Welcome to 2019!

It snuck up on us, didn’t it?

I had this whole list of things I wanted to get done before the end of the year. Didn’t get to cross anything out. Not to worry, though. This is going to be a great year for screenwriting. I can feel it. And it’s gonna be an even better year on Scriptshadow. Here’s a breakdown of things to come.

Tomorrow, I’m going to post an article on the most underrated scene to write in all of screenwriting. This scene is so powerful, I would place its impact above saving the cat. Unfortunately, I don’t have a catchy “save the cat” like name for it yet. So we’ll have a little competition to see who can nickname the scene tomorrow.

Friday, I’ll be doing a script review. For the weekend, we’ll be having the first Amateur Offerings battle of the year. Let’s start the year off right and find a gem! If you’d like to partake in Amateur Offerings, send a PDF of your script to carsonreeves3@gmail.com with the title, genre, logline, and why you think your script should get a shot.

Monday, I’ll be reviewing Escape Room, assuming it doesn’t have a cataclysmic Rotten Tomatoes score. Why Escape Room? Simple. It’s the perfect spec script premise. If you’re writing a script to sell, you’re not going to get much closer to conceptual perfection than this. Tuesday and Wednesday, I’ll be reviewing scripts. And next Thursday, I’m writing up a First 10 Pages Article, as well as introducing the First 10 Pages Competition. You’ll definitely want to tune in for that.

So a month ago, on a pleasant 70 degree Los Angeles afternoon, I was reading an amateur screenplay. As I finished up the first act, I sat back and sighed. I was bored. Bored bored bored. It wasn’t that the script was bad. Bad implies incompetence. The script was… there. It existed. But that’s all it did. And that’s when a profoundly simple question struck me. Why is it so hard to write a good screenplay? We all love movies. We’ve seen hundreds of them. We know how to BE entertained. But for some reason, we don’t know how to reverse the process and entertain others.

In my opinion, the first problem is effort. I don’t think screenwriters put nearly as much effort into their screenplays as they need to. If you want to write something good, you have to do the boring stuff. You have to do research. You have to outline. You have to do more rewrites than you’d like. You have to write giant backstories for your mythology. You have to have higher standards than the average writer (not settle for “okay” scenes or “okay” characters). Something that drives me BANANAS is when I read a script about a particular subject matter and I know more about the subject matter than the writer! That tells me the only research they did was a cursory glance around the internet. That’s not how good writing works. Not only is a deep dive into your subject matter going to make the journey more fascinating, but the more you know about your subject matter, the more ideas you get. But we live in a time – sigh – when people only do the absolute minimum required. That’s fine. As long as you’re okay with the absolute minimum reaction.

Next, you have to have a good idea. This means a concept that feels larger than life (The Meg), that contains heavy conflict (Fight Club), that’s clever (Game Night), that’s ironic (Liar Liar), that taps into the zeitgeist (Crazy Rich Asians), that’s controversial (Get Home Safe). It takes most writers 6-10 scripts to finally recognize a good idea. Before that, writers write selfishly. They don’t recognize that their idea must appeal to an audience beyond themselves. This results in a lot of nebulous wandering narratives where the writer erroneously believes that just by letting the world into their head, they’re entertaining them. they’re making deep statements about the world.

Actually, one of a writer’s biggest ah-ha moments is when they see an advertisement for a boring movie that nobody’s going to see and they think, “Who in their right mind thought that was a good idea???” It’s only in that small window of time where, if they look at their own script through that same lens, they realize, “Ohhhhhhhhhh. Nobody would want to see this either!!” It’s then when they finally realize this is a business. They now go into the idea-creation process with a new tool – The “Is this a movie people would actually pay to see?” tool. One of the reasons so few writers make it in Hollywood is because they never have this ah-ha moment.

Finally, it’s about execution. Execution is bred from knowledge and practice. How many screenplays you’ve written. How many times you’ve encountered specific scenarios. It took me 10 lousy screenplays to recognize that movies don’t work if the hero isn’t active. For some of you, it will take less. Or, you can simply take my word for it and it won’t take you any screenplays at all. But that’s the case with this medium. You need to repeatedly fail at scenarios in order to know what to do when you encounter them again.

For a long time, I couldn’t figure out the second half of the second act. My scripts would always run out of steam before I got to the third act. That is, until, I read about the “lowest point” second-to-third-act transition. That being when your hero falls to his lowest point (“point of death” some teachers refer to it as) right before the third act. Now that I knew my hero was headed to this “point of death,” I could write towards that.

