Genre: Crime/True Story
Premise: Based on a true story, a young Los Angeles Sheriff’s dream job sours when he realizes that the department he serves in is mired in corruption and a systemic culture of moral depravity. Based on a true story.
About: Today’s script comes from a Scriptshadow veteran, Kevin Sheridan. I’ve done some consultations with Kevin in the past when he was just a young eager screenwriter, so it’s great to see his career continue to progress. The script finished with 14 votes on last year’s Black List.
Writer: Kevin Sheridan
Details: 123 pages

Gordon-Levitt for Sexton?

I think I need to hire FanofYou, the commenter who turned me onto yesterday’s awesome screenplay, Himbo, and now this script, Colors of Authority. This would make my job so much easier because I’d always get to read good scripts! The man (or woman) seems to know what makes for a sharp screenplay.

Better yet, let’s take a look at the process that led to these two discoveries, as it’s a great lesson to screenwriters everywhere. The way that FanofYou found these screenplays was (and FanofYou can correct me if I’m wrong here) to read the first page of every screenplay that made the Black List to learn what the writing bar was for a Black List script.

Himbo and Colors of Authority were the only scripts that, after reading the first page, he felt compelled to keep reading. And then keep reading. And then keep reading. All the way to the end.

This is what I’ve always preached on the site. People have ZERO ATTENTION SPAN. So you have to write a great first page to pull them in, and then a great second page, and a third, and a fourth. You have to make it impossible to stop reading. Let me say that again. The strategy of writing a screenplay should be:

I have to make it impossible for the reader to stop reading.

But the strategy I see most screenwriters employ is:

I’m going to tell a story and I expect the reader to care.

In other words, they think they have leeway to start slow or casually set up a bunch of characters or throw in the occasional average scene. No. No no no no no. The reader owes you nothing. Actually, it’s worse than that. The reader reads so much bad stuff that they actively don’t trust you. They think you’re bad before they’ve even opened your script. You need to prove them wrong. And that’s why you need to start on page one.

So what does page one look like here? It uses a nifty little trick that gets you to page two.

We, of course, could’ve started inside the car. But how interesting would that have been? Jumping from this random shot of the animals (which is actually a set up for a later moment) into the car is a creative choice that says: “I’m not going to write your typical boring obvious script. I’m actually thinking about how to entertain you.”

Deputy James Sexton is part of a Los Angeles special unit called OSJ, which stands for Operation Safe Jails. The LAPD realized that all the information they need about gangs and criminals is right there in their jails and prisons. So James and his team interrogate and observe prisoners, getting any little bit of info they can so they can make these colossal busts.

But one day, while James and his partner, Tony, are watching a video feed of a prisoner-of-interest, they see him discreetly pass a manila envelope to one of the guards. James and Tony decide to follow the guard, who drives to a remote neighborhood where he meets up with three LA cops, and makes a drug exchange with an Aryan gang.

James and Tony are gobsmacked. They now have to make a crucial decision. Do they write up a report on these men? Cause if they do, and things go sideways, they’ll be seen as snitches. James believes it’s the right thing to do so he writes up the report for their superior, Lt. Gutterson (described as a man “with the gravitas of a four-ton boulder.”)

Big problem. Gutterson doesn’t call back, doesn’t write back, doesn’t e-mail, doesn’t text. He ghosts them. That’s when James realizes… they’re f*&%d. James and Tony are blasted all over an internal company memo, which means every cop now knows they snitched on fellow cops. Nobody seems to be seeing this the right way. Which is that cops are in cahoots with the Aryan Brotherhood.

James’s wife gets felt up on a traffic stop. Tony’s mother’s home gets targeted. And it’s clear that’s only the beginning. The goal here will be to snuff these two out. The LAPD just has to find the right time to do it. As if all of that isn’t bad enough, James’s father, a famous Sheriff from the South, joins the very team James is trying to take down. James realizes that his only way of getting out of this is with the help of the FBI. The problem is, the FBI wants something in return. They want James to take down his entire division.

The reason it took me so long to read this script is that when you see loglines for scripts like this, you know it’s going to be WORK. You see intense concentration, keeping notes for long character lists, intricate plot beats that could blow right by you unless you catch every little nuance in the screenplay.

