Saturday, September 08, 2007

[Process] - Breaking the Story

For the last two and a half years, I've kept notes about what I learned while writing the Limit. Now I'm creating posts that will cover each phase of my script-writing process. They'll be added to as I trawl through the blog, and copy material from previous entries into this one. I'm also putting links up on the sidebar.

This entry is about figuring out what the story is.

-- -- --

That’s the thing with business and script-writing: they are open ended situations. Use lateral thinking. Examine all the angles.

My how to write TV post contains a lot of links.

This was a TV thought: what is the main unresolved Tension in this show? What exactly are we watching to see what happens? For instance, how will Buffy handle being a vampire slayer? Will Tony Soprano reconcile his family and his crime syndicate? Will Sydney bring down SD6? (Alias).

The Tension that drives an entire show has to be big (in terms of its ramifications). If the show has a main character - and that's another section to add in - then the Tension is intimately tied to them.

***

Script-writing at this level, the major concerns are ‘plausible character motivations’ and making sure you understand the cumulative ‘emotional effect’ each scene is having on the audience.

***

Now: end of Act 1. I wanted to brainstorm 20 ideas for what could set this plot in motion - I think I reached about 12. Unfortunately the list existed in my head and has therefore disappeared this morning, but after going through initial stuff like "Son turns gay" and "Son wants sex change", I had the idea that whatever TP1 is, it should "Unite the mothers for the first time". So I went with "Son disappears".

I like my Act 1 turning points to represent an utter failure for the heroes, so this is okay - but I'd be prepared to brainstorm some more to come up with something more original.

***

[Talking about analysing a finished outline] - My method is go through the previous outline scene by scene, brainstorming, critiquing - basically overhauling whatever needs it without committing to anything. Then I transcribe those notes (in a very loose order) into the PC. The draft after that is the keeper. Going through, I lock things down, get the language right ... making sure the emotional flow of the script feels 'right'.

Trust me, it's a lot easier than launching into a script waaaay too soon then rewriting dialogue 20 or 30 times without addressing fundamental problems in the story.*

* Experience speaking. But my current approach does have its own risk: never being willing to say 'Right, it's done. Let's start writing.'

***

[on adapting a friend's novel to TV] - Finally a Brain Dump, … because I don’t even have a word to describe the unfleshed-out concept for the idea I’m about to try and describe…

What’s the (line?) of this novel, its (essence?) that all the scenes in an adaptation would have to reflect or expand on in order for the movie to be true to itself? I’m talking about its (subtextual (truth? identity?)), ... at any rate it’s another form of subtext … that (core?) which makes something the thing that it is. May have to consult with my old aesthetic professor, Ismay Barwell, to get a clearer idea …

***

Created new cards (and a cool new font) for sequences on my pitch-board.

I had this burst where I decided that I wanted this to be the best pitch ever … now I’m aware of that pride and I’ve settled myself down. All I really want is for the pitch to do the job:

1) Clearly communicate the emotions of each sequence;
2) Be succinct (10 minutes max); and
3) As much as possible, be visual.


If you’re interested in pitching a movie, check out this Wordplay column. It’s filled with good advice.

***

Work on The Limit went well yesterday. I described the basic emotional beats of each sequence through to the end of Act 2. That sort of work is tough for me - it involves abstracting out from the details that my head's been previously stuck in.

[...] you'll probably be able to hear me rehearsing my pitch for The Limit aloud. It'll start very quiet and cautious. For a lot of the time, I won't even be able to finish sentences because I'll be too self-conscious about getting them 'right'. Then things should start to click together an hour, 2 hours in.

***

Take one 90-minute film with A-list actors, special effects and awesome music and tell its story in 10 minutes, by yourself with a football for a prop. That’s what I’ve been doing today.

Read more!
My first
The Limit pitch lasted 24.5 minutes. I controlled my embarrassment enough to read the whole thing aloud - and by the end, was acting it out.

I'd be happy to the pitch for half an hour (or longer) if it was entertaining. I'm happier squeezing that fun down into 10 minutes. To keep peoples’ attention, be brief.

Second reading (25 mins). Memorised and performing a lot more material. '
Imagining the action' seems to be key.
Third reading: forgot to record the duration. However,
the pitch is now simplified.
Fourth read-through (18.5 mins). That's a good start.

The Goal is ‘get this ready for Andrew’. Tomorrow? Then, decide which scenes we’d each love to perform. That may work better than each pitching a subplot (as we did last time).

Despite being exhausted, a couple of times today I had insights into the structure. Cape Fear (both versions) could be a good reference for this film.

Pitching is acting: trying to find The Limit's character and convey its emotions.

***

Circled around working for most of the day. Even tried to scare myself into it. Finally, I took all the action sequences I’m confident about performing and squeezed them down. Halved most of the timings and now (I'd estimate) the pitch is down to about 14 minutes.

Plus, massively re-edited ending. This simplification may end up in the film; replacing a fight with a single word.

4 minutes left to cut. The process, well it's going slower than I wanted but the end result's getting better. Now if I could just combine ‘better’ with ‘fast’.

***

The following events take place in real time:

9.30 am: Stop mucking round on internet. Today I’m going to work on shortening the timings on this pitch, then go for emotions.

9.40: 1st Reading: 12 m 55 s … so, that's good. Whispered the whole thing, focused on the words, not the emotions or performance. And I can see lots of places where it could be tightened. Going to focus on 4 scenes now.

I think I can easily get this down to 10 minutes – maybe even 8 or 9. And I know from my speech at the premiere of hopeless that I can hold 9 minutes of speech in my head (especially if I've got the pitchboard to prompt me).

10.36: These 4 scenes, removing finicky amounts of time.

11.08: The Goal: finish reducing all the sequences today and do a timing. So I’m blowing off my routine for the rest of the day and focusing on this.

1.50 pm: So tired. Want to stop and snooze.

2.00: Now I’m working in order through the movie and I only have 8 more sequences to do. Some of them are very short but it seems daunting. Must press on.

2.05: 7 sequences left. 6. Muck around on the Internet for a long time. 5. Going through these scenes fast, not fine-tuning or timing them. There’ll be a bit of fat to trim off them tomorrow if the pitch duration is too long. 4. 3 (that one went quick). Do 2 & 1 in a single burst.

2.53: Finished! Now to immediately rip in to a timing.

3.05: Nine minutes and fifty seconds! It is accomplished! I even got some bursts of emotion from this reading, especially around the end of Act 2. There’s more to cut (especially in the early sequences where the story-telling feels all choppy) but I think I can ease back for today.

3.12: It turns out that entertaining someone for 10 minutes is hard work. Good to know.

***

Now it’s time to become obsessed by whether I’m getting the emotions of this pitch across.

Act 3 feels like it’s achieving this but the earlier stuff feels plain, descriptive. Insight: I have to figure out the emotion that I want each sequence to convey. Then, change the pitch’s language so it’s not so much about what’s happening but how I feel about what’s happening.

***

A film has a distinct identity. You could say “a film has [this] sort of character.”

This expresses itself in at least three ways: its Genre, its Premise [as defined by Egri] and its Style (what is unique about the feel and vibe of your movie).

Once you’ve figured out these 3 elements, you need to make sure you put ‘moments’ into your story that establish and re-inforce that. What will that do? It’ll: a) reward the audience, b) create consistency, c) keep the film on track, and d) remind people what they’re watching …

It's pretty basic stuff really: a horror movie needs horror moments in it (Genre) but they need to be what you define as horrific for the movie you're writing (Style) and they need to be specific to the themes of your movie (Premise). The idea of 'moments' is to make your story unique.

