A storyline that got overlooked at the Oscars due to Slapgate was that Apple, not Netflix, took home the first ever Best Picture Oscar for a streaming service!  You cannot begin to comprehend how angry this makes Reed Hastings, who has invested truckloads of money coveting high profile directors like Alfonso Cuarón and David Fincher, in hopes of winning that golden statue and legitimizing Netflix.  I can only imagine how angry he is that streaming whipping boy, Apple, won their version of the space race. 

I loved Sian Heder’s, Coda, and thought it was the perfect time to bring back the “scene breakdown” feature I did with “I Care A Lot.”  I’m going to highlight two scenes from the award-winning script (which you can download here), and while the focus will be on dialogue, I’ll spotlight a few other screenplay tips as well.   

If you haven’t seen Coda, it follows a senior in high school, Ruby, the only hearing member of an, otherwise, deaf family.  While you’d think this would make her sympathetic to her parents and brother, it’s the opposite.  She’s always been looked at as “the weird girl with the deaf family” and, as a result, felt ostracized.  

For the first time ever, Ruby is doing something for herself.  She’s always wanted to sing but hasn’t had the confidence to do so.  So she’s joined the choir class in high school and the teacher has assigned her to a duet with Miles, a boy she has a crush on.  The following scene takes place in their music teacher’s classroom.  They were supposed to practice their song together but didn’t.

This next scene takes place 10-15 minutes later in the movie. This is the first time Ruby and Miles are practicing together and they’re doing so at Ruby’s house.  Ruby is incredibly nervous about this not just because she has a crush on Miles, but because her family is such a wild card.  She’s terrified that this may be a dealbreaker.  I can’t stress this enough: Put your characters in situations they’re uncomfortable in.  And with that established, let’s take a look at the scene…

And that’s it. I strongly recommend you read this script (it’s only 80 pages) AND watch the movie. Share your thoughts in the comments section, especially any additional lessons you picked up from the dialogue.

Genre: Comedy
Premise: During the summer of 1998, five camp counselors accidentally kill a stranger in the woods.
About: This script finished on last year’s Black List. This is co-written by Leigh Cesiro and Erica Matlin. Erica has been an assistant to Anthony Bregman, a producer on a number movies, including Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Writers: Leigh Cesiro & Erica Matlin
Details: 101 pages

I like killing people.

I’m speaking within the context of movies, of course.

More specifically, when a group of people kills a person, then have to cover it up and hope nobody finds out. As I’ve stated before, one of the most powerful things you can do with a character is give them a secret. A secret forces your character to lie. A lie means that every dialogue scene that character is involved in is going to be a dance – a dance to avoid suspicion, a dance to keep the secret intact. It’s built-in dramatic irony, which we all know is one of the most effective tools in screenwriting.

The year is 1998 and we’re at Camp Brower, a second rate summer camp. We meet best friends and camp counselors, effortlessly cool Jayne, self-assured Sam, sassy Alexis, and rule-following Benji, as they send a couple of sheep into a boys’ dorm to embarrass a sexist male counselor who’s teaching his young campers how to score chicks.

Afterwards, Team Sheep get together to figure out what they’re going to do for the rest of camp and get wind of a big party at the neighboring (and much ritzier) Camp Kensington. Everyone’s a little nervous cause Camp Kensignton is a lot cooler. But off they go that night and have a great time.

On the way back, though, the crew is messing around with a bow and arrow they find, drunkenly shooting arrows into the night, only to come upon a dead camp worker named Rat Tail, who’s got an arrow straight through his heart. When they realize they’ve killed him and that their lives are over if anyone finds out, they bury him in a shallow grave and agree to never talk about it again.

The next day they try and go back to normal but of course they’re all feeling guilty, especially Sam and Benji, who try to convince the others to tell the cops. Maybe the punishment won’t be so bad if they admit to it now. That idea gets shot down.  Meanwhile, we find out that it was actually one of the other grounds people who killed Rat Tail. But our counselor group never finds this out.

