The Flight of the Conchords

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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V.O. versus O.S.

Most of us know what (V.O.) means when it appears after your character's name on your script pages: voiceover. And then there's (O.S.) or (O.C.). Both mean the same thing: offscreen or off-camera. The upshot is that (O.S.) is used when we hear your character's voice but don't see them because they are in another room, behind a plant or other large object or just - and here's the fun part - out of our view for whatever reason. You'll see why that can be fun in a minute.

Voiceover means your character is NOT in the scene whatsoever but they are narrating something - potentially even something from the next scene. Yep - I know that sounds weird but let me give you some examples.

EXT. CORNFIELD - DAY

Rows of corn undulate under a blue sky.

DORIS (V.O.)
I grew up on a farm. And it was on this farm that I learned to be a man. Yes. A man.

A windmill picks up the wind and turns - crick crick crick.

DORIS (V.O.)
That's right. I was the first gender-awkward man in Tuolumne County.

- So our character is narrating this story over a view of her lovely corn farm in Tuolumne County. And that's a real county and it's pronounced "Twah-luh-me." Just FYI.

But then we might have:

EXT. CORNFIELD - DAY

The wind picks up. A storm is approaching. The hat FLIES off the scarecrow.

DORIS (V.O.)
And the biggest test I had as a man was the day the big storm came.

INT. EDITOR'S OFFICE - DAY

A fancy high rise in Manhattan. DORIS (32), slender, pre-op, a thin five o'clock shadow, in jeans and a flannel shirt, sits across from a literary editor.

DORIS
It was an F5 tornado. The only ones who were safe were the ones down in the coal mine.

EDITOR
Doris - I mean, Don - I have to stop you right there. Coal mine?
This is -

He looks down at his paperwork.

EDITOR
...California, right?

So we used V.O. with the images of the cornfield and then as we roll into the next scene, we see that Doris is sitting right there and that's where the V.O. came from. We didn't have to do that; we could have then jumped into the tornado scene and picked up the dialogue as the tornado is actually happening.

Another fun way to use V.O. is to use it for comedic or ironic effect - you can juxtapose the image with the content of the V.O. Right? Does that make sense?

INT. COAL MINE - DAY

MINERS sweat and toil in the inky darkness.

DORIS (V.O.)
Daddy worked hard for his money.

INT. CORPORATE OFFICE - DAY

An older man with a mane of silver hair winds up a phone call.

MAN
I don't care how many particulates they inhale! I need more coal!

He slams down the phone. Presses the button for his secretary.

MAN
Get my daughter on the phone, STAT!

So as long as you don't abuse it, there are a lot of fun ways to use V.O. for entertaining and informative purposes.

O.C. or O.S. means, once more, that the person is THERE somewhere, just not visible to us.

So you might have:

INT. CORPORATE OFFICE - DAY

MAN
I don't care how many particulates they inhale! I need more coal!

He slams down the phone. Presses the button for his secretary.

MAN
Get my daughter on the phone, STAT!

DORIS (O.S.)
You mean your son.

Doris hands her father piping hot coffee. His eyes widen.

MAN
Doris?

DORIS
It's Don now, Dad. It's Don.

So we used the O.S. just to make that little exchange more fun. It takes a sec to see Doris. It's like he/she is the sidler from Seinfeld.

So (V.O.) and (O.S.) are differentiated because one is literally a voice over a scene with the person being totally absent because this is perhaps a memory, or perhaps the origin of the voice is revealed in the following scene.

(O.S.) means the person is in the scene but they aren't visible for whatever reason - because they are in the bathroom and we hear them but can't see them. Because they are in another room. Because we just aren't showing them for a sec because it's funnier or scarier that way. For example:

EXT. FARMHOUSE - NIGHT

A man looks at a creaky, fall-down barn. Bats SWARM out of the rafters.

EDWARD
Let's start the tear-down tomorrow, Shirl!

MAN (O.S.)
I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Ed whirls around. He's face to face with his DEAD FATHER!

So V.O. and O.S. - know the difference and use them well. And before you ask, yes it's okay to use V.O. as long as you don't abuse it by being too expositional or heavy-handed. Use it for good, not evil. Don't be lazy.

