So Much Fear, So Little Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now get back to work.

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Sending out Queries

Dear Rouge Wave:

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

-Flummoxed in Florida

Dear Flummoxed,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Updates and Reminders

Good morning, Wavers! Just a reminder that the May 1st deadline for the Silver Screenwriting Competition is rapidly approaching. Don't miss out on this opportunity to take your nascent career to the next level by winning a trip to Los Angeles, staying in a four star hotel and taking three meetings with three managers. Not to mention having lunch with Josh Zetumer (DUNE) and winning a MacBook Air, cash and other cool stuff. Because we are still a baby competition (this is our second year) the chances of winning are significantly higher than older, larger competitions. So get those scripts polished up and enter by May 1st to enjoy a few days in LA and meet industry professionals who could just give you the chance you've been waiting for.

In other news, after intense negotiations, the Robotard 8000 has agreed to meet me in person this Friday afternoon for an exclusive interview. While I will learn their identities, I am sworn to secrecy but I will be able to find out the answers to scintillating questions like: Why? Has it worked? And what's next? The Robotard 8000, if you missed it, is a couple of mystery writers who took matters into their own hands and put their script BALLS OUT on the web. Last time I heard, they've had 7,000 views of the script. BALLS OUT is totally offensive, go-for-broke hilarious and anyone who would do such a cockamamie thing is someone I have to admire for their sheer - ahem - balls out approach. So Monday, right here on The Rouge Wave, we'll find out more about The Robotard 8000 and what makes them tick.

Have a lovely day, Wavers. And remember, get those scripts in to the Silver Screenwriting Competition so you can come out to LA, meet me, hang out and and take three really fun, really beneficial meeting with managers. For a video interview of last year's winner, Hilary Graham, go to our website.

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But - Why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Wrylies Redux

Good morning, Wavers! For today's reading pleasure, here is a previous RW blog post from a couple of years back about the use of wrylies. Sometimes I use an older post because it's hot, I'm tired and I gotta be somewhere and other times it's because the topic bears repeating. Today's post falls under both categories. So enjoy.

***

Wrylies are what I actually prefer to call parentheticals – what writers use to indicate tone, attitude and sometimes an action that implies a tone or an attitude.

John (sarcastically) Your blog is great.

I have seen some strange things in wrylies. I have seen entire, long action lines in wrylies like:

Gertrude: (She sips his coffee, stares at him then thinks about last night. She smiles) Really? Your blog’s not bad either.

You think I’m kidding. I do not make these stories up. Welcome to the tragicomic world of the reader. That last parenthetical is of course is an example of a gross misinterpretation of what might be acceptable in a wrylie. Generally speaking, writers should use them sparingly and keep their contents, on the whole, to things like:

(coyly)
(softly)
(distracted)
(under her breath)
(to himself)
(chewing)
(tiredly)
(bewildered)
(cringing)
(blushing)

Ask yourself, before using a parenthetical, if it is really necessary. In other words, can the emotion or action you wish to describe be conveyed in the action line or in the dialogue itself? Whenever that is possible, please, please don’t use a wrylie.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s no law against wrylies; they won’t get your script tossed into the circular immediately, but the more you use them, the more I think your writing skills are not terrific. Be judicious, limit the usage as much as possible and remember these simple wrylie rules:

1) Never put in a wrylie what can be indicated in an action line. No (walking faster) or (remembering last night) or (wondering if the coffee is too strong) or (looking her up and down).

2) Don’t indicate emotion in the wrylie unless there is no other possible choice. Maybe your character is hurtling toward earth after his parachute has broken.

Douglas: (sarcastically) Oh, this was a good idea.

Since he is hurtling, it would be tough to show him rolling his eyes or shifting his weight as he’s being a wiseacre.

3) Don’t use wrylies more than occasionally. A plethora will only lead to this:

Reader: (annoyed) Please kill me now.

4) Don’t use wrylies as an aside to the reader. Again, you think I’m kidding, but this example is a real one: (what you see next will amaze you). Now if you're Shane Black, that could be really cool. But you're probably not Shane Black.

Reader: (icy disdain) This is such a PASS writer.

Action lines are just that – indicating action, movement, description, location. Yes? Yes. Wrylies are very small asides (laughing) (wheezing) (amazed). Used with restraint, they add a very light touch to a moment. It is better to use (to himself) than taking up the space in an action line to say:

John mumbles to himself -

John: Parachuting was your idea, idiot!

versus

John: (to himself) Parachuting was your idea, idiot!

Wrylies are about flow – they are shorthand way to give us, in a word or maybe two, a snapshot of the situation. Nothing more, nothing less. Wrylies should not impose; they should have quiet impact. Consider the wrylie the shy cousin who lives in the attic...emerging rarely but to great effect.

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That Script

So Wavers - have you written that script yet? The script that you've wanted to write your whole life? The one that might bring you acclaim and awards? The one story you were born to tell? I haven't. I've written some scripts I really like, mind you (and a lot that I loathe and am embarrassed about too) but no, I haven't written the script that is my ORDINARY PEOPLE. But I have a feeling that there is a story on par with OP that I am going to tell. Well - on par, I mean, that's incredibly ambitious. I just mean I know I have a story to tell that is very emotional and powerful and I have some inkling what it is going to be about but it hasn't yet totally formed within me. When it does, I'll know.