When you’re reading a script like that and it’s bad? It’s one of the worst experiences you can have. Cause not only do these scripts take three times as long to read. But none of that extra work is rewarded. So if you’re going to write one of these, it HAS to be good. Luckily, Kevin’s script is.

That moment where James and Tony see the cops making the deal with the skinheads, that’s what hooked me. I love it when writers put their characters in situations that don’t have a right choice. Both options are bad. If James writes up the officers, he risks being outed, and in the process his career (maybe even his life) destroyed. But if he doesn’t write them up and someone else takes the unit down, he’ll go down with them. So he can’t stay silent either.

Most writers write these false “don’t have a choice” scenarios. This is how it looks when it’s done right. We feel that if this were real life, that the protagonist truly wouldn’t have a good choice.

I also love stand-out bad guys. Gutterson was perfect. He not only ignores James’ write-up on the matter, he tries to take James down for it! Is there anyone more hatable than someone who represents good who’s secretly bad and will take out all good people who threaten him?

The script was well on its way to an “impressive” rating through the first half and while it’s still a good script, the second half wasn’t as strong. There’s an intense subplot involving James’ Sheriff father, who’s good friends with the top brass at the LAPD. This provided a safety net that told me James was always going to be okay. None of these dudes are going to kill James if his dad asks them not to. I know Kevin was trying to create this intense plot between father and son. But I’m not convinced it was worth it for that reason.

Also, James becomes less active as the script goes on. As soon as the FBI grabs him, James is basically waiting for them to tell him how high to jump. He has little moments of activity, of breaking out. But in the first half of the script, he was making all of these strong active choices. He felt more like a hero. For the second half, his character basically resorted to worrying a lot.

But that can be fixed. The script still works. I would be shocked if this didn’t become a movie with a big director and some heavy-hitting actors. It’s got that “Departed” aroma wafting off of it. And Kevin is really good at placing his hero in these impossible-to-navigate situations. It’s so fun to watch the main character in a burning building and every exit is blocked. What do you do?

What. Do. You. Do?

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

What I learned: You must use names that have RECALL in a script like this. Intricately plotted scripts with lots of characters work great on screen because faces are easy to remember, especially since movies are cast to make each character look distinctive. But you don’t have that advantage on the page. So pick names with RECALL, names that contain visual personality. Gutterson and Baca over Smith and Davis. I know the irony here is that these are all real people. So Kevin lucked out a little bit. But if you want to make sure your reader can keep up with what’s going on, RECALL NAMES should be a huge part of your naming strategy.

******REMINDER – NOVEMBER LOGLINE SHOWDOWN COMING UP!******

We’re moving our normal Thursday deadline back a week due to Thanksgiving. So if you have a great logline and you want to compete in the Logline Showdown, send that entry in! You’re got until a week from Thursday.

What: November Logline Showdown
Send me: the logline for any script you have (features will take precedence over pilots but if you’ve got the best tv show idea ever, send it in)
I need: The title, genre, and logline
Also: Your script must be written because I’ll be reviewing the winning entry the following week
When: Deadline is Thursday, November 30th, 10:00pm Pacific Time
Send entries to: carsonreeves3@gmail.com

Okay, let’s get down to business.

I like superhero films.

The Marvels looking at their second weekend drop.

I do.

With one caveat.

They actually have to be good.

And I don’t think anyone in the industry has cared about making good superhero movies for a while. I think that they believe they’re trying their hardest. Nobody starts out trying to make a bad movie.

But over-saturation combined with the prioritization of message-over-concept has shot a poison arrow into Marvel’s magical money-generating organism and the damage is so severe that they can no longer continue with this strategy. Unless their goal is to hemorrhage every single money-generating artery in their body.

It’s long been known that opening weekends are not representative of how good a movie is. Second weekends are. Opening weekends are about concept and marketing. If you have a well-known superhero in a fun-sounding movie and a 100 million dollar marketing campaign, you are guaranteed a huge weekend, regardless of how good your movie is.

But second weekends are all about word-of-mouth. If people are coming back from the theater and bashing your movie or, worse, not talking about it at all, no one’s going to show up the second weekend. The Marvels had the biggest second weekend drop in Marvel history, with 80%. This, just several months after the previous Marvel film, Ant-Man 3, had the biggest second weekend drop (70%).