So: identify what your ‘moments’ are, then create them … and then make sure they’re spaced just frequently enough.

***

Wow. Again, this pitching process reveals more about how to present the story in the final film. Here’s the basic situation we start with: Taine’s adoptive family realise that the biological father, a criminal, wants Taine back. The tension for the first 10 minutes is that this is a simple movie about the crim hunting the family to get what he wants … but I didn't realise that tension existed until working on it this morning.

I got some nice feedback about this set-up from Ed. He felt that it was very clear in suggesting what people might do and why they might do it.

So that's good. However, I’m suffering from a slight case of First Day Back [FDB] Syndrome again. At the end of the first 10 minutes, the stakes rise enormously. While the pitch currently is good for the purpose of timing, I have to accept it doesn’t plausibly convey this sudden shift. So I have to re-write it so it does.... and that's made me stall out.

***

What’s an A-Plot?
It's what you say when someone asks you what 'last night's episode' was about. It's the main story.

How do you write an A-plot?
First, have an overall idea. Are you reporting to a producer? Then pitch that idea, make sure they’re on-board with it.

Second, break down the Acts. Specifically, know how the A-Plot has advanced by the time you go to each commercial break. Call them cliff-hangers, plot-points, reversals, big developments, whatever … … These Act Breaks are your signposts for writing a clear and understandable story. Someday I’ll write about how I got fired for not doing this.

Third, make sure the Act Breaks are of high-quality. They’re true to your characters. Original - within the genre you’re working in and within the show you’re writing. They develop character, plot and/or the series arc. They shouldn’t repeat what has gone before. Note that well: don’t have 2 Act Breaks that are basically the same thing. Always develop. Always raise the stakes. There’s probably more, but that’ll do for an initial brain dump.

Fourth, clearly introduce the situation. At the start of each episode, we want answers to these questions ... * What's the status of the relationships that will apply to this A-plot? * What do these characters want out of life? * What do they think will happen if they fail? * Why do they need to act? Call these the emotional stakes. Make sure we know and care about them.

Fifth, fill in the space between the Act Breaks. You’ve probably generated a lot of ideas for scenes while breaking down the Acts. Now’s the time to provisionally put them where you think they should go. NB: Prepare to drop scenes, combine them or realise they’re repetitive at any time. NB: Acknowledge if a scene doesn’t fit, leads the A-plot astray or says something untrue about your characters.

So, filling the space between the Act Breaks. Reprise the situation soon after coming back from commercials. Have at least one scene about the A-plot to link this reprise to the next Act Break. If your show has no sub-plots, every scene between commercials will be about the A-plot. And if your show does have sub-plots? It depends on whether your characters regularly interact (like an ensemble) or have very seperate lives. It's the difference between Buffy and 24. In 24, you'll have B, C and even D-plots that have no interaction with the A. Simple. Just write the damn thing, follow the rules above. (But even then, you'll want something connecting the plots, whether it's theme or situation.) When your characters are an ensemble and have a lot to do with each other's lives ... You'll probably have separate A, B, and C-plot scenes. You'll also need scenes that interweave the A-plot with other sub-plots. This isn’t so hard ... ... just keep track of the motivations and emotions of character involved in the A-plot as they meet other people and deal with 'unrelated' problems.*

Sixth, wrap up the A-plot.
Did people succeed or fail?
How do they feel?
Are the emotions you’ve created from the A-plot consistent with how you want people to feel after watching an episode of your show?

There’s a lot more. When I talk about interweaving sub-plots, I'm hinting at the use of Subtext. I’m coming to believe Subtext is vital to writing a good script. (a good script = a script I’m happy with) But that’s a whole ‘nother article (and possibly a book). This’ll do for starters.

* The big thing – and this is where the art and design of episodes comes in – is to try and make the sub-plots feedback into and affect the A-plot.

***

At the heart of your show are three things:
The Emotion you want to produce.
Your Central Character.
The Main Relationship.

Know these three things. It’ll focus the series design. And be aware - the answers will change.

Look at Friends. The producers thought Monica was the central character –until they shot the 1st episode. Then it became an ensemble with – at various times Rachel, Chandler and Joey at the heart. The main relationship? Starts as Ross and Rachel, moves to Joey and Chandler, then to Chandler-Monica before settling back on Ross and Rachel (with Joey as occasional third wheel). The emotion, however, never changes. Friends support each other through the process of growing up. The show wants to make you feel comfortable.

***

10.40 am: This reading was great. Long stretches where the emotion’s sustained. And I can see ways to fix the slumps.
11.12 am: I’m simplifying this re-write, focusing on character motivations.

***

Yesterday I worked on the pitch while hungover. Maybe that's what caused my dread that my edits hadn’t improved anything.

Anyway, decided to simplify and de-cliché remaining scenes. Then pitched to Andrew.

Pitching to someone else is fun. You learn lots about your movie quickly. We agreed the goal now is to reduce it down to about 5 minutes and emphasise the structure is a cross-cutting chase movie (like Changing Lanes or 24).

This pitch will be my guide when I write the first draft. The emotional story in these 8 pages is clearer than the 60 page treatment that I sent to Andrew and Ainsley.

***

If I were to start a new script today, I’d adopt these principles :

1) Characters are true to themselves. They make internally consistent decisions.
2) Establish their emotional starting point in great detail. What do they do? What are their lives like? Is anything in their lives going to change on its own?……If no, then a Plot Event occurs. How do your characters react?
3) Follow the characters for a while, see what happens. If they become pro-active, fine. If they stay reactive, introduce another Plot Event.
4) Know your genre (if you’re writing in one) and make sure you have genre beats often enough to keep it in that genre.
5) As soon as you’ve figured out the story from start to finish, tell it to another person. Or five.

(1) is all about having characters NOT make decisions just because it’d be a cool direction for the plot to go in. It’s about respecting the plot that comes out of character decisions.

(2) is about starting with a Hook or a ‘What if’ idea for the movie then coming up with the characters who could be involved. Draw a relationship map of how these characters interact with each other AT THE START. Get opinions on what people think the most interesting relationships are.

(3) de-emphasises the textbook Act 1, Act 2, Act 3 structure. I’ve been thinking up Turning Points first. But the story and the climax should 'look like' they flow naturally out of the characters anyway, so why not make them the starting point of your process?

(4) ... man, it's just a kick-in-the-pants to keep the vibe of your movie focused and on-track.This all started after watching Storytelling by Todd Solondz. But it’s been influenced by Crafty Screenwriting by Alex Epstein, watching lots of Everwood and writing for Shortland Street.

Summary:What makes characters understandable and entertaining is consistent dialogue and attitude within a scene and consistent motivations across scenes.

***

If I were designing a pitch from scratch today, here’s what I’d do:
1) Define the Title, Genre, and overall Effect.
2) Be succinct.
3) ‘Emotion’ and ‘character motivation’ are more important than duration or plot.
4) Be visual.
5) Start pitching to other people ASAP.

What is a pitch?
In Hollywood terms, it’s whatever sells a movie – so a pitch could be as short as ‘Jaws meets The Sixth Sense’.

But in scriptwriting terms, it’s telling someone your storyline. It’s a quick way to get feedback – to see what’s entertaining and what’s weak. But the important thing is to create an accurate (and short) impression of your story.

