Embracing my inner Stan

“I used to be embarrassed because I was just a comic book writer while others were building bridges or going on medical careers. Then I realized that entertainment is one of the most important things in people’s lives. I feel if you’re able to entertain, you’re doing a good thing.”

That’s a quote from Stan Lee that has been ringing true a little more often for me lately.

When another writer asks me “What do you write?” or “What do you like to write?”, my go-to answer is “fun, popcorn adventures.”

Serious dramas, character studies, and examination of the human condition just aren’t my thing. If I can give you 100ish minutes of pure escapism, I’m a happy guy.

“Write something you would want to watch” I always tell newer writers. I go to the movies to have fun and enjoy myself, so that’s what I like to write.

I’m a member of an online writing group, and I always felt very self-conscious when I’d submit pages. Other members were PAGE and Nicholl-winning writers, and I’ve got an animated story about a young witch, her talking cat, and the state of New Jersey. Who wouldn’t feel a bit silly about that when other scripts are about dysfunctional families and dissolving marriages?

Interesting side note to that: some readers had a tough time adjusting to the fact that it was an animated story, while others marveled at how fun and creative it was.

I think it was going to Austin that helped me turn the corner on how I viewed the overall picture.

When you get together with a whole lot of other writers, discussing your script is an automatic part of the equation. I was quite proud of how my script had turned out – both as a script and for the competition, and wanted to convey that pride while talking about it. So I did. When somebody would say “What’s your script about?”, I’d smile and tell them without a moment’s hesitation.

It’s safe to say just about every reaction was a positive one. Each person thought it sounded great, plus a few “I’d like to read that”.

My current project is a rewrite of the sci-fi adventure. Similar kind of situation. Scientists. Monsters. Diabolical plots. Typical me kind of stuff. It’s still very rough, but you can see my enthusiasm for it on the page. Why not take it and run with it, head held high, so to speak?

I submitted the first ten pages to the online writing group, pitching it exactly how I wanted to, including the apt descriptor “This is a fun, silly romp.” I wanted the other members to know what kind of story they should be expecting. Hopefully some of them keep that in mind. It’ll be interesting to see what the reactions are.

Like Stan Lee says in his quote, I used to downplay what my scripts were about because I thought people might look down their noses at that sort of thing. But after seeing how others have reacted to my scripts and what I like to write, I realize that a lot of the time people want to hear that sort of thing. They want to be entertained.

There’s just as much of a demand for fun popcorn escapism as there is for serious drama.

I can appreciate the latter, but am much better suited for writing the former.

And in keeping with the spirit of the post – Excelsior!

Your three for ’23

A new year is upon us. One hopefully jam-packed with opportunity and lots of forward momentum for all.

I had the recent pleasure of having lunch with a writing group. As things started to wrap up, one of the members asked the rest of us to list the three writing-related things we hoped to accomplish in 2023.

It was a great idea, and just as great to hear what everybody was setting out to do.

For me, it’s adding two scripts to my catalog, filming the short, and possibly resuming the quest for representation. That last one’s still a maybe, with “Elevate the quality of my writing” a suitable alternative.

So in the same spirit of camaraderie, I pass the question on to you:

What are your three writing-related goals for 2023?

More than that is fine, but three is a good starting point.

No matter what they are, I wish you the best of luck with of all of them.

Go get ’em, chums. I’m rootin’ for ya.

See you next year.

Taming the beast we all must face

lion 2
Intimidating at first, but eventually, just a big ol’ pussycat

When I was part of a writing group last year, each week we would read and critique a few members’ sets of pages. Some were just starting out, some had a few scripts under their belt, and some had been doing this a while. You can probably figure out which category I fell into.

Simply put, some of the writing just sucked. Really sucked. Like painful-to-listen-to sucked. To my credit, tempted as I was, I never actually expressed my thoughts that way.

I fully understood that not everybody had a firm grasp on the basics, and I, along with a few others, made a sincere effort to explain what would help improve their work. While a majority were appreciative of our comments, a select handful got defensive, some even to the point of flat-out dismissive, of any kind of comment that didn’t reinforce their belief that their writing was fine just the way it was.

This was one of the things that helped me decide to leave the group.

One of the universal truths about being a writer is that not everybody’s going to like what you’ve written, and just about everybody will have a suggestion as to how it could be better.

While there’s nothing you can do about the first part, the great thing about the second is that it gives you options. A lot of them. You like what this person said? Use it. Don’t like what that other person said? Ignore it.