These are not good numbers. And I’m hoping that this is a wake-up call for everyone. I don’t think we should stop making superhero films. If that happens, I’m afraid the theatrical business might crumble entirely. But we should stop making second-tier superhero films. For example, the next Marvel entry – and the only one of 2024 – is Deadpool 3. That movie’s going to be awesome! Because it’s got a premier superhero at the helm.

It’s no secret why Batman and Iron Man started this movie superhero obsession. Their value had been established via millions of sold comics. So why should we be surprised when these smaller unestablished comic book heroes (Blue Beetle) don’t pull in the same amount of dough?

That’s what was so strange about The Marvels. The first film grossed a billion dollars. So you would think people would’ve shown up for the sequel. Why didn’t they? For one, the first film had a way better premise. This was back when Marvel was wisely exploiting sub-genres to provide templates for their screenplays. Captain Marvel was a buddy-cop movie. And using a younger Nick Fury as the other half of the team-up was a fun idea.

The Marvel’s biggest problem was that the concept was ill-conceived. Why are you downgrading your billion dollar superhero star for her sequel? That was a really odd choice. When people saw this trailer, they no longer saw “Captain Marvel.” They saw Captain Marvel playing second fiddle to the lowest rated Marvel TV character as well as the single most forgettable superhero in history. Who came up with that idea? If anything, Captain Marvel should’ve graduated to riding solo in her sequel. A billion dollars certainly earns you that, don’t you think?

Maybe they were concerned about Brie Larson’s likability. The Brie-ster is an odd duck. I think she has a good heart but she comes off socially uncalibrated so she’s got a bigger share of haters than your average celebrity. The girl who plays Ms. Marvel is certainly more likable than Brie. So I can see why they were able to talk themselves into putting her into a Captain Marvel sequel. But nobody knows who that character is!

And let me just say something screenwriting related, as it appears that everyone in the superhero business has forgotten about this. Rules are important. With superheroes, it is imperative that we know the rules of their powers. The more vague someone’s power is, the less we care about them. There are a couple of minor exceptions to this. But it is otherwise a hard and fast rule.

Spiderman, Batman, Superman. The most popular superheroes ever. What’s the concurrent numerical element? We know the rules behind their powers. And they’re simple. There’s nothing vague or unclear. Contrast that with Captain Marvel. Do you know what Captain Marvel’s powers are? I don’t. I certainly don’t know her biggest weakness. Which means she’s unstoppable? Is that interesting? And I know even less about the other Marvel girls’ powers. So you’re asking a bunch of people to show up to a superhero movie where we don’t understand any of the characters’ superpowers??!!

The new Hunger Games movie didn’t open much better than The Marvels (55 mil) but it cost half as much. So you have to consider The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes a mild success. But the film could’ve opened much bigger had it understood one of the core principles of screenwriting: A clear concept.

Are you seeing a theme here? Clear rules on the superpowers. Clear concepts. Clear clear clear clear clear clear clear. Too many screenwriters throw clarity out the window. They think they can jam in as many ideas and plots and characters as they want and it will all work out. That’s not how this works. Especially if you’re writing for the masses – you need to be simple and clear.

I bet I could ask 100 people, after they watched The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes trailer, what the plot was and 95 of them would have no idea. That’s a problem. I know it’s a nuanced conversation in that you’re working with IP and, therefore, are betting that people are going to show up due to their familiarity with that IP. But the super successful movies are not ones that only cater to their fan base. They’re the ones that break out and pull in the average moviegoer. And for those additional seat-butts, you need a clear story.

Look at how simple and clear the number 1 movie of the year was: Doll living in her doll world goes into the real world. That’s it. Fish-out-of-water. We understand it immediately.

As for the rest of the top 10, “Thanksgiving” did okay with 10 million. Mixing up horror and Thanksgiving is one of the stranger genre choices I’ve seen in a while. But hey! Some people went to see it, so cool. Oscar-hopeful The Holdovers is squeaking by. The highly-rated film is struggling to pull people in as it is only making $1800 per theater (for comparison’s sake, The Marvels’ per theater average was $2500). You can read my review of the script here.