So, to expand on the above list:
1) ….. Define the Title, Genre, and Emotion or Effect you’re going for.* If it’s a comedy, what sort of stuff are we laughing at? What is the basic comic tension?
2) ….. Be succinct. A five minute pitch (or even two minutes) is preferable. The maximum duration you should be thinking for a presentation is 10 minutes; and entertaining someone for 10 minutes is hard work.

I’d start the pitch as short as possible and from there build up the moments that you think are weak and unconvincing.

You’re not really telling a ‘this happened and then this happened’ type of story in a pitch. It’s more about describing the broad sequences of your movie. See this Wordplay column for advice on how to accomplish that.

3) ….. ‘Emotion’ and ‘character motivation’ are more important than duration or plot. Of course, if you’re pitching a comedy it’s important to make the listener laugh.
But here’s some stuff I learned:.....
a) To connect two sequences smoothly, link the emotion at the end of one to the start of the next......
b) Clearly communicate the emotions of each sequence. Figure out the emotion you want each sequence to convey. Then, change the pitch’s language so it’s not so much about what’s happening but how I feel about what’s happening......
c) Pitching is acting: trying to find your film’s ‘character’ and convey its emotions......
d) Rely on your performance (rather than emotive words) to convey the feeling......
e) If there’s a choice between describing plot details and a simple emotion, choose the emotion (at least, I found that when pitching a thriller).

4) ..... As much as possible, be visual.
Have a board with the sequences and photos of the key characters on it for the person you’re pitching to to follow along.
'Imagining the action' seems to be key for me. I like to act out the events, to dramatise them.

5) ..... Start pitching to other people ASAP.Pitching to someone else is fun. You learn lots about your movie quickly.I’d recommend pitching to one new person a day – and if you can find people who are willing to listen to it multiple times, come back to them after a week of pitching to everyone else.

The Goal:Engage and entertain the person you’re pitching to.Create an accurate impression of your story so they can give you feedback.Pitch to several people.Are you getting the same feedback from all of them?Fix or address these issues (if necessary).Start pitching again.

* (from the Bo Zenga article in Creative Screenwriting)

***

In a Sight & Sound review, David Mamet is quoted about what he's learned from writing for Hollywood. His advice: "Tell the story as straightforward as possible and play fair with the audience."

***

The page feels like it needs more oomph. Basically, I look at each page and ask whether it’s worth 14 cents –the price of a movie ticket divided by the number of pages.

My normal approach to writing has been to fly through it and fix the stuff later. Now I realise that I’m always going to fixing stuff later, so why not try and get things as right as possible at first draft. Having a higher quality of stuff to fix will hopefully mean less work later.

***

Before you start writing a TV show, here are some things to do:

1. Be passionate. You have to love something about the show, whether it's the situation or the characters. This love is a big part of what will get you through all the hard work ahead. I used to have the following phrase taped above my computer as I wrote - "The Goal is to create a world I completely believe in and care about." That's not a bad starting point.

2. Be comfortable. Make sure the style of the show is one that you can write easily and naturally. You'll have tight deadlines and people screaming at you. The least you can do is make sure the odds are stacked slightly in your favour to begin with.

3. Be realistic. Assume you will only get one season. Make sure you tell your show's essential stories. Your finale doesn't have to wrap up the situation entirely but it should provide some sense of closure.

***

The last line of a scene is the most important line. The last line can clearly prime the audience for what they should expect to see next. In other words, the last line can set the Stakes for the next scene.

A Stake is a question that we are emotionally invested in learning the answer to. For instance, "Will Peter survive?" While there are stakes for the overall movie, they are most immediately applicable on a scene and sequence level.* The answer to the Stake is provided by the Conflict.

Scenes that I like tend to have a Conflict in them. You can represent this with the formula, "[something] versus [something]". Typically there will be at least two people in a scene, with each of them representing one side of the versus. At some point during the scene, you that the writer will make a choice for one side or the other. This is similar to what Robert McKee calls the Turning Point in his book Story. This choice will set up the stakes for the next scene.

EXAMPLE:
Incoming Stake - Will Peter kill the suspect?
Conflict - Peter's respect for the Law versus Peter's certainty of the suspect needs to be punished.
Resolution - Peter lets the suspect live.
New Stake - What will Peter do with the suspect?

Importantly, I believe that both sides of the Conflict should represent aspects of your story's Premise. For example, all Conflicts in The Limit deal with The Law versus Vigilantism.**

So, each scene has a Stake and a Conflict.
The "versus" of the Conflict provides a choice that needs to be made.
The results of that choice also answer the question of the Stakes (and set up a new Stake).

* Have to expand on the relationship between these macro- and micro-Stakes at some stage.
** The Premise is your story's underlying theme or message. Really, it's a moral. It says if you do [something], it will lead to [something]. For instance, 'Greed leads to loneliness'. The idea of the Premise is expanded on much more clearly in The Art of Dramatic Writing by Lajos Egri.

***


The Situation is the one sentence line you pitch to the network. "It's Castaway meets Fantasy Island."

It should be 'hooky', immediately suggesting a number of stories you could tell. The Situation is also about the broader social context the characters are in.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: a cheerleader defends her town against supernatural forces.
Boston Public: teachers struggle with students and their own personal lives.
Battlestar Galactica: the military protects a rag-tag fleet of survivors against the Cylons.

When you sit down to watch this week's episode of ... whatever, the Situation has primed your expections of what you're about to see. In some ways it defines what you want to see. After all, why would you be watching 24 if you didn't want to see Jack Bauer kicking ass on this season's stressful terrorist threat?

***

I had a long lunch and interesting conversation with David Brechin-Smith (Insiders Guide to Happiness) yesterday.

We were discussing an idea for a TV show and I asked him about the four things I need to understand in order to 'get' a show. Those are: Situation, Main Character, Main Relationship and Emotion. The checklist focused me on the conversation and helped me figure out what I was still drawing a blank on.

Additionally, I've found better ways of phrasing these things.

Situation = "What do the characters do every week?" It's not about who the characters are or how they know each other; that's the Set-up.

Emotion = "How do you want to the audience to come away from an episode feeling?" Related to this are issues of genre and themes. The Emotion is what I reckon you should produce once an act.

Main Character = "Is there a central character? Someone whose issues reflect the themes of the show?"

The Main Character and Main Relationship are who you would expect to see often in an episode.

***

For me, this post starts to illustrate the links between script-writing and role-playing. The actual thread is about the relationship between computer game design and RPGs.

"Whether you make a kick ass story or not is not the point. The point is, for it to work, you and your fellow players are playfully playing as if this just gonna be great by the time its done: making choices, sifting through options, recalling patterns and motifs, creating new high and low points, forcing the characters into choices (that spark creative actions on the part of the players) and so on.

Draft, in short, is not a 'warm up.' "

***


So what did I learn from Draft 1 of this script?

To outline thoroughly, then write. Maybe not four years of outlining (like with this project), but analysing the script pays off.

Don't settle. Try and make each sequence as good as I can without pressuring myself to get it right first time out. In fact, each pass can be crappy and unformed - but the idea is to build the sequence into something I'm happy to sign off on.

How do I do that?

First, ask myself what is the question I want the scene to raise in the audience's mind. Hopefully that question follows logically from what they just seen (I've just written). This question is what I interpret others mean when they ask "What are the stakes?"

