After having reached the midpoint of the pulpy adventure spec outline, I’d been struggling with getting to the next plot point.
Not helping was the almost total jettisoning of material from the previous draft. The story had since changed in a drastic way, so there was nothing to salvage.
While I knew where the story had to go, I couldn’t figure out how to get there.
The midpoint sequence ended the way it had to – hero fully committed to achieving his goal, but now on several levels, and the antagonist getting closer to achieving his.
But what happens next?
Exploring several options, something finally clicked and I remembered a very simple rule we all tend to sometimes forget:
It’s not what could happen, it’s what has to happen.
THIS is what the characters need to do to move things forward (with your protagonist being the primary mover), and the more challenging we can make their journey, the better.
There are plenty of options of how things can play out in your story, but it will take some effort (and a lot of rewriting) to find the one that it needs.
Top choice is too much, while the bottom is too little
Pop quiz!
Pick any high-profile, mainstream popcorn summer movie from the past 10-15 years, and explain, in as few sentences as possible, how the story unfolds.
This doesn’t mean provide a logline; this is about having a plot that’s easy to understand.
Okay. Pencils down.
There’s been a disturbing trend of overstuffing a story and bombarding the audience with just too much information. It’s gotten to the point that a lot of the time, the details we need to know get lost in big expositional info-dumps, which makes us struggle to follow along, or at least keep up.
Who hasn’t had a lot of questions about the movie they just watched, but those questions are more along the lines of “What happened?” You want somebody to want to watch your story again because they want to relive the great time they had the first time around, not because they seek answers.
I could list several recent major releases that had too many elements which simply made it less of an experience to watch them. Sometimes the details made no sense, or the explanations behind them weren’t adequate enough. If I have to go back and think about something from earlier on, then everything that came after that doesn’t have my full attention, which makes me not enjoy it as much.
Is it really too much to ask that a story be kept relatively simple to understand? This doesn’t mean to dumb things down. It is possible to write a smart story with simple details. One of the many reasons certain older films still hold up is because they are smartly-written stories told in a simple, straightforward manner.
THIS is what has to happen, and THIS is how we get there. Of course you’re going to throw in complications, but that doesn’t mean you make it overly complicated.
It’s very tempting to want to show off your writing skills and keep adding stuff into your story, but that usually results in just too much going on.
There’s a big difference between throwing everything at the wall and seeing what sticks and carefully plotting out what happens.
Keep things simple when telling us what we need to know, and leave it at that.
Work on your script AND a load of laundry at the same time!
As work on the pulpy adventure spec plods forward, one of the key components of a solid script is constantly reminding me to use it to its fullest potential.
Conflict. Without it, you won’t have much of a story.
While each scene should be advancing the plot, theme and character development, there also needs to be some kind of conflict.
You know that analogy about structure that involves your character getting stuck up a tree and having rocks hurled at them? Being stuck and the rocks would be the conflict.
(I can just imagine the studio note – “I love it! But does it have to be rocks? And how about a bush instead of a tree?” But I digress.)
Characters need to keep encountering obstacles that prevent them from achieving their goal. Your job is to make those obstacles tough for them.
Here’s where things get interesting and how to make your script stand out from the rest – those obstacles can be in the form of just about anything.
Conflict doesn’t mean there should be a major argument or a slam-bang, knockdown punch-fest; more like the confluence of two opposing ideals with some degree of intensity.
Say you’ve got a character who absolutely needs to be somewhere at a certain time. It’s up to you to think of different ways to make their journey anything but easy. Lost keys, flat tire, car won’t start, traffic jam, and so on.
As the story progresses, so should the levels of conflict. Start off on a small scale, and then build so things just keeping getting worse. This can also be combined with raising the stakes so the reader/audience can’t help but wonder “How are they going to get out of this one?”
Something else to consider: try to make the conflict organic. Don’t have something happen because the story needs it to; make it feel like it belongs. Going back to the earlier example of the character trying to get somewhere – it makes more sense they would get pulled over for speeding, rather than, say, abducted by aliens or attacked by zombies (unless that’s part of the story).
Simply put, you have to put your characters through hell before they can get what they’ve been trying to get the whole time. If you’ve done a good job in making us want to root for them, the more we’re going to want to see them succeed.
This isn’t about finding the time. This is about when the words and ideas just won’t show up.
No matter how many times you try something, it just doesn’t work.
The more you stress over it, the harder it gets. The frustration can be downright crippling.
We already put an exorbitant amount of pressure on ourselves in our attempts to produce quality work, and being angry for not doing so is just counter-productive.
How can people think this is easy? Like us, they soon discover it’s anything but.
Is it at least a little reassuring to know that this is just as common among the pros? Just because you’re a working writer doesn’t make this any easier. In fact, it may make it even harder – their paycheck is on the line.
Believe me, I wish I could offer up some kind of all-knowing sage advice that goes beyond “Step away, take a deep breath and gather your thoughts,” but sometimes that’s all you can do.
Maybe it’ll work, maybe not. At least give it a try.
The more scripts you work on, the more the odds will be in your favor that you’ll be able to find your way back into that groove and have a few more good writing days.
This is just part of what it takes to be a screenwriter, so you have to know what works for you when this happens.
Lost? Of course not. Just recalculating my position.
It took some doing, but I finally managed to get to the midpoint of the rewrite of the monster spec outline.
As is required for this particular plot point, my hero is now firmly committed to achieving his goal, plus not one, but two new conflicts thrown into the mix to make it that much harder for him.
There’s still a little setup-payoff work that needs to be applied to some earlier scenes, but I really like how it’s coming along.
But for now, my attention shifts forward – further into the vast wasteland that is the rest of Act Two.
To some, a staggering task of herculean proportions. For me – not too much.
Well, maybe a little.
Act Two can be incredibly intimidating. Your script can have a killer opening and fantastic ending, but if what happens between them isn’t as good, if not better, than you’re in trouble.
What takes place in those 50-60 pages can really make or break your story. A reader or audience wants to see things happen as the characters grow (or at least change).
With such a vast canvas to work with, you might lose track of a lot of elements – supporting characters, subplots, etc. I remember reading a script that introduced what I thought was going to be an interesting subplot, but after that initial appearance, it never showed up again. It’s possible the writer just forgot about it, or maybe didn’t know how to develop it.
Take your time to plan things out. Yes, we all want to get done faster, but in this case, that’s the worst thing you could do.
Let’s assume you’ve got your plot points in place, so now it’s a matter of connecting them. What has to happen in each scene to move things ahead to the next one?
Remember: each scene, no matter how big or small, should advance the plot, theme and character, as well as contain some kind of conflict.
It’s easy to get lost in all the details. Maybe there’s too much focus on this part, and not enough on that one. Again, take your time to figure it out. Besides, you’ll be able to make the necessary fixes in the next batch of rewrites.
It’s okay if you don’t have all the answers right now, but there are lot of details you’re going to need to fill in as you move forward. And always keep asking “Is this the best way to have this happen?”
The journey through Act Two can definitely be a challenge, but it can be a little less daunting if you go into it prepared and knowing where you want to go.
Maximum Z 