They ultimately decide that a shallow grave won’t do the job and commit to moving the body. So they dig the body back up, put it in a bag, and try to lug it to a more secure location. Unfortunately, all the campers are running around, making it difficult. Will they be able to ditch the body of the man they think they killed but didn’t without anyone finding out? You’ll have to read Cruel Summer for the answer!

Because I’ve been so hard on the 2021 Black List, I’m going to try and take a more productive approach to today’s conversation. Cruel Summer, which is part Caddyshack, part Wet Hot American Summer, and part The Hangover, frustrated me. I’m all for a goofy comedy with a group of funny characters dealing with a difficult situation. But these scripts don’t work unless there’s at least one character who has some actual depth to them.

A lot of comedy writers screw this up. They just try and be funny. Which is good. You should be focusing on the funnies in a comedy. But we still need to connect with somebody in the story so that we care enough to keep reading. Because remember, we all have friends we can laugh with. In the majority of cases, we laugh a lot harder with them than we ever do at a movie. So a movie has to give us something else, and that something is someone to connect with and root for.

Check out Bridesmaids. Annie was a very well constructed character. In that first scene with the guy she slept with, we see her slip out of the bed in the morning, go into the bathroom, make herself look good, then sneak back into bed and, when he wakes up, she pretends she’s waking up as well, so he’ll think she always looks this good in the morning.

That scene showed us how desperate she was to find someone, to get married. This is what made the core plotline of her best friend getting married so clever, because we’d already seen that this is what she wants more than anything. The only thing she’s left with is her best friend’s friendship. So when that’s taken away too, we understand why she falls apart.

And it didn’t stop there. There was this whole backstory about her failed bakery. There was this self-sabotaging part of her where, when she finally finds the perfect guy, she screws it up, because she’s never had a guy who actually cared about her.

All of this was really well-constructed character development.

Meanwhile, I can’t tell you a thing about any of these girls lives in this screenplay other than that they like to goof around with each other. When readers complain about scripts being too thin, this is what they’re talking about. There was no effort to create any sort of depth to any of the characters, outside of a barely-explored battle for the open Assistant Director job between Jayne and Sam.

Bridesmaids was written over the course of six years. It takes time to get that depth and to get it right. This script may get there some day, but right now, it’s achingly thin. And if you sense the frustration in my voice, it’s because I’m frustrated.

When a reader sits down to read, the one thing they don’t want to question is whether the writer put their blood, sweat, and tears into the script. I have read some scripts I’ve disliked but still gave the writer credit because I could tell that they put everything into that script. The second I feel like that isn’t the case, I get upset. Because why should I invest if you haven’t?

“Mercury” set the bar for this Black List because you could tell that the writer left it all out on the field. There was no moment in that script where I felt they took a shortcut.

Now I understand that comedy is different from other genres because comedy has a naturally loose feel to it. It’s never going to be The Godfather. But the way I can spot a good comedy screenwriter is that they prioritize their main character. They make sure there’s a fully fleshed out human being at the center of the story who has flaws, who has inner demons, who’s imperfect, who needs something from this story to become whole.

And contrary to what you might think, that being obsessive about constructing your main character is going to make them too serious and unfunny, it actually makes the character funnier. That’s why Annie was so funny. Her jealousy was so well-established that every interaction that challenged it was a struggle for her. Her desperation to keep her best friend in her life was what led to the best scenes in the movie, like the toast-off.

If you don’t figure out what your main character is specifically going through, how can you create specific situations that she would be funny in? If I know my hero’s flaw is that she’s a chronic introvert, then you better believe I’m going to create a bunch of scenes where she has to be around a ton of people. And that her interacting with those people is going to matter to the story. That stakes are going to be attached to those moments. That’s what we’ll end up laughing at, her struggle to overcome that weakness.

