Somebody taps on his window.

EXT. THE VAN DER HOOVLE HOME – DANNY’S WINDOW – EVENING
Danny’s friend Lloyd hoists himself in the window.

INT. THE VAN DER HOOVLE HOME – LIVING ROOM – EVENING
Dad looks up. He heard something. He heads upstairs.

INT. THE VAN DER HOOVLE HOME – THE STAIRS – EVENING
Dad goes up the stairs.

INT. THE VAN DER HOOVLE HOME – THE LANDING – EVENING
Dad reaches the landing. He looks toward Danny’s room.

INT. THE VAN DER HOOVLE HOME – DANNY’S DOOR – EVENING
Dad knocks on the door.

Okay I don’t need to go on – though I could. The number of slug lines is dizzying. We don’t need to indicate the time over and over again – it’s happening continuously. But Rouge Wavers – I see this type of writing a lot. I am not exaggerating though I sorely wish I was.

Let's Try That Again:

INT. THE VAN DER HOOVLE HOME – LIVING ROOM – EVENING
Dad sips a Pabst Blue Ribbon and irons his shirt for tomorrow while the TV blares.

UPSTAIRS
Danny uses a quill pen to draw a delicate dragon on his forearm. Somebody taps on his window. Danny looks up. His friend Lloyd hoists himself in the window.

DOWNSTAIRS
Dad looks up. He heard something. He heads upstairs.

THE LANDING
Dad looks toward Danny’s room. He walks toward the door. Knocks.

Continuous:

Continuous basically suggests that the camera is moving and/or following the character or action. So it might be written thusly:

EXT. JACKSON BROWN’S JACUZZI – NIGHT
Mr. Brown tosses back the rest of his margarita and rises from the steaming water. He throws on a kimono.

INT. JACKSON’S OPULENT BEDROOM – CONTINUOUS
Jackson tosses off his kimono and falls face down onto his bed.

IN THE CLOSET
A beautiful blonde unsheathes a knife.

Simultaneous:

Simultaneous indicates that something is happening - well – simultaneously. So it would be used thusly:

EXT. JACKSON BROWN’S JACUZZI – NIGHT
Mr. Brown tosses back the rest of his margarita and rises from the steaming water. He throws on a kimono.

INT. JACKSON’S BEDROOM – SIMULTANEOUS
A beautiful blonde grabs a hunting knife and hides in the closet

INT. JACKSON’S OPULENT BEDROOM – MOMENTS LATER
Jackson tosses off his kimono and falls face down onto his bed.

IN THE CLOSET
The beautiful blonde unsheathes the knife.

Simultaneous Made Even Simpler:

Personally, I never use simultaneous. Because there is another accepted method and that is where a scene is happening simultaneously, leaving off the time of day part of the slug altogether connotes it. Check it out:

INT. MR. GREENJEAN’S DRESSING ROOM – NIGHT
Mr. Greenjeans takes off his pancake makeup and stares into the mirror. Lights a cigarette.

EXT. THE TELEVISION STUDIO
A black Mercedes rolls up to the building silently. The window rolls down slightly. A pistol barrel peeks out.

Here’s the thing with sluglines. Keep them simple. They serve a very basic function. They tell us where we are. They tell us about what time it is. They serve as a quick guide. Readers don’t read them so much as glide over them – what we want to read is the action and dialogue in the scene. When you clutter up your pages with sluglines in an effort to be precise, you just make it more confusing.

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Writing the Sad Moment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Prop and Crew Appreciation Day

If any of you have ever had the privilege of visiting a set, you know that for every actor on screen there are 50 crew members running around with walkie talkies, jangling keys and cell phones. They wear jeans and tee shirts, and tennis shoes for comfort. They are men, women, young and old. They aren’t impressed by stars – they don’t have time. They have an intense bond; they work twelve, fourteen and sixteen hour days. They laugh hard and they work hard. And they are very, very good at what they do. It takes a village to make a movie or television show. You actually just cannot appreciate it until you’ve seen it. Crews work their fingers to the bone every day, behind the scenes, to bring what you’ve written to life.

