No rush -OR- Pumpin’ the brakes!

Between my attempts at brainstorming ideas for this new spec, I’ve been getting a real kick out of reading scripts from other writers. After completing one from a longtime associate, I asked about what inspired them to write it.

Paraphrasing their response to “This was something I’ve always to try. This is the script I mentioned a year or two ago, but took my time with the notes. Once I decided to write it, I had it written out in about two weeks.”

That may be part of my problem with mine. I’m too focused on trying to get it done that I’m ignoring the part about taking the time to make it right first.

It feels like it’s getting there, but also like a few important pieces are still missing. Once I can figure those out, I’m fairly certain more details will fall into place.

I’ve discussed this story with a few other writers, many of whom are familiar with my work. The responses have been more or less “You’ll figure it out. Just give yourself the time to do it.”

That’s the plan. Sometimes the best ideas come when I’m not thinking about them.

My self-imposed deadline of having a semi-respectable outline by the end of the month is still possible, but I’m not going to obsess about it. A majority of the story is in place; it’s the rest of it that needs figuring out. If it takes a little longer, that’s cool too.

A few filmmaker friends have launched crowdfunding campaigns for their respective projects:

Alicia McClendon’s THE WOMAN WHO KNOWS

Kaia Alexander’s BLEED

Check ’em both out and donate if you can!

There will be questions

I consider myself to be very fortunate to be part of this community, and a significant part of that involves seeing the creativity and writing skills of its members on display in the form of their scripts. I really enjoy reading them, and appreciate when they read mine.

Part of that involves – when requested – the giving of notes. I try to be as objective and helpful as I can, and a big part of that is me asking questions.

Sometimes it’s to clarify a necessary detail, or something important, or maybe it’s about the WHY as it applies to any number of things. If something isn’t clear to me from what’s on the page, I’ll ask questions to the writer in the hope that that will help them make it more clear. It’s safe to say the less questions I have, the better the script is.

I’ll never tell a writer “This is how you should do it”, because that’s just wrong and simply not helpful. If what they have on the page isn’t conveying its intent enough, I might make suggestions of alternatives that still accomplish what the original material was trying to do, along with “just my two cents”.

A lot of these script swaps are for both reading enjoyment and quality improvement, so both parties are appreciative and receptive to notes and comments that could potentially help make each script better. It’s always nice to hear “These are really helpful! Thanks!”, “You’re not the first person to say that,” (or its mirror twin “Nobody’s mentioned that before”) and “I never thought of it that way.”

This isn’t to say all my notes are perfect, ’cause they definitely ain’t. Sometimes a writer will respond with “I get what you’re saying, but I think this way is more effective”. And that’s fine. It’s their script, not mine.

I will also add that I will absolutely not hesitate to point out a spelling or punctuation error. Proofread, people! SPELLCHECK IS NOT YOUR FRIEND.

Like I said, I’m very fortunate to always have a short stack of scripts in my reading queue, along with a steady influx of “Hey, would you be able to read this” and my asking somebody to read something of theirs. Even though it always takes me a little longer than expected to get to each one, which usually involves sending a note/email apologizing for the delay, it’s always great to open that pdf file and dive right in.

But rest assured, questions will be asked if needed.

The only constant is change

Even though a lot of the past week was family-oriented, thoughts about the current spec were omnipresent. There’s still a lot to figure out, but things are progressing, albeit slowly.

One positive result is that as these ideas develop, each causes a ripple effect in terms of how it impacts the rest of the story.

Just as an example, I needed to come up with a very important story detail, so started listing all the possible reasons how it could happen. I came up with one I felt worked best and started implementing it into the still-under-construction outline. That in turn triggered thoughts of “that could be because of ____” or “what if ____ is why?”.

A little more rejiggering of possibilities and how they’d fit into the story and voila! Some really helpful ideas and additional details that strengthen its designated storyline AND how it affects a few others.

When I started this project, I reminded myself that the end result would most likely be very different while the core story remained the same. Staying on top of all those little details is really keeping me on my toes, while also forcing me to constantly ramp up my creativity to make this script as original and entertaining as possible.

It’s a safe bet I’ll come up with more story-changing/impacting ideas over the next few weeks, but I welcome them and will deal with those as they happen.

The main focus remains just putting it all together.

Heed the words of Mamet -OR- Don’t overstay your welcome

I’ve been on somewhat of a tear lately in regards to watching films – both at home and in theaters.

