Go for the hard turn

bullitt gif

I just finished reading a friend’s comedy script. It was okay. It needs work, but the one thing I couldn’t shake was how the story played out pretty close to how I expected it to. There weren’t any real surprises.

However, one of the things that really stood out about this story was that deep within it was the idea for the same kind of story, but from a totally different angle. Not only would this open up new and original ideas, but it also made me think that this new story would be one I don’t think I’d ever seen/heard of before.

How many times have you read a script and known what was coming? Don’t you love that feeling when you read something and get what you were totally not expecting? A story that keeps you eagerly wondering “what comes next?” is one to be thoroughly enjoyed. The more surprised we are, the better.

Cliches. Tropes. Clams. Old reliables. Whatever you want to call them, writers with less experience use them because they’ve worked before. It takes a lot of effort to NOT use them.

The challenge is to come up with a new way to present these old ideas. “Familiar yet different,” as the saying goes.

It can be a little intimidating to take those first steps into unfamiliar territory, but you want the journey the reader takes through the story to be memorable, right? So why not take that chance and head in a new direction?

Go through your latest draft. Are there elements to it that feel tired or overused? You’ll know them when you see them. Is there a different way to do or say the same thing?

You can even go so far as to imagine “What’s the least likely thing that could happen/be said here, but still takes the story in the right direction?”

Try it. You might be surprised. And if you’re surprised, chances are the reader will be too.

A refresher course we can all use

Okay, class. Who needs more time to work on their script?
Okay, class. Who needs more time to work on their script?

I’ve had a lot of goings-on with loglines over the past couple of days, which prompted me to re-post this gem from a little over 2 years ago.

Enjoy.

“Scenario:  You’re at a social function, engaged in idle chit-chat. The topic of you being a screenwriter comes up.

“What’s your story about?” they will undoubtedly ask.

The chance you’ve been waiting for!  What do you say?

You want to pique their curiosity, and not bore them.

In the simplest of terms:  provide a quick summary of the main characters(s) and what happens in the main storyline.

Avoid too much information, non-essential characters, intricate subplots, how it’s a metaphor for this totally different other thing, or generic phrases like “and learns about themselves” or “stumbles into a world she wasn’t prepared for” or the ever-dreaded “wackiness ensues.”

What are the components of an effective logline? Just the following:

1. A protagonist with a flaw.

2. An antagonist with a goal.

3. The situation that pits them against each other

4. What’s at stake/what happens if the protagonist fails?

That’s pretty much it. Keep it simple. Nothing too specific or generic.

Make sure you emphasize the genre. If it’s a comedy, play up the comedic angle. A thriller, go for the suspense. That sort of thing.

And most importantly, make it sound interesting. This is your best chance to grab their attention, so make the most of it (and make sure the script is just as good).”

-3rd half-marathon of the year this weekend. Training’s been more sporadic than I would have liked, so hoping to break 1:55, but will settle for under 2 hours.

Let’s get those brains stimulated, people!

You mean movies can be smart AND good?
You mean movies can be smart AND good?

One of my favorite things to do as a parent is go to the movies with my daughter. It’s a nice feeling knowing I’ve instilled in her the appreciation of the whole moviegoing experience. It also helps that there’s a fantastic two-screen (one of a handful of similar small neighborhood theatres in San Francisco) a few blocks from us.

And as she’s getting older, our choices are growing in number. Strictly kid-based animation has given way to PG-13 fare, so we try to see what we can when possible.

Earlier this summer, we caught JURASSIC WORLD and INSIDE OUT within a week’s time. She really enjoyed the dinosaur flick. I thought it was fun, but felt it relied more on the nostalgia factor rather than smart storytelling (“Remember when we helped Grandpa fix that old car?”). I found the latest offering from Pixar to be pure genius, while she found it to be simply “okay”. I asked why she liked the first movie more than the second.

“I think I like movies where you don’t have to think too much.”

Gasp.

I won’t go so far as to say it was a dagger in my heart, but you can probably understand my being taken somewhat aback.

I could easily chalk it up to that she’s still relatively young and hasn’t latched on to my love of the movies to the extent that I have. Like I said, the list of what she’s seen is somewhat limited. I’ve done what I can, and hopefully can continue to contribute to it.

But as a writer, what’s my biggest takeaway from this?

Obviously I want to write scripts for films that will be embraced by the general public, which means they’d have to be simple enough that anybody could follow along, but also written in a way that the reader/audience doesn’t feel insulted or talked down to.

All this talk about needing to appeal to the lowest common denominator has always bothered me. It makes it sound like there’s no point in trying to write something smart.

I beg to differ.

Getting the reader/audience to really think about the story gets them more involved. You hooked with them with the beginning, kept them intrigued throughout the middle, and now they’re compelled to find out how it all ends. Isn’t that what it all comes down to?

I love it when I read a script where it’s obvious a writer knows what they’re doing when it comes to telling a story. Setups and payoffs. Multi-dimensional characters. Plotlines where I know what the endpoint is, have no idea how we’re going to get there, and am getting a real kick out of taking the journey.