So the Rouge Wave-inatrix was sitting in the office of the Property Master of an ABC mega-hit medical show the other day. We are old friends, long story.

As I watch, my friend and one of her assistants hurriedly discuss how to set up a prop for a scene in which a character eats cereal. Simple enough, right? The character eats cereal. But the prop department cannot simply throw a box of Fruit Loops into the scene. All sorts of legal issues come up. No, my friend must turn to a prop supplier who makes boxes of cereal closely resembling real boxes of cereal. This particular box is “Cocoa Spheres”. But there’s a problem. The prop boxes of cereal don’t come with the plastic bag inside like real cereal does. My friend can’t allow the scene to look unreal; picky viewers will notice. Did I mention this is a mega-hit show? It has millions of viewers. What to do? She must go to the store, buy three boxes of regular cereal, pull the plastic bags of cereal out of those boxes and insert them into the fake boxes. But the scene will undoubtedly require several takes. So the prop assistant on set that day will have to switch out sealed bags of cereal for every take. My friend decides the assistant will not only swap out the boxes, she will reseal the plastic bag in-between takes so that there is a finite amount of cereal, plastic bags and boxes to make the scene work. This discussion takes at least ten minutes. Total time to supply the prop: two hours. Estimated screen time: two minutes.

On another occasion, my friend had her two assistants open and sample a few boxes of different flavored popsicles. In an upcoming scene, two characters would be eating popsicles and also have dialogue; she needed to figure out which popsicle left the least tongue-stains. Because if the scene had to reset and start over? The actors couldn’t have pre-stained tongues. Continuity. Lemon was the least tongue-staining flavor, just so you know.

A prop is anything an actor touches. The book in their hands, the glasses on their faces, the cell phone in the scene – it is a huge job. And on a medical show, my friend is in charge of obtaining the props necessary to make a surgery look real (cow guts, usually) a pair of lungs look real (a plastic creation by a guy the show hires to do just that) preemie babies look real (expensive, life-like dolls) a bottle of Pepto Bismol look real (a bottle full of strawberry yogurt, colored pinker with cake decorating, edible dye) or even a dozen whole, plucked frozen chickens for a character to chop up for surgery practice. Those things got smelly.

Her job is endlessly challenging and endlessly fascinating. The first thing she does is break down the script. That is to say she gets out a pen and a highlighter and reviews each page for props. Then she figures out if she already has the prop in her collection or if she’ll need to rent, make or buy it. Many of the best props are cobbled together by skilled property masters and their assistants. Many of her decisions are on the fly. The pressure is intense.

It’s a medical show, so it’s a given that there will be injuries and surgeries. She pretty much has the blood and guts down. She has suppliers and artists and a methodology that works. Most of the time. But she is entirely at the mercy of the writers. When she opens a script on Monday afternoon and reads this:

INT. Frida’s House – Day

An exhausted and depressed FRIDA has spent her day off building a four-story doll house out of Popsicle sticks.

Okay so my friend is staring at this page. And one thing is going through her mind: where in the hell am I going to get a four-story popsicle stick doll house in less than one week? And the process begins. Rent it? Odds are astronomically low a prop house would have such a weird and frail thing. Buy one? Yeah right. It will have to be built. In the space of perhaps five days.

Writers reach the heights of imagination – and we should – but somebody literally has to make it happen, that dream sequence of yours, with the flying monkeys eating frozen yogurt. Frozen yogurt melts. An animal handler will have to be hired. Have the monkeys had their vaccinations? The actor is terrified of monkeys and stays in his trailer for two days negotiating with producers. Yorkshire terriers are substituted. But they won’t eat the yogurt unless Purina dog chow is mixed in. But that makes the yogurt look lumpy. And on it goes.

If you watch the Golden Globes you will notice actors thanking the crew of their shows and they should. I am humbled and amazed at the sheer passion, creativity and energy it takes to work on a set. Whether you are a grip, prop assistant, electric, best boy, makeup and hair guy, script supervisor or any of the dozens of other job descriptions all the way down to the craft services guy whose job it is to provide interesting, healthy, hot and cold food to the set five days a week plus, on time and ready to go – crew members rock.

