If there’s anything I learned, it’s that not even the best logline consultant in Hollywood can compete with a brain-trust of 100+ screenwriters. You guys killed it. I personally liked Katie’s…
A repressed war widow awakens naked in the snow on a military black site and must outwit her ruthless father’s vengeful soldiers when she realizes the carnivorous feline they are hunting is her.
And DG Burton’s best…
A repressed young widow awakens naked in the snow on a military black site and discovers soldiers have been torn apart, she has no memories of last night, and she’s being hunted by the Marines’ most ruthless general – her father.
Now if you could just come up with a logline to erase daylights savings time, I would pay all the money in the world to see that movie succeed! You certainly did better than the movies at this weekend’s box office. This was supposed to be the big Dune 2 opening weekend but the film, like many others, got pushed back because of the actors strike.
It’s so hard to promote a big movie when your stars can’t get out there and make headlines for you. I enjoy the backup plan – sending directors and writers out there – because literally everything they say is more interesting than what actors say. But you can’t deny the fact that, without actors to remind us that their movies are opening, the movies don’t seem as big.
Speaking of someone who’s a writer, director, AND an actor, Sly Stallone has been in the news a lot, with his docu-series premiering on Netflix. What’s interesting about Sly is that he should be one of the richest people in Hollywood. And yet the rumor is, he’s out of money. That’s why he agreed to this docu-series. It’s why he has that Kardashian like show about his family on Paramount Plus. The guy is hustling.
Most of this stems from the fact that he doesn’t own a single sliver of the Rocky franchise. You can’t really fault him for that. He notoriously stood strong when he made that Rocky deal, insisting that he be the star. Which, if he didn’t do, there’s a good chance we wouldn’t know who Sylvester Stallone was today. But he mistakenly didn’t obtain any of the rights to the film, which means he hasn’t gotten paid a single dime outside of his acting fee from the billion dollar franchise.
Still, the dude has 75+ IMDB credits. How are you struggling to pay your bills?? Seems like there’s some serious money mismanagement there.
The reason I wanted to bring up Stallone is that he recently revealed that his first draft of Rocky had a different kind of Rocky. Rocky was a brute. Rocky was a tough guy. Rocky beat you up and didn’t feel bad about it. It wasn’t until a lady friend of his read the script and cried to him that she hated Rocky because of how mean he was, that Stallone decided to change the character into the more lovable iconic character we know today.
His very first change, which was actually suggested by the friend, was that instead of beating up the guy who couldn’t pay his loan, he let him go. The guy even offers Rocky his coat to help pay but Rocky lets him keep it. From there, Stallone just paid more attention to how Rocky acted. He wanted him to be sweeter instead of meaner. As a result, an iconic character was created.
I wanted to highlight this because there’s this erroneous belief that you win “screenwriting street cred” by creating an unlikable character. But in this case, it is literally the thing that would’ve sent this movie down a path where we never would’ve heard of it, versus what it became, which is a billion dollar franchise.
And when we talk about likability, it doesn’t have to be like in Adam Sandler movies where the ten-cent screenwriters he uses have his character save 20 lives before he’s even reached the inciting incident to MAKE ABSOLUTELY SURE you love him. With Rocky, he’s just an understated nice guy who cares about people. He’s not over the top about it. That’s just who he is.
Remember that going forward. You don’t need to have your character save the world for us to like him. He can just be nice! It’s not complicated.
Shifting focus from the movie world over to the TV world, I stumbled upon the latest trailer for a Marvel TV show. It’s a show called, “Echo.” Before I get into my thoughts on the trailer, I know one of the writers on Echo (who’s an AWESOME writer by the way – one of my favorite unknown writers out there). I am not blaming him or any other writer who gets hired to write a Marvel show. I would cash that same check in a heartbeat.
My problem is more with the state of TV in general. Cause when I saw this trailer, I didn’t feel anything. There’s a woman. She had a tough childhood. Now she’s some sort of fighter as an adult. There’s an intensity behind the presentation of her story and it looks totally fine. There’s nothing wrong with this show at all. But it doesn’t stand out in any way. It doesn’t MAKE ME WANT TO WATCH IT.