Unfortunately, this is another example of a comedy that doesn’t have enough going on underneath the surface to create any real laughs, or any real investment. The plotting gets a little more intricate in the second act, resulting in a script that got better as it went on. But because I didn’t have anyone to latch onto, it wasn’t for me.

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: I’m going to go back on what I said a little bit. It is possible to write funny screenplays without character flaws or character depth. We saw it with Borat. Hell, Airplane is one of the funniest movies ever and it doesn’t have a lick of character depth. It’s just HARDER. It’s harder to write these movies because you have to compensate for the lack of character depth by not just making your script kinda funny, but historically funny. Borat and Airplane are GIANT exceptions to the rule. You can try to be the next exception. But I guarantee you we’ll laugh harder if we feel like we know the hero and the real life issues they’re dealing with.

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Genre: Heist/Sci-Fi
Premise: Still reeling in the wake of her husband’s death, master thief Viola Crier signs on to a risky, last-minute job set to take place inside a man-made time loop, but as the number of loops increases, the job begins to spiral out of control.
About: Today’s writer and her script finished with 10 votes on the Black List. She is repped by William Morris Endeavor. This is her first screenplay. Or at least the first that’s made any noise.
Writer: Lindsay Michael
Details: 120 pages

How in the world do we follow yesterday?

I’m still thinking about it. Every time I think about what happened, I still can’t believe it. This guy hit someone on stage and then 15 minutes later, everyone gave him a standing ovation. We have to be living in a simulation for that to have happened, right? It defies all logic. There have to be some repercussions. Or are we going to all pretend it never happened, like the Oscar audience?

Anyway, we shall try to move on. And what better way to move on than with a new loop script! I’ve developed one of these myself so I know how tricky they can be. Let’s see how today’s writer handled it.

It’s 2038. A young female thief, Viola, is doing a job in Shanghai with her thief-husband, but he’s killed by the people they steal from. Viola is barely able to get out of Shanghai, with the help of a mysterious man named Okafor. Okafor tells Viola that he wants to hire her for the hardest job she’s ever done – stealing a 53 million dollar diamond. Go put a team together, he says.

She first gets 50 year-old Sybill, who is a master of disguise. She then flies to another country to pick up 19 year old safecracker, Cass. She then grabs explosives expert, Nemo, in Uzbekistan. And finally she gets pilot, Jackie, who’s going to fly everyone out once they steal the diamond.

The target is a place called Sandpiper Resort, in the Namib Desert. The place is a sand ski resort for the rich and famous. Okafor’s brother, a war profiteer named Wangari, took the diamond their dead father left for Okafor and Okafor wants it back. Wangari is in town to vacation at Sandpiper and Okafor knows he’s brought the diamond with him.

Once everyone is together, Okafor reveals their ace in the hole – he’s got a time-looping device. That means they’ll have not one, not two, not three, but four full shots to get the diamond. Anything after that and the time distortion field will destabilize. Nobody is very happy about this unpredictable device but since each individual’s take is 10 million bucks, they get over it fast.

The first run-through, the bomb they use to break into Wangari’s room ends up accidentally blowing a hole in the underground resort and sending a stream of suffocating sand in to snuff everybody out. Once the loop resets, they decide to spend the next shot on a test run. There are too many unknown variables that they need to figure out to pull this off. That leaves them with only two tries left. As you can imagine, the pressure mounts quickly, and the group come to the realization that four tries at the heist of the century might not be enough.

With scripts like this, you have to watch out for information overload and subsequent reader disorientation. Screenwriters are notorious for forgetting just how much information they’re throwing at the reader. To them, this information is common knowledge, so they assume it’s common knowledge to you, as well. This is what gets them into trouble. They’re operating on the assumption that you’re on the same page they are, when, in reality, you’re still ten pages behind them, trying to figure out that thing that happened on page 9.

Sandpiper starts out with a woman standing over a dead body in a morgue, a man whose wedding ring is featured prominently and, therefore, may have been our hero’s husband. Our hero then runs off with a Chinese detective, escaping a team of policemen, only to later get double-crossed by the detective.

