Something to tide you over

Not THAT kind of tide
Not that kind of tide

I’m neck-deep in catching up with reads owed on scripts and pilots, as well as trying to finish up the outline for the low-budget comedy, so time is quite a precious commodity at the moment.

But since this blog is all about offering up high-quality material, here are two links definitely worth checking out:

-A cover story from the Nov 1 Los Angeles Times about MARLOWE, a great script written by Louise Ransil. If you like film noir, true crime and hard-boiled detective stories, then take a look here. The script was also a semifinalist in the 2013 Tracking Board Launchpad competition.

-If you’re trying to break into the TV industry, take the time to explore Fighting Broke, a new website that offers up some very helpful advice and insight in doing just that.

Reflections on this day in particular

One of my heroes. Master of comedic timing, and eternally 39.
One of my heroes. Master of comedic timing, and eternally 39.

Taking a little break from the script reader/consultant Q&A series today for something of somewhat significant importance. At our house, anyway.

Today is my birthday, which makes a person a little reflective of their life so far and what they’ve accomplished.

Have I achieved everything I’ve set out to do?

Not yet, I like to say, but I’m getting there.

Obviously, I’m not making a living as a screenwriter – yet. But with each script I crank out and each subsequent draft that follows, it gets me a little closer. Reassurances of “you’ll make it” from friends and trusted colleagues is always nice to hear.

Has it been frustrating? Without a doubt. But as I’ve said on many an occasion, to give up in any manner would simply be too devastating. Like many of us, I am compelled to write and hone my craft, mostly because it’s the only way I’ll get better, and maybe a little bit of daydream-laden hope that somebody will eventually be eager to pay me for the finished product.

I am, as they say, in this for the long haul. All the rewrites, the reads and notes from friends, the discussions with consultants, all of it helping steer me towards this much-desired goal.

When I read about another writer making a sale or getting representation, I’ll admit to being a little jealous. Especially if it’s somebody I know or at least am casually acquainted with. I’m actually quite happy for them – they’ve earned it – but there is that little part of me that thinks “Hope it’s my turn soon.”

In the meantime, I prevent myself from getting too melancholy about what I haven’t been able to do by reminding myself what I have done, which is have written some potentially kickass scripts (after lots of fine-tuning, of course), and what I can do, which is keep writing more kickass scripts, keep trying and not giving up.

Finding the positive in a negative

 

Converting something acidic to tasty and refreshing requires a little bit of knowing how
Converting potentially acidic to tastily refreshing requires a little bit of knowing how

Notes on both my western and mystery-comedy specs have been flowing in steadily from friends and trusted colleagues over the past couple of months, and the results have certainly been a mixed bag of opinions.

The general message is “Love the concept, solid structure, but ____, ____ and ____ needs work.” The individual comments, of course, are much more assorted. Happily, none are of the “This sucks! Do the world a favor and give up writing!” nature.

Show the same material to half a dozen people, and you’ll end up with half a dozen different reactions. And as you would expect, each one is helpful in its own way, especially if it includes something you may not necessarily agree with.

But here’s where it gets even better – take all of those notes and use the ones that you think make the most sense. Apply them to your script. Does it immediately read better?

Now let’s take it a step further, but this time with those comments you don’t agree with. What is about them that doesn’t work for you? Give ’em another look. Maybe there’s something in there worth using.

I got some great notes on the western, and one of the suggestions was cutting or at least shortening some sequences in Act Two. Of course, my initial reaction was “Not a chance!”

But this was defeating the whole purpose of getting notes – to make the script better. And me being so obstinate about it wasn’t helping.

So I read it again, this time with a more open mind. Would this work? Would it accomplish what I needed it to? The suggestion started to make sense. I’d already cut 12 pages out of this thing, so there was no reason I couldn’t trim a few scenes down. It wouldn’t hurt the story, and could actually improve it in terms of moving things along.

You get notes to help point out what’s wrong with your script, or at least what needs to be fixed. You can use them however you want, but to totally disregard them isn’t doing you any favors.

Ask a Talent-of-Colossal-Proportions Script Consultant!

Barri Evins

The latest in a series of interviews with script readers and consultants who would be worth your while to work with if you want to get your script in shape. Today’s spotlight is on Barri Evins of Big Ideas.

1. What’s the last thing you read/watched that you thought was incredibly well-written?

A few contest scripts impress me each year. I wrote about one that swept me off my feet in my ScriptMag.com Column: Breaking & Entering – Great Writing – A Love Story. A good rewrite from a writer I was consulting with who made a huge leap between drafts. In terms of what I’ve watched, it’s TV that’s knocked my socks off of late.