This is the part no writer wants to hear. But when it comes to writing a good screenplay, a pivotal variable is “time put in.” You have to write a lot. Then you have to write a lot more. Then more. The people who aren’t serious about this craft will fall to the wayside during this period. Just by the fact that you continue on, you increase your chances. At a certain point, you’ll know enough to pass the threshold by which Hollywood identifies professional writing. And assuming you’ve got a good idea with strong execution, you’ll make it. But make no mistake, it’s a long and trying journey. Here’s to conquering that journey in 2019!

Scriptshadow may be on a break til the new year. But that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of you! Is anyone doing the 10-Day Writing Challenge? How are you holding up? Don’t think, just write. That’s the key to defeating WR (Writing Resistance).

I’ve used this time to relax and catch up on some entertainment. I saw Bumblebee. It was surprisingly good, even if it took the screenplay for E.T. and copy-replaced every instance of “E.T.” with “Bumblebee.” Oh stop. I kid because I love. It was nice to have a director who actually cared about character this time around. A huge upgrade over the original Transformers movies for sure. Another movie I saw was Predator. Oh boy, that was a rough one. For the first 30 minutes, I was convinced I was watching the worst movie of 2018. I mean we have the autistic genius child trope, the Tourette Syndrome trope, the wise-cracking comedy relief trope. If there’s a trope that didn’t get used in this movie, I’m not aware of it. To the film’s credit, it gets better as it goes on. But not by much.

As for Netflix viewing, I tried to watch that John Grisham True Crime series, The Innocent Man. It’s pretty good. If good means boring. An episode and a half in and I know two women were murdered and confessions were made. I knew these things before the show started. Move faster please. I tried to watch that Black Mirror choose-your-own-adventure episode but pressing play informed me that my technology wasn’t up-to-date enough to watch it. Figuring this was part of the fun, I pressed play again. Same message. And again. Same message. Eventually I realized this wasn’t part of the show and that I really did have old technology. I guess no Black Mirror for me.

This turned out to be a blessing in disguise because it led me to check out Escape at Dannemora, the Showtime show that Ben Stiller directed. Ben Stiller is one of the most underrated directors in the business. He’s really really good. And this show doesn’t even utilize his keen directing eye. It’s all about character, acting, and story. I’ve only watched one episode but this may be the best TV show I’ve seen all year. I may do an article on it in the future. So check out the show!

Finally, someone told me about this writing program called Hemingway Editor. It operates within your browser so you don’t have to download anything. The program’s hook is that it assesses your writing on the fly, showing you what’s weak via various highlights. It also tells you (in real time) what level your writing is. I copy and pasted some of my writing on there for fun, and found that the majority of it hovers between 3rd and 4th grade level, lol. Um, can someone say, ego boost? Here I was this whole time aiming for kindergarten. Convinced it was faulty, I copy and pasted some famous works in there, such as a page of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, and her writing is at a 12th grade level!

I’m trying to figure out how it assesses this grade. I suspect big vocabulary words (which Shelley likes to use) may be contributing to the number. Maybe you guys can play with it and help find out. It’s kind of like a video game. What do you do to get your score up? Let me know what you come up with in the Comments Section!

A couple of you alerted me to this the other day. Why Jordan Peele is releasing a horror trailer on Christmas is beyond me. But it seems to have worked. Everyone is talking about this trailer. As you guys know, I loved that script for Get Out. However, when you have an out of nowhere hit for your first film, it’s almost impossible to follow it up. The combination of hits being lightning in a bottle and insane expectations result in something that’s often a huge let down. But holy schnikeeze does this look good. “Us” has easily become my most anticipated movie of 2019. Not only that, but it’s actually getting me excited for Jordan Peele’s Candyman reboot. Check out the trailer and try not to drool.

It’s a SPECIAL CHRISTMAS DAY CANDY CANE CONSULTATION OFFER. E-mail me at carsonreeves1@gmail.com with the subject line “CHRISTMAS CONSULTATION” and I will give you half-off my 4-Page Screenplay Notes package. Your script doesn’t have to be ready now. But you do have to pay to secure your spot. It’s been sixth months since I last offered this deal so e-mail quickly. The slots are going to go fast. In the meantime, here are some new year’s resolutions. Make sure to add your own resolutions to the comments section!

1) I will write strong ideas only – One of the biggest time wasters in screenwriting is starting with a weak concept. No level of execution can save a bad idea which means all those hours you spent writing that script were for naught. So let this be the year you stop wasting time on weak concepts only you, yourself, are interested in. In addition to sharing your concept with others to see if it’s any good, I suggest a 6-8 week incubation period for all new ideas. If you’re still excited to write the script 6-8 weeks after you came up with the idea, that’s a good indication the idea’s worth pursuing.