At this point, I don’t know who my hero is, why we’re in China, what just happened to her maybe-husband, why she’s playing secret games with a Chinese cop, and what her job is. The next thing you know we’re meeting some random guy named Okafor who helps us escape on a train, then offers us a job to steal a diamond, then minutes later we go on a 4 continent montage to collect a mission impossible team, meeting four team-members who are going to help Viola do the heist.

It’s only after all this is over that we learn her and her husband were a thief-team and they’d been caught, which is why he was killed. In other words, I’m only learning what happened on page 1, on page 40. That’s not acceptable. I know, as writers, we think we’re cleverly withholding information and creating suspense by drip-feeding relevant backstory twenty pages at a time, but you have to be realistic. I’m supposed to keep track of those details while memorizing 4 different people on 4 different continents. That’s unrealistic.

This particular mistake is almost always a beginner one as it takes a while, as a screenwriter, to understand what a reader can and can’t keep up with. That comes through feedback from dozens of people reading your scripts. Which is one of the reasons I encourage new writers to first master simple one-character stories before moving on to Marvel-level 22-parallel storyline screenplays.

This issue continues throughout the script, making relatively straightforward plot points difficult to keep up with. For example, Viola gives up her 10 million dollar share to Jackie. Jackie says why would you do that. Viola says why does it matter? Then, 30 pages later, Viola reveals that Okafor promised her that, if she could steal this diamond for him, he’d use his time loop machine to send her back to save her husband.

Why all the cloak and dagger? Why not just tell us FROM THE BEGINNING that Okafor offers Viola this? I would’ve been way more invested in Viola’s pursuit since I’d know that the stakes were much higher. I just didn’t understand why everything needed to be a secret from the reader. Sure, sometimes you want secrets but not with basic important story elements, like motivation.

I’m not going to knock everything about the script. The loop heist idea is cool. And, strategically speaking, this is the kind of script you want to write if you’re trying to get those Mission Impossible studio jobs. You write in a “big action script” adjacent genre, like sci-fi action. But the hard stuff should be the characters and plotting in a screenplay, not conveying basic stuff like GSU. It just killed any potential enjoyment of the script.

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned : Never make a script exactly 120 pages. It makes seasoned readers think that you read a screenwriting book that a script couldn’t be over 120 pages and so you nipped and tucked your script relentlessly until you finally got it down to exactly that number. There are definitely things in your script that are not precious enough for you to hold onto that number. If you’re at 120, try to get it down 115. Even 117 is better than 120. 120 has “newbie” written all over it as it reeks of OCD adherence to ancient screenwriting requirements.

The newsletter will be hitting your Inboxes sometime today (Monday). If you are not on the newsletter list, e-mail me at carsonreeves1@gmail.com and I’ll make sure you get it. I will, of course, be talking about the slap heard round the world and what it means for Hollywood going forward. I’ll be talking about the best picture winners as well as the best writing winners. I finally got to sit down and explore my thoughts on the Kenobi trailer. And there will be an opportunity to get a discount on your next set of screenplay notes. In the meantime, feel free to share your thoughts about that wild Oscars!

As we tighten up our first acts for the next Scriptshadow contest, the First Act Challenge, which you can start submitting to tomorrow (YAAAYYY!!!), I want to take a trip back to the last contest, the “Anything Goes Showdown,” and look at some of the scripts that didn’t make it.

I know how frustrating it can be, entering your scripts in contests and not knowing why they didn’t advance. So I wanted to give you a little behind the scenes look at what goes into the decision-making process. Granted, my contests are subjective, since it’s only me judging, but at least you can get an idea of why people turn down submissions. Let’s take a look!