One of the things that’s really stood out is the tightness of the writing. In every film, the scenes don’t waste time. They present what’s needed at that particular moment while also advancing the story.

I’ve always had a tendency to overwrite – especially in my earlier scripts. There was just too much on the page, or some scenes just went on too long. This would result in necessary editing and trimming down in subsequent drafts.

But then I heard a piece of advice I’m fairly certain is attributed to playwright David Mamet:

GET IN LATE, GET OUT EARLY

I interpreted this as “Get to the point of the scene as soon as possible, then move on to the next one”.

You don’t want your reader/audience to be bored by slowing things down with anything unrelated to the story. They’ll become less interested in wanting to see what happens next. Once that happens, you’re pretty much screwed.

This is something I’ve seen in a lot of scripts – especially from newer writers, along with a handful of seasoned vets. Many is the time I’ve given a note along the lines of “this is good, but tightening it up would make a world of difference.” Sometimes it’s dialogue, or description, or action lines.

If something can be cut from a scene and the scene still accomplishes what it needs to, then whatever you cut didn’t need to be in there in the first place.

When I outline, I do so with a “what’s the point of this scene?” approach. What happens in this scene that advances the story? Even as the story continues to grow and develop, the focus on the main point of each scene continues. There may be a small amount of overwriting in the first few drafts, but those are quickly dealt with.

This approach has really helped contributed to establishing the flow and fast reads for my scripts, and I’m looking forward to applying it to the current spec.

From the archives: If only you could eat a bad script

Rather a tasty metaphor, no?

I’d originally planned to repost this because I liked what the topic was discussing. It became especially pertinent after reading the first line. The past repeated itself this week with my fantasy-comedy also not advancing to the quarterfinals in PAGE this year. It stung a bit – especially after an earlier draft accomplished it two years ago. But it is what it is, and I’ve gotten past it as I focus on more important stuff. In the meantime, enjoy this post from July 2016.

Before we get to the gist of today’s post, let’s address the elephant in the room: my western did not advance to the quarterfinals of the PAGE contest.

Honestly, I was a little surprised; I thought it would have done better. After a brief wallow in disappointment, I shrugged my shoulders and moved on. It’s just another one of those things over which I have no control. I still have a ton of confidence in this script and might submit again next year. Also waiting to see how it fares in Austin and the Nicholl.

True, it was a rather lousy way to start the weekend, but over the next couple of days, I managed to redirect my focus, which included a nice long run that involved traversing the Golden Gate Bridge, and attempting something I’ve always wanted to try:

Making a pineapple upside-down cake (from scratch, naturally).

Guests were coming over for dinner, and I’d made pies for them before. But this time,  I wanted to try something entirely new and preferably a little challenging. I’d say this falls into both categories.

I scoured the internet for an ideal recipe, found one to my satisfaction, and followed the directions to the letter. The result? It looked like it was supposed to, and that’s where the similarities end. A little too sweet and the center was still kind of goopy. Nevertheless, my guests still liked it, and K & I split the last piece after they left. Not bad for a first attempt.

Why did it not turn out the way I expected? A lot of reasons. The oven’s a piece of junk. It didn’t bake long enough. The ingredients and the amount of them probably need to be tweaked. No matter what, I know now that I can adjust all of these next time and get closer to the results I seek.

Except for the oven. It will forever remain a piece of junk until it dies. Which can’t happen soon enough. But I digress.

Notice all of the comparisons you could make between baking and writing a script? Trying something new and long-sought-after. Seeking advice and guidance. Following the guidelines. Doing what I was supposed to. An okay-but-was-hoping-for-better initial result. Planning ahead on what to fix/adjust for next time.

If a less-than-determined baker ended up with the cake I made, they’d probably denounce the whole process, give up entirely and probably buy pre-made stuff at the supermarket. But we’re made of sterner stuff. We hit a snag or some kind of unforeseen development, and we compensate as best we can. We learn what not to do next time. Sometimes you end up with something jaw-droppingly amazing, and sometimes you end up with something totally inedible.

With this whole experience behind me, I can now focus on projects of the immediate future, which includes another round of editing and revising a script, and making a pie or two for a dinner party this coming weekend.

It’s my intention to have the results of both of these undertakings be totally and utterly irresistible when they’re done and ready to serve.