-Work on the low-budget comedy spec is inching forward at a rate of about 1 1/2-2 pages a day. It may not seem like a lot, but it’s proving to be much more enjoyable than expected. A big part stems from going back and rewriting the jokes to make them better (and hopefully funnier). It’s difficult to be self-analytical about it, but I think I’m getting better. The big test will be if it generates some actual laughs when people read it.
I was originally hoping to be done with it by the end of the month, but mid-May may be a little more realistic.
-More notes and feedback coming in on the western. Lots of helpful and insightful comments, including some fantastic suggestions on how to make the logline better, and a few confidence-restoring observations about the material as well as my own skills. Those are always nice to get.
Already figuring out what to work on when the next rewrite gets underway.
-Had to give notes to a newbie writer about their script. There was a lot that needed to be fixed, and I tried to be equally tactful and supportive with my comments, but they still got more than a little defensive.
Apparently I can’t recognize the genius in anybody’s work.
-When I first started my “Ask a Script Consultant!” interview series, I had no idea it would: A) go on this long, or B) spark so much controversy about whether or not it’s a good idea to use one. It’s easy for professional writers to denounce it because they’ve got a much stronger support system than those of us trying to break in. A lot of us do what we can on our own to get better, but sometimes will still need help and guidance in order to improve, and do what we can to get it.
Sure, there are some really lousy ones out there, and you might get burned. That’s a chance you have to take. It’s up to you to do the work to find the one that’s right for you.
Caveat emptor, chums.
-Enjoy the weekend. Hope you get a lot of writing done.
We all experience “one of those days”, but it’s totally another thing to have “one of those weeks”.
Exhibit A: Yours truly.
The week started off nicely. I had the good fortune to meet and chat with script consultant, interviewee and overall mensch Danny Manus. (For all you gentiles out there, “mensch” is Yiddish for “nice guy”.)
While awaiting notes on the western rewrite, I opted for an academic approach to writing the first draft of the low-budget comedy. I was going to read some good comedy scripts and see what lessons they could impart. The call went out asking for quality examples of this kind of writing, and some trusted colleagues came through. (Thanks, chums!)
That’s when the notes started to come in.
As my grandfather used to say – oy. To say they were heartbreaking is putting it mildly. I can honestly say they were given with the best of intentions and most definitely not mean-natured, but my faith and belief in my writing ability was given a thorough thrashing. And then some. (Although one note-giver, to their credit, did acknowledge that this is a “shitty, frustrating part of the process,” and advised me to not give up. I appreciated it, but it didn’t help much.)
The descent into a dark pit of despair had begun. I’ve been here before, and I do not like it. Any writer knows this comes with the territory.
My brain and subconscious were relentless in working in tandem to make me feel totally and utterly worthless as a writer. Any hopes or dreams I had about succeeding had been ground into a fine powder and cast to the winds, only to be blown right back into my face.
And then came the coup de grace: the response to a pitch I’d submitted to a production company last week. They’d passed with a brief 2-sentence rejection, including this gem: “Wanted more specificity with the throughline.” Keep in mind that my perception was a little out of whack at the time, so my overall reaction could be summed up with a very simple “What the fuck does that mean?”
Even reassurances from my wife and texts from a friend were little consolation. Thoughts of “failure” and “loser” were screaming inside my mind. Believe me when I say I did not sleep well that night.
But after I woke up and went through my getting-ready-to-leave-for-work routine, I kept telling myself that there had to be some kind of light at the end of the tunnel, emphasis on “had to be”. Giving up most certainly wasn’t an option. It had also been suggested to totally abandon the story as it was and start anew, which wasn’t ideal because I still have a lot of confidence in this story. Thinking straight was not going to happen any time soon.
Almost as an antidote came another set of notes, this time with lots of positive things to say, plus a few more comments of support and sympathy. These helped. That and desperately trying to refocus my attention on something, anything, that might help my creativeness and confidence get back on track. This is where the aforementioned comedy scripts factor in. They helped, too.