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Lessons From American Idol: Part II

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sorting process goes something like this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Action Lines: Opportunities Waiting to Happen

One of the weird things about table reads is that the action lines are read aloud along with the dialogue. It's slightly counter-intuitive because in the movie version of your script the action lines are, well, actions that are happening, not words someone is reading aloud. But when your script is read, there's that translation that happens in the mind of the reader - I'm reading your action lines and visualizing the actions you are describing. Right? I mean, we know that.

This is one of the things that makes screenwriting SO unique - action lines are meant to be READ at first, but read in such a way that they paint a picture. Then later, they will be read and interpreted into images and actions. So that, for example:

EXT. LAKE MICHIGAN - DAWN

The icy lake is steel grey, tinged with pale blue. A flock of GEESE flies overhead, HONKING. The sun begins to rise, bathing the lake with a honeyed glow.

....becomes a shot, right? And if this shot makes it into the final draft of your script and everyone loves it, a camera crew will shoot on location - might not be THAT great lake, might be some lake that looks really big and cold and steely. Might not be at dawn, might be at dusk. Might have to CG the geese or might get lucky. "Honeyed glow" might be a real sunrise or it might be done in post production. But you see, this very short, quick description of mine will now require a whole set of filmic actions to bring to life. But in that initial read, the reader is absorbing a mood , and the lake is setting that mood. Does it matter, then, if you wrote the same action line like this:

EXT. LAKE MICHIGAN - DAWN

The sun comes up over the large, cold lake. Geese fly overhead.

Well, no - look, it's the same shot, right? And the second example used way fewer words. But which description was more cinematic, sensory and memorable to you? It's all about finding YOUR voice and YOUR way of describing things, but I promise you that the more cinematic your writing, the more absorbed your reader will be in your script. And the better writer you are (better defined here as: both cinematic AND pithy) the better people will react to your script. Not to mention that an agent or manager will definitely not be impressed by or drawn to utilitarian writing that is there to just get the job done and move on.

Some screenwriters complain - hey, my action lines are just that - they are actions that are happening; camera movements and descriptions of visuals. So why do they have to be written WELL and held up to the same standards as prose? Because they will be READ, that's why. Read and seen and felt by a reader - then later, read, seen, felt and translated into images by the actors and the director.

At table reads, most writers are eager to hear how the dialogue sounds. That is the primary focus, usually. And they get a little yeah yeah, get through the action lines, I want to hear the characters interacting. But. Hearing your action lines read gives you a chance, for one thing, to hear how those action lines are translated by a reader. In other words, if your trusty narrator is stumbling over some of the words in your action lines, or sounds like they are going on and on as they read - it's a reflection upon the action lines themselves.

You might have too much black; you might have chosen alliterative or unnecessarily complicated words. Or you might be over-directing the characters. Take one recent example - a character in the pages is a cigar smoker. And he's veritably always holding onto, sniffing, smoking or otherwise fondling his cigar. So the writer wrote that in the action lines. Throughout the script. So that this character's lines of dialogue were always preceded and peppered with the business with his cigar - which interrupted the flow of the read. Because every single time this character spoke, we first had to read an action line about something he was doing with his cigar. Frustrating for the actor trying to just do his dialogue with flow and emotion and frustrating for the audience having to hear repetitive lines about a cigar.

Now: There are people (and characters) who are always fiddling with something - their hair, cigar, gun, cigarettes - whatever. But in general, if it's just fiddling that we're talking about, set it up early in the script and then leave it out after that. Why? Because the actor gets it already: I'm a cigar-fiddler. Micro-directing how that character is repeating personal gestures takes up space on your script pages and unnecessarily interrupts the flow of the read.

INT. PARLOR - NIGHT

Emil sniffs his cigar appreciatively.

EMIL: Your move, my friend.

He snips the end of his cigar.

FRANK: Ah, so it is.

Emil searches his jacket pocket for a lighter.

FRANK: Check and mate, my friend.

Emil lights his cigar and inhales. The smoke swirls around his face.

