Several days and a lot of pages marked up with red ink later, the latest draft of the animated fantasy-comedy is complete.
But no resting on the laurels for this guy.
I have a few other pending projects that need my attention, and then it’s one more read-through to fix any new issues. That draft will then go to some readers, most likely resulting in another draft. After that, maybe a contest or two.
There weren’t a lot of major changes for this round; more like lots and lots of little ones. A changed word or phrase here, the reorganizing of action lines or dialogue, that sort of thing. Nothing too drastic, but just enough to make a difference.
Additionally, after all the time I spent on a potential new title, I decided to stick with the original one. For now, at least. If a producer wants to buy it and then change it, who am I to say no? Once the check clears, of course.
And a huge shoutout to all the readers whose notes made a big difference.
Overall, I’m quite happy with how it turned out. I’m glad I took my time and didn’t rush it. It feels more put-together than before, and hopefully the end result will be as rock-solid as it can be.
Ask any screenwriter how their most recent draft compares to, say, their very first one, by which I mean THEIR ABSOLUTE VERY FIRST ONE, it’s probably a sure thing they’ll say something along the lines of “It was awful!” or “An absolute mess!”, or maybe even “I don’t even want to think about it it was so bad.”
Taking a look at some of my first attempts, I can say the exact same thing. Scenes that drag on. Flat action lines, or ones that were way overwritten. Big chunks of text on the page. On-the-nose dialogue that’s pure exposition. Spoonfeeding story details to the reader to make sure they understand what’s going on.
Nothing to be ashamed of. There are vomit drafts, and “looks like my printer vomited words all over the pages” drafts. You gotta start somewhere, and the important part is YOU GOT IT WRITTEN.
Nowhere to go but up, right?
So you start working on getting better. You get feedback. You start to understand why things aren’t working and what you can do to fix them. You learn, and all this new knowledge helps shape the next draft to better than the one that came before it.
You put in the time and the effort and it becomes more noticeable how your writing is getting better. All of those newbie mistakes are a thing of the past. Your script seems more polished. There’s still room to improve, but it doesn’t seem as daunting now, does it?
Multiple drafts and seemingly neverending rewrites are par for the course. It happens to even the most experienced screenwriters. The hardest part is getting that first draft written. Accomplish that and you’re already ahead of the game.
There will most likely be a ridiculous amount of rewriting in your future, and the end result may be totally different from what you started with, but think about how far you’ve come. You probably had no idea when you were just starting out that you’d be so willing to put yourself through all of this, over and over again.
And that might even be for just one script.
Sure, you might be a little embarrassed when you look at your earliest scripts, but look at your most recent draft or the pages you wrote last weekend. As if they’d been written by two entirely different writers. Because that’s exactly what they are.
Past You was just starting out and made a lot of mistakes. Present You knows what’s needed and does it.
And just imagine the skills that Future You is going to have.
“Hmm. Billy’s new script. Something about men dressing up as women to hide from gangsters? Hope it’s funny.”
I’ve seen a good number of articles and online comments recently about how a script should convey the writer’s “voice”. That prompted this blast from the past from June 8, 2018.
Enjoy.
“When I’ve done script notes for writing colleagues, no matter what the genre is, I can usually tell who wrote it – because of the way it reads. Each writer has their own particular style, so each of their scripts has its own corresponding “sound”. Or I’ll get notes back on my material which often includes a comment along the lines of “this sounds like something you’d write”.
This isn’t just about dialogue. It’s about a writer’s overall style, or how they tell the story of their script. You don’t just want the reader to read your story; you want them to experience it. Which can be accomplished by adding that extra layer.
Everybody develops their own individual style, and it takes time to find it. The more you write, the more you’ll be able to hone your writing to reflect your own individuality.
Just a few things to think about:
-How does your script read? Is the writing crisp and efficient, or are you wasting valuable page real estate with too many lines of your loquacious verbosity? Taking it one step further, do you use the same words over and over, or do you relish any opportunity to give your thesaurus a solid workout?
-How is your story set up and how does it play out? Is it simple and straightforward, or complex and full of deliciously tantalizing twists and turns? Are you working that creativeness to show us things we haven’t seen before, or is just page after page of the same ol’, same ol’?
-Is it a story somebody besides you would want to see? Just because you find the subject matter interesting doesn’t mean it has universal appeal. However, there is the counter-argument to that in which you could attempt to have your story include elements that would satisfy fans of the genre while also appealing to newcomers.
-Can’t ignore the population within the pages. Are your characters well-developed and complex, or do they come up lacking? Do we care about them, or what happens to them? Can we relate to them?
-What are your characters saying, or not saying (subtext!)? How are they saying it? Do they sound interesting or dull as dishwater? Very important – do they sound like actual people, or like “characters in a movie”?
Remember – the script is a reflection of you. A solid piece of writing shows you know what you’re doing. Offering up something sloppy is simply just sabotaging yourself.