2. How’d you get your start reading scripts?

In kindergarten. Well, practically. Grew up reading plays and studying theatre. Convinced that background would be an albatross around my neck in the film business. I was trying to get my first industry job after moving to Los Angeles, and a lit agent my brother was friends with from a fraternity connection set me up on interviews. He gave me a script that was on its way to becoming a major movie with an A-list actor and told me to do story notes on it as a sample. I did a pretty good job of it, and impressed some folks in meetings, but wound up working at the agency. It was grueling in terms of amount of work and amount of hours, but I read a ton in features and in TV, and I learned a ton. In eight months (that’s pretty fast) I moved on to a Development Associate job and then Story Editor for writer/producers Bruce Evans and Raynold Gideon where I learned a ton and read so much my distance vision deteriorated! Ironically, it was the theatre degree that helped win me the job.

3. Is recognizing good writing something you think can be taught or learned?

I always believed that it could be taught, as I’ve taught coverage to literally jillions of interns, many of whom have gone on to be very successful in the industry, as well as part of a course I taught at the UCLA Graduate Producing Program. However, I had one very lovely intern who simply could not tell good writing from, well, dreck. It was like being colorblind. She got a little encouragement from me to look into other areas of the industry and became a successful publicist.

4. What are the components of a good script?

A great concept, that delivers on the promise of the premise, with strong storytelling. Yum.

5. What are some of the most common mistakes you see?

Oy. Here’s my current bone to pick – I call it “Too Much Tinsel On Your Tree.” The overcomplicated story where the writer has crammed in so much that we simply don’t know what’s going on. Diagnosis of that syndrome can be found here in a guest blog by my dear friend, Dr. Paige Turner, who steps in and answers writers’ sticky questions in a column she likes to call, “S-E-X Tips for Screenwriters.”

6. What story tropes are you just tired of seeing?

If I never, ever, ever read another story where something happens to make the main character revisit their small hometown after 20 years absence, I would be thrilled. That said, I will probably come across a terrific one now that I’ve gone on record with this. But I somehow doubt it.

7. What are the 3 most important rules every writer should know?

Outline, outline, and get an outside opinion, preferably from a professional because you’re just too close to your own work and your mom thinks everything you do is “just terrific, honey.”

8. Have you ever read a script that was an absolute, without-a-doubt “recommend”? If so, could you give the logline?

Yup, but the execution was horrid, I mean terrible on almost every count, and my company couldn’t get our studio to buy it based on the great concept. Another studio wound up doing it, but took it in the complete wrong direction. So I’d rather not share the logline. Sorry.

9. How do you feel about screenwriting contests? Worth it or not?

Depends on the contest and what the writer is looking to achieve. I used to write a column on screenwriting contests for MovieBytes.com – a terrific, free online source of info on contests by writers. I’d ask questions of judges I think writers would want to ask, so I know a bit about contests from different angles.

10. How can people get in touch with you to find out more about the services you provide?

I consult on everything from loglines to screenplays to queries, as well as offer custom packages and mentorship. My website is www.bigBIGideas.com, which includes my consulting page, where you have the opportunity to “Pitch Me For Free” and get a thumbs up or down on a concept.

11. Readers of this blog are more than familiar with my love/appreciation of pie. What’s your favorite kind?

Key Lime, baby. I’m a Florida girl.

Am I getting better?

Go ahead. Tell me the truth. I can take it.
How does it compare to last time?

One of the sad truths about trying to make it as a screenwriter is that it’s an extremely frustrating process.

On certain days, the frustration feels like it extends to the uppermost part of the outer edge of the stratosphere. To the nth degree.

What is it about screenwriting that people who don’t do it think it’s easy? If you’re reading this, it’s more than likely you’ve given it a go, or at least know somebody who has, so you know full well that it most definitely is not.

We even try to warn those who think hammering out a first draft in a few weeks is a guaranteed million dollar paycheck. This is a long and arduous road, we say, but they don’t let that stop them. A legion of the truly unaware who will discover the scary truth soon enough.

Those of us who are fully committed (an apt phrase if ever there was one) finish the latest draft, then edit, rewrite and polish it so many times it enters well into double digit territory, hoping our writing and storytelling skills are improving with each new attempt.

But how do we know if that’s even happening?

We ask friends and trusted colleagues for feedback. We pay for professional analysis. The script gets reworked yet again.

We hope this newest draft is light years ahead of all of its previous incarnations in terms of quality, but sometimes it’s tough to be able to recognize if that’s the case. At least for me, anyway.

Whenever I send somebody a script for critiquing, I always say “Thanks for taking a look. Hope you like it.”

I know the script isn’t perfect – maybe even far from it, which is why I ask for help. Part of me knows it’s good, but can be better. It’s being able to identify the latter that gives me trouble. I’m so deeply embedded in a story that it’s tough to step back and be objective. Maybe I can not look at it for a few weeks, but even then it’s tough to look at it with fresh eyes.

Follow-up notes will tell me what they liked and what they feel needs work. There will be a fair mix of stuff I should have already figured out and some “How could I have missed that?” surprises.

So back I go into rewrite mode, hoping for improvement for both the material and myself, still not knowing if that improvement is there until I undergo the entire process all over again.

Or at least somebody tells me.