EMIL: Fair enough. I suppose you'll want your payment at the usual time?

Emil ashes his cigar.

FRANK: At dawn. By the lake. And bring rope.

AARRHGHGH - we get it with the cigar already! Because something really interesting is happening here; these two men have made a bet and Frank won and holy shit, by the lake with a rope? But the lines about the stupid cigar interrupt the flow of that. And Wavers, I know you think I make up examples to make my point in the most heavy-handed way possible and yet I swear upon my mother's blue eyes that this is the kind of action line writing I have seen many times over.

Remember, when someone is reading your script, they are primarily drawn to the lines of dialogue. Firstly, this is a visual thing - the dialogue is centered on the page. Secondly, the dialogue is where the story moves forward. Right? It is true that readers sometimes skim action lines, particularly if they are a bit dense. I don't mean SKIP - I mean SKIM. Because remember, readers have to time their reads - they have several more scripts to go this week and they just need the UPSHOT of your script. So if your action lines are dense and not particularly entertaining, they start skimming in order to facilitate just getting through the read.

Now - seriously - you don't want your action lines skimmed. So you have to make them melodious and interesting. You have to make them a value-added part of the experience of reading your script - a delightful, cinematic bonus. Just be careful not to overwrite your action lines; your character smokes cigars - we get it. And perhaps more importantly, the actor gets it. Set it up early and leave it alone. Or find another, more clever way of indicating the relationship between this character and his or her cigar, hair, gum, fingernails or zipper.

Try having your own table read. Have a friend or loved one play the narrator and the characters - have them read just a few pages. And listen to the way the action lines sound read aloud. Are they lengthy? Is your friend stumbling through them? Are certain gestures of a character crowding the pages or interrupting dialogue?

Action lines that are o-k-a-y get the job done. Action lines that are exceptional get writers repped and sold. It's pretty simple, Wavers. Interrupting your dialogue with action lines that micro-direct a character and his cigar is unclever-scriptus-interruptus-gimme-a-breakus.

Which is better writing - to show us repetitive details of fidgeting with a cigar or to write a character who is the essence of one who smokes cigars - whether that's expensive cubans or cheap cigarellos? What is the cigar really about, in other words? It's not just a prop; it's a way of being and thinking. So capture THAT rather than leaning on the prop itself.

Yes, action lines are, in part, utilitarian; but a good writer never leaves it at that. Why just state what's going on when you can show the reader your beautiful command of the language and your ability to direct the eye cinematically? Why have a cold lake when you can have a steel grey one with the honking of migrating geese echoing across it as the sun rises? Why do something just all right when you can do it exceptionally?

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This I Believe

So I was listening to NPR the other day, as I am wont to do, and I heard the very last installment of their This I Believe series. It was Muhammad Ali talking about what he believes about life. It was fascinating. And I thought - how interesting, making a statement about what you believe is like writing a mission statement, isn't it? And a mission statement is a bit like a great logline isn't it? It's a very core, fundamental statement about your script.

Long time Wavers know I tend to harp on the fact that screenwriting is only one kind of writing and that you should develop the muscles and the skills to write for other mediums. Short fiction, poetry, non-fiction, first person essays - well, how about we get a two-fer today?

How about Wavers write a 100-word This I Believe Statement and submit it to the comments section here? It's a way to think about and focus on your core values and beliefs but with a strict word limit. The word limit - just like in writing a great logline - forces you to distill your thoughts into the most powerful expression possible. And here's the two-fer part - as you do this, you'll revisit and reinforce what your core values and beliefs are. In a busy, busy world we don't check in with ourselves often enough and ground ourselves in what we really believe to be true of ourselves and this life. There's just so much noise and distraction. But if we don't check in with why we're here on this planet, then we're chucking the guidebook out the window.

Easter celebrates the resurrection of Christ, but as a metaphor, it celebrates the possibilities of rebirth and new paradigms. Passover celebrates freedom from adversity and new beginnings. So it seems appropriate on this Easter and Passover holiday to take a moment to do an uplifting writing exercise that reinforces who we really are and what we hold dear.