This is the kind of writing we should all strive to create.

It’s easy to write something that doesn’t try to challenge the reader/audience, and the reaction will probably be similar. “Boring.” “Unoriginal.” “Meh.”

Push yourself to write something that offers up something new, or at least a new twist on an old standard. Give us something we haven’t seen before, or totally weren’t expecting. Not just one part. THE WHOLE THING. There’s something exhilarating about venturing into new territory. Take us there.

We’re writers. It’s what we do.

A moment of evaluation and introspective

Certainly a lot of things to...ponder
Certainly a lot of things to…ponder

Whoo! What a week this has been. Lots of goings-on on several fronts. Big picture stuff first.

-The semifinalists were announced earlier this week for this year’s Nicholl. 149 in total, out of somewhere in the neighborhood of 7,500 initial entries. Turns out I know at least 7 of those writers on a somewhat personal level, whether it be through social media or from actual physical contact.

I am equal parts thrilled for and jealous of all of them, but also made sure to send each a note of congratulations. They definitely earned it. And several of them have made it to this point before, and probably will do so again in the future, so that means the rest of us have to really step up our game.

Watching this as a non-participant definitely puts things in perspective. I didn’t enter any contests this year, so I can’t even begin to speculate how my script might have fared. It’s been a major effort to work on improving it to the point that I like to think it’s good, possibly even really good (he said, trying not to sound totally biased), but how would it do in a contest, especially one of this magnitude? There are no delusions of grandeur, but who doesn’t daydream about grabbing the top prize? Jittery nerves and lofty ambitions all at the same time. Only way to find out is enter it next year and hope for the best.

-Operation ManagerQuest continues. Fingers firmly crossed that all the research, fact-checking and list-assembling will result in something positive. Thanks to everybody who’s offered their good wishes and support.

Although this time is all about the western, I put together and sent out a handful of queries for the fantasy-adventure. Since those were sent to places that might be more interested in that kind of thing, each letter was customized for its designated recipient. Queries about the western will go out next week.

-As things continue to wrap up for the western, focus is shifting to what’s quickly evolving into a total rewrite of the outline of the mystery-comedy. Not gonna lie. This is the one that grabs people’s interest and attention, so we’ll see what I can do with it.

While the overall plot and concept remain the same, several new ideas, angles and approaches are being developed that I sincerely hope will make it better.

Not a bad week. Hope it was equally, if not more productive for you.

Something awfully familiar about this – OR – Already seen it

Not exactly the same, but mighty darn familiar
Whoa.

I was THIS CLOSE to being done with the latest version of the outline for the pulpy adventure spec when my writer’s sense starting tingling.

“Something’s still not right!” screamed out my internal editor.

What? That couldn’t be possible, could it? I’d spent the past few weeks being oh-so-meticulous in reorganizing sequences, working out subplots and connecting story points. How in the names of Walter Gibson and Lester Dent could there be a problem?

I looked at the outline with a more critical eye.

Opening sequence – check.
Intro of hero, establish his world – check.
Hero’s world drastically changes while raising central question of the story – check.
Complications ensue – check.
Midpoint where hero becomes fully committed to achieving his goal (accompanied by reminder of the central question) – check.

Wait. Back that up a little. To right between the “Complications” and “Midpoint” parts.

Hokey smokes, there it was. Cue the flashing red light bulb (with optional klaxon).

Two consecutive sequences just way too similar to each other. This is what’s been bothering me.

No doubt about it. One of ’em has to go. Probably the first one. You’d think it would be no big deal to just go in and change it.

And you’d be kinda/sorta wrong.

The events that happen during these two sequences are vital to the story, so the outcome needs to stay the same. The tough part now is figuring out how to change the “what happens” in that first one so not only is it unique enough unto itself, but also falls neatly into the overall structure of the story.

As always, a daunting task. For now. But potentially solvable given some time and exploration of possible alternatives.

I cannot stress enough the importance of why you should outline your story before even considering starting on pages, and being extremely thorough about it while you do. This is where you get all the heavy lifting done by figuring everything out. Where it’s a lot easier to identify the cracks in the foundation. Where it might take you a few passes to realize what works and what doesn’t.

Then again, this is how I do it, so your approach may be totally different. But speaking for myself, I prefer to go back in and fine-tune a couple of scene descriptions consisting of one to two sentences, rather than labor my way through several pages, then have to totally junk them because they’re not working.

So my focus for the time being is fixing this, then going through the whole outline a few more times, making adjustments where necessary, until I think it’s done/ready for conversion into pages.

-Got to see JURASSIC WORLD and INSIDE OUT last week. Both very enjoyable, but for very different reasons. Of the two, I’m more interested in seeing INSIDE OUT again, mostly for the writing and storytelling aspects.

Regrettably, still haven’t seen MAD MAX: FURY ROAD yet. Of all the summer releases, this feels like the one that must be seen on the big screen. Will do what I can to rectify that.