The conflict: I suspect that works best when the conflict centres around two different answers to the question. That way, the answer to the question is uncertain and keeps you in suspense.

"What is the emotion I want to produce?" I kind of forgot about this as I got further into the script.

Brainstorming conflicts, beats and lines of dialogue until I'm happy. Come up with at least 20 ideas, and then add 10 more until I'm satisfied.

Make sure that at least every 10 pages there are moments reflect your genre and unique moments that could only appear in your movie.

***


It made me believe that a well-worked out outline really would create speedy fun writing for me. That’s the goal for next time. I feel I got distracted by the pitch … put it at the wrong stage of the process. Oral should be 1st or 2nd – and then last.

***

Can you articulate the bundle of images and associations that have you jazzed about working on your project?

Try writing a paragraph or a list or a manifesto or whatever of why you really want to write this thing – and then try and stay true to it over the next 3 years.

***


Proposal: There will be a fundamental question your story will (or seeks to) answer. This can apply to both an episode and a series. It definitely applies to The Limit, the feature film I am writing. The question for The Limit is "Will Peter find out who killed his son?"

A typical question in lovebites would have been "Well Ben get this girl?"

Knowing the question seems to help focus on telling the story.

***


To write drama, ask yourself what's the worst that can happen? Right now?


***


Really, this is just a note to myself: I think that most of the ideas I write start off as pulp, genre stories where I'm jazzed about the set-pieces I can come up with and the cool twists I can write in.

It's only through revision and digging deeper that I start to care about the characters and stay engaged the whole way through the story when I read it.

The point: is to maybe get through the pulp phase into the real as fast as possible.

***

Another way of looking at storytelling in the movies* is that each phase of the film has a different 'energy' about it.

Taking War of the Worlds (2005) as an example (because that's where I first noticed this), you have four different types of energy in the story. The move from the normal domestic set up to the full on terror of the invasion is almost unnoticeable. The transition between the two happens in a bravura 15 minutes set piece involving lightning strikes and a stolen car. That full on terror of being pursued is sustained for what seems like a full hour. But then there is a noticeable gear change when Tim Robbins arrives in the film. All of the action becomes confined to a single location and the emotions darken towards paranoia and despair.

After finally emerging from this location, I was almost begging the film to do something different - and it obliged by shifting first into taking the attack to the aliens and then into daylight.

The trick, I think, is to be aware of the emotions and mood you're generating & how the audience feel about that. However, what to do about it may well depend on a case-by-case basis.


*I think this applies much more to films than television because the film is designed to be watched in one uninterrupted burst, so you are more attuned to variations in tone and intensity. With TV, you are coming back from a commercial every seven minutes so there will be more emphasis on trying to re-establish mood and story.

***

From a talk by Dylan Horrocks:

1) Self revelation. You should reveal yourself, or truths about you, in a world you create. Other people will recognise and key into this. As one of the quotes that Dylan referenced said, there's the real world and how we perceive the world. In the process of creating something, "Art turns us inside out."

2) Worlds implicitly convey that self revelation. What that means is that even when you remove the characters and what they do from a story, the world that you're left with (its geography, population and history, for example) still convey themes and conflict.Worlds have meaning.

***

I’ve talked before about how I’m trying to train myself to write dramatic scenes by keeping track of the Stakes (the question we want the scene to answer) and Conflict (the people who represent the opposing answers) in a scene.

What I’ve realised is that I need to have a living stakes & conflict document right from Draft 1. It travels along and develops with the script as it goes through each new draft, constantly getting adjusted and updated – and eventually handed off to the director (hopefully me).

The reason is so that I can tell exactly what each scene is about and whether it’s contributing to what the movie is about.

With Possessions (hopefully my next script, based on Sean’s story), when I start work on a rough outline I should be keeping track of the characters’ wants, making sure they are consistent from scene to scene (which’ll be vital). As the story solidifies, I can make sure I’m driving towards conflict all the time, and build up the stakes.

***

Executive Summary of how they do it over at Team Whedon:

Take multiple pitches for story ideas.
Choose one. In the seminar, the idea chosen was for an episode of Angel:

Lonely Cordy finally meets the man of her dreams, only to realize that he's Dennis the poltergeist, who's chosen to become corporeal for one day just to be with her, but his trade-off is that he must go away forever after his day is over.

Map out the general emotional arc.

Tim used the term emotional arc in contrast to plot moves, as in, he was interested in the characters' emotional beats more than fancy plots and mysteries. He was not so much interested in the details of the plot, and when someone brought up an intricate plot idea, Tim would say, "That could be interesting, but it doesn't matter. What's the emotion underlying the moves?" Following the characters' emotions was more important than "Well, what happens next? How does Angel manage to beat the baddie?"
See where certain beats would hit at certain points.

First act break, Cordy meets the man of her dreams. Second act break, finds out he's, um, not-alive. Third act break, finds out the guy is Dennis. Fourth act, Dennis must go away.

Generate ideas for the main A story.

***


Big lesson from this bout of gaming is ‘never be afraid to increase the adversity’. My game, Lucky Jones, is entirely designed around that principle – but seeing it play out in Inspectres and – especially – in Universalis … and OMG, that Universalis game should live in freaking legend.

Adversity forces people to be creative, it makes them stand up for what they really want, to say what they value and what’s worth fighting for … and adversity makes you feel like you’ve earned survival or success or – in the case of one AWESOME Lucky Jones subplot – the respect of your family.

I’m not talking about being a jerk; introducing adversity is not about rough-riding over the other players. I’m talking about everyone being totally upfront, saying this is “what I want to do to your character and why” and asking whether you’re up for it.

Plus, adversity creates a situation. Stories need conflict; focusing on the right conflict at the right time creates a throughline for your story. See this colourful diagram for a better explanation. Plus, all the systems I ran can totally handle adversity: in Lucky Jones, you can’t die you can only fail (plus in the next draft, those failures will give you cool goodies), InSpectres allows you to narrate your way out of anything & Universalis thrives on conflict – as one player (I think it was Jonathan) said, because you don’t have a character of your own, you feel fine about screwing yourself over.

***

If it's a tie between which option will create the most interesting situation, go for the one that causes the most pain/problems.

Case in point: Veronica Mars, the election result.


***

What's your story about? I need to know this so that when I'm reading the script I can tell whether each scene is adding to the story that I want to see unfold.

'What's your story about?' is not what it's about at a premise level - where, for example The Limit is about Vigilantism vs. The Law, which is more effective & how using each method changes you.

It's what your story is about at an emotional level, about what's grabbing the audience and making them want to watch more. The Limit, in this case, is about 2 dads vying for the love of their son.

***

Hmm, here's the stripped down, mechanical version of the writing process I want to try.

Intro characters. Present them with a Kicker, a situation that cannot be ignored
Brainstorm 20 (B20) ideas for each character’s reaction.
Choose the most interesting.
Write down on a separate page for each character, what I’ve discovered about them in making that choice.
Create the new situation based on that choice.
Write a synopsis of it on a Word doc.


Characters have to react to the new situation. Intro any new characters that that situation demands. Repeat the B20, writing process.
Soon I’ll have ‘character sheets’ filled with traits that allow me to make decisions that are consistent with their characterisation.