So here's my This I Believe:

I believe that happiness is not about stuff or achievements, but a feeling of well-being. I believe that knowing the universe is fundamentally good is the only thing you need to know for sure. I believe there are no mistakes, accidents or wrongs that won’t unfold into grace down the road. I believe that grace is where courage, wisdom and laughter meet. I believe in being nice to people. I believe in playing more and worrying less. I believe we are the writers, directors and producers of our lives and that we tell the story we want to be in.

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Secret to Your Success REVEALED

Flip through your most recent copy of Creative Screenwriting or Script Magazine and focus on the ads. Yeah - that's mine, very good, thank you. Nice artwork, I know.

Look, I'm a writer just like you. And I just saw an ad for a very cool looking writer's retreat - I've never been to one and they appeal to me mightily. I have a lifelong dream of going to Yaddo or enrolling in the Iowa Writers' Workshop. Maybe one day. A retreat strikes me as a great use of money and time. Because the rewards have legs. Teach a man to fish and all that.

But some of the other ads, the ones that promise to reveal some SECRET to success - those make me so uncomfortable. Because, Wavers, there is no big secret that someone can teach you that will magically make a sale for you. There. Just. Isn't. Believe it.

With the economy in a tailspin, we are all forced to make tough decisions and really look at our expenses and test each one for how much it is really needed. In times past, we all had more disposable income and it was easy and fun to go to Target and spend $200 on stuff and we didn't think twice. We need stuff, right? Take a look at your home - look at all your stuff. I bet you have a lot. I do.

And just like anyone else, I get the feeling that some new stuff will bring happiness, security, success - whatever. When I was married, I was a shopper. Because shopping alleviated boredom and stuff feathered my nest with - well, stuff. Looking back now I see that I had been the ideal consumer - stuff makes you happy! You NEED this Pottery Barn furniture because then you'll be just like the photograph of a stuff-filled home which connotes comfort, success and classiness! Oh, and relevancy and happiness! Oh, how ridiculous. Do you know that temporary high of getting something new? Your new car, new clothes, new iPhone - it's like a new toy and it provides entertainment - for awhile. Then it's just more stuff you have. And you're no happier. Or more successful. What a line of baloney we've all been fed.

We live in a consumer driven culture and yes, there is a lot of stuff that does enrich, educate and fulfill us. But you have to check in with yourself - am I getting this stuff because I'm bored? Am I getting this stuff because it promises me that I'll be happier? Or more successful? But - will it really? Honestly?

Don't get me wrong; I'm all about seeking out joy and fulfillment. But when particular products or services tell screenwriters that they will learn some huge SECRET that will OPEN THE DOORS TO HOLLYWOOD I get kind of uncomfortable.

Because, and I'll say it again - there is no big secret that everybody knows that you do not.

Wait - no - there is. I'm charging $53.99 per view of this big secret:

Ass in chair.

Okay, you can send payments to: bigsecret@thescriptdepartment.com. Go ahead. Operators are standing by.

As a service provider for aspiring screenwriters, I obviously believe that objective feedback is an important part of your development - otherwise you can write all you want and have no idea if you're improving. If I didn't truly believe that, if I hadn't benefited from it myself, if I didn't see the impact great feedback has on writers, I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. Because I was born with a very strong ethical-ometer [technical term --Ed.] and I can't earn my living providing a service that writers don't actually need and also live with myself. I'm just not built that way. From time to time the board of directors of my company considers, then scraps, ideas that would earn us money but not really benefit you demonstrably. We just don't roll that way.

There are consumer junkies of every stripe. The techno-gadget junkies. The home furnishings and lifestyle junkies. The cosmetics and beauty supplies junkies. The DVD-buying entertainment system junkies. You name it. And for each type there is a whole industry set up to exploit the junkie and give him or her that HIGH of hope and safety and security.

Most screenwriters are pretty astute, but there are junkies in that world too. I have seen them browsing the tradeshows, snatching up armloads of books and software. I have seen them attend not one but three and four pitch fests each year. I have seen them attend not one but EVERY class and seminar. In a weird way, it's a great way to avoid actually writing. If you keep buying STUFF about screenwriting - somehow, by accretion, magically, your writing will improve.