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Time to Let Go

It’s hard to know when your script is done. You know – good enough to send out to anyone. Whether for a read and some notes, to a competition or to a potential rep. I have known writers who have worked on scripts for years. And during that time, they were not generating any new material. They clutch the script in little raccoon paws as if it is a tiny, shiny thing to polish and treasure forever.

Writing in some ways is a numbers game. The more material you generate the better your writing skills become and quite simply – the higher your chances are of obtaining a rep or winning a competition. If you pour all your dreams, heart, soul - and time - into one script you essentially lock yourself up creatively. Your brain, your desk and mailbox will grow cobwebby.

Screenwriters can’t afford to go all Salinger, putting out one great script every three years and in the meantime learn to whittle and bass fish. Like sharks, we have got to keep moving. It keeps us alive, creative and hopeful.

But letting go means that your work will be judged. And it’s painful to think of. But this is part of the writer’s life. We don’t write this stuff so that our moms will love it, or so that we can wallpaper our offices with it. Every script we write is a potential movie in our imaginations. Here’s the thing - that cannot possibly happen if the script never leaves your desk. Right? We know this.

I am no high-horse rider – I have been guilty of this myself. For example, I have a competition winning comedy in my hot mitts right now that I never did anything else with. I showed it to a friend recently and he thought it was hilarious, castable and commercial. So who has it, he asked. Um. No one. WHAT?! Everyone in the restaurant stared at us. Well, I dunno, I just didn’t think it was ready. WHAT?! I have other projects out there in the world circulating, I have a great manager, I have one particular project that is at a very exciting point at a major studio but this – this is a silly comedy. BLADES OF GLORY silly. Unlike any of my other projects. My friend stared at me long and hard. The truth is, I haven’t had the courage to even let my manager read it. Why? Doctor, heal thyself.

My point is this. Sending your script out into the world and thusly calling it “done” is a great leap of faith. We go over and over each page looking for typos and tweaking dialogue or action lines endlessly. But are we really improving the script at this point? No script is ever really done – even if you get the script to a rep or god forbid to a studio exec (see “development hell”) you will be asked to make changes. Scripts are malleable things; you will even make changes while the film is being produced (you, not the other writer they hired to do rewrites, hopefully). But that is not what we’re talking about here. We’re talking about having too much fear to call the thing done and enter it into that competition by the deadline. We are talking about pitching it to a manager with confidence and busying ourselves with something else while it’s being read.

Take a leap of faith. And ask yourself: how much do I love this script? How much do I believe in this material? Have I gotten feedback? From more than one source? Or – and this is the hardest question of all – is this project just not that terrific? Here’s the thing – there’s no shame in having written something that’s just not that great. We all do it. Writing is like mining for gold; the ratio of dirt and rocks to gold is very high. Learning to identify what you believe to be good stuff and getting it out there is as important is identifying that the script just doesn’t work and shelving it. Either way – MOVE ON.

There comes a time when you have to just let it go. Trust in your work. Know that you have done the work to the best of your ability. And the best medicine for that clutching fear that it’s not good enough – is to write another script. And another one. Stay busy, keep creating. And hold this truth to be self-evident: you have more than one great story in you. But you’ve got to find it. Focusing on one script obsessively stymies the very creative process that defines you as a writer. Writers write.

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Is Reading For You?

Does being a reader make you a better writer? Short answer – yes. In my case, anyway. Absolutely. I had taken umpteen million writing classes, programs etc. before I began reading, and had written at least seven feature scripts, three TV specs, innumerable essays and short stories. But still, reading pile upon pile of scripts definitely made a huge difference.

As a reader you see very clearly what not to do. And you see it over and over and over. When we read a great script it’s not like the thing that made the script great is really possible to emulate because it’s ephemeral – it’s just good. Great dialogue, characters, overall execution and a fascinating plot – well, sure I could emulate that – conceptually. Not so easy. But what NOT to do, well, you could make a bullet-point list and tape it to your computer.

