Why so hostile?

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?

Doth it suck? Yea, verily

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.

A screenwriter’s 5 stages of grief (contest edition)

Five minutes later, he was fine
Any contest email that includes the word “unfortunately” is probably not good

Ah, the screenwriting contest. There are so many out there, and may be the key to breaking in and starting a career.

Once you decide to take the plunge and submit, your brain fills up with visions of your script claiming first prize and all the goodies that come with it – cash and prizes, prestige, connections.

But the sad truth really is that while many will enter, only a select few will win. The odds are already against you, so you do the best you can.

Then the announcement comes, and you’re not on that list. How do you handle it?

1. DENIAL

This can’t be right. My script should be right there. Something must be wrong. Wait. Maybe I just didn’t see it. Let me look again. Are these listed by author’s first name, last name, or by title? Why am I not seeing it? Maybe they just forgot to include me. That happens, right?

2. ANGER

Aaugh! I can’t believe I didn’t make it! All that hard work shot straight to hell! How could they not like this? I’m never entering another contest again!

3. BARGAINING

Please let this be a mistake. I promise I’ll try harder and do better next time.

4. DEPRESSION

I’m the worst writer ever. I’ve got no talent. They probably read this and laughed their heads off at how bad it was. How could I even think I had a shot at this? Why did I even bother? I should just give up now.

5. ACCEPTANCE

It’s all subjective. You never know what someone going’s to like or not like. Maybe the script wasn’t as perfect as I thought. I should probably work on it some more, maybe even shell out the bucks for some professional feedback. It’s not like this is the only contest out there, and there’s always next year.

So what now?

After a little self-comforting (maybe with your preferred substance of choice), you sit yourself down and get right back to work.

*Full disclosure – This is similar to what I recently went through after the results of the Nashville Screenwriting Contest were announced. My script didn’t make it past the first round. Naturally, I was disappointed, but feel better now and am even more committed to writing kickass material. Thanks for asking.

Time once again for…

Okay, class. Who's got stuff to talk about?
Okay, class. Who’s got stuff to talk about?

…the much-anticipated Project Status Update!

So simple, anyone can do it in just two easy steps!

Here’s how it works:

1. What you’re currently working on
2. How it’s going

I’ll start the ball rolling.

1. A rewrite of my mystery spec.
2. I’m up to page 82, which places it in the latter half of Act 2. This includes the realization that my “page 75” plot point has changed, but still works.

See? No sweat. Give it a try.

And continuing with the theme of something not seen in a while…

-Movie of the Moment. THE LONE RANGER (2013). Yep. Finally.

It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t good either. My biggest complaint was that there was just way too much going on. I’m all for an epic western, but this felt like they were trying to jam in as many cliches as possible. They could have totally removed at least two supporting characters and the inane “1933 Tonto telling a story” scenes.

It really seemed like it couldn’t decide what kind of story it wanted to be. Slapstick comedy? Buddy picture? Drama with touches of gore? All these and more on display.

One of the first rules in screenwriting is to make the audience want to root for your main character, which unfortunately doesn’t happen here. I actually thought Armie Hammer was a good choice to play the part, but the material was all wrong. Yes, he’s adapting to the ways of the frontier, but for crying out loud, this is the LONE RANGER. You do not make him a naive doofus.

Regarding Johnny Depp as Tonto, Graham Elwood of the Comedy Film Nerds podcast summed it up perfectly: The name of the movie is THE LONE RANGER, not JACK SPARROW GOES WEST.

One can only hope that the failure of this film will not once again stop the resurgence of the western.

You want realism? Go outside.

You invoke the ‘i’ word? I beg to differ

“…the idea of a female train engineer during the time of steam locomotives or even into the early decades of the twentieth century is, I think, virtually inconceivable.”

This was part of a comment that pointed out the historical and factual inaccuracy and basic impossibility of the concept behind my western-adventure.

My problem isn’t with what this person is saying. They’re entitled to their opinion.

What bothers me is that they seem to just flat-out refuse the idea that such a story could, or even should be considered.

Which is exactly why I want to write it.

We don’t go to the movies to watch a reflection of our lives. We go to see a story told in an original and interesting way. The more original and interesting, the better.

I happen to think this one has the potential to be both.

It may not be a 100 percent-accurate depiction of the era, but I’m not setting out to make a documentary.  This is escapism. Pure and simple.

Besides – how could I pass up the chance to give my imagination a workout like this? This is why I write.

There will always be those who shoot your ideas down, or at least find fault with them.  Listen to what they have to say, take what you want from their comments, and ignore the rest. Then go write what you want.

If they think they can do a better job, by all means  – let ’em try.