Title: Bunker
Genre: thriller
Logline: A financially-struggling father is hired to keep up the maintenance of a luxury underground bunker, only to find himself in possible danger when a mysterious group on a retreat arrives
WYSR: This is a one location thriller with sci-fi elements and an arc for the main character.  I’d write more but it’s 10 pm

Why it didn’t get chosen: Funny enough, this is the kind of logline I usually go for. I like contained thrillers. I like mysterious groups showing up and throwing everything into disarray. I just like that setup for a movie. Also, as I’m thinking like a producer, stuff like this would be really cheap to make. The reason I didn’t pick it, though, is because the submission feels rushed. The word “thriller” is not capitalized. There are no periods at the end of the logline or “Why you should read” sentences. Even the WYSR admits that there’s a “rushed” component to this submission. My experience tells me that when a submission feels rushed, or sloppy, that that’s going to carry over into the script itself.

One of the mistakes screenwriters make is forgetting how many other people they’re competing against. They don’t know that the person reading their submission may have read 50 other submissions that week. Or 100. Or more. These readers are making direct comparisons between your submission and everybody else’s. So if they sense that you haven’t put everything into that query, they’re probably going to pass you over. The only exception would be if you have the greatest idea ever. But, as you can see, even someone who likes these types of movies wasn’t willing to risk their time on such a hastily written submission.

Title: Miss-Understanding
Genre: Guy Rom-Com
Logline: When a comedian’s attempted clever marriage proposal goes awry, he must find his upset girlfriend in her hometown, a city he’s never been to, right before she’s set to fulfill maid of honor duties at her younger sister’s wedding.

Why you should read: I have written in the double digits for screenplays, mostly with comedies.  This could be a Hangover meets Bridesmaids type of film that would once again involve finding someone for a wedding, but with more emphasis on the female aspect compared to the Hangover. This also would involve the bond between sisters, so you get the wedding conflict and the older sister wanting to be there for the younger sister dynamic as older sister’s typically do. That’s on top of the conflict between a romantic relationship. In this day and age, people try to always be overly creative, theatrical if you will, and often it can blow up in their face. This plays upon that and is a throwback to more risque comedies of the past.

Why it didn’t get chosen: I feel like this submission could’ve been improved 75% with a better logline. A reminder to hire me for your loglines guys (carsonreeves1@gmail – just $25!). The logline is both clunky and hard to understand. “When a comedian’s attempted clever marriage proposal…”. This is too vague. I’d prefer to know what actually happened in the proposal if it could fit into the logline. “…he must find his upset girlfriend in her hometown…” Why is she in her hometown? Didn’t he just propose to her? Did he propose in his own town and then she flew to her town? Or were they already in her town when he proposed and she ran off? There should never be this many questions when reading a logline. You also want to avoid these siphoned off comma-asides (“a city he’s never been to”) whenever possible. They give the logline a start-and-stop feel. Loglines should flow. Then a separate wedding is thrown into the mix at the last second. And even if you understand all of this, it still basically boils down to, “Guy has to go find his mad girlfriend,” which I’m not sure is big idea enough for a movie. So please, guys, come to me in order to fix these issues, preferably before you write the screenplay, so I can tell you what you’re up against.

Title: OUR TOYS IN MIAMI
Genre: Profane Comedy
Logline: A Cuban American private driver is recruited to cover a toy car patent case after her court reporter client gets shot and unable  to do so.
WYSR: As a toy car collector, I couldn’t help but be drawn to a real court case involving two European toy car companies that fought in a US court over a little motor.  What makes it more interesting is the case was set in 1985 Miami at the height of some serious drug cartel action at the time and all the assorted things that make Miami a unique setting and open to roast.  And I’ve put them all out here, wrapped up in a profane, no holds barred, but romantic, and often tender telling that dulls the offensive to a point.  I don’t like to brag about my expensive trips, but I just came back from the gas station. We need comedy more than ever.