In the last issue of Script Magazine, there was an interview with Sean McGinly, who wrote and directed THE GREAT BUCK HOWARD - a script, incidentally, that I covered for Walden Media several years ago. McGinly worked as an assistant for The Amazing Kreskin, the mentalist after whom Buck Howard is modeled. It was a crappy job and one that depressed the hell out of McGinly. And yet - here's the last paragraph of his amazingly well written article:

During the strange chapter of my life working for Kreskin, I don't think I could have possibly felt more hopeless or lost. In my wildest dreams, I couldn't have imagined that it would lead, 12 years later, to me standing on a movie set with John Malkovich in a wig as he brought The Great Buck Howard to life. I guess this all brings me back to the advice to remain open and vulnerable. The truth about writing, and life I suppose, is that we really don't know what will come out of our experiences. It's important as a writer to learn structure and other skills of the craft, but after that, it's all about the ability to find inspiration from our lives or from the world or from our own imaginations. Amazing things can happen when we do.

Isn't that fascinating and motivating? It could be that something you are observing or experiencing in your life right now, or the life of someone you love, or a newspaper headline, is already beginning to marinate deep within your creative psyche, Wavers. And that something, whatever it is, may be the genesis of that script. The most important one you'll ever write. The one that will lead to your success, personal catharsis or both. The one story you were meant to tell. A few things have happened in my life in the past few years that strike me as components of that script. I haven't yet figured out exactly what the story is, but I can feel it beginning to form. And it's exciting. Everything else I've written to date and continue to write is all preparation for that script.

How about you, Wavers? Have you already written that script? Or like me, is it something that is still forming within you? Is there something happening in your life right now or in the recent past that might be a part of that amazing script but you don't yet know it?

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Twilight

Curious about all the hulaballoo, the Mini-W and I watched TWILIGHT yesterday evening. We had hoped that the movie would be a kind of girl-power paean, what with the fact that it was written by a woman, directed by a woman and had a female lead. Sure, sure, the thing with the vampires, but this cultural phenomenon - which drew huge crowds of female tweens - was clearly having an impact and we wanted to find out what great female-empowerment messages were embedded in the material.

We were sorely disappointed. The movie is like a romance novel for teens and not much more than that. The smoldering, brooding stares from across the cafeteria, delivered with aplomb by actor Robert Pattinson (lead romantic vampire Edward Cullen) were just - embarrassing. His heavy lidded I-can't-live-without-you-but-I-kind-of-want-to-kill-you-and-it-hurts-so-good gazes are the kind of thing couples do when they are joking. Usually someone winds up with a pillow thrown at them. But no, millions of 12-year-old girls are imprinting this cinematic experience upon their collective ideas and ideals of romance. Cullen says to our lead character, the realistically named Bella Swan, after knowing her for as far as we could tell, two weeks: You are my LIFE. I can haz restraining order pleze?

And you know, this is what bothered the Mini-W and me more than the SUPER cheesy fx (the running through the forest scene is hilarious: blurry legs beneath a smoothly gliding torso), the lame romance novel story beats, the super cheerful vampire family who plays baseball together and the overall toxic level of melodrama complete with slo-mo entrances through fog - yeah all that stuff bugged us but in a fun way in which we laughed really really hard - what left us with a bad taste in our mouths was the way the main vampire dude, Edward, is clearly a freaky obsessive when it comes to his love interest, Bella. And his words and actions are lit in the soft, golden glow of true love. A guy who said or did anything similar to the Mini-W would find himself slapped with a restraining order post haste. But seen through the eyes of Bella and delivered to the minds of millions of tweens, this is what romance is like:

Stuff Edward says to Bella:
You are my LIFE!
I like to watch you sleep.
I can't trust myself around you.
I'm a vegetarian; we only drink animal blood.

Is it just us or does this sound like FATAL ATTRACTION for tweens? Only - it's NOT a cautionary tale, it's romantic. No, young, formative tween - obsession is not weird, it's romantic. When he watches you sleep and climbs through your window unannounced, when he claims he can't live without you after having known you for 12 days, that's epic love that cannot be denied! It's totally cool, man. It means you are the center of his universe! And, when a guy is brooding, hurt and tortured inside, you can cure him! Love is the answer! Bad boys are good for you.

Wha-??

Seen through the prism of feminism - no, scratch that - seen through the prism of modeling for young girls what self-esteem and healthy bonding is made of - this movie is not only a disaster, it's frightening. No girl power here, just messages of how being the center of someone's universe to the point where they like to watch you sleep is validating of your gender role.

Of course the movie also has a ton of vampire desire as (barely) sublimated sexual desire, which is as old as the vampire story itself...so I get that. But this is aimed at 12-year-old girls. Who do have a burgeoning sexual and romantic self. But to cast that in the light of obsessive need and validation through being some kind of gauzy, feminine balm for a clearly effed up guy - man, those are not messages I'd want my daughter to soak in. Sure it's all cloaked in abstinence, nobody ever does it in Twilight (yeah, because 17-year-olds don't just go out to the shed and do it) but the lack of sex does not make up for the powerful, archaic, damaging message that being the object - yes OBJECT - of the attention of a messed up bad boy is a good thing because messed up bad boys are sexy and they want you. And being wanted by a boy - that's what tells you you're good enough. See?

Is this how far we've come, baby? Really?

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The Flight of the Conchords

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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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