This is an extremely tough business to break into. There will be a lot more heartache and disappointment. Some days it’s easier to deal with, and sometimes it just slams you flat on your back. And since I can’t imagine doing anything else, I continue to learn how to roll with the punches and keep going.
As has been the case many times before, my condition has improved. My resiliency is stronger. My desire to succeed burns brighter than before. I won’t be giving up. All I have to worry about now is writing a script that’s funny. Easy peasy, right?
-Little did I know that while I was dealing with my own problems, a maelstrom of controversy was developing online. Apparently a successful writer who co-hosts a popular podcast about screenwriting made some disparaging remarks about script consultants, one in particular, based on an article the latter had written.
Seeing as how I’ve posted over 3 dozen interviews with consultants (with more on the way), I felt as if I could at least say something about this, especially since it involves this consultant.
I’d read the article in question a few weeks ago and found it extremely helpful. I’d already contacted the author last month about an interview, mentioning how much I’d enjoyed this article and a few of his other ones. He consented to the interview, and appreciated the kind words about his work.
All of the consultants I’ve interviewed have been gracious and grateful to have taken part, and each one is eager to help their clients improve. I’ve been asked which of them I’d recommend. Simple: all of them. Do your due diligence and find the one that seems to be the best fit for what you need.
The writer in question has been working for quite some time. He gets paid a lot of money to write movies that, to me, just suck. He’s also entitled to his opinion, but I’d hate to think that all the aspiring writers out there are looking to him for career advice.
-Half-marathon update. Did the Oakland 13.1 this past Sunday with a time of 1:58:16, thereby accomplishing my goal of under 2 hours. See? Perseverance does pay off.
“The concept has potential, but a 16 year old lead without a property is really hard to cast, it would definitely need an A-list movie star. With this kind of lead, you might want to scale it back more and not make it so ambitious. Pass”
This was a management firm’s response to the one-page synopsis for my fantasy-adventure. It stung a little at first, but I’ve gotten over it. That’s when things shifted to analysis mode.
I appreciate the part about it having potential. Always nice to hear. Composing a one-pager has always been tough for me, so maybe the rollercoaster ride-ness of the story wasn’t conveyed enough. Nothing a little editing and rewriting couldn’t fix.
Regarding the actors. They’re looking at it from a business point of view, and who’d take a chance on a high-budget script written by an unknown?
Scaling it back. Um…not sure about that. I’ve created a new world within the confines of the story, so it’s kind of set in place. Nor do I feel overwhelmingly compelled to drastically change things around to suit the needs of somebody who might be potentially interested.
But “not make it so ambitious”? Afraid I’ll have to totally disagree with that one.
In the context of this kind of story, things cannot be kept simple. They need to be ambitious. In some ways, the story is an extension of my own ambition. My objective here is to tell a fun, entertaining story that takes you on an exciting ride. I strive to come up with new ideas, or at least new takes and approaches on old ones. I want my work to wow you and thrill you.
So the script wasn’t right for this particular person. Big deal. I took a chance, and it didn’t work out. The end of the world is not nigh. They’re definitely not the only ones out there, nor were they my only option. The person to say “yes” is still out there, and I’ll keep at it until we connect.
Never, ever underestimate the ambition and determination of a writer with their goals firmly set in place. It makes us quite formidable.
-Race alert! I’m running the Oakland half-marathon on Sunday. This race totally kicked my ass two years ago due to a combo of warmer-than-expected weather and a too-fast pace, so going into it with a goal of keeping it under two hours and the strategy of really trying to maintain a steady pace (especially for the first couple of miles) and doing what I can to stay cool. If that involves dumping water over my head at every water stop, so be it.
Nothing like a receptive ear (and the person connected to it)
Compare the most recent thing you wrote to the very first thing you wrote. How much of a difference is there?
