Month: June 2014

Why so hostile?

Maximum Z antagonist, characters, criticism, encouragement, feedback, loglines, networking, producer, protagonist, public forums, screenwriting, script, self-confidence, social media, synopsis, westerns, writing ,
Angry voice!
Angry voice!

I’ve been making an effort over the past few weeks to build my network of writing acquaintances, which has involved connecting on assorted social media networks.

Several of these include groups of like-minded people that offer up the opportunity to ask questions, get feedback, etc.

One of them was about loglines.

Feeling fairly confident but open to suggestions about the one for my western, I typed it in, hoping somebody might have some helpful comments.

Within minutes, the response came in: “…or? What’s at stake? What are the consequences?”

Hmm. Well, her train’s been stolen, which…puts her livelihood at stake?  And it’s going to be used in a major heist, so the consequences are…widespread? I’ve always hated this part. Maybe I’m not giving enough information?

I wrote back: “open to suggestions.”

Past experience with logline feedback via online forums, while occasionally frustrating, has sometimes yielded positive results.

Sometimes.

A few minutes later: “I’m a producer and script consultant, not a psychic. If I knew what the story was about, knew the protagonist’s motives, knew what the antagonist was doing and why, and knew what was at stake and the consequences of certain actions, I would make a suggestion. However, with so little on offer, there’s little I can do other repeat what I’ve already said.”

I’m not arguing anything after the word ‘psychic’. It’s not easy to get all of that across in a logline. It’s much harder than most writers realize.

(Side note – I love it when somebody backs up their comments with the proclamation of their qualifications. As expected, a quick internet search of this person’s “producer and script consultant” credentials yielded both jack and squat. It took a lot of effort to not ask them for more details.)

Desperately seeking resolution, I offered: “Would you be willing to take a look at the 1-page synopsis to get a better understanding of the story?”

Soon afterward: “based on your logline, no”

And that was that.

While I didn’t have a problem with the actual advice, there just seemed to be this overall tone of angry condescension in their text. “Grr! I know what I’m talking about! My advice is infallible and you’re an idiot if you don’t listen to me! Grr! Argh!” Maybe I was just reading too much into it?

Honestly, it kind of nagged at me for the rest of the day. I always thought the point of these groups was to help each other. Sure, sometimes people just don’t get it, but I’m more likely to appreciate your comments if you seem willing/interested in actually helping me.

Later in the day, somebody with no connection to me whatsoever called this person out for being unnecessarily cruel (a bit harsh, but I understood where they were coming from). I made a point of staying totally out of what soon became a snippy back-and-forth of “I’m right, you’re wrong”.

So much for taking part in that group again.

Still seeking some kind of help, I tried again on a different forum, but approached it from a different angle.

I listed the logline plus some key story details that might help, adding how I was seeking some bolstering in terms of including stakes and consequences. (The original responder may have come across as an asshole, but I didn’t think their advice was wrong.)

There was a significant difference in the responses. A lot were not only helpful, but practical and encouraging, including this gem – “I love this logline. If I were a producer I’d want to read it. Hell, I still want to read it, just because it sounds like fun.”

I felt a little better, had what I felt was a stronger logline, and a few requests to read the script. Nice.

As part of that aforementioned back-and-forth, my original responder said they were just preparing new writers for the kinds of responses they should expect from the industry if they submit “subpar material”.

While I can understand that kind of thinking, it seems that people are more likely to heed your advice or suggestions if you actually come across as helpful, rather than sound like we’re wasting your time and the last thing you want to deal with right now.

But then again, I’m just a nice guy to begin with, so what do I know?

Building up to what it all comes down to

Maximum Z antagonist, characters, goals, Godzilla, guidelines, hero, inciting incident, monsters, Movie of the Moment, Pacific Rim, payoff, plot, plot points, protagonist, San Francisco, scenes, screenwriting, script, story, storytelling, structure, subplot, Uncategorized, villain, writing
What he's holding represents what's at stake. Think about it.
What he’s holding represents what’s at stake. Hint: It’s not a rock

Time now for a very, very important question every writer needs to face:

Do you know how your story ends?

You come up with an idea, then proceeded to develop, shape, and organize all the stuff that happens in the middle, which eventually has led us to the where we find ourselves now: the big payoff. What the whole thing’s been about.

Everything your characters have been doing have been leading up to this. In theory, your first two acts have been about the protagonist’s world undergoing some drastic changes, how they dealt with it and now it looks like the bad guy’s going to win.

Which brings us to the grand finale that is Act Three, where our hero must somehow find a way to overcome these seemingly insurmountable odds, defeat the antagonist and hopefully come out of the experience a different person than the one they were way back when we first met them.

That being said, there’s still more to it.

-Your protagonist has a physical goal (what they want) and an emotional one (what they need). They can achieve both, just one or neither. Which applies to yours, and have you effectively steered the action to ensure that result? Can we see the changes they’ve undergone?

-Working with a subplot or three? If they haven’t wrapped up by now, better make sure to do it soon. Do you really want the reader to wonder “Hey! What happened to the part about ____?”

-Even a supporting character needs an arc to complete. Have you given each of them enough attention throughout the story to make this happen, and does their story wrap up in a convincingly believable way?

One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned about putting a story together is that the central question (“Will the hero achieve their goal?”) is raised with the inciting incident around page 10, and each subsequent plot point raises it again, albeit with the stakes a little higher each time.

What happens in Act Three is where you show us how the central question is answered.

-And now, the much-heralded return of Movie of the Moment! This time, a way overdue look at GODZILLA (2014).

Wow. Everything PACIFIC RIM should have been. Instead of non-stop giant monster action, we get only glimpses as the focus is directed at the human aspect of the story. A much more effective approach.

