Genre: Thriller/Mystery
Premise: Psychologist Dr. Martin Park specializes in working with clients trying to curtail extreme violent urges. However, when a series of brutally murdered bodies are discovered in his small New England hometown, it’s up to Martin to figure out which of his patients is responsible.
About: This script finished in the bottom third of last year’s Black List. The writer has a previous credit, a small movie called, Twelve Days of Christmas.  He seems to like numbers in his titles.
Writer: Michael Boyle
Details: 109 pages

We gotta cast John Cho in this, right?

Did somebody say….. MURRRRRDERRRR?

Ooh, that sounds like a delicious appetizer.

The entree? A little something called SERIAL KILLING.

One of the most reliable spec script subject matters in the biz. Yes, I said ‘biz’ instead of business. Deal with it.

You know what I’ve been noticing? A lot of writers are writing to rounded-off page counts. So, they write 90 pages. Or 100 pages. Or, in today’s case, 110 pages. But, what they actually do is they write one page less (89, 99, 109) so that, with the title page, the PDF doc rounds it out to 90, 100, 110.

I actually think this is a good strategy. It feels more purposeful, like you have discipline. As opposed to if you have some sloppy page count like “114.” Who writes a 114 page script?? Dare I say that person is a psychopath?

Oh, look at that! A perfect segue into today’s script. :)

We’re in a small beautiful town called Raven Lake. Dr. Marvin Park (Korean-American), who’s come here with his gorgeous wife Jessica, is a world-famous psychiatrist who’s known for his best-selling book on how to spot serial killers. Marvin has parlayed that success into becoming the GO-TO guy who treats people with murderous tendencies.

Unfortunately for Raven Lake, that means a bunch of psychopaths have moved into town so they can be treated by him. Marvin’s little practice is going great until his secretary, Zoe, is dismembered and her body pieces spread out all around the office (her arm is even used as a fifth fan blade).

This brings suicidal FBI agent Helaine Ross into the mix. Ross, who’s only doing this job to stave off a shot to the head for a while, immediately starts blaming Martin for this problem. He brought these serial killers to town and now one of them is finally wreaking havoc.

The potential killers include Fred Vasquez, who loves to mix sex and violence. There’s Terry Tomlinson, a closeted black gay man who wants to kill men. There’s Kyle Egan who’s obsessed with his mailman and has lots of dreams about killing him. There’s Dustin Kelly who feels an inherent need to kill any woman who dares to dress provocatively. And there are a couple more suspects.

Once a second victim is killed by burning him alive then roasting marshmallows above his burning body, Martin realizes that this is a lot worse than he thought. You see, Martin’s flaw is that he believes he’s a miracle worker. He believes his work keeps these people from acting out their urges. In order for Martin to help Ross, he’s going to have to come to terms with his worst fear: That there’s someone he wasn’t able to help.

Today’s script suffers from a type of problem that’s hard to explain. The best word I can use to describe it is: inelegance. We’re dealing with intense subject matter – killing – that’s being balanced out through comedy. That requires a deft touch as a writer. If you get even a little sloppy, the ruse is up. We can see behind the curtain. That’s where the inelegance comes in.

For example, the first person who gets killed is Zoe, Martin’s secretary. Not only is she killed, she’s dismembered in horrifying fashion, her body parts spread throughout the waiting room. A day after this happens, Martin asks his wife, Jessica, to fill in for her until he finds somebody permanent.

I know that, at first, Martin is insistent that one of his patients is not the killer. But even so, your job as a husband, first and foremost, is to protect your wife. To place her in the very same situation that led to the brutal killing of his previous secretary doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

The writer might argue that to do this is funny. Because it’s so ridiculous. Of course you would never place your wife in such a dangerous position. But I’m not buying that. When the writer uses humor as an excuse to do illogical things, they’ve lost me. You do not get to lean on the comedy-card to get away with weak story developments.

And then you had stuff like Agent Ross, who we see putting a gun to her head to kill herself just before she gets the phone call to join this case. Tonally, that’s too dark. Way too dark. You’re using humor when it’s convenient (hey wifey, I need you to take the position that just ended in another attractive woman being hideously murdered) and darkness when it’s convenient (Ross’s suicidal tendencies feel like they were pulled from a deleted scene in Requiem for a Dream).

This is what I mean by inelegance. If you’re aiming for a complex tone, you can’t miss. You can’t run a restaurant that serves Olive Garden bread rolls, grade-A prime rib steak, and cinnamon sticks for dessert. It’s gotta be all one thing or all another.