One thing’s for certain: it no doubt took a lot of hard work and learning to get you from your skill level then to what it is now.
But you didn’t do it alone, or in a vacuum. You had help along the way from countless resources. It might have come from a book, a class, a writing group, or the occasional someone with more experience willing to help out.
When I started out, that was me. I got my hands on as many books as I could (the one I still recommend – Story Sense by Paul Lucey). Classes weren’t really an option, so I read a lot of scripts and attended a few seminars and expos when I could. I also had the good fortune to be involved with a few writing groups. A lot of this was also in the early days of the internet, so online resources and networking were nowhere near the levels they are now.
But what definitely helped the most was getting notes and feedback. The more fresh eyes you can get to take a look at your work, the better the end result will be. One stipulation: it depends on who you ask. Specifically, someone who really knows what they’re talking about, and whose knowledge and opinion you trust.
This has made a significant difference for me, such to the point that I now have a core group of trusted colleagues I can rely on for quality notes, and I’ve done my best to return the favor to many of them when possible.
And in recent months, as my network has grown and I connect with more writers, I’ll occasionally get an email asking along the lines of “If it’s not too much trouble, would you take a look at this and let me know what you think?” A script. Some pages. A logline. What have you.
I honestly never expected to be on the receiving end of that question, but, schedule permitting, am always happy to help out when I can. It’s the least I can do. Hopefully my notes will give them the help they need.
I don’t claim to have all the answers, but it’s kind of nice to think that I might be able to help somebody in the same way others did for me in the past.
I’m afraid I find your suggestion to be most illogical (RIP Mr Nimoy)
I had a great coffee-chat conversation with another writer earlier this week. Among the many topics we discussed was the fine art of giving and receiving notes.
When you give notes, you want to be equally helpful and critical (without being mean or condescending about it). A lot of the time, the person seeking notes is a peer or someone with pretty much a level of experience more or less equal to yours, so they know how to interpret the notes, and don’t take anything personally.
They also realize the only way to improve is to learn what mistakes they made, make the proper adjustments, and make a mental note to not do it again from here on in. This is an essential skill that takes time to get the hang of.
But what about the writer who asks you to read their just-finished first script? “Don’t worry. Be as brutally honest as you need to be. I can take it.”
Are you sure about that?
If you’ve been doing this for a while, you’re quick to recognize what works and what doesn’t in their script, and you make the appropriate notes and suggestions.
I’ve encountered almost the entire spectrum of reactions from newer writers, ranging from “These notes are fantastic! Thank you so much!” to “Hmph. You obviously don’t recognize my genius” (I’m paraphrasing that one). You’ve probably heard similar things, but hey, at least you tried to help.
Then there’s being on the receiving end. It’s not easy to hand your baby over to somebody so they can find fault with it, but again, it’s a necessary part of the process. Many’s the time I have felt my pulse quicken in the moments just before the comments were unleashed.
As stated above, if the notes are from someone on an equal level to me, I appreciate the positive things they have to say, but am more interested in their critical comments (which doesn’t automatically mean they’re negative). I may be having trouble with how to fix a particular problem, so outside suggestions are definitely appreciated. Sometimes it’s an “Of course!” moment, sometimes it’s a “Huh?” I may not always agree with what they say, but it may spark the thought of a new approach. Anything helps.
On the other side of the coin is getting comments from writers with less experience than you. You’ve written ten scripts, and they’ve written one, maybe two. How much value can you place on what they have to say? They don’t have the benefit of experience, so their comments may come across as uninformed or focusing on the wrong things. The best you can do is take what you think might be useful and discard/ignore the rest, reminding yourself that they’ll learn over time.
The whole point of notes is to help make the script better, and both note-giver and receiver need to approach this from that viewpoint. It’s not the time for the note-giver to say “This is how I would do it,” and the receiver can’t get ultra-defensive and overly possessive of their work.
Once the notes are given, the responsibility falls on the writer to interpret and use them as they see fit.