While it’s not hard to suspend disbelief when it comes to a movie about giant monsters rampaging/duking it out in the downtown area of the city where I live, perhaps the most amazing piece of cinematic fiction (as observed by both K and myself) was in the background of one scene where a garage sign read “All-day parking $15”.

Now that’s make-believe.

Casting a wider net

Maximum Z adventure, characters, creativeness, creativity, genre, ideas, originality, Pixar, plot, reading, screenwriting, script, story, storytelling, writing
Always trying to catch a little more
Always trying to catch a little more

As you work your way through the various stages of assembling your story, how much do you take the audience’s needs and wants into account?

You’re obviously writing something you would want to see, but do you ever consider the viewing tastes of someone who’s not like you whatsoever?

While I may write high-concept tales of adventure that would definitely appeal to 12-year-old me, it’s also my objective to try to craft those stories in such a way so they could entertain anybody of any age.

(Strong examples of this kind of storytelling? Most of the Pixar catalog.)

Here are just a few things to take into consideration:

-Are you treating the reader/audience the way they should be treated? Which means with intelligence. I’ve always hated when a story feels dumbed down, and suspect most other moviegoers do as well.

-That being said, is your story simple enough to the point that anybody could understand what’s going on, or at least have a general understanding of it?

-Regardless of what genre your story falls into, how much are you taking advantage of the elements of that genre? Since you’re most likely already a fan and probably have a good idea of what’s expected, this is your golden opportunity to show the rest of us what’s so appealing about it. Play on those strengths.

-With modern audiences more knowledgeable and movie-savvy than most writers realize, it’s more important than ever to come up with material that’s really new and original. What is it about your story that really sets it apart? What can you offer that we haven’t seen before?

As we start with an idea, develop it into a story that will eventually end up as a script, a lot of us daydream about the resulting movie, and how totally awesome it would be for it to be a big hit.

We can just picture the tremendous box office, rave reviews, non-stop awards, a king’s ransom of a paycheck, being begged to pick from a smorgasbord of new projects, all stemming from this story we cranked out with our own little hands, now practically guaranteed a place in the pantheon of pop culture.

“Everybody’s going to love it!” you imagine.

The reality is – they’re not, and a lot of that stuff won’t happen. But don’t let that stop you from trying.

The best we can do is write a solid, entertaining story populated with interesting characters who find themselves in unique situations, and hope people like it.

They don’t call it a climax for nothing

Maximum Z adventure, characters, climax, editing, ideas, obstacles, outlines, payoff, plot, pulp fiction, rewrite, scenes, screenwriting, script, setup, spec, story, storytelling, structure, subplot, writing
Couldn't make this any more Freudian without going NSFW
Couldn’t make this any more Freudian without going NSFW

As the events of Act Three of the pulpy adventure spec outline slowly develop, it’s becoming more clear that retroactive edits/fixes/tweaks will be necessary for parts of Acts One and Two.

Act Three goes beyond making sure each of the main characters has something to do.  The actions they take should be tied directly into the main story, represents them overcoming their own personal obstacles and wraps up their individual storyline, all in the most satisfying way possible.

Hence the need to go back and make those changes. The more I can set up and effectively reinforce each character’s storyline, the better the payoff will be, both for them and the overall story.

I’ve always stressed the importance of setups and payoffs throughout a script. Everything we’ve seen in Acts One and Two should come to its appropriate conclusion in Act Three.

I’ve read a lot of amateur specs where something is set up early on and ends up either totally forgotten, treated as an afterthought or pays off with less of an impact than it should.

This is what you’ve been building up to for the past 90-plus pages.

Don’t let us down.

Doth it suck? Yea, verily

Maximum Z adventure, criticism, encouragement, feedback, goals, monsters, networking, opportunity, outlines, productivity, rewrite, scenes, screenwriting, script, sequence, Shakespeare, spec, story, storytelling, writing
Because "Dude. Yorick. Bummer." just doesn't have the same panache
Because “Dude. Yorick. Bummer.” just doesn’t have the same panache

Oh, first draft. You teasing vixen.

I go over the story ideas in my head, everything coalesces and plays out like a well-oiled machine.

But try to transfer them onto the page, and it all discombobulates into a tangled mess on par with the cord on a pair of earbuds carelessly tossed into a gym bag.

Experienced writers know what I mean.

Although it took a while, I finally reached the end of Act Two in the revamping of the outline of the pulpy adventure spec. On one hand, I’m thrilled to have gotten here. On the other, I want to shrug my shoulders and mutter “eh, good enough” about the scenes and sequences that led up to this point.

They’re definitely far from perfect, and without a doubt will be totally different as future drafts come into play.

Let’s pause to consider the phrase “future drafts.” As in “there will be more”, emphasis on “will”. Not “might”. “Will”.

I recently connected with another writer on a networking site, and they ended our introductory correspondence by letting me know they had first drafts of their scripts available to read.

I sincerely hope not.

Unless you’re looking for feedback, don’t show your first draft to anyone. Ever.

The first draft is the attempt to put all your ideas into some kind of order. Know going in that it won’t be pretty, and will most likely be a big mess requiring a ton of fixes. Not a bunch of little edits, but huge, drastic steps. The end result should look totally different from what you started with.

Don’t regard rewriting as a chore or a slog. It’s something you have to do on a regular basis. It makes the script better and helps you become a better writer.

Consider the last script you wrote. How many drafts did it require to get to the point where you finally said it was done? And wasn’t each successive draft a little better, until the final draft turned out significantly improved compared to the very first one?

That’s what you should be going for. Every single time.