Why it didn’t get chosen: I actually considered this script for the top 5. I’m always looking for unique stories that I haven’t seen before and this definitely fits the bill. The reason I backed off was because I don’t like made-up genres (Profane Comedy). In the past, that tends to mean a rookie script with a lot of mistakes. And while I love specificity in loglines, since it helps differentiate your idea from everyone else’s, this idea seemed almost too specific. A Cuban American private driver (extremely specific), a toy car patent case (super specific), a court reporter client who gets shot (oddly specific). If all three of these things felt more organically connected, I might have posted the script. But each of them feel like different movies. This might be a logline problem. I would only know if I read the script. But, as written, I just felt it was too messy to take a chance on.

Title: BLACK MARKET
Genre: Horror/Crime-Thriller
Logline: An aging African-American war veteran tracking her missing family must take down a criminal network which targets people of color — as a desired cuisine for the rich and powerful.
Pitch: BLACK MARKET is a disturbing and metaphorical peek into America’s racism toward and consumption of Black and Brown communities by way of Jordan Peele, Ari Aster, and Robert Eggers in an after hours session at A24’s main office — or so I dare imagine.

Why it didn’t get chosen: A lot of you might see this idea and think, “This should’ve made it, Carson.” It’s timely. These types of scripts are getting snatched up all over the place. The Black List would probably put it on the list based on the logline alone. What’s the deal? Well, I did consider it. In the end, though, I felt it was a couple of notches shy of being clever enough. White people eating people of color. It’s a bit blunt and on the nose, in my opinion. You’re always looking for those ideas that have that clever, possibly ironic, undercurrent. The example I always use is that magazine story that sold a couple of years ago about two ice cream truck owners who start a war with each other. Ice cream is associated with fun, happiness, and good times. So it’s a funny idea that two ice cream trucks would start a war with one another. If the political commentary in this script is really sharp, it may prove me wrong. But when I read a logline, I want my eyes to pop out. With this one I sort of squinted and said, “Ehhhh, maybe that could work,” which wasn’t enough for me to post it.

Title: High Society
Genre: Comedy / Romantic Comedy
Logline: A stoned slacker follows his frisbee into his rich neighbor’s yard, and then follows his heart as he courts a beautiful heiress who is 1000% out of his league.
Why You Should Read: This fish-out-of-bongwater story is a mashup of the stoner film and comedy of manners genres — a stoner comedy of manners, if you will. — Inspired by a summary of Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey, it’s a tale of class and grass in which traditions go up in smoke and sparks fly as a pair of star-crossed lovers learn that their high hopes can only be realized with a joint effort.

Why it didn’t get chosen: I loved the fun play-on-words throughout this submission. That’s the kind of thing that tells me, unlike the top entry, “Bunker,” that this writer really thought through his submission. My favorite was “fish-out-of-bongwater” story. But this is a simple case of knowing your audience. I’m not keen on stoner comedies. 99% of the regular comedy scripts I read are sloppy messes. The stoner comedies I read are even messier. So I’ve kind of given up on this sub-genre unless you send me the greatest stoner-comedy idea ever. You need to know who you’re sending your script to. If you’re sending a script to Nicholl, it better not be a sci-fi script, since no sci-fi script has ever won there. And you probably shouldn’t send a stoner comedy to Scriptshadow, although I guess it was free so why not take a chance. P.S. Nobody in Hollywood is well-read. So mentioning Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey might get you a lot of confused stares.

Title: PAST TOPEKA
Genre: Western
Logline: Years after their father betrayed a gang of outlaws to steal a fortune, 14-year-old Patrick and his two younger brothers greet one of that gang who comes searching for the fortune — and treats the boys like his own sons. When Patrick and his brothers discover the truth about the stranger, they must confront him and reclaim their father’s legacy.
Why: A good story well-told should count for something.