R-i-g-h-t.

Look, I'm as guilty as some of you are - talking about screenwriting is way more fun than doing it. We'll do anything to avoid the terrifying quiet of sitting in front of our computers sometimes. And I really do get that.

But don't get taken for a fool. Big secret = bullshit.

I mean, look - of course you need to spend money on your screenwriting career. You do need to attend events, go to classes, buy some books and get feedback. It's all part of that five a day for writers I've spoken of before:

Write
Promote
Network
Learn
Live well

Check in with yourself before spending money on seminars, books and products. Is there a feeling there for you of desperation? Of a quick fix? If so - do NOT press "pay now." Be careful of where you spend your money and your time when it comes to screenwriting. New, better, faster and more is a myth. Ass. In chair. That's the only big secret. And even then, folks, even then, the odds are against you. Are you okay with that? You have to be.

Someone asked me the other day why I write The Rouge Wave. I thought about it for a minute. Because writing is really hard and isolating and I try to motivate you with humor and understanding. Because you need a cheerleader, a friend and a strict schoolmarm. Because sometimes you need to get over yourselves. Because somebody needs to tell the truth once in awhile. Because I want you to believe in yourselves. Honestly, I am YOUR fan, Wavers. I thank YOU for reading every day. Because writing is hard. But you're doing it against crazy odds. Because you can't help it. Because you have a story to tell. And because you want to express yourselves and make some sense in this crazy world. That is heroism. You are the ones who inspire me.

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Can You Hold My Attention?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Engaging the reader. That's your job.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Generally, new writers go through several phases:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Robotard 8000 REVEALED

Well - THAT didn't take long. All is revealed - or is it? Read all HERE. In the meantime I have received an email from the Robotard thanking me for my interest. This intrepid mystery writer or writers has got a Google Alert, it would seem. What a funny little mystery.

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The Robotard 8000

About a week or 10 days ago, I found the Robotard 8000 online. At first, I thought it was a joke. But the reviews of this script are by some pretty well known people. The site streaked around the intertubes with comments like - Have you SEEN this? Is this for real? ROFL what is this??

Is it a hoax? Is it a stunt? Is this by some unknown writer from Nebraska, desperate for attention? And if so - is this a genius move or is it the move of a, well, robotard?

I am told that this script is actually written by an A-lister associated with Will Ferrell. I have also been told this script was written by a collective of A-listers. I don't think anybody knows for sure but I'll tell you this - the script is hilarious. Not the most brilliant script I've ever read but what I like about it is that it is totally in keeping with the title of the script - BALLS OUT. Any script that starts with "fade the f*ck in" has my attention. The script is playful and ridiculous and offensive. And it's a quick, funny read.

Publicity stunt by a collective of A-listers or a hoax, you really should read the script for a sense of what "having fun on the page" looks like. The premise may not be the most original, but it's evident on page one and every page thereafter. The action lines are pithy, yes there are a few typos here and there, but it moves quickly and it's just so entertaining that you can't put it down. I read the first 30 pages while I was supposed to be doing something else. I just couldn't stop.

And that, Wavers, is how you want people to feel about your script. They just can't put it down.

So for a quick, fun, totally offensive read, stop by the Robotard 8000 and check out the script. The loglines on the very last page are the comedy topper of toppers.

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Somebody Got There First

Well. It finally happened. You read the trades and you see it. A script that has sold that is exactly like the script you have been working on for months. Even the title is similar. Sure, sure, some of the details are different but the premise - yeah, that was your premise. And now it's out there and you're done for. Right?

Well, not exactly. Look, this is not a good situation, there's no two ways about it. If someone just SOLD a script that shares the same basic idea as yours, well, that puts you in a pretty disadvantageous position if you are a totally unknown, unrepped writer. Not quite as disadvantageous if you're repped and a known entity. Sometimes movies are released in twos: PAUL BLART and OBSERVE AND REPORT are a recent example. Then of course, ARMAGEDDON and DEEP IMPACT is probably the most famous example.