Echo is a symbol for where the TV industry is today. We’ve gotten to the point where it’s nearly impossible to stand out from the pack. If Marvel, which can afford to put 100 million dollars behind a show like this, can’t get anyone excited about watching it, where are we? We are in the most saturated TV market ever where every show feels the same in the sense that there’s nothing exceptional enough that you actually label it a must-watch.
This begs the question: How do you write a TV pilot in 2023 that stands out? Is it even possible?
As far as I can tell, there are several show-types that get interest. The most prominent are the IP shows that have passionate fan bases. I’m talking Wednesday on Netflix or The Last of Us on HBO. These are useless to aspiring screenwriters, though, because we don’t have access to those properties.
Then you have the high-concept stuff, like Squid Game, Yellow Jackets, or Stranger Things. These are super-expensive but, if you can come up with one, they’re great because they’re the only ideas that can compete with those IP properties. Unfortunately, their cost scares a lot of potential suitors away.
And, finally, you have the word-of-mouth shows, the shows that become hits because of how incredibly well-written they are. I’m talking about the White Lotuses, the Successions, and the Bears. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to strategize around writing one of the greatest shows ever. So it’s yet another arrow we can’t add to our quiver.
But there is one final category which, I believe, is the one that best gives an aspiring screenwriter a shot at writing a show that stands out. And I call it, “The Voice Show.” No, I’m not talking about spinning chairs and overly charming country singers and golden tickets. I’m talking about a show that demonstrates your unique voice. Some recent examples would be Fleabag, Euphoria, Atlanta, Severance, and Beef.
There’s something unmistakably unique when you read these pilots and it’s not as difficult to pull off as you may think. Having a distinctive voice boils down to identifying what it is about how you see the world that’s unique and leaning into that as aggressively as possible. If I’m a Korean-American man who suffers from anger issues, that’s a great starting point for leaning into my voice. Which is how “Beef” was conceived. That show is less about the story than it is about its creator. And how that creator, Lee Sung Jin, sees the world.
The second ingredient to writing one of these shows is to be weird. To be awkward. It’s fine to cover your everyday existence in these shows. You just can’t do it in an expected fashion. Every interaction Fleabag gets into in her show is awkward. There’s one point where she’s in a job interview and inadvertently propositions the interviewer, then is forced to backtrack. We’re all weirdos deep down. We have weird thoughts. We get in weird situations. LEAN INTO THAT WEIRD. That’s how you’re going to make your pages read different from everyone else’s.
The third ingredient to these shows is to take from your own life. You should be using your own life to power all of your writing, of course. But it’s especially important in this type of script because one of the easiest ways to stand out is to chronicle things that nobody else has seen before. And since your unique experiences contain a myriad of specific moments, you want to mine those moments as much as possible. In Fleabag, that heartbreaking Phoebe Waller-Bridge miscarriage dinner with her sister was, supposedly, based on real life with someone she knew.
The final ingredient to writing these shows is to be achingly truthful. When you’re writing big Hollywood movies, you’re often a slave to the plot. You have to have that big twist at the midpoint for example, so you dance around in your mind for a few days until you come up with that twist. You don’t do that here. You lean into the truth. If a character in the throes of drug addiction is confronted by her friends and family, you better have that drug-addicted character act truthfully. That approach led to one of the best episodes of Euphoria when Rue was confronted and she did what any addict would do in that moment. She RAN.
There has to be an element of rawness and realness on the page to truly stand out from the pack. And, unlike movies, which work better within the construct of sexy concepts, TV is more about character and, therefore, more conducive to this sort of writing. By the way, I’m not saying you can’t succeed by writing the next CSI or the next Stranger Things. All I’m saying is that if you want to write something that has the best chance at standing out from all the other scripts that these production houses and studios read? The Voice Script is the number one way to go.
Do you have one in you?
