Feeling triumphant, if only for a few minutes

By the time you finish reading this sentence, I'll already have gotten back to work
By the time you finish reading this sentence, I’ll already have gotten back to work

Well, it’s done. I got to type in those glorious words “Fade Out”, thus bringing to a close the massive rewrite of the western.

The script now clocks in at a respectable 114 pages. No reason a few more can’t be trimmed with some diligent editing and polishing.

Normally this would be the part where I’d say how long this has taken, but to be honest, I really don’t know. I haven’t been keeping track. Two months, maybe? Something like that.

But the important thing is that I got it done. What a grand feeling of accomplishment. It’s quite nice.

All that work and effort has paid off, resulting in a pretty solid piece of material to show for it (if I do say so myself).

As much as I’d like to sit back, rest on my laurels and enjoy the moment a little longer, there’s still a lot of work to be done. Once this latest round of editing is done, the call goes out to friends and trusted colleagues for feedback, which will no doubt result in more editing and polishing. And then it’s on to shelling out some bucks for professional notes.

From there? I don’t know. Contests? Query letters? That stage is pretty far down the line, so not too worried about it just yet. Right now it’s all about making the script as bulletproof as it can be.

During this entire time, when the opportunities present themselves, work resumes on the low-budget comedy, the mystery-comedy and possibly the pulpy adventure. Feeling confident at least one, possibly two, could be done by the end of the year.

All part of the never-ending process.

Run at your own pace

It's the total opposite of a sprint
It’s the total opposite of a sprint

For the past couple of days here at stately Maximum Z HQ, yours truly has been doing everything possible to fight off a nasty viral infection (Note to self – invest heavily in Kleenex and Halls cough drops) because I’m doing my first half-marathon in over a year this weekend. I do expect to be well enough to run. Fingers firmly crossed hoping to at least break the 2-hour mark.

As a result of being sick, I’ve been home from work the past couple of days, which means a little more time than usual to work on the western rewrite. Latest update: page 38.

When I have a lot of time to write, I’ll give myself a short break after reaching a milestone, such as the end of a scene, or x number of pages written or after a certain amount of time (this also helps prevent premature burnout). Sometimes break-time involves perusing social media or screenwriting forums, just to see what’s going on out there.

What’s been going on this week has been a flurry of activity among my peers. One got a manager. Another finished their latest draft. Another had an agency request their script after a pitch.

And there’s me, filling a wastebasket with snotty tissues, coughing up things of a color not found in nature, and hoping to get to the bottom of the next page before the day is done. Slightly disheartening, to say the least.

But, like when I run a race, I remember that it’s different for everybody. I’ve been working on this rewrite for quite a while, and have confidence that it’ll be done sooner than I think.

I’m also overseeing all of the “Ask a…!” interviews, and have now added this into the mix.

Oh yeah, and training runs.

When you finish a race, you get a medal, and you wear it with pride. You’ve earned it. You finished an hour behind the winner? Big deal. Chances are you didn’t do it to win. You did it to test yourself, to see how you could do with this self-imposed challenge.

When you write a script, yes, you are going up against every other writer out there, but you do it the way that works best for you. You can only manage 30 minutes a day? That’s fine. You tell yourself you’re going to write at least 3 pages a day, and you actually do? Fantastic.

Will others get done before you, or accomplish things faster than you? Of course, but that’s nothing for you to worry about. Focus on you, not them.

I think it’s absolutely phenomenal that these other writers have each reached a certain point with their writing and careers. And so will I. Maybe not as fast, but it’ll happen.

Just gotta keep working at it.

See you at the finish line.

Beginning anew

blackboard
The next necessary step to moving forward

 

Hi there. Nice to be back. And to all you new readers out there – welcome! Feel free to take a look around.

When last we spoke, I was about to embark on a major rewrite of two outlines.

One of them is just about finished, while the other is somewhere in the early parts of Act 2.

Neither has been easy.

The toughest obstacle to overcome has been hanging on so tightly to that which has come before. Significant changes have to be made, or there’s no point to the rewrite.

This isn’t to say I’m totally disregarding what I’ve already written. For example, in a previous draft, a character is killed in a certain way. In this new one, the same method of killing is used, but for a totally different character in a different scenario, and it now holds a lot more significance in terms of the overall story.

While you can’t force yourself to come up with new ideas, you can challenge your creativeness by simply asking “What’s already here is good, but what’s another way this could happen?” There are always options and choices. Don’t limit yourself. Have fun with it.

Another benefit to these rewrites is since I have a fairly strong grasp of how the stories are supposed to play out, I can now concentrate on building up character development (something pointed out and recommended by several note-givers), which also allows for some beneficial quiet and revealing moments between rousing action sequences.

As much as I enjoyed coming up with a lot of those sequences, several have been cut in order to focus more on the characters. I’ll miss them, but they had to go (and could be possibly be resurrected for future use, as mentioned above).

Results so far have been encouraging, but I won’t really know until actual pages get written.

Corny as it may sound, letting yourself develop new ideas and approaches really is quite liberating. And the more you do it, the easier it gets.

 

Getting a feel for the tactile experience

That's not ink. It's writer's blood (or at least it sure feels that way).
That’s not ink. It’s writer’s blood (or at least it sure feels that way).

The early drafts of my western spec all clocked in at 132 pages. “Way too long!” I was told.

Tips and suggestions on how to tighten things up were provided and implemented. 126 pages. “Still too long! Cut more!” they demanded.

Sleeves were rolled up. Knuckles were cracked. The pounding of computer keys continued. 122. “Keep going!” was the response.

I slaved, toiled and labored until I couldn’t take it any more. 117. “Almost there!”

Feeling rather drained, I took the most effective step of all: I printed out those 117 pages, armed myself with the almighty red pen and got to work.

For some inexplicable reason, when I edit a script on paper, it’s much more effective than working with a digital copy. Lines of text I’d always ignored would suddenly pop as something to cut, modify or move around.

I’ll scribble out an alternative line of dialogue. Try out an impromptu reorganizing of the scene. Cross something out, then change my mind and write ‘keep’ over it. Use my finger to literally block out a line to figure out if the scene still works without it.

Just the other day I cut out half the dialogue in a scene with no significant impact. Would I have been able to do that if I wasn’t working with actual pages? Hard to say, but I’m inclined to believe “probably not.”

As I worked my way through the script, I found more and more opportunities to cut or edit. Of these 117 pages, there’s at least one red mark on just about every page, which includes the plentiful use of red lines through words and/or sentences, and lots of circles and arrows (as in “move THIS to HERE”).

Exhausting as it was, the red pen portion of the process is now complete.

Unfortunately, I won’t be able to digitally apply these edits for a couple of days. The US is currently in the middle of a big holiday weekend, which means extra work shifts for me. Love the holiday overtime, but it’s also less writing time.

I’m not concerned. It’ll happen soon, and I’m looking forward to seeing what the new page total will end up being, as well as the subsequent responses.

It goes without saying that “Yes!” would be ideal.

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.