2) I will finish what I start – Most professional screenwriters will tell you that there are three times during each screenplay where you’re convinced the script doesn’t work and want to quit. The weak will fold during these moments. But fighting through these roadblocks often leads to the biggest creative breakthroughs. Not only that, but every time you stick with a script, you build the muscle that fights through obstacles and gets to the finish line.

3) I will set aside 2 hours a day, six days a week, to write – If you’re in your twenties with no family obligations, this number needs to be 4. But 12 hours a week is the absolute minimum for getting any significant writing work done. If you don’t think you have that much time, download one of those internet charting apps that tells you how long you’ve spent browsing each day. You’ll quickly realize you have more than enough time.

4) I will become better with character – Remember that the true currency of a Hollywood screenwriter is character. The screenwriters who can make their hero likable, add compelling flaws, add inner conflict, add vices, explore unresolved relationships, and arc characters, all in an emotionally affecting way that feels organic and invisible, are the ones who will rise to the top of the mountain. Every year, you should be pushing yourself to create bigger, deeper, more interesting characters.

5) I will become a more original scene writer – In the last 50 scripts I’ve read, I’d say that 97% of the scenes are ones I’ve seen already. Writers aren’t pushing themselves on a scene-by-scene basis to give us a consistently fresh story. This doesn’t mean every scene has to be the most original thing ever. It means that you’re not taking the lazy way out. The best way to beat this problem is to come up with a concept we haven’t seen before. Fresh concepts lead to all sorts of fresh scene opportunities. Lots of A Quiet Place’s scenes were new because the concept (if you make a noise, the monsters kill you) was new.

6) I will master two new screenwriting skills this year – Pick two major screenwriting skills (dialogue, theme, suspense, loglines, concepts, prose, conflict, dramatic irony, second act structure, setups and payoffs, etc.) and commit to mastering them by the end of the year. And do this every year. That means whenever you have free time, read an online article or a chapter about that specific writing tool. Then practice it. Write short scripts utilizing it. Write practice scenes focusing on it. If you’re not trying to improve specific screenwriting skills, you’re never going to get better.

7) I will stop blaming my lack of success on the external – I get it. If you’ve failed to succeed at screenwriting, it’s easier to blame the system (or nepotism, or geography, or sexism, or ageism). That way, you don’t have to take responsibility for your lack of success. But there is power that comes from taking responsibility. If you accept it’s something in yourself that’s hurt you, you have the ability to work on and change it. Blaming others is a bad way to live life anyway.

8) I will set clear goals for myself – The vaguer you are with your yearly goals, the less motivation you’ll have to finish them. Write out clear achievable goals and hit them. If you don’t know where to start, target one major screenwriting contest in the first half of the year and a second contest in the second half. Have a screenplay done and sent by each deadline. By all means necessary, meet your goals!

9) I will get feedback – Stop living in your bubble. Stop making excuses. You’re not getting anywhere in this business without feedback. Get your scripts out to people. Listen to what they have to say. The number of things I assumed weren’t problems in my screenwriting but were in my early days is embarrassingly large. You’ve got blind spots as well. And you’ll never correct them until you have a third party telling you what they are.

10) I will enjoy myself – Remember why you got into screenwriting in the first place. Because you love movies. So if you’re ever down or angry or frustrated during a writing session, step away from the computer, take a deep breath, remember back to that feeling you had when you first decided to become a screenwriter, SMILE, then get back to it. Our job is to entertain others. If you can’t have fun doing that, what can you have fun doing?

Genre: Horror
Premise: (from IMDB) Five years after an ominous unseen presence drives most of society to suicide, a mother and her two children make a desperate bid to reach safety.
About: Bird Box started off as a novel. Screenwriter Eric Heisserer (Arrival) actually began adapting the novel before it was finished. How early on was this adaptation process? Heisserer would occasionally call Josh Malerman to see if it was okay to add something here or there in the movie, to which Malerman would reply, “Ooh, that’s good. Can I put that in the book?”
Writer: Eric Heisserer (based on Josh Malerman’s novel)
Details: 2 hour running time

It’s been a long time since I read the script for Bird Box but I remember liking it a lot. And not just for its concept. The script’s central idea – not being able to look at the monsters – was a brilliant way to keep the movie cheap. If the characters don’t see them, neither do we, and that means you get an expensive monster movie without having to create expensive monsters. And it’s not only that. Much of what scares people in horror movies isn’t the actual monster, but the threat of the monster, which is why you can get away with showing so little for so long. That’s the theory, anyway. Did this approach work for Bird Box? Let’s find out.