But there's a big difference between you, Joe Writer from Somewhere, working on a script and Joe Hollywood Writer who just sold a similar script. There's not really going to be an arms race there to get your movie into production as well. So if that is your situation, you're pretty much screwed. And you know what? It happens. And yes, you will cry in your soup for a few days. What an awful feeling. All that hard work for nothing.

But is it for nothing? No. It is not. Complete your script. Make it the best iteration of your take on the premise as possible. Why? Because you now have a great sample. And yes, when and if you get meetings, your script will be compared to the script that was sold - but that's okay. You are aware of that and this is a sample. To not be aware would be the biggest sin, honestly. But you're not going to query using this script. It's going to be in your kit bag as a sample. That's really the only big shift that's going to happen for you. This script is not going to the point of the spear for you. But in the big picture, while that's disappointing - well, let's be honest, it's really a blow - you still have other scripts in your arsenal.

And an arsenal is what you need to have. I know how exciting it feels to finish a script and query with it. But many writers forget that you need to have others that are also in great shape as samples of your writing. Ideally, you should have two or more really great scripts aside from the one you are querying with.

So if you find that a script quite similar to yours is out on the marketplace, just sold or even released in theaters, give yourself a minute to feel the burn of that. It's natural. But do not give up on that script. Focus on your craft and voice and screenwriting skills. Make your script the best mall cop script you personally could write. And then add it to your stack of samples. Then move on to a new script, one that you do trust is totally unique...and start again.

There's no way to prevent this situation from arising. We writers are all out there reading the newspaper and brainstorming and observing life and so it's only a matter of time before someone else has an idea similar to your own. And that writer might execute the script faster, they might be repped or lucky or an alien life form - and they get their script on the market first. So while I hope this never happens to you, if it does, stay calm, hang onto your script and make sure it is a GREAT draft because when you get into a meeting in which a rep is seriously entertaining taking you on, it is still part of your body of work. Not knowing that there is a script or movie like yours already out there - now that would be embarrassing. So do read the trades and stay up on script sales.

Here are some resources for following what's selling:

Done Deal Pro
Tracking B

-and the highly entertaining Script Girl.

So if you have been the victim of Somebody Got There First, breathe it out and do not give up on your script. You need great samples and though the issue was forced, this is a great sample. Never miss an opportunity to learn while you are on this journey. Never write a half-assed script and then let it languish in a drawer. Every script you write is potentially a great sample or, of course, in the best outcome possible, the script that got you repped - or even sold.

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What's New With Josh Zetumer

Good morning, Wavers! And did everybody have a nice weekend? As the deadline approaches for the Silver Screenwriting Competition (May 1, mark it on your calendar!), Margaux Froley thought it would be a great time to get an update with Josh Zetumer. Josh will be dining with the Grand Prize winner this year, in case you forgot. So here's the latest:

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It's been nearly a year since our last interview with Josh. He's been hard at work finishing DUNE and even had time to do rewrite work on Guy Ritchie's SHERLOCK HOLMES. Suffice it to say, Josh is still a "working screenwriter," and I might even venture to say he's one of those coveted Hollywood A-list writers. Despite his demanding schedule, Josh has agreed to have lunch with the Grand Prize winner of the Silver Screenwriting contest and answer a few questions for you Rouge Wavers.

Josh, last time we spoke you had just gotten the job for DUNE. At the time you mentioned your love of sandworms. After finishing a draft on that project, how do you feel about sandworms now?

Groan.

But really, that sounded like a very tough project to crack. How did adapting DUNE compare to writing something of your own on spec?

For me, this project was infinitely harder than a spec. I get to a point on most projects where I want to quit/have a near-panic attack. I'm beginning to realize, as horrible as that is, it's all part of the creative process. It's like an acid trip; it's fun, but you know that for at least a couple hours you're going to be fearing for your life. On DUNE this was especially intense. The book is amazing, but parts read like physics homework. There's so much terminology, and so much is internal - characters second-guessing each other, trying to gauge situations. The key for me was to keep saying, "What can I do visually to express this idea?" I feel like this is a pretty important question you should be asking yourself on every screenplay. Show not tell.