But the film that’s really struggling is Taika Waititi’s, “Next Goal Wins” ($1100 per theater average). Here’s the thing with Taika. At heart, he’s a goofy guy. But he’s one of the few goofy writer-directors who’s earned a level of critical acclaim, especially with JoJo Rabbit. So we hold him to a higher standard. Therefore, when he makes his version of The Mighty Ducks, it all seems a bit juvenile. I think people are confused. They were hoping for something more from him.

But I just watched an interview with Taika and he doesn’t want all this serious stuff. He would prefer to goof around. If you’re Taika, I say go back to your roots and make another movie with Jermaine Clement. I can practically guarantee that it will be great. If you haven’t seen Eagle vs. Shark, do yourself a favor, cancel everything you’re doing today, and rent this movie. It’s awesome.

I was going to head out and see Saltburn this weekend, Emerald Fennel’s follow-up to Promising Young Woman, one of the best scripts I’ve read in the last five years. But the reviews scared me off. It seems to be hovering near 70% on Rotten Tomatoes. These indie movies cannot have sub 80% RT scores. They have to be at least close to the 90s. By the way, this is another Jacob Elordi movie. Elordi is the Australian hunk coming out of Euphoria. He was also cast in Priscilla. Common denominator with these two films? Female directors. The ladies love this guy. He’s primed to be the next big movie star. He and Paul Mescal are going to be fighting over those top leading man roles for the next couple of decades.

Have you seen any good movies lately, at the theater or on streaming? If so, share them in the comments! I’m always looking for something good. I rented Equalizer 3 this weekend and the Italian backdrop spices things up a little bit (what a fun opening scene). I would’ve preferred a faster-moving narrative but it was still solid.

Genre: Contained Thriller
Premise: A young diver heads deep into the ocean to try and retrieve his diver-father’s remains but in the process gets swallowed up by a whale and has the time it takes for his air to run out (roughly 2 hours) to escape.
About: The rights to this novel sold to Imagine Entertainment (Ron Howard) earlier this year. Novelist Daniel Kraus is best known for writing the novelization of “The Shape of Water,” which would go on to win Best Film, after helping del Toro come up with the original concept for his movie. Kraus has a keen eye for picking ideas that both have a level of depth to them but also contain the marketable elements that Hollywood likes. Maybe the coolest thing he did was, after George Romero’s death, completed his unfinished zombie book, “The Living Dead.”
Writer: Daniel Kraus
Details: about 50,000 words (roughly half of most novels)

When I first saw this sale, I thought, “This is the kind of project that would’ve sold as a spec script back in 2004.” It has that “strange attractor” (a man being swallowed by a whale with only 2 hours of air). It fits inside a cost-efficient marketable genre – contained thriller. And it’s not like anything else out there. It’s almost like the Gen-Z version of Moby Dick.

But, unfortunately, these days, if you want to sell something like this, you gotta write it as a book or a short story (ironically, “Whalefall” is both).

The book poses a unique adaptation challenge in that, despite this being a wacky idea, the setting is decidedly tame – we’re inside a stomach the whole movie. I like to place myself in the producer’s stomach for purchases like this and try and figure out what their plan is. Do they stay true to the contained nature of the story and keep it in the whale’s stomach the entire time? Or do they take advantage of the illustrious and unique setting, occasionally taking us outside the whale?

Jay is 17 years old when he loses his father, Mitt. But don’t feel bad for Jay. Jay haaaaaaaaat-ed his father. His dad was a diver and a drunk. He was one of those crusty opinionated dudes who was friends with everyone but would also get into a fight with those friends at the drop of a hat. And he wasn’t a good father. The few times he did pay attention to Jay, it was usually to scold him for being girly or weak.

Mitt got cancer and, instead of fighting it to the bitter end, he took a trip out to where he felt most comfortable – the sea – and simply plunged off the back of the boat, sinking to his demise.

For reasons Jay isn’t even sure of, he decides that he’s going to dive into that same area and retrieve his father’s remains. Jay is not as good of a diver as his dad. But because his dad forced him into so many dives as a kid, he’s good enough. So away he goes, with about 2 hours of air, all by himself. Not advised, by the way.