Who hasn’t heard a variation on the line about a script being a cheap knockoff of a more established writer? While I can understand admiring a pro writer’s style, why would you attempt to copy it? It probably took them a long time to find their own voice, and by trying to write like they do, you’re denying yourself the opportunity to do the same thing for yourself.
Or to put it another way: they didn’t take any shortcuts to become the writer they are today, so why should you?”
After an unexpected break, work has recommenced on fine-tuning the outline of the sci-fi adventure spec.
I don’t know how other writers organize their outlines, but mine tend to be a scene-by-scene breakdown on a Google doc. (Hats off to the users of index cards). Each scene is planned out in terms of what happens, sometimes what dialogue might be involved, and an underlying mindset of “what’s the conflict here?”
Even though I know what I need the scene to accomplish, I may not have all the information I need, so I’ll jot down a note or question in ALL CAPS as part of it (to help me not overlook it). The note or question is something that needs to be addressed, but can’t be answered just yet.
Things like:
-DOES HE KNOW ABOUT THIS? IF NOT, HOW TO DO THAT?
-WHAT CAN SHE DO HERE TO DEMONSTRATE WHAT KIND OF PERSON SHE IS?
-NEED 3 VARIATIONS ON THIS (SEE PREVIOUS DRAFT FOR LIST)
-POSSIBLE CLUE OR HINT HERE TO BUILD UP TO BIG REVEAL
You get the idea.
I find it better to write these down in the outline instead of something separate. I don’t trust myself to be that organized, and my desk/working area is quite a mess. It’s just easier to keep it all in one document.
It’s more helpful to take the extra time to deal with all of these now, rather than jump into pages and have to hit the brakes each time one of these needs to be addressed.
Dealing with these sorts of issues can also prove beneficial because while you’re handling the initial thing, it may also offer a new or at possibly an unexpected solution that can cover a few other things, or add a new detail that adds to or helps the story. It’s happened before.
For the most part, the outline is pretty solid, story-wise, so once all of these notes and questions are covered, it’ll be off to the races. I don’t think it’ll take too long, and shooting for another end-of-the-year finish in terms of completed drafts. One would be nice, two would be better.
It’ll get there, slowly but surely.
-Contest news! My animated fantasy-comedy made Second Round for comedy features with Austin. Another long-time goal achieved, so…yay.
Congrats to all the other amazing writers whose work also made it. I’ll be there to celebrate. How about you?
-As the writers strike continues, it’s taking a toll on the people involved. One of those people is friend-of-the-blog Jenny Frankfurt, who runs the Finish Line Script Competition. She could use whatever help you can provide, so please donate here if you can.
A few weeks ago, I printed a copy of the animated fantasy-comedy, and then posted on social media about holding the actual document in my hands and the sensations that resulted from doing that.
(Quick note – said sensations were of a very positive nature. There’s definitely something to be said about holding a physical manifestation of all the time and effort you put into this draft. It’s exhilarating. Uplifting, even. A true sense of accomplishment. And then eagerly accepting the next step of figuring out what’s wrong with it and how to fix it/make it better.)
The post yielded quite a wide spectrum of responses. From “Totally agree. It’s fantastic!” to “I can’t imagine NOT printing it” to “You still print out scripts?”
As I matter of fact, I do. I find it to be incredibly helpful when it comes to editing, proofreading, and overall polishing.
As more than a few people put it, “Printing out a script is a necessary part of my process. I can see things on a page I’m holding that I might not see on a screen.”
That can definitely apply to me. After I finish a draft, I’ll step away from it for a few weeks, then print it out (double-sided) and have at it with red pen in hand. I go through the whole thing page by page, line by line, marking it up as much as necessary.
Could there be some kind of subconscious connection between holding an honest-to-goodness physical printout in your hands and what it does to your creative process? Beats me, but it seems to really make a difference.
I’m much more likely to spot something that needs to be changed when it’s on a piece of paper rather than on a screen. A line of dialogue that doesn’t work or needs retooling. A scene that doesn’t flow the way I need it to, so I try rearranging it. Or those most common of miscreants – a typo, a misspelled word, or a rogue punctuation mark. It happens.
Sometimes I’ll have a page that’s totally mark-free, or maybe one or two little fixes. Sometimes the page has got more red ink and edit marks than actual text, or my notes and comments occupy a lot of that white space.
All of it – not uncommon.
One interesting side note – many’s the time I’d have to decide about cutting something I was hesitant to cut. I would then figure out what was best for the script and story, and not what I wanted. If cutting this or rearranging that resulted in the scene, and subsequently the script, being better, then so be it. The usual follow-up to that was I’d make the change, then immediately forget about what was cut because the new version was better.
Once all the changes and fixes have been taken care of this draft, I’ll go back to the beginning and start implementing those changes and fixes on the digital copy.
Also not uncommon – trying to read my own handwriting, which can occasionally border on appearing microscopic in size from me trying to cram too many notes on the page. It might take a few passes to read it, but I eventually get there.
Before I know it – voila! A new draft.
Printing out my scripts to do some more work on them in order to make the next draft better is a process that’s served me quite well over the years, and I don’t see any reason to stop doing it.
Maximum Z 