Often writers counsel other writers to read produced scripts; I counter that actually more can be learned from reading unproduced, novice scripts. I am in no way, shape or form saying don’t read great scripts – it’s a treat and of course it’s a lesson. But the real lesson is in learning from the mistakes of the many while appreciating the talent of the few.

Though I read for some major production companies (less and less as I segue into consulting privately) and have quite a bit of writing experience, I still seek out notes on my own work. Not as much as I used to when I was just starting out – I am very selective about whom I ask to read my stuff. Additionally, the writing program that I attended for two years (The Writer’s Boot Camp in Santa Monica) really did stress becoming “your own authority on your work” and I have to say, the program really did teach me that.

But no matter how experienced you are or what writing program you graduated from, or even how many scripts you read each week, you always need an outside opinion. I make sure I choose someone whom I consider at or above my level of experience as a writer. I make sure to choose someone who has no hidden agenda of ego gratification via criticism of one who is supposed to be “good” at this. I choose someone who won’t pull any punches either. I recently gave a comedy of mine to a wonderful friend (hi Paul, I know you’re reading this) who gave me fantastic, detailed notes that were invaluable to me. Even though it wasn’t exactly his genre and even though I started off as his consultant before we became friends, his notes were detailed and spot on.

If you live in the LA area, doing some reading can actually be a fantastic way to see what’s going on around town – who’s reading what and what kind of scripts are crossing desks. One of the prodcos I read for is Bedford Falls. I love talking to the execs and finding out what’s up on deck with the company. Becoming a reader isn’t rocket science – but it does take a lot of hard work. You get good through repetition and experience. It doesn’t hurt if you are a pretty good writer yourself – I’m sure we’ve all read a poorly written coverage. It makes the bad news sting so much more when the writing is inexpert, doesn’t it?

My friend Pilar Alessandra teaches a great class on becoming a reader. You can check her course listings at http://www.onthepage.tv/. Once you take Pilar’s class – that’s what I did, anyway - you do some cold-calling and find out if there is a competition you can read for, or if you can find a small production company that might give you a few scripts to read for free. Yes – for free. You can’t expect to get paid at first. You have to pay those dues. Let me tell you, the competition can be fierce even for the free reading jobs! Why? INTERNS. Man, I grew to hate them. Bless their pointy little blonde heads. The cold calling absolutely sucks. Oh, I hated it so very much. But if you just set aside feeling stupid, somebody will eventually bite. It’s just a matter of persistence and luck. I called Walden asking if they needed readers and the receptionist said sure, send me your resume. I did. I never heard back. Probably three weeks later I called to follow up. A different receptionist put me on hold. An executive picked up. I asked about my resume. What resume? He’d never gotten it and never heard of me before whatsoever. But if I would fax in a resume, he had a reader who just quit. Wow, what timing. And a beautiful relationship was born. I love working at Walden – great execs and great company.

Being a reader for only a few weeks or months just to get the experience can really fast track your learning curve – I guarantee it. But it is most definitely not for everyone and you can’t just jump right in. In my case, reading opened up a new world for me and one that I couldn’t have predicted. I made some cool reader friends, I have made great connections with executives, and of course, it led to my decision to start the Script Whisperer.

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Antagonists

What makes a great antagonist? Well, that’s easy; make a list of antagonists that are especially memorable to you. Here, I’ll start: Darth Vader, Hannibal Lecter, Glen Close in FATAL ATTRACTION, The Wicked Witch of the West, Mrs. Danvers in REBECCA, Tom Cruise in COLLATERAL, Harold’s mother in HAROLD AND MAUDE, Lena Lamont in SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN, Meryl Streep in THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA – to name only those that immediately come to mind.

A good antagonist is a character that we love to hate. They elicit a depth of feeling in us that is some kind of combination of every frustrated childhood, road rage, just-got-fired moment in our lives. And then some. But even better, a good antagonist also, oddly, elicits our sympathy. Just a little, tiny, microscopic bit. Because a good antagonist fully, truly believes in what they are doing. They have to do it. They have no choice. Really, who remembers those turtle-neck wearing German (or was it Russian) bad guys in DIE HARD? They were a blur; it’s Willis we are watching. Don’t get me wrong; DIE HARD was a great action flick, but great villains should lodge in our memory almost equally as much as great heroes.