If I come up with awesome new ideas, write them down on a page that says Act 1,2,3. But keep going with my current story – to see what I learn. Why? Well, the idea is that I won’t know if these new ideas are the 'right' ones – all I’ll know is that they’re better – but I could come up with more if I keep going. So rather than keep getting distracted by - let's face it - an inexhaustible supply of new possibilities, I'll work through the entire story and then be able to make a decision based on overviewing the whole thing.

Read aloud. Record.
Take notes.

Go back to the start and start with the most interesting situation I've now devised. Rebuild.
Repeat till I’m confident.

Pitch.


This whole process is more character based, with a structure that (I assume) will naturally get imposed on it over time. The question of what it's 'about' also needs to be answered - but I have another post on that coming up, based on my recent consulting work on this TV show.


***


In "Writing screenplays that sell", Robert Hauge describes the script-writer's primary job as "eliciting emotion from the person reading the screenplay."

My take on the script-writer's primary job: to construct a question that's interesting enough that the audience will keep watching to find out the answer.

How to apply that structurally is to introduce the question as early as possible, and answer it as late as possible.

***

While giving feedback on a script idea this week, I drew up the relationship map (all the characters, with lines connecting them to show their kinship, sexual, and employment ties). It made reading and interpreting the story a lot easier.

***

Decided that The Lucky Joneses needs a new title. It's simply not descriptive enough (on first exposure) for people to know what it's about, or be interested in learning more.

That lead me to think about titles I've come up with that I think work. I think what they do is give a clue about what I think the hook is, and they use a pop-cultural phrase. Examples - The Zombie Plan (is a game about surviving a zombie attack). Left Coast (is a game about slightly crazy sci-fi writers in California).

***


[Process] - The Writing Headspace

For the last two and a half years, I've kept notes about what I learned while writing the Limit. Now I'm creating posts that will cover each phase of my script-writing process. They'll be added to as I trawl through the blog (and linked to on the sidebar).

First up, creating the right headspace to write in.

I found this quote about how to beat procrastination that needs to be prominently displayed: I think I've found a way to overcome my first-day-back syndrome. It's a 5-step process: First I ask myself why I'm writing it, then what the absolute best case scenario for when I've finished it could be. After that I brainstorm a whole bunch of ideas, organise them and figure out what I have to do next.

Took less than an hour to
do that and at the end I felt inspired to start work.

***

I should write about my bugbear – attempting to focus on completing one idea while I’m continually coming up with new (fresher) ideas …

***

- My standard first day slowness where I get my head round the fact that I’m in a new phase of the project continues.
- My ‘enjoy myself’ philosophy seems to be working. I’m very comfortable writing until my body tenses up or my brain gets logjammed – and then just doing something else, relaxing until this signal in my head tells me it’s time to go back to the keyboard.
- I really like working on this film. If we (Andrew and I) can pull it off before anyone else does, it could end up being one of the definitive vigilante thrillers. It’s that sense of mission that gives me most of the drive to work on it. And more and more, it’s getting to be not work but play.

***

So, back to my three days on after one day off. And yet again, I find that first day back goes a little slow. I thought it was only when I started a new phase of a project, but maybe it's after any type of break.

***

As for The Limit, I decided that if I was going to build this confrontation scene up in my head as something big, tough to conquer, then I was going to approach it with rock-climbing-like determination. So at the start of today (yes, after my sleep-in), I set the goal of finishing the scene no matter what ... and set up base-camps at certain sections of the scene that I would reach, rest and then move on from.

***

Just a note: after a day off, I am again finding it slow-going transcribing these notes for Outline E.

***

[from working on lovebites] - These episodes, these early versions of Episode 1 are funny. The question we kept asking ourselves during pre-production, the comment that kept getting thrown back to the writing team, boiled down to, "Is this funny enough?"

First, way to make you doubt yourself.

Second (and I only had the sense to ask myself this with two years hindsight), what does 'enough' mean? Using it without definition, such as, "This episode isn't good enough," is initially a great way to avoid arguments. Everyone can nod sagely, agree we haven't reached and breached some unspecified limit...and then wander off, promising to do better. I mean, we had set ourselves the goal for this show of dealing with humour and believable characterisation. This is not fertile ground for strictly defined operational parameters.

***

Finished The Limit’s rough outline.
Now I have a dilemma. I promised myself three days holiday after this - and by holiday I mean dabbling on some other writing projects - but I am keen to keep pushing on. So:

Do I keep my promise to myself or follow my current inclination?
Do I stick to the plan or stay in the moment?

[...] Yesterday's decision turned out to simple. I've already had a holiday in the lead-up to Xmas and I really want to write, so I'm going with the flow. Restarting things on Thursday.

***

I love finishing short, cool bits of writing. Achieving rocks!

***

This was going to be my last full day on Astral. In the last hour I've changed my mind - and The Limit is back to being my primary as of now. The reason's simple: I was feeling frustrated, angry and a little depressed. Probably due to my impatience at not making progress on the script.

So now, let's see if I can use that impatience to overcome my first-day-back syndrome.

***

While the pitch currently is good for the purpose of timing, I have to accept it doesn’t plausibly convey this sudden shift. So I have to re-write it so it does.... and that's made me stall out.

It’ll be hard work but probably not anywhere near as hard as I’m imagining. In fact, I’ll probably spend longer procrastinating than I will in re-writing it.

***

A couple of days ago my perfectionism nearly stopped me writing 100 words.

In this one early scene I kept re-finessing details. So I forced myself to keep moving - and in the process clarified what the two leads have in common. After a little more grunt-work, the pitch has finally started to convince me.

The key: relying on my performance (rather than emotive words) to convey the feeling. That means I have to know what emotion I want from the sequence. And if there’s a choice between describing plot details and a simple emotion, choose the emotion.

***

This morning:The pitch turns out to be 8 minutes long, I’m wading through a cut-down of Act 1 and my enthusiasm is waning.

Thought I'd try kicking my energy back up by pitching it again and again, letting the edits come naturally, through performance, not writing. At first my brain blocked me ... but when I finally did it, I broke through!

The pitch is now 8 min 50 sec, but I don’t care. Finally the emotions are almost all there. I was absorbed by the pitch the whole way through. That’s a damn good place for the pitcher to be.

***

Yesterday I wrote a terrible version of a crucial scene and I don't care. Writing a feature film on spec means having the time to make sure a scene works. In this case, making it easy for the audience to empathise with the grief and anger the main characters feel.

***

Trying to get to sleep last night, I came up with a neat scene for later on in the movie. A sure sign this project’s starting to occupy a larger part of my brain.

I’d forgotten how good it feels to just write – solving problems at a dialogue level, trying to figure out character and get the scenes to do their jobs. Also, I’m loving the pace. I have a deadline, but I also have enough time to reflect on how to fine-tune scenes. It all feels very contemplative.

***

Finally [started writing]. I was a little freaked out about starting to tackle it - but decided to break it down into a manageable bit.

***

Time pressure. Things need to be done quickly. Like, you may be asked to deliver a 44-page script within 48 hours (Joss Whedon & Tim Minear, Firefly). In TV there is always a deadline.

The very first thing Jo Randerson said when she joined our first intake of lovebites writers was, "What's the situation? Let me guess: there's not enough money and we're behind already." This is an accurate assessment of working in television.


***

I wasted a week by coming up with reasons not to write.

Recovering from the party. It’s Easter - I’ve eaten too much chocolate. It’s Easter - everyone else is on holiday. The rest of my flat’s sick – so I feel unmotivated too. But these aren’t reasons, they’re excuses. The reason was I wasn’t inspired by what I was writing.