Some people will make suggestions based on how they would do it, which is all well and good, but what’s more important is how you would do it. Do you agree or disagree with what they’re saying?

You’ll be bombarded with a wide variety of opinions, but don’t feel like you have to incorporate every single one. And while you may be the final word on what works and what doesn’t for your story, you shouldn’t dismiss every suggestion either. Some of them may be more helpful than you realize. There are a lot of  writers out there with more experience than you, so their opinions should be at least taken into consideration. But it’s okay to disagree with them, too.

Speaking from experience, it takes time to learn not to take criticism of your material personally. The comments you receive may sting at first, but you have to remember they’re about the material, not you. Read them with a “How can I use these to get better?” frame of mind. That’s the only way you’re going to improve.

One last thing – make sure to thank the person for giving you notes, even if you totally disagree with everything they’ve said. Doesn’t matter if you asked them to do it or they offered. They took the time to help you out, and the least you can do is acknowledge that and express your appreciation for it. And it’s the polite thing to do. Manners still count.

The benefit of connecting with people in person

Availability of coffee is always a pleasant option
Face-to-face. Classic. Effective.

I had the good fortune earlier this week to attend the meeting of a new writing group. It’s been a while since I’ve been part of one, and it was nice being able to once again interact with other writers and engage in casual discussions about our respective projects before moving on to the focus of the evening. Since it was my first time attending, I’d opted to stay in the role of observer/commenter, rather be than one of the four-to-five who brings pages for review.

Following a brief table read, the group then offers up its collective comments. This week’s selections weren’t bad, but each set had room for improvement. Some maybe a little more than others.

When I got the opportunity to toss in my two cents, I talked about what stood out for me and what I thought needed work, making a point of being nice about it.

Others chimed in with their opinions and suggestions, not all of which I agreed with. While I may have been thinking “That’s not right,”or “That doesn’t make any sense,” my lips remained sealed. I didn’t want to come across as the pompous know-it-all. It’s important to make a good first impression, no matter who you’re meeting.

When the meeting was over, I talked to the guy who organizes it (we were in a different writing group years ago), saying I’d hoped I wasn’t too obnoxious with my comments. “Not at all,” he said. “A lot of these folks are newer writers, and you told them some things they needed to hear. It’s the only way they’re going to get better.”

Whew.

It’s been my experience, and hopefully yours, that getting feedback from an actual person is beneficial on several levels. Chances are you’ll know something about that person’s background and experience, so you can put the appropriate level of merit into what they have to say. And unless they’re a jerk to begin with, they might be a little less harsh with their comments than if it was an online forum, where for some reason people have no problem letting loose with vitriolic criticism and put-downs.

If you asked somebody for feedback, wouldn’t you rather the notes were helpful in a supportive way, rather than “This sucks! What makes you think you can write?” That would be pretty devastating, right?

Now imagine that situation reversed. A newer writes comes to you, asking for notes. Do you think “They don’t realize how fortunate they are to have the wonderfulness of my vast superior knowledge bestowed upon them!” or “I used to be where they are. How can I help?”

My advice: opt for the latter. Both of you will be better off for it.

Isn’t a rock a hard place to begin with?

Gotta pick one, but which one?
Gotta pick one, but which one?

Hard choices. That’s what it comes down to for your protagonist.

Someone in my old writing group put it very succinctly: each scene should force the protagonist so they have no choice but to go with the option that makes things harder for them.

If things were easy for your protagonist and everything went right for them, it wouldn’t be much of a story, would it?  We’d be bored silly.

It all stems from the necessary key word: conflict. Something must be opposing them reaching their goal.

This doesn’t mean it’s someone or something physically blocking them, although that is one option. It could be something out of nature, like a great white shark, a hurricane or a killer virus, or something from the grand scheme of the universe, like time, fear or silence.

One of the great things about conflict is there are countless ways to present it. It comes in all forms, but it really boils down to something in the scene (as well as the overall story) preventing your protagonist from moving things forward.

Taking it one step further, not only do you have to make sure they do, but they have to be the one doing it. Anything else is a cheat, and totally negates their development as a character.  Imagine if Dumbledore said, “Here’s a step-by-step list of what you have to do, Harry.” The mentor figure is there to guide the protagonist down the right path, not take the path for them.

The protagonist has to endure all of these conflicts in order to not only accomplish their goal, but grow or change from what they were when we first met them.

So go ahead and put ’em through the ringer. It’s the way it must be.

-I had the pleasure of doing an interview with Henry Sheppard, aka Adelaide Screenwriter. Check it out here.