Despite these choices, I was hanging on to this script with the tips of my fingernails because I wanted it to work so badly. Every once in a while, the script would have a moment that pulled me back in, such as some funny dialogue.

But then the script would revert back to another dream sequence. Dream sequences are one of the BIGGEST indicators of weak screenwriting. Unless they’re baked into the story (Nightmare on Elm Street), out of 10,000 scripts I’ve read, there have been maybe 3 that have used dream sequences effectively. There’s something inherently sloppy about them. And if you have any doubts about that analysis, ask yourself if any of your current favorite films use dream sequences. They don’t. They’re the screenwriting equivalent of nuclear waste.

So what about who the killer was? Good reveal?

Unfortunately not. The writer telegraphs who the killer is almost from the very first moment they enter the story. Granted, it’s hard to surprise an audience these days with a killer reveal. We just talked about that on The Best and The Brightest. But it’s possible. It just takes work. You have to push yourself beyond the obvious choices.

This script needed more of a deft touch to handle the tone it was going for. In yesterday’s script, the writer knew EXACTLY what he was going for. As a result, his script felt confident the whole way through. Here, the writer doesn’t know what kind of movie he’s writing so the story feels a lot less sure of itself. What do I mean by less sure of itself? I’ll give you an easy comp: Amsterdam. The tone of that movie was all-over-the-place. It was often unclear where the comedy stopped and the drama began. I felt the same thing here.

I’m not saying you can’t make these scripts work. I thought The Voices (the script more than the movie), captured this tricky tone well. But because the tone can feel like a moving target, if you don’t have an ASSURED PLAN for the execution, it will unravel on you quickly.

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

What I learned: The reason I hate dream sequences so much is that you only have 50 scenes in a script. Each scene, then, is precious. You should want to put the best possible scene forward in each of those 50 slots. If you add a dream sequence – a sequence that doesn’t push the story forward and only operates as a flashy momentary distraction – you are wasting one of those precious 50 slots.

Quite possibly the strangest reboot of a film ever!

Genre: Comedy/Adventure
Premise: I’m going to keep this a surprise reveal for the review itself since it’s such a strange concept.
About: That’s right. They’re doing an Anaconda remake! The current draft of the script is written by Tom Gormicon and Kevin Etten, who penned Beverly Hills Cop 4 and The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent. For some reason, they are not listed as a team on this draft, but rather two individual writers, despite the fact that they always work on the same projects together.
Writers: Tom Gormicon and Kevin Etten
Details: 104 pages

You know, I went back and forth on whether I wanted to review this script.

An Anaconda reboot? Really?

Who was in the last one again? Ice Cube and J-Lo? That’s four names without a single name in them.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how valuable a concept like this is in Hollywood and that there’s a huge (big clue there) screenwriting lesson to be learned from it. Two, actually. I’m going to share those lessons with you in a second. But first, let’s see what the Anaconda reboot looks like…

Doug is a frustrated wedding videographer who yearns for the old days when he and his buddies used to make films together. The old crew was a gigantic fan of the original Anaconda, so much so that, when they were in high school, they filmed their own low-budget version of the movie.

Now, twenty years later, they’re all stuck in ruts in their lives, looking for meaning. Besides Doug, there’s Griff, who went on to become a real actor in Hollywood, albeit as 10th billing in shows like SWAT. Then there’s Griff’s old girlfriend, Claire, who just got divorced. During a little friend reunion, Griff reveals that he has the rights to the original book that inspired Anaconda. “What if we made the real movie we wanted to make in high school?” is his pitch.

Everybody invests a little money and they head off to the Amazon river in Brazil. They get a real anaconda from a snake wrangler, Santiago, and rent a boat to go down the river from mysterious boat guide, Ana. They then do a run-and-gun style production of Anaconda, a la “Monsters.”

But their plan goes awry when, during a scene with the snake, Griff freaks out, throws it off him, and the snake falls into the propellers of the boat and gets sliced up. With no snake anymore, they have to re-think the movie, bringing native Ana in as one of the cast for authenticity, and using real boat shots as they head up the river to the next city.

But when they learn that Ana is on the run from the cops and that there’s an actual giant snake trailing them, things get real quickly. Soon, Santiago is sucked up by the giant snake and they have to abandon their boat to escape the police. Stuck in the jungle… filmmaking becomes secondary to staying the f&*k alive.

What’s the lesson I want you to learn today?

There are two. The first is: Hollywood loves big things. They like big apes. They like big lizards. They like big dinosaurs. They like big robots. They like big sharks.