Murder, disillusionment and my new tattoo.

I’ve been working on a tense conversation between murderer and vigilante about their personal history. I want subtext to turn this not-so-idle chitchat into a continuation of their conflict

With our recent changes this whole sequence has to be reconsidered. 50% of what’s there has to be scrapped. It has to be rebuilt at a motivational level, starting with what Peter and Forster want. Then moving between their heads, asking “What do I think he should do if I were him?”. The goal is to make each reaction something that boggles the other character.

And then I got disillusioned because this all felt like a sterile, mechanical exercise. So, a week of avoidance.

Then I started trying to vividly visualise the scene. I remember I tried this before, with Trace outside Forster’s farm. And so far it’s working. The scene is fun to work on again.

The same lessons, learned over and over again. Hopefully this diary’ll help me boil them down into a couple of pithy meaningful phrases that I can have tattooed on the back of my hands.


***

A. Disappointed because I've wasted a lot of time today.

B. Satisfied because I've kept asking myself what this scene is about until I realised it's about 'Peter facing the consequences of becoming a vigilante'. I think I'm ready to write and finish this thing.

***


Feeling stressed out at the thought of trying to finish all of Act 1 today. So I've set myself a couple of small goals. First, I'd like to quickly rough out the new introduction to the movie (over several passes) and bat that off to Andrew. Then I'll do all the macro restructuring of the rest of Act 1, after which I can start to fine-tuning.

***


In Which Lie Die I Tell, William Goldman talks about scenes in screenplays where – after you’ve read them – all the work is done. The audience has bought into the story and they’re just going to be taken along. In The Limit, I think that scene comes 3 pages from the end. And I just wrote it.

It’s a weird emotion: relief, triumph … and a little bit of fear. I’m disturbed at how little craft I applied to Act 3. Basically I burned through it today, wanting to write from the heart and follow my old outline rather than re-break the scenes by Stakes and Conflicts.


***


I was finding the mis-direction scene a bit difficult. Coupled with my now consuming desire to FINISH something, I spent Thursday through to Saturday morning writing a playtest draft of my new RPG, The Luck of the Joneses.

After that, I came back to the scene I’m been blocked on and finished it in a couple of hours.

***


“In my screenwriting class we set out to discover what would happen if you treated your screenplay-in-progress like someone you had recently fallen in love with. What if you courted your story, wooed it, gave it your very best, and loved it madly?

"The results were extremely promising. Our conclusion was that if we were willing to throw ourselves into falling in love with our work, risking heartache, holding nothing back, the inner muses responded in kind.
"


Cynthia Whitcomb
‘Writer’s Guide to Writing Your Screenplay’

***


One of the risks for me with writing is that I get sucked into the emotion I'm writing about.

***

Spent Wednesday procrastinating about writing the script. Spent yesterday finishing this draft of the script. The difference was that on Wednesday I felt like I had to do two things at once: come up with cool new stuff AND rigorously proof read the script.

I felt stressed out about it, so I had to take things back to basics. First I wrote Wednesday off and just used it to set up the new computer that Lee built me (Props, man! It's fantastic). Then I told myself to get a good night's sleep and try and settle back to my daily routine of exercise, writing and everything else. That took a lot of the pressure off and at some point I was able to just say to myself, "Don't proof read. Just write."

From there, finishing the script - which had seemed such a huge deal the day before - was over in a matter of three hours. My goal became to create something that was readable for others as opposed to getting it perfect right now. That took a lot of the pressure off and that meant I could do more constructive things than just stare at the screen and worry. So, the script's come in at 89 pages (dead on what I wanted). It's being read by four people at the moment - and while they are doing that, I'm going to talk to an actor and do send detective work on Trace's character, try and get more excited by her.

For the record, this was Draft 2B. A B-draft seems to be a quick hack-and-slash to tidy up any inconsistencies and make the story flow so you can get it out to other people. I'm now scheduled to finish on 24 July. 17 days left, 14 days in my safety buffer.

***



Re-working the climax - the section I thought I'd gotten right only two weeks ago - and there was much procrastination this morning. "IT'S TOO IMPORTANT!" screamed the editorial static in my head. "I'm scared of getting it wrong."

Eventually I plunged in (after working up bits and and pieces of ideas in layers over a couple of hours). Now I'm through 'the worst' and hopefully into the final stretch. Have a feeling that this is going to be like the argument scene in hopeless. Rewritten over and over. Good thing here is that there is a specific effect that needs to be accomplished - unlike the argument scene which could wander all over the place - and that should act like a map, helping me home in on an effective way of hitting all the emotions and beats I need to.

But, yeah, a very scary section this morning.

***


Taking a break between drafts means ideas are popping into my head all the time –scribble down images & snippets that’ll flesh out scenes. Guess I’m refuelling.

And now there’s a clearer vision of the script. Like how Trace’s impatience is a character trait. How ‘The Plan’ needs to be more convincing.


***

I’ve been procrastinating a little the last couple of days. Working on a dialogue scene, trying to find Taine's voice. But I may have just had a break-through with how the parents find out Taine's gone missing - I can visualise it very clearly, so that immediately puts it at the top of the list of all the ideas I've had.

***


2 things ...

I mentioned a 'breakthrough' a couple of days ago? Yesterday I realised the ramifications of it meant a HUGE rewrite of the script. First I was angry, then panicky ... then, slowly, I calmed down and am now gunna look through it methodically, seeing exactly what would need to be changed.

Also, my progress on problem-solving is slower than I'd hoped. Going slow & devising solutions that convince me is a good goal, but I think I'm starting to feel the lack of that obsessive quality, the need to get it finished by a certain goal. Maybe before I go house-sitting at Viv & Gino's in a month'd be an appropriate new goal.

***

Okay, this is getting ridiculous. In between checking in on the (now-wrapped-up) Forge thread about the Star Wars game and grooving on my new Sage extension for reading blogs in Firefox, I have been getting less than an hour of work done on The Limit every day.

So multi-dimensional's on hiatus until I finish solving the last of the readers' problems and make a decent start on the restructure. I may even just not use the internet at all - after all it is the timesuck of doom for me.

***


I’ve mapped out this rewrite on four A3 pages – and today I crossed over into the fourth and final page. Once again, I slowed down - kind of freaked out & scared – and began a massive blast of procrastination.

Then I remembered how angry I am at this script. How much I want to finish it so I can get it out of my life and do something new. That anger’s built through the day until now I am fully focused on bring this thing home.

***


Halfway through this brainstorming phase of the draft. Taking a day off to let my mind refill with creative goodness & get some distance from it.

I'm enjoying the writing. It's starting to go faster - and I'm expecting to keep up that pace until I hit the big re-writes in Act 3.

***

Day 1 of this dialogue draft: ½ an hour writing, 1 page done.
Day 2: 2 hours writing, 1 page done.

Day 3 (today): 3 hours writing, not even one page done - but I've made the decision to finish & have fun while writing it.


***

I’m approaching quarter of the way through the big restructure & today was That Day where I started to get enthused about the work again. I love That Day.

So, I got through about 5 scenes in quick succession. One was the tricky, pivotal conversation between the 2 dads that keeps tripping me up. I want it to be like a verbal fistfight, but in order to stay true to the characters it’s turned out a lot quieter. What’s neat about this scene is that one of the characters completely gives up on what he wants halfway through. I discovered that this morning; it’s a neat & nasty surprise.

