Think of it as a story renovation project

This is kind of what it feels like
They’re the writers and the house is the first draft. See? It’s a visual metaphor!

When I started this rewrite, I wanted to really shake things up and take it beyond just putting on a new coat of paint and rearranging the furniture.

This had to be really different from what it already was. Major changes require major brainstorming and planning.

The starting point was breaking down the previous outline on a scene-by-scene basis. What worked? What didn’t?

One subplot has already been cut because it just didn’t mesh with the rest of it. A more suitable replacement has been developed, and not only does it still work for the story, it opened up more possibilities.

Each scene is still evaluated to determine how it advances the story as well as how it fits in to the plot.  Yes, some darlings must be killed as work progresses, but if they don’t serve a purpose that supports the overall story, then they weren’t needed in the first place. Maybe they can be reconfigured and used another way.

Working through all of this reminded me of a significant bonus to writing on a regular basis – your creativeness gets a constant workout, which has made it slightly easier than expected to come up with ideas of how to make a scene stronger or at least more effective.

And since this is a mystery, it’s extremely important that all the intricate details are in place. Clues and red herrings are in the process of being planted, a key factor of which is making sure their place in the puzzle is organic, and not shoehorned in.

Taking a steady, methodical approach to this has made it not as imposing as originally expected.

When I started this rewrite, I had the standard fear/concern that I wouldn’t be able to figure things out and come up with solutions.

Now, not so much.

Finding the spark to get those synapses firing

The solution to your problems is somewhere in there
The solution to your problems is somewhere in there

Finding time to work on the outline of the rewrite has been a bit challenging these days, but I’m managing. I do what I can to make the most out of a limited timeframe. Do this often enough, and it actually gets easier.

One of my biggest concerns with this new draft was “what if I can’t think of anything?”

Trying to figure things out had been bothering me for the past couple of days. No matter what I was doing, I’d be going over potential scenes and scenarios in my mind. How about this? Does this work?

All that was missing was the cartoony stormcloud over my head.

So I’m riding my bike home from work. All of a sudden, a metaphoric lightning bolt springs from that cloud and hits me dead center.

A small idea pops in.  Just a two-word phrase, but within it is the potential to have a widespread impact throughout the rest of the story.

This then triggered a steady flow of still more possibilities. If I redo this part, then this could happen, thereby changing that and the other thing around completely.

How could I not see any of this before?

Writer’s block happens to everybody. It can be extremely frustrating, but you can’t let it stop you. It takes time to break it down, but don’t force it.

Do what you can to encourage your creativeness, and eventually it’ll be a lot more cooperative.  Once you have that breakthrough, you’ll feel like there’s nothing that can stop you.

Pretty cool, isn’t it?

So glad I didn’t listen to myself

How I originally intended to start this writing session
How I originally intended to approach this rewrite

Since it really has been years since I last looked at my mystery-comedy spec, and not wanting to be too heavily influenced by what I’d written before, I figured this rewrite would be completely fresh. A clean slate. Blank page from the get-go. A whole new ball of wax.

I sit at my desk, all set to open those floodgates. My notebook’s open to this new set of plot points, ready to be fleshed out. Pandora cranks out the sounds of the Rat Pack and the 50s jazz club scene (appropriate mood music for the story’s setting). A hot cup of joe within reach. Overall, a perfect writing scenario.

So what thought immediately pops into my head?

Yep. I’m gonna check out what I wrote before. But just out of curiosity. It’s not like I’m going to keep the whole story. Besides, it’ll be interesting to see how far my writing’s come since then.

This is also why you should never, ever throw away old material. You never know when you might come back to it.

I open the 1-pager. Okay, I remember this part. Wait. I don’t remember that. Whoa, where did that come from? Wow, this is a lot more detailed than I remember.

Finishing that, I automatically wonder how the script reads. A few scenes stick out in my memory, but most of it is long forgotten.

I’ll just take a look at the first few pages. Promise.

Hmm. Not as bad as I thought. Some of the dialogue is a little too on-the-nose. Too many adverbs. Character descriptions could be better. Some good set-ups I instantly recall how they pay off. This subplot’s a little weak.