It’s one of the simplest yet most bankable concepts in Hollywood. Find a scary animal and make a big version of it! As silly as that sounds, doing that one thing could make you a million bucks.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that SIZE isn’t just about the antagonist in your script. Size is about the nature of the concept itself. In order to be worthy of a movie, your story needs to be LARGER THAN LIFE. I see a lot of writers making the mistake of writing scripts about average situations or “sorta big” situations. That’s not what movies are good at. Movies are for LARGER THAN LIFE SITUATIONS. The biggest of the big.

I was thinking about American Beauty the other day because of a screenwriting lesson I wanted to incorporate into yesterday’s post. On the surface, that movie is a downbeat meandering drama. But when you look deeper, the main character is dead at the opening of the story. That’s as big as it gets – life or death.

One explanation I’ve always liked was: Your movie should be about the biggest moment in your protagonist’s life. If it isn’t, you’re not telling a big enough story.

Always keep that in mind when you’re coming up with your movie ideas. Movies are larger than life. I’d take that a step further even. I’d say: Movies are LARGEST than life. Does it make grammatical sense? No. But I want to tattoo the importance of GOING BIG with your ideas into your brain. Cause if you go small… you’re fighting an almost impossible battle.

Okay, but what about Anaconda!? Is J-Lo and her trainwreck love life back?

I mean, I’ll give it to these writers. This is a unique take. And it’s way more interesting than giving us older flabbier versions of J-Lo and Ice Cube reciting lines from earpieces in front of blue screens that were positioned in their backyards so that they didn’t actually have to leave their homes to shoot the movie.

This is Sony and they’re clearly going for a Jumanji vibe. At one point, the script gets so silly that, as our crew is shooting on their boat in the river, they see another giant boat drifting towards them with huge movie lights and booms and cameras and we see that it’s the real Anaconda remake. Everybody turns to Griff and says, “I thought you had the rights.” And Griff says, “What are movie rights really?” That’s the kind of tone we’re dealing with here.

And they need that tone because the story is wacky. It’s even hard to buy into the initial premise – that all these guys would travel to the literal Amazon to shoot a movie on the fly. The time, planning, and money that would be required is way more than even a tenth of what they’re pretending it would cost here.

This goes back to yesterday’s post. The writers are lying. They’re lying a lot here. There are so many moments you can point out and say, “That’s not truthful.” “That’s not realistic.” Sure, you can hide some of that behind humor. But at least SOME of your movie has to make sense.

The second most clever thing they do is, when their real snake dies, they talk about making an adjustment in the story where they treat things like Spielberg’s Jaws. You never see the snake as much. They, instead, focus on the characters. It’s at that point you realize that they’ve barely showed the snake in our movie at all. So it’s art imitating life while also keeping the price of the real movie down, which is appealing to even the biggest of studios, like Sony.

The most clever thing they did was have the characters stumble upon the abandoned final set for the ACTUAL production of the Anaconda reboot and use that as their way to trap and kill the snake. That part I liked! But you have to get through so much silliness and so many paper-thin character moments to enjoy that climax.

I never bought into the setup. And when you don’t buy into the setup, it doesn’t matter what the writers do from then on. You’re already disengaged. But I find it cool that these writers tried something different. It just didn’t work in my opinion. Will it work with Jack Black and Seth Rogen or whoever they cast in this? Maybe. We’ll have to see.

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

What I learned: I already told you what I learned. Go big physically or go big metaphorically. Casual life experiences have no place in the movies.

You must sign up! It’s completely free!

MEGA!

New entries keep streaming in every day. If you are still putting the finishing touches on your script, here are a couple of tips. At this point, you should only be making minor scene changes, dialogue changes, and grammar and spelling fixes. To be honest, I wouldn’t do anything more than dialogue changes. Dialogue is something you can change right up to 3-4 days before you send your script out. Then, I would only spend the remaining days checking that new dialogue for grammar, spelling, and clarity issues. I’ve seen so many instances of last-second dialogue changes that are sloppy, confusing, and have grammar issues. That’s why you don’t want to make dialogue changes a day before you send your script off.  You need those last few days to clean up.

Let’s see what you’ve got!