Then wrote a quick new husband-and-wife argument scene. I love the wife now. That was never true in previous drafts. And this argument gives an insight into Peter’s fragile sense of masculinity.

***

Quite often when I'm starting a dialogue draft, I won't shave until the story has quickened and the dialogue is coming naturally and rapidly out of me. Yesterday (which was also my 33 1/3 birthday) I was able to shave the beard - which had grown very uncomfortable and was stopping me from sleeping well - and see Serenity (my estimation of that movie has gone way up on a second viewing).

So, I'm going to duck away now and keep writing ... hopefully reaching the 3/4 mark by this evening.

Edited to add: Two fun links that have a lot of applicability to the writing I'm doing. Here's John Rogers on action sequences, and Josh Friedman on sex scenes.

***


I’ve said it before: I always take a long time to ramp up to full-writing-speed when I start a new draft. One of the causes (I’ve just discovered) is that it takes me a while to regain the confidence to make rapid decisions about the writing – as I start getting back into it, I’d prefer to fluff around paralysed by the choices I could be making rather than commit to something & lock it down.

***

I have a weird feeling, thinking about the script now. A feeling like, for the first time with the Limit, I'm not that sure what edits I'd like to make to it. I've had that feeling before - with other scripts - and it's usually indicated that further tinkering tips the story over the edge and starts to break it.

***

The draft is coming into the home stretch. Less than 20 pages to go. Decisions are easier to make now. Dialogue is coming to me like I’m overhearing the conversations from a distance.

***


I've thought a lot about whether I should post this, but given that I'm trying to keep a full record of my writing process I think I have to go through the last fortnight.

Two Fridays ago - DBS gave me feedback on the script. Much of it was good, some of it was really challenging. I enjoyed the session a lot.

Two Saturdays ago - I finally read through the script myself. My emotions went through two phases:

  • 1) the actual reading, where I thought that the script was terrible. Unrealistic, badly motivated, lame writing. It totally didn't live up to the ideal in my head and I was pretty much devastated by the end;
  • 2) drawing the whammo chart - my graph of how interested I was in the script. This revealed that many of my problems lay in the first act but that the middle of the script still wasn't as strong as I hoped. Two reasons for that were that it was unclear what Peter wanted to achieve in his first intense conversation with Forster, and that Tracy's midpoint is misplaced. So, I was slightly lifted by that. Slightly.

Two Sundays ago - acted in the Wasps. My character was supposed to receive utterly devastating news to his ego. I drew on the memory of just having read the script.

I took a week off, where I couldn't face reading or thinking about the thing. I drew some solace from a book on script-editing where another writer was described as adopting the fetal position for two days, curled up in bed with a hot water bottle. I was not that bad.

Last Saturday - Morgue and Pearce described how Clive Barker reads his books aloud when he finishes writing them. I resolved to do that with this script.

Last Sunday and Monday - I forced myself to read through the script, taking notes. While most of them were pretty specific, what I was really trying to do was get an understanding of the big picture.

Today - just read it aloud, and it really gave me a clear idea of why certain scenes (like Peter deciding to take revenge) weren't working. I'm feeling better about the script.

So the big picture changes are:
Act 1 - tighten up the family stuff
Act 2i - clarify Peter's motivations and restructure the mid-points.
Act 2ii - make sure the action scenes relate to characters. Possibly put Tracy into a much darker place, emotionally.
Act 3 - focus on the three main characters, plus handle the exposition 2000% better.

Now to look at everyone else's feedback and see where they and I agree.

***

David emailed me, hoping that the Limit was going better.

Yeah it is. My last big post about it was just a demonstration of a writer getting emotional about what he wrote. That's cool; I expect ups-and-downs now.

At the moment, I actually feel pretty confident about the script. Everyone's feedback works together & ... more importantly to me ... I feel like the script is now 'telling' me what it wants to be. Adjusting scenes feels like a natural process now, one that doesn't require that much thinking about it. It's like there's an ideal version of this draft that I'm chiselling the unnecessary material away from.

***

The writing's been going smoothly but right now I think I'm facing a psychological block - I need to make a change that has big ramifications for the rest of the film. It's a simple change, but I think its implications are stopping me from going ahead with making it. Instead I'm analysing. And working on this much-delayed post.

***

Work on The Limit was brutal today.

I've been trying to get back into this re-edit. I have, in fact, set myself a two week deadline to finish this part of the writing - so that's 25 June. But I was stuck on this 2 page section where Peter talks to his stepson. What has happened during this rewrite is that I've figured out how important this scene is to the movie - and it's helped clarify how I should be characterising Taine.

Unlike working on the 48-hour competition, there is no immediate pressure on me to make a decision about a line of dialogue or an approach to the scene. This leads to perfectionism - which is my curse & the reason I've been working on this goddamn project for what seems like most of the decade - and this two-page scene for the last four days.

The big picture upshot: next film I write, I'm getting myself a year to complete it. One year, and then I'm getting out no matter what state it's in. Hopefully that'll give me some motivation not to waste all the work I've put in.

Medium picture upshot: working on this has been long, secretive & driven by the need for perfection/the desire for greatness. Next project, I'd like to do something shorter form (TV, short film, short TV - the link goes to a Wired article about fan TV shows in the Whedonverse), with a development process that is completely out in the open, and it's driven by attitude and immediacy.

Right now: I had to take a walk in the bitter cold to clear my head. And my conclusions were a) I need to relax and have fun while I'm writing, and b) the scene didn't need to be perfect - I'm going to go back, read the script aloud when I've finished this re-edit, and make adjustments.

Scenes finished now, and I got through another four pages to boot.

***


Last weekend, I hit the big rewrite at the end of Act 2 and the wall of "What the hell do I do next?" I thought I'd take some time out - and in the meantime, brainstorm some possible solutions, try to understand the basic problem, and work on some stuff that I've needed to catch up on (including the next draft of The Lucky Joneses RPG).

However, over the last three days, this is what's happened:

1. A lunch-time conversation with Sean where I realised that the scene I was blocked on has to reflect the father-child dynamic that the whole movie's about;

2. A realisation that I'm trying to make this perfect, which leads to procrastination. I should make rough, necessary changes, and complete this draft; and

3. Another realisation, that I've lost track of the big picture - and finishing this script is more important than working on the game.

4. ... Maybe there's some fear of finishing in there, too.

So, I'll be trying to go back into it tonight & definitely be working on it for the remainder of the week.

***

Whoa.

The Assembly Draft is done

It took four hours from the start of Act Three to the end. And the rewriting got faster and faster as I went through. That's always the way with this script, I find; the ending is tough to conceptualise, and a breeze to write through. Hopefully that doesn't mean that I'm ignoring some fundamental problem (cf. The Midpoint).

***

Today, I looked through everything I had to do from the start of Act 3 to the end, solving problems as I read through the script, and by the time I reached the end of my reading I realised I'd found a way through.

And it is good.

Then I started to procrastinate / freak out about finishing, again. So after letting that happen for a few minutes, I bit off the smallest part of the very next problem I had to solve and tackled it. Which worked pretty well.

The point: I can finish this pass on the script now.

***

Man, this frickin' script. I had a great start to the rewrite (5 pages in one day, which is fantastic for my first day). Then I hit this big father-son scene at page 14 and get bogged down in it for 2 and a half weeks until I figure out what it's really about (clue: it's personal).