Bird Box had one of the best openings to a film all year. If we’re being honest, it’s hard to screw “world falling apart” openings up. Even the most basic imagery – people running for their lives, screaming, violence, chaos – is exciting to watch. But that’s been the problem as of late. Directors have been showing that and only that, and it’s gotten a bit stale. Susan Bier’s choices here feel much more intense, such as a random woman in the hospital banging her bloody head against the window than staring down the pregnant Malorie. Or Malorie’s sister, who’s trying to escape this chaos, driving them away before *seeing* one of these things, only to switch into suicide mode, weaving the car in and out of traffic while Malorie attempts to stop her. It was not only incredibly intense, but it brilliantly set up the movie’s hook – DON’T LOOK.

From there, Bird Box switches to a cross-cutting structure that stuffs Malorie into a suburban house with ten other characters right after the event, then occasionally cuts to five years later, where Malorie and two young children are attempting to navigate a boat down a river while all three are blindfolded, representing the new reality for anyone who survived the initial event. The three are attempting to get to a bunker full of people, which is conveyed via an opening radio voice over of a man explaining where the bunker is and how to get there.

So how did the movie hold up? Was it as good as the script?

For a good portion of the film, yes. Especially the first half. There was a genuine excitement born out of what just happened, not completely understanding the threat, and needing to learn the rules. John Malkovich is such a great actor and his unique personality brought an energy to the early house scenes that ensured we were always entertained.

From there, the first script change arrived (or at least, I don’t think this was in the script – maybe someone can confirm this). Bier and Heisserer expanded the mythology so that instead of only needing to see the monsters to turn suicidal, certain people would become influencers, tricking humans into believing it was okay to look, encouraging them to take off their blindfolds, only for it to be a lie. The duped party would see the monster and then commit suicide.

I understood why they did this. When you need to keep your eyes closed to live, you keep your eyes closed. Even if someone were to rip your blindfold off, you could still just shut your eyes. This way, there was an added threat. Especially because these “influencers” would pretend to be normal people. For the most part, this worked, as it led to two of the more exciting scenes in the film (a man trying to get inside of the supermarket and a man attacking the boat). It made the mythology a little murkier, but overall it was a clever choice.

Bier made a couple of choices that hurt the film, though. For starters, she placed these characters in a giant beautiful house. Not only that, but the inhabitants covered the windows with a series of perfectly crafted rainbow-esque paper, casting a beautiful spectrum of colors across the walls and characters at all times. It was in stark contrast to the dark dreary hopeless house that was painted in the script. And it wasn’t just that. It feels like more characters were added. Too many. This gave the big bright perfectly lit house a party atmosphere. I was supposed to feel scared. Instead I wanted to go out clubbing.

The critical moment for Bird Box came about 70% of the way into the film. A few scenes after letting a new member into the house, a middle aged British business man, we learn that he’s actually an influencer. He begins spouting his demon rhetoric and ripping the covering off all the windows, forcing everyone to look. One by one, all of the people start dying. If there were a meter on the side of every movie telling you, on a scale from 1 to 10, how well the current scene was working, the meter would’ve been at a 3 here. For the first time, it became evident that Bird Box’s conceit of never seeing the monsters was hurting it. This moment was the culmination of the pervious 70 minutes. It needed to be big. It needed monsters. Instead, we got a mildly threatening British man yelling a bunch of gibberish.

Another issue I wish they would’ve hashed out was the relationship between Malorie and the children. It was so cold as to be nonexistent. The reason this is a big deal is because the entire emotional thru-line of the 5 Years Later storyline is built on the connection between Malorie and those children. If you look at the major comp for Bird Box, A Quiet Place, that film put a ton of focus on establishing a connection between the parents and the children. Here they assume we’ll do that work for them, and that’s always a dangerous game to play. I never got the sense that Malorie had a connection to these two kids. I feel like that could be its own TV show – Assumptions In Screenwriting. It would cover assumptions writers make and the disastrous effects of doing so.

With that said, Bird Box is better than most of the movies Netflix makes. It’s stylish. It’s got big budget production values. The acting is strong. I have a feeling this will be a big hit for the streaming service.

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

What I learned: I’ll leave this question up to you guys. Is never seeing the monster a good thing? Or, at some point, have you built up so much curiosity that you need to show it? Eric Heisserer, in an interview with Slash Film, is sticking to the film’s guns. “We realized the moment that one of us started talking about even small features of what the monster might be, or the antagonist, down to a specific silhouette of a shadow or an appendage that entered the frame somewhere, there was always someone else in the room who would say, “Well, that isn’t scary to me.” So it defeated the purpose. We kept pulling back.