What: Mega-Showdown (Online Feature Screenplay Contest)
What I need from you: Title, genre, logline, your first five pages
Optional: movie tagline, movie-crossover pitch
Contest Date: Friday, July 26th
Deadline: Thursday, July 25th, 10pm Pacific Time
Send to: entries should be sent to carsonreeves3@gmail.com
How: Include “MEGA” in the subject line
Price: Free

This 7-figure sale is getting the Netflix treatment

Genre: Mystery/Thriller
Logline: A sleep specialist is the final hope to wake up a suspected murderer who’s been asleep for four years.
About: Today’s book is from debut author, Matthew Blake. Blake worked in politics for ten years but like a lot of you, secretly wanted to be a writer. His debut book, Anna O., had everyone going nuts, with multiple publishers coming in with 7 figure offers. If we could all be so lucky! Concurrently, super producer Greg Berlanti snatched up the book to turn into a TV series for Netflix. The Netflix deal makes sense. Not only is Berlanti a producer on the breakout Netflix hit, “You,” the streamer is currently the only kid on the block without a high-profile mystery-thriller show. So did they make the right move picking this one up?
Author: Matthew Blake
Details: 420 pages

The big reason I’m reviewing this book today is that writing a mystery novel and turning it into a TV series is currently one of the best paths for writers to make a lot of money.

Streamers are DYING for these shows.

But how do you come up with one of these mystery ideas? Haven’t they all been done already? Apparently not! When Matthew Blake learned that the average human spends 33 years of their life asleep, he felt like he’d found an untapped idea market. And thus Anna O. Was born.

Dr. Benedict Prince (Ben) is a sleep doctor. Maybe the best in the world. Which is why he’s recruited by the famous Abbey Sleep Center to look over their newest patient, Anna Ogilvy, also known throughout the world as “Sleeping Beauty.”

4 years ago, Anna O. killed two people during one of those team-building retreats but when the cops showed up, Anna was asleep. It turns out Anna has been a lifelong sleepwalker, so the assumption is that she killed the victims when she was sleepwalking. No problem, we’ll get to the bottom of this when she wakes up. Except Anna doesn’t wake up. In fact, she’s been asleep for FOUR YEARS.

After everybody and their mom (including her own mom) try to wake Anna up, people lose hope. However, Ben wrote some papers on sleep that have made some waves in the community. Which is why Ben is now appointed Anna’s primary doctor. He’s the last chance they have at waking her up.

The book takes us through different points of view, mainly Ben’s, as he uses his 3-pronged ‘wake-up’ formula (touch, listen, smell) to tempt Anna out of sleep. The main way that Ben is different from all the other sleep doctors is that he believes you have to use the ‘mind’ not the ‘brain’ to wake someone up. Whatever the hell that means.

We also hear from ex-wife Clara, a cop who was called to the scene of the famous murder. There’s a mysterious blogger constantly dropping tips about Sleeping Beauty on Reddit that she can’t possibly know. We even hear from Anna herself, whose journal leading up to the night’s events is drip-fed to us entry by entry.

It appears that Anna, an aspiring writer, was working on a story about the infamous 1999 murder of a woman who killed both of her stepchildren while sleepwalking. Anna’s journal entries indicate that she was getting close to figuring out the truth to that murder. Could Anna’s sleep-induced nightmare be tied to a murder from 20 years ago? And is Ben being 100% honest about his relationship with Anna? The answers are dependent on Anna waking up.

You know, sometimes the world just confuses me.

I have a solid feel for the screenwriting world. I know, for example, when a crappy script sells, that there are three likely reasons why it happened. I understand those reasons and therefore I can write the sale off as following some form of logic.

But I always thought that novel-writing required pure talent. You needed to be able to actually write. Because, unlike a script, which is just a blueprint for what the finished product will look like, a novel IS the finished product. So you’d think it would need to be, you know, good.

Maybe I’m overreacting here. I suppose I should give Blake credit for the insane amount of research he’s done. I could tell that this man knows more about sleep than 99% of the people on the planet.

But for God’s sake, THIS PLOT! This plot is so wacky and stupid. I’m not even convinced the concept works! This girl kills someone while sleepwalking. Then she wakes up momentarily to see what she’s done. Then she falls asleep for 4 straight years. What???

Those are two completely different things, both of them incredibly rare. What are the odds of both happening at once?

Someone paid a million bucks for this. I can see thousands of novelists everywhere shaking their heads in fury. You mean *THIS* is all we had to do to become millionaires? Come up with a flashy premise that only vaguely resembles a story??

The book obviously wants to be Gone Girl but – and I’m going to regurgitate what I always say on this site – the reason that Gone Girl was good was because it was SIM-PLE. Girl goes missing. Her diary proves her husband is the murderer. Midway through we learn that the diary was made up and she orchestrated her own disappearance.