Not long after he starts diving, Jay sees a fantastical sight. A sperm whale attacks a giant squid! The sperm whale only has one animal it is predator to and that is the giant squid. The squid tries to get away and, in the process, grabs onto Jay. The whale then eats the squid and, with it, Jay.

Jay soon finds himself in one of the whale’s three stomachs. Luckily, the squid gets sucked into another stomach. But it leaves a trail of bioluminescence, which lights up the stomach he’s in. Thank god cause I don’t know how they were going to light this movie otherwise (quick movie fact: The flashlights in Titanic were the sole historically inaccurate element but James Cameron used them because there was no other way he could think of to light the final rescue scene).

As the whale dives deeper into the ocean, Jay must figure out how he’s going to get out of here before his air runs out. Along the way, he develops a close bond with the whale, who is dying himself. Jay begins to see some similarities between the whale and his father, which will allow him, should he not survive this, to at least find closure with his father.

I gotta say: this was one weird book!

For starters, every chapter was 1 and a half pages. I’m not sure I’ve ever read a book with chapters that short. It made for a faster read (almost like a screenplay) but it led to an unfamiliar rhythm that I had trouble adjusting to.

One thing I liked, though, was it placed the amount of air (psi) at the top of every chapter. So it starts out as “3000” and then, with each successive chapter, it goes down. So we know exactly how much air he had left.

I bring that up because sometimes writers will assume that the reader knows things that they don’t know. I’ve read versions of stories like this where the writer didn’t give any indication at all of how much air was left, clearly assuming we knew. So you wouldn’t know if the character was totally safe or at the precipice of dying. I always have to remind writers: “If you don’t tell us, we won’t know.” All the better if you tell us in a creative way, which Kraus does.

Kraus also knows he’s battling his own whale here in that the location is limited. So almost every other chapter is a flashback to some moment in Jay and Mitt’s life. There isn’t any real story to these flashbacks. They’re just meant to fill us in – hopefully create a better understanding of their relationship so that we care more about it being resolved.

The author additionally understands that, even in book form, where it’s easier to ignore dialogue, that he needs some sort of interaction in the stomach. So he creates the voice of the whale, who starts talking to Jay. The whale is the most interesting character in the book. There was something very sad about the fact that it was dying and knew it.

That connection Kraus builds between us and the whale helps lead to the book’s best scene, when a group of orcas attack the whale. They know it’s old. They know it’s dying. So they go after it. But we never see it. We only hear it from Jay’s point-of-view. And then, what happens, is this really cool rescue operation by a group of other whales.

Unfortunately, outside of that great scene (and the initial whale-squid attack scene), there isn’t a whole lot here. I’m not even sure if the setup makes sense. First, you establish that this kid hated his dad. So why does he want to find his remains? And second, what are the chances of diving into the ocean and finding the remains of your father? 1 in 500 million?  That never made sense to me.

Kraus is clearly searching for this deeper emotional connection between Jay, Mitt’s death, and the whale, but, if I’m being honest, it’s hackneyed. At first, the whale starts talking to Jay. But then, the implication is that it’s not really the whale who’s talking. It’s Mitt. But then there are clearly times where it’s the whale again. It all just felt very convenient. It was Mitt when the author needed it to be. It was the whale when he needed it to be. Readers and audiences don’t respond well to writing conveniences. It may make your writing easier. But it almost always makes the story worse.

Kraus also tries to shove in an environmental theme. It was actually interesting learning about how much plastic whales inhale because of all the litter in the ocean. But we’re already focused on this whole other storyline so it didn’t feel organic at all and seemed to support the idea that Kraus was never really sure what he was writing about.

We all have this issue in the early drafts of our scripts. You’re not quite sure what your screenplay is about yet so you add a bunch of ideas and a bunch of themes. But that’s what rewrites are for, to weed out the stuff that is no longer relevant. I suspect that because this novel is so short as is that Kraus didn’t have the option to get rid of the environmental stuff because he couldn’t afford to.  It would’ve made a miniature novel even shorter.

Regardless of the fact that I didn’t love the execution here, I’m still intrigued to see what they do with the movie. It’s too unique of an idea for me not to be curious. Best case scenario, we could be looking at the next Life of Pi, which was a good movie.