Why it didn’t get chosen: Westerns are hard to slip through the system because a lot of them sound the same. Someone betrayed someone and someone has to confront someone. I feel like Western writers make the mistake of loving Westerns so much they assume that just the offering of another one gets them points from a reader. No. A Western logline has to be even more clever, even more unique, than a logline from the other, more popular, genres. And this one just didn’t have anything in it that I felt I haven’t seen before. I also didn’t like the pitch. “A good story well-told should count for something.” That shouldn’t be a pitch. That should be a given. Everyone should think they have a good well-told story. If you have an idea that’s a little bland, like this one, your pitch should tell the recipient why it isn’t bland. On top of all this, the logline is clunky and, I suspect, leaves out information that might’ve helped it sound more intriguing. It could definitely use a rewrite.

Title: MATE
Genre: Horror
Logline: After a one night stand with a mysterious working girl, a man on the run in rural North Dakota is confronted by the reality that she may be pregnant with his child. When the man is welcomed into her family’s home, he believes the unborn baby will fulfill his dream of being a father. However, he soon comes to find that the woman and her kin have far more sinister intentions for him.
WYSR: We are a writing team that have been lurking Scriptshadow for over a decade, so this submission is a long time coming for us. Inspired by traditional gothic fiction we took a classic European horror monster and brought it to the oil fields and farmlands of North Dakota. Over the years, we’ve had several reputable producers and a-list talent attached to this script, but an official production has never come to fruition. Our goal this year is to finally get representation as writers, and we hope this script can help us do that.

Why it didn’t get chosen: This is another script I considered for the top 5. But I would say the logline falls into the category of “intriguing but not oh-my-god-I-have-to-read-this-now” worthy. Believe me, I know that coming up with an oh-my-god-I-have-to-read-this-now movie idea is hard. But you work so hard on these scripts and then you put them up against all these other ideas that are floating around, and people only have so much time to read stuff. So if that idea doesn’t scream “movie” to them, it’s a risk. It’s a risk of time. Because maybe it is a good script. But if it isn’t, then the reader just wasted their time reading something that was going to be a hard sell in the first place. For this reason, I would advise that these writers tell us, in their logline, what the sinister intentions are. That seems like the most unique aspect of the concept, and this a logline light on uniqueness. So why not make it a little flashier to increase the number of reads it gets?

Title: DOLL. MISTRESS. WIFE.
Genre: Drama / Erotic thriller
Logline: A frustrated air-con salesman installs a love doll at a secret rooming house, but finds the real women in his life increasingly unstable.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: Carson’s most recent newsletter bemoaned the current dearth of thrillers in the vein of Fatal Attraction. Well, look no further than this character-driven script with a unique conceit, suspense sequences influenced by the likes of De Palma and Argento, and terrific roles for two Asian actresses. Indeed, the Mistress and Wife became crucial to my original concept as I soon realized that a ‘Man and Doll’ story by itself would be too static. Ultimately, DOLL. MISTRESS. WIFE. strives for edge-of-the-seat entertainment wrapped up in a literary, cinematic and philosophical cocktail with a dash of personal experience thrown in for good measure!

Why it didn’t get chosen: I keep seeing this mistake over and over in loglines. It’s easily fixable with a quick logline consult (carsonreeves1@gmail.com). The first half of the logline doesn’t connect organically to the second half. An air-conditioning salesman installs a love doll at a room house, which makes us think we’re going to find out how that affects the rooming house. Instead, the logline takes a sharp 180 degree turn and starts talking about the women in the salesman’s life. Where is the connective tissue that links these two halves? It’s not there and, as a result, the logline sounds nonsensical. I hate to see this because writers are shooting themselves in the foot by simply not getting logline feedback. And it doesn’t even have to be from me. I’m sure any one of the commenters here on Scriptshadow could’ve helped with this one because it was so obvious.

What do you guys think? Did I miss out on a gem here? If you liked any of the loglines, I’m sure the writers would be more than happy to send you a link to their scripts. Let me know what you think of the pitches in the comments. And let me know if you want me to do another one of these because I have a ton of entries that didn’t make it.

AND KEEP WORKING ON THOSE FIRST ACTS! GET THOSE PAGES WRITTEN!