As to the sandworms, yeah I still love them. What's not to love? I'm just hoping they look cool onscreen.

You mentioned that you did some rewrite work on SHERLOCK HOLMES. How much prior SHERLOCK knowledge did you have going into that? What did you to do prepare for something like that?

I'd been a fan of the stories, but I definitely needed a refresher course. The crazy thing about some of these production rewrites (jobs where you're rewriting the script just before or during filming) is that you usually have a matter of hours, not days, to decide if you're taking the job. Then suddenly you're on the clock, and that can be scary. On SHERLOCK I bought a book of short stories and was literally reading on the plane on the way to meet the producers. Doing research is normally one of my favorite parts of the process, but in this case there just wasn't time. The nice thing was that Robert Downey Jr. had such a clear view of the character, it was easy to dive right in.

Sorry, I have to ask. How was Robert Downey, Jr. to work with?

I know this is the stock answer to the "What was so-and-so like to work with," but in this case it's 100% true: He's incredible. Completely deserving of his celebrity. Hanging out with Robert is kind of like going to the carnival; you just follow him around, trying to write frantically while he drops one crazy/brilliant aphorism after another. The only thing is, he's so charismatic and witty that he kind of turns everyone else into a satellite. You become Downey-adjacent. I think if I hung out with him on a regular basis I would develop serious self-esteem issues. I am not now, nor will I ever be, as cool as Robert Downey, Jr.

You have been steadily getting assignments in Hollywood for a few years now...even with your established track record, how do you feel about getting the next job?

Um...cautiously optimistic? Two years ago I probably would have said "terrified." Like take-a-klonopin-and-go-to-sleep-shivering scared. I think generally my anxiety about work has become more manageable, but it still definitely lingers. You work so hard to get anywhere, and then the moment anything positive happens the first thing you tell yourself is, "This will not last. This is all going to be taken away." It doesn't help when you talk to older screenwriters and all they tell you is, "Enjoy it while you can, kid." Seriously, any writer who's spent more than 10 years in Hollywood turns into the grim f*cking reaper.

How important has your relationship with your representation (agent and manager) been in starting and then maintaining your career?

The most important thing in the world. If I could give only one piece of advice to first-time screenwriters it would be: Don't write a script to sell it, write it to land an agent. Agents and managers read 10 to 15 scripts a weekend, three of them on the treadmill. So write a script that's fun to read, that shows a distinct and confident voice, but don't try to second-guess the marketplace. You can kill yourself following trends and trying to predict what will sell. A lot of people also ask, "Why do you need both an agent and manager?" This may not be true for everyone, but in my experience, having both has been invaluable. A manager can produce, and that can be helpful landing gigs. My first studio job - writing a movie called THE INFILTRATOR for Leonardo Dicaprio - was something my manager was producing. Managers and agents also have incentive to set you up with their director clients, so that can be very helpful as well.

If I were an unrepresented screenwriter with a terrific spec, what do you think my best options would be for launching my career?

First move to Los Angeles. It's hard enough to get anyone to notice you in Hollywood. It's even harder if you're living in Maine. Some people do the query letter thing - sending unsolicited scripts to agents - but I don't know any instances of this actually working (that's not to say it can't happen, it just seems like a longshot). A big part of being a screenwriter is hustling, selling yourself. You need to be very proactive. Enter as many screenwriting contests as you can. Read blogs. Try to meet people who are connected to talent agencies. All it really takes to get the ball rolling is one person who believes in you. This can be an indie producer, a writer who has an agent, etc. In my case it was two guys: a writer named Chris McKenna who gave my spec to his agent, and an assistant named Mark Tuohy who gave the script to his boss, a packaging agent. I went to high school with Chris, and Mark I met through an old girlfriend, so you never know where these connections will come from. It's either that or get creative. Become a valet, find out where Steven Spielberg eats lunch, and leave your spec on the passenger seat. Actually, I'm sure he gets that all the time.

Thank you, Josh. Is - is that a sandworm??

Ha.

All righty, Wavers. Get back to work. And don't forget, May 1st looms, so get those scripts in and you just might be the person asking Josh about life in the fast lane.

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