Villains tickle our deepest primal urges. They represent the evil in the world, the unfairness, the jerks that get away with it, the idiotic meter maid who just wouldn’t listen, the…I’m sorry. I digress.

Many writers trip up on writing a great antagonist because they either make the antag too soft (the belligerent boss) or so wholly e-vil that the character is mechanical, lacking absolutely any complexity. We know from our screenwriting classes that antagonists don’t usually have an arc, per se, but they should have some dimension.

Now don’t get all fancy on me and say Ooh Ooh! But ooh! Antagonists can be shape-shifters! Or tricksters! The antagonist can be the main character’s inner whatever. Sure. Yes. But let’s keep this simple for the moment. Let’s go straight up antagonist.

It is true that a good-old fashioned antagonist is 100% focused on the Bad Thing they want. They will not downshift or see reason. A clever one might shift tactics and be manipulative but at the end of the day, this antagonist wants you dead dead dead and nothing will stop them from achieving that goal.

Something I run into with newer writers is that while the modus operandi of the antagonist is pretty clear, the antagonist’s ultimate evil plan is not. Think it through. If the antagonist gets their way in this situation – what, exactly, are they planning to do next? For some it seems a moot consideration because of course the bad guy is gonna be melted with a pail of water. But you really must think it through – because if you can’t imagine the machinations and future goals of your antagonist – how scary or formidable can they be to us? What will the total world domination of your antagonist look like, exactly? Or to take a totally different genre – what would the family dynamic be for the antagonist, once they have totally humiliated and emotionally destroyed their son-in-law? What is that they want, exactly, after they win? What is the evil stasis they wish to return to? We just can’t have Meryl Streep in PRADA continue to destroy the souls of innocent assistants! She must be stopped.

Establishing this larger motive will give the viewer something to grasp onto. Glen Close doesn’t want to argue over the remote with Michael Douglass. No, she’s beyond that. She wanted that at the beginning. But now she wants to ram a knife through his throat. She’s beyond cuddling – she’s insane.

Hannibal Lecter is really one of the most brilliant, unforgettable villains in the movies, full stop. He was so crazy – he was sane. Beautifully, elegantly, manipulatively sane. Now that was one scary guy. Norman Bates in PSYCHO, on the other hand was all nervous vulnerability – insane but trying desperately to cover up for it. Great antagonists run the gamut from highly sophisticated to brutally simple.

In some ways it is more instructive to think about movie villains that don’t even register when you think about a movie. DIE HARD is but one paltry example, except in a slightly funny way (those accents! those turtlenecks!) but the movies are heavily populated with villains who are cardboard cut-outs that fill a role from a mechanistic point of view – but they’re just no fun. For you sticklers, yes of course villains can be a bit two-dimensional from an academic and dramatic point of view. But that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t make them memorable. Rouge Wave readers, as always, I encourage you to shoot for the moon. In a spec market in which your script must be more than good, it must be GREAT to get noticed, why not exploit the big, fat opportunity of your antagonist? Why stop at "okay" when shooting higher may result in wondering what to wear at your meeting?

Remember to make sure that you write an antagonist who has a plan, a motive, an agenda and an m.o. What do they want? What do they plan to do once they get it? How will they respond to unexpected obstacles? How will they react in the end when defeat is inevitable? Why is it somehow personal to them, this epic battle? What do they have to lose?

A good villain is every bit as important as a great hero. It’s just no fun if we don’t get to hate and fear the bad guy as much as we cheer and shout for the good guy. Anybody remember how it felt to watch Kaiser Soze slowly limp away – scott free? Or the chill that went up your spine when Hannibal Lecter called Clarise from that tropical island? Or how funny the Wicked Witch looked when she was melting and all those monkeys just sat there and watched? Good times.

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