Anyway, once I figured out the heart of the scene, it flowed easily & the script has kept going at a nice rate. I still hope to have it all finished for sending out to producers by New Year, but I also hoped to have the fine-tuning draft finished by tomorrow ... and with 60 pages to go, that's a little on the unlikely side.

***



I just got to a section of the script I've been dreading - and it seems to be going fast, painless and good. I have much relief at this.

Also, a tip (perhaps applicable only to me): I find that if I'm blocked on a script, I actually get a lot of work done if I take a train up to the Kapiti Coast. The secret is to not bring anything else to read or do . There's something about boredom that really forces me to write.

Commuting. Environmentally friendly and creative.

***

[The Limit] The final rewrite has begun!

At about 4pm.

Basically, I got sick of taking notes and preparing to do it - so I've just launched straight in [to the final rewrite]. Posting may resume its recent quietness, or it may keep on being done every couple of days. I'm not sure. I've got a holiday coming up, which will probably be devoted to the script but it'll also give me some free time to jot some stuff down.

***

The more important I think a scene is, the longer it seems to take me to write. Thinking of something as "important" makes me freak out, because I need to get it "right".

But at this stage of the script, every scene should be important. Every scene needs to contribute. Every moment, too.

That means I'm going to have to develop some way off de-freaking-out. Being a full-time writer would be good too (more dedicated time to solve problems and get into a groove). Unfortunately, I may have to let that ambition go for a while, and content myself writing on the bus.

(Example: It's taken me five days to work on a single line of the script. It's an important line -- it has to let us know what Peter's worst fear is, and hint at some of the oddness that is to come.)


***



I think it's worth noting that when I finished making changes to The Limit last night, the sense of quiet satisfaction I felt seemed exactly the same as what I feel when I finish any project - of whatever magnitude. To be specific, finishing the script after seven years gave me the same amount of satisfaction as working on a 48-hour film, writing a role-playing game, or locking down a well-constructed sketch.

I wasn't expecting a flood of adrenalin or a massive epiphany; it's just that what I did feel surprised me.

Unbundling this further:

  • the script isn't yet finished finished as there's still proofing to go
  • I found the writing process itself to be rewarding - challenging, sure, but satisfying and worthwhile
  • from working on hopeless, I'm aware that there are many moments that you celebrate during the life of a script (including realising you're filming a scene that matches up to your imagination; seeing a cut of the film that finally works; and the Premiere)
  • there are also future rewards, specific to this script.

Those possible future rewards include stuff like:

  • reading the script with fresh eyes in, say, a year & enjoying it
  • selling the script
  • getting positive feedback from people I respect
  • having a script that I think is special enough that it could generate royalties for me
  • having a sample script that could open doors to new jobs for me.

The point is that there wasn't some big Hollywood rush of triumph. It was a quiet moment. If anything, I would call it contentment.

***


[The Limit] -

I had an epiphany about The Limit last night.

Back in 2004, about six months before I started this blog, Andrew and I had a story meeting. We decided to trade off the simplicity of our existing structure in order to create a third act whose scenes had more dramatic potential. Last night I asked myself how you could get both the simplicity and the drama into the script. And then I got the answer.


Edited to add: This story can have a simple-to-understand presentation, have drama at the third act, or have a final revelation. And it can only have 2 of those 3 things.

As a result, I'm going to be going back and reworking the last 30 pages, chopping out probably about 10 pages in the process. I'll break a guiding principle of storytelling, and provide the answer to the main question way too early. I'm actually unsure if this will work ... but when I visualise the shape of the story in my head, all of a sudden it's cleaner, more direct and understandable, and turns it from something that the audience might feel betrayed by into a tragedy.

... assuming I can make it work.

But the thing with ideas like this is that unless the film is locked off and released, I feel an obligation to try and improve the story. Hell, with hopeless I deleted a two-minute musical number from the film the day before we locked the movie off.

And this is why I find myself torn between the joys of writing for television and movies. With TV, you get to explore characters and the situation in many different permutations (but with strict, sometimes impossible deadlines). With film, you get the chance to get things right.

-- -- --

I'm also realising the difference between The Limit and the new movie.

The Limit is an illustration of Syd Field's principle that screenplays are structure. Both character and plot serve the structural ideas in this film.

The new movie is still being outlined, but we're adapting an idea from roleplaying's Big Model theory: that when you take characters and a setting, you create a situation. How the characters react to that situation creates the plot. Breaking the story this way, with no preconceived idea of what the plot should be, has been really enjoyable.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Scriptwriting Process - Overview

Finally, I have space in my life to start drawing together all of the lessons I learnt from writing The Limit. This is a big project for me, and one I find pretty intimidating - but I'll take it piece by piece and work out how it all fits together as I go along.

To start with, some links:

The Limit diary (part 1).

The Limit diary (part 2).

My del.icio.us links about scripts.

My del.icio.us links about The Limit.

The new blogger's 'script' tags.

The new blogger's 'limit' tags.

Monday, September 03, 2007

Links - Future of TV

OK, something a little new here. I'll post a whole bunch of related links, and then analyse them in the comments as I get time. Join in the conversation there, and if anything insightful pops up, that'll get a post of its own.

First up, the future of television / 4th generation media (4GM) ...

NBC fails (spectacularly) to bully Apple into raising its download prices.

Theatrical release isn't where studios make their money from movies.

Didn't I predict the death of the mainstream in one of my first posts? Well, it's happening. And, by the way, how many people do you know who regularly watch television anymore?

Guerilla drive-ins - organising movie screenings in unused public spaces, via flash-mobs.

What the hell. Boogie Nights / Star Wars (link to YouTube).

A TV professional speculates about future trends.

A link to a link about making internet content watchable - and move the audience from TV to the net.

And another link-link to a business model for internet content.

Enough for now.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Titles - a new theory

Decided that The Lucky Joneses needs a new title. It's simply not descriptive enough (on first exposure) for people to know what it's about, or be interested in learning more.

That lead me to think about titles I've come up with that I think work. I think what they do is give a clue about what I think the hook is, and they use a pop-cultural phrase. Examples - The Zombie Plan (is a game about surviving a zombie attack). Left Coast (is a game about slightly crazy sci-fi writers in California).

Initially, I'd been brainstorming ideas related to 'family'. I considered 'family to be the centre of The Lucky Joneses. Obviously a new title would have to key off that somehow. But that didn't come up with anything that inspired me (except 'Family Crisis'. I kinda like that).

So, I mind-mapped all the hooks I could think of for this game, the things I was excited about, and ran them through The Prioritizer. Here's what I got:

1. Comedy (88.1%)
2. Screwing each other over (83.3%)
3. Wild and crazy scenarios (71.4%)
4. Best case / Worst case (59.5%)
5. Sitcom (54.8%)

Tied for 6. Take turns being the star // Family //Simple (17.9%)

I found that interesting. Family is at the bottom of the list. 'Comedy' and 'Screwing each other over', followed by 'Wild and crazy scenarios' are at the heart of what I'm really into with this game.

Perhaps a subtitle: "A game about families" is in order.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

[Boost] The new script

Yep, there's a new script a-simmering. I'm working on it with Sean, and 'Boost' be its working title.

More later, but here's a couple of reference articles for it:

The Promise of noopolitick

As the information age deepens, a globe–circling realm of the mind is being created — the “noosphere” that Pierre Teilhard de Chardin identified 80 years ago.


And David Brin's summary of the above paper, which describes the 'adversary' to the developing noosphere.