A quick glance to the upper right corner to see what page I’m on. 26 already? Hokey smokes, this thing is flying by.

By now I feel almost obligated to finish reading it. 35 minutes later, I did.

The overall consensus: still needs a lot of work, but a much more solid foundation to start with and there are some ideas I’d like to incorporate. It’s kind of reassuring to know I’ve already taken care of a lot of the heavy lifting.

A few days ago, I was concerned this was going to be a real slog, but now – not so much.

Getting around the mental roadblock

Image
This might take some figuring out

Wouldn’t you know it? There I am, being all productive and cranking out pages, when I suddenly decide “There’s got to be a better/shorter way to do this sequence,” and out it goes.

All I need to do now is compress the purpose of that sequence into one, maybe two scenes, and my machine-like output can continue.

Ah, if it were only that easy.  Arm-in-arm with Elvis, my creativeness has apparently left the building.

Sucks, doesn’t it?

I don’t hate writer’s block. I loathe it. I despise it.  My dislike for it burns with the intensity of a thousand suns all on the verge going supernova. The frustration of wanting to write something, but not being able to.

If there was a valuable ceramic piece within my reach, it would definitely be flung at the opposite wall.

And to make things worse, I know how this part starts and ends; it’s all the stuff that happens in the middle that’s giving me so much trouble.

But there’s not much to be accomplished with all this bitching, moaning and overall kvetching.

This requires taking a step back, a few deep breaths, patience and clear-headedness.  I’ve worked my way through this type of situation before (sometimes even with better-than-expected results), and hopefully this time will not be an exception.

But I still don’t like when this happens.

-Movie of the Moment – ffolkes (aka NORTH SEA HIJACK) (1979). A tight, compact thriller reminiscent of DIE HARD, even though this one came almost a decade earlier, and the main character (portrayed by having-a-ball Roger Moore) is a misogynistic, sociopathic cat-loving jerk who of course is the best at what he does, which is training commandos.

I vaguely remember seeing this on TV way back when and obviously it stuck with me. When I saw that it was on Netflix streaming, I made a point of rewatching it to see if it held up.

Apart from some cheesy guitar riffs here and there, absolutely. Nothing too fancy and maybe a little predictable at times, but still smart, gripping and intense. With a running time of 1:48, this thing really moves.

A sure sign of the times – this was rated PG! I honestly thought it would have been an R (since PG-13 wasn’t around yet). A shocking revelation at first, but there’s not that much actual violence in it; it’s the subject matter that makes the difference. Can you imagine a movie about terrorists holding a multi-billion-dollar oil platform hostage being released now with a PG rating?

Exactly.

Definitely worth seeing.

Make that sprawling epic a little less so

There can be such a thing as too much
There can be such a thing as too much

An underrated bonus of working on a first draft is having the freedom to put in just about anything you think will work (provided, of course, it advances the plot, story and character development).

There will be the inevitable edits and rewrites afterward, but this is your chance to take that outline and really build on it.

But it’s also easy to overdo it.

All that witty dialogue, intricate scene descriptions or clever subplot you just thought up can quickly add up without you realizing it, and suddenly your tight, compact story has become a bloated, overstuffed mess.

Scripts usually run 90-120 pages – one page equals one minute of screen time. Does yours fall somewhere in that range? Anything more or less, and you’ve got some work to do.

If you ask somebody to read your script, one of the first things they’ll do is check out how long it is. 97 pages? Cool. 137? Unless you’re an award-winning filmmaker, not so cool.

“But there’s nothing I can cut!” you exclaim.

Wanna bet?

Once you’re done with your current draft, don’t look at it for at least a week; two would be better. Put it away and walk away. Focus on something else.

Then come back and just read it.  No editing, just reading.  Still think there’s nothing you can do with it?

Now the fun begins.  Go through it and really scrutinize each scene.

Is it absolutely crucial to the story? If so, can it be shorter?

All that great stuff you came up with on the fly – does it still work?

It may be tough at first to kill all those darlings, but more than likely, you won’t even miss them after they’re gone.

If you want to be a better writer, you have to learn how to not let your ego and emotions dictate your edits. In the end, both your script and writing skills will be the better for it.