This book is just… what the hell. It has sixteen million twists! Every few chapters, there’s another twist. If every plot beat is a twist, the twists stop mattering. What makes twists work is that they are singular. We work our way up to them, carefully setting them up, and that’s why they hit us like a ton of bricks.

It’s a very first-time writer thing to do — twist twist twist twist twist. You do that when you’re not confident as a writer, when you don’t believe in your story. You’re constantly thinking, “Am I doing enough? Is this boring? It’s too boring. I have to make something happen!”

Good writers are confident that they’ve built characters compelling enough that we’ll want to stay with them even when crazy things aren’t happening. I mean, these characters WEREN’T compelling enough for that. But if you can’t even write characters, what are you doing writing a book?

There was really only one thing that worked – the suspense that was built up for Anna waking up. Despite despising every contrived chapter that was written, I kept reading because I wanted to see what happened when Anna woke up. And for about three chapters there, when she woke up, the book actually worked. It, of course, fell apart immediately after. But a 3-chapter win streak for a writer of this caliber is admirable.

By the way, Anna wakes up at the midpoint. So at least he got that part right (have something big happen at the midpoint of your story).

Here’s my guess at what happened and you book experts can let me know if I’m right. Books like this are never meant to be books. They’re created to become movies or TV shows. The purchase of the book by the publishing house acts as a dual-purpose publicity push that gets eyes on the sale that can then be concurrently used to push the book around town in the hopes of securing a movie/show deal.

In that sense, I suppose this works. We’ve got a high concept here. A screenwriter buddy of mine who adapts high-profile material has reminded me that lots of good movies are adapted from weak books because you get to pick and choose the best parts.

I don’t know if any screenwriter can possibly save this book, though. This is trashy weak overly-twisty unconfident writing in its purest form, the kind of thing that if it does make it all the way to Netflix, will be lucky to crack a 30% on Rotten Tomatoes.

The ending alone, with its 96,000 twists, has a good shot at sending half its audience into their own 4-year slumber. A 4-year slumber of stupidity.

The only positive I can take out of this is that it proves you clearly don’t need to be a good writer to make millions of dollars. But the weaker you are, the flashier your concept has to be. That’s all this book had going for it.  I guess it was enough.

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

What I Learned: One of the things I’ve found while reading books is that good authors integrate their research into the plot. So if you’re researching people who have been asleep for a long time and you come across a particularly interesting real-life case? Figure out a way to work that case into your story. That’s what Blake does. This could’ve just been about Anna’s case. But Blake found another case through research that he decided to work into the plot – the sleep case from 20 years earlier when the mother killed her step-children while sleepwalking.

Genre: Horror
Premise: A young couple who perform rituals to raise people from the dead get more than they bargained for when they attempt to re-animate a young girl who doesn’t remember how she died.
About: This script finished with 8 votes on last year’s Black List. The writer is brand new!
Writer: Mike George
Details: 98 pages

Rising star Dominic Sessa for Ryan?

As I’ve pointed out before, you can really up your chances of breaking into the business if you come up with either a HIGH or MARKETABLE concept that can be shot in a single location.

Here’s the difference between the two. A high concept is something that has that all-important ‘strange attractor.’ The upcoming The Watchers is an example of this. A group of people get stuck in a looped forest that’s impossible to get out of, forcing them to live together in an isolated cabin in the woods.

Absent a high concept, you can still break through with a MARKETABLE concept. That just means you’re writing an idea in a genre that’s marketable and the idea itself lives in the same marketable space as other movies studios have released.

And yes, you can achieve both of these with the same idea. I’m just saying that if you don’t achieve the high concept, you can still write a script that people want to buy as long as it’s marketable.

Today’s script lands in that high concept space, albeit right at entry level: A couple attempts to raise the dead at an isolated AirBnB to disastrous consequences.

27 year old Shay and 25 year old Ryan are trucking it out to a remote house. We’re not sure why yet. We just know that Ryan is a little more smitten with Shay than Shay is with him. In fact, early on, Ryan attempts to propose to Shay, who steadfastly refuses. She’s not where he is yet.

The two get to a remote AirBnB farmhouse and start unloading their stuff. And that’s when we see a body bag. With a body in it! The couple lugs the dead body into the home. From there, we start to get hints about what’s going to happen. They’re going to perform a seance to bring this dead girl back to life.

The reason we’re bringing her back to life is explained soon after. They’re working for a client. This is his daughter. What they do is bring people back to life for clients so that they can have one last conversation with their loved ones before they move on.