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

What I learned: You have a couple of options when you do the death of a loved one in a story. Option 1 is that they really loved each other. Option 2 is that they had a contentious relationship. In my experience, option 2 is the better way to go, as was the case in this book. For whatever reason, if your two characters loved each other, it feels too much like a love-fest and therefore inauthentic, potentially even melodramatic. Whereas, if there was contentiousness between them, it feels more like real life. Also, there are more complex emotions involved in option 2, which tends to make the character who matters (our protagonist) more interesting. If our hero loved the person who died with all their heart, and that person loved them, then it’s just straight sad. There’s not a whole lot to do with “straight sad.”  I’ve seen option 1 work well for secondary characters, like Sean in Good Will Hunting. But not with primary characters.

It’s been many moons since I’ve last been enamored by a script. Or a movie, for that matter. It’s led me to question what the issue is. Is it everybody else?  Do people simply not know how to write anymore? Or is it me? Have my standards become too high?

I’ll tell you what I’m scared of. I’m scared of becoming that Scriptshadow commenter who hates every movie. If I can no longer enjoy the movies I watch or the screenplays I read, then there’s no incentive for me to continue doing this. I’m not interested in having a website that craps on everybody.  I want to spread LOVE!  Not be a hater-potater.

And yet Hollywood is doing everything in its power to lure me into a hate cocoon. I commend the Marvel marketing team for their Herculean effort to convince people that The Marvels is actually good. I’m assuming they sent Chris Hemsworth out to spend a day with every critic who gave this film a fresh score on Rotten Tomatotes.  But come on, Marvel has known for a year that they’re dealing the cinematic equivlanet of fentynal.  It’s insulting to sell us that this movie is actually watchable.

Then we get this new Ghostbusters trailer.  What is going on here??  It’s a movie about an ice villain???  Did they accidentally swap with one of Marvel’s scripts?  We’ll find out a year from now when Marvel releases Ghost Thor: Who Ya Gonna Call.

I haven’t even enjoyed the Star Wars offerings.  You know what’s sad (or awesome, depending on your point of view0?  One of the ways I wind down is watching Youtube videos of people watching the original Star Wars for the first time.  It’s so addictive seeing them experience this wondorous perfect movie for the first time ever.  And every time, without fail, they always get excited at the right moments.  They laugh in all the right places.  In a way, it’s like I’m watching Star Wars for the first time as well.

But these days, the serious Star Wars TV shows (Andor) don’t work for me.  The silly ones (Ahsoka) don’t work for me. That Madalorian episode with Lizzo and Jack Black very well may have heisted my soul and sold it on ebay for Yoda earings.

I haven’t even been able to enjoy the Oscar-hopefuls – Oppenheimer, Killers of the Flower Moon, Barbie – which are supposed to be the projects that actually put time and effort into their screenplays.

So I think about this question a lot. Are my standards for screenwriting so high, at this point, that they can no longer be met? I’m biased but I don’t think they are. Still, several things have happened in the industry that have really hurt screenwriting in the past decade.

One of the issues is we don’t have that central screenwriting teacher anymore. In the 80s and 90s, it was Syd Field. In the 2000s, it was Blake Snyder. But once the internet popped up, writers stopped reading complete books on how to write screenplays and, instead, piecemealed their screenwriting education together through online screenwriting articles. So they know certain things  (add conflict to your dialogue!) yet are totally clueless to others (how to build a compelling second act).

In addition to this, feature screenwriting moved away from singular protagonists trying to achieve a goal – the purest form of storytelling – to the “Marvel Ensemble” model where the writer is juggling 10 different protagonists and their subsequent storylines. Which isn’t normal! That’s not a typical story anyone would tell.

Then you have the rise of golden era television, with 1000 shows on TV, so that’s where all the writers went. And what does television promote? The never-ending story. There is no climax, which teaches screenwriters terrible habits. Cause if you don’t have to end your story, you never have to think about where your characters are going. And when those writers dip their toes back in the feature space, they bring that issue with them. Their narratives seem flighty and aimless because that’s the only kind of story they’ve had to write!

In other words, NOBODY KNOWS THE BASICS ANYMORE. They’re just making sh*t up as they go along. Yesterday’s script, which barely BARELY got a “worth the read,” is a good example. The theme of the script is messiness. The messier the better. That’s not good screenwriting. Good screenwriting requires focus and structure and planning.