However, the process for bringing people back to life is complicated. It requires writing out detailed pentagrams on the ground, writing in ancient languages on the walls in blood. Oh, and there’s a lot of sacrificing. One of them always has to sit within the pentagram and give a lot of blood in order to bring the dead person back to life.

Once they prep everything, the client, 40-something Mark, shows up. But the second he walks through the door (spoiler) Shay looks at him in shock. Shay knows this man. And he knows her. If this is the client, she knows, then chances are their dead girl is not his daughter. And that begs the question: Who the hell is she?

The first half of this script was awesome.

I was on the edge of my seat.

Two things I absolutely love in a screenplay are 1) Show me something I haven’t seen before. And 2) Give me a deep compelling mythology that I know you know intimately.

This script nailed both.

I’ve read ideas sort of like this before. But nothing quite like this. A couple who work as spiritual necromancers rent a home to perform a resurrection.

And then you have the mythology… this writer went all in on this mythology! I got the sense that he must’ve dabbled in witchcraft at some point in his life. He knows way too many details about the practice not to have been a part of it somehow.

Those two things powered the first act of the screenplay.

I’ll tell you something else that powered it. The word “No.” In my dialogue book, one of my big dialogue tips is utilizing the power of “no” in conversation. “Yes” rarely leads you anywhere interesting in a conversation. But the word “no” almost always leads you there.

Early in the script, Ryan, who clearly likes Shay more than she likes him, proposes to her. And what does she say? She says, “No.” The reason that answer is so important is because it lays a thick claptrap of conflict over the rest of the story. Every conversation they now have is affected by this new jilted dynamic.

Think about what their conversations would be like if she had said yes. I’ll give you a hint. They rhyme with ‘boring.’ With Ryan now wondering what he’s done wrong, why she doesn’t like him as much as he likes her, there’s subtext in every conversation that’s had.

So we’ve got an [x] impressive here, right?

Well, let me say this. I admire whenever a writer takes a big creative swing. Whenever they make a daring choice, there’s value in that. Unfortunately, I think George made the wrong choice and it kind of destroyed the rest of the screenplay. Spoilers ahead.

This Mark guy comes in and he’s supposed to be the dead girl’s father. He wants to reunite with her one last time. But then we see him and Shay giving each other eyes. We’re wondering what’s going on. What we find out is that he and Shay used to work together as “con men” bilking people out of money, pretending to raise the dead.

Mark then heard that Shay was doing her business with someone new. And she still owed him money or something. So he pretended to be a client in order to find her and get that money back.

The reason the choice doesn’t work is because it took a small intimate story with a really fun idea and made it both too silly and too complex. Once you introduce con men into other genres, it never feels right. It’s the kind of thing that only works when you establish it at the outset: This is going to be a con man movie.

But the bigger issue is that if George would’ve stuck with what got him here, he was on the verge of writing a great script. Because you’ve got this really cool mystery. When they’re slowly bringing this girl back to life, they’re realizing that she’s different. There’s some sort of mystery to her. That had me turning the pages.

But, also, you destroy your most emotionally impactful storyline before it ever had a chance to breathe, no pun intended. A father getting an opportunity to say goodbye to his daughter one last time… I wanted to see that. Especially after all the effort Ryan and Shay put into bringing her back alive. I felt that George really robbed the story of a great moment there.

Also, we should’ve left Mark in the ‘former or current lover’ category. We’ve already established that Shay doesn’t want to marry Ryan. You’ve built a compelling conflict between them via that storyline. Her sleeping with Mark would’ve been a natural extension of that storyline and now you’ve got this other layer of b.s. the three of them have to deal with as they bring this daughter back to life.

This happens sometimes. We get overzealous as writers. We get bored with our stories. We feel like we have to do more than we actually do. So we come up with big wild plotlines when a smarter smaller more emotional plotline would’ve been better.

I’m going to give this script a [x] worth the read because its first half is so good. But it’s one of those ‘hanging on for dear life’ worth the reads. Cause the second half was way too messy.

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

What I learned: Build your relationship backstories from elements organic to your concept. In other words, sure, you could’ve had Ryan and Shay begin their relationship at a coffee shop. But a coffee shop is generic. Instead, use the organic elements of your story to explain how they met. Which is what George does. Ryan and Shay met because Shay was originally working alone, Ryan hired her after his mom died, and they started dating after that. Not only does it make more sense but it feels genuine because it’s original. It stems from the core of your idea as opposed to some generic place that anybody in any movie could’ve met.