So what I thought I’d do as we head into the weekend is remind writers of the basics. It’s not that hard. It really isn’t. But if you’ve never learned these things, then you’re probably writing a lot of weak-sauce material.

1 – Give us a likable character. Introduce your character in a way where we like him or her. Or, at the very least, sympathize with them. For example, if a woman’s husband of 20 years just blindsided her with divorce papers, we will sympathize with her. The reason this is so important is because nothing you do after your protagonist’s introduction will matter if we’re not rooting for them.

2 – Create a problem. A story cannot start until there’s a problem. This is the thing that jolts our protagonist into action. Think about it. If there’s nothing that forces your character to do anything, then they won’t do anything! You don’t have a movie if your main character isn’t doing anything. In one of my favorite movies from recent years, Parasite, the “problem” is very simple. The family is broke. They have no money. They need a solution.

3 – The problem introduces the goal. Once you introduce a problem into your hero’s life, you’ve created the all important GOAL. Cause now your hero has to SOLVE THE PROBLEM. And needing to solve a problem is a goal. To use Parasite as an example again, the goal is to take over the rich family’s home.

4 – The goal gives you your stakes. The reason the goal is so important is because it needs to power you through your second act. If the goal is minor or flimsy, it won’t be able to achieve this. This is where STAKES come in. We have to feel like everything is on the line for your hero. If you succeed, you get everything. If you fail, you lose everything. In other words, the bigger the problem, the more impressive the goal, which means higher stakes, which means you have more power to drive the second act. And just to remind you, NONE OF THIS MATTERS IF WE DON’T LIKE YOUR HERO. Which is why getting number 1 right is so important.

5 – Throw obstacles in front of the goal – A goal, in and of itself, is boring. Where the excitement happens is when that goal is challenged. So you want to think of your second act as the “Goal-Challenging Section.” You want to throw a bunch of things at the hero so it’s hard for them to achieve the goal. The harder it is, the more we’ll enjoy ourselves. Cause think about it: how exciting is it to watch someone try to achieve their goal with only minor pushback? To use Parasite as an example again, the midpoint has this crazy psycho dude secretly living in the basement. Talk about a challenge. How do you take over a house when you have this other guy already living there?

6 – A challenged goal makes your hero stronger – The bonus of challenging your hero in their pursuit of a goal is that it BUILDS CHARACTER every time they overcome one of these challenges. And each time that happens, assuming you got the number 1 rule right, we will like your character even more. Cause we like people who take on obstacles and overcome them. You know your second act is working when our love for your protagonist is growing.

7 – Endings aren’t as hard as you think – A good ending is less about some inventive never-before-seen plot twist and more about your hero facing their flaw head on and overcoming it. The endings that stick with us have some sort of emotional catharsis. Again, you got to get number one right or NOTHING YOU DO in the third act will matter. But, if we like your hero, and we’ve seen them struggle throughout the second act, and they overcome their flaw in the climax (Rocky overcomes his self-doubt to go the distance in the championship match), that goosebump-laced rush will shoot through the reader. Always try and think of your climax as an emotional catharsis and not as the final piece to a plot puzzle.

These tips don’t cover everything, obviously. You still have to surprise us, make interesting creative choices, write good dialogue, have a couple of stand-out characters besides your hero. You’d also like to execute your story with a unique voice or a fresh angle in order to stand out from the pack. But if you follow the above seven tips, it’s really hard NOT to write a good screenplay.

As for whether I’m still capable of being impressed anymore, I already have 10 movies that are going to make my Best Movies of 2023 list. I already have 10 scripts that are going to make my Best Scripts of 2023 list. That’s 20 stories right there. Should I really be asking for more than that in one year? I don’t think so. That’s plenty. I guess I was hoping for more stuff to blow me away this year. But maybe that’ll come in 2024.

I offer feature screenplay and pilot script consultations – the best notes in the business.  If you mention this article, I will give you a $150 discount. Your script doesn’t have to be ready yet to secure the discount.  You can send it in at a later date.  Just e-mail me at Carsonreeves1@gmail.com.  Can’t wait to read your script!

What a weekend!

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?