Can it be true? A dying Carson is brought back to life by a fetus that kills people?
Genre: Horror/Comedy
Logline (from writer): A young, hip Hollywood couple on the verge of becoming first-time parents begin to fear their unborn baby is a murderous demon.
Why You Should Read (from writer): I used to work at a major talent agency. During my stint there, my wife was pregnant with our first child. This script was written over that period of time. Horror comedies are hard to pull off. That, coupled with a story that lampoons, among other things, big talent agencies seems like a recipe for disaster for an amateur writer. Which is pretty much why I wanted to write it. Or “needed to” is probably more accurate: I had to find a way to channel some of the negativity I was feeling about the biz, living in LA and bringing a baby into that world.
Writer: Michael Voyer
Details: 106 pages
In the world of screenplays, I’ve seen a lot of things.
I’ve seen men who kill.
I’ve seen women who kill.
I’ve seen teenagers who kill.
I’ve seen kids who kill.
I’ve even seen a baby who kills.
But I have never, until this moment, seen a fetus that kills.
And had you told me that there was any possibility going into this premise that I was going to enjoy myself? I would’ve informed your delusional ass that you were insane in the brain cage.
“Young Hollywood” introduces us to Colin and Bobbi Downs, a young married couple who are making it work in the trendy LA suburb of Silver Lake. Colin’s got a job at a major Hollywood agency. And Bobbi’s third-term pregnant, ready to turn this twosome into a triumvirate.
When Bobbi starts to have visions of a crazed Jamaican woman, we chalk it up to weird pregnancy hormone shit. That is until we learn about Colin’s lurid past.
Colin and his frat buddies (who include his best friend and neighbor, Don) used to fly down to Jamaica for Spring Break and go nuts. One night, Colin had sex with a wild Jamaican girl, who he unknowingly impregnated.
That girl, Constance, shows up in Los Angeles five years later to inform Colin of his bastard son, and also, his seed has since been cursed. The baby growing inside his wife is a demon ectomorph that has the power to leave the womb and kill things.
Naturally, Colin thinks this is bullshit. But when Don’s dog, and then one of his children, are murdered, it’s time to redefine “bullshit.” What do you want to reverse the curse, Colin asks Constance. In classic Hollywood fashion, she wants him to read her screenplay and make her famous!
Luckily, Colin’s boss happens to be looking for a horror script. But it’s probably going to take a miracle for him to like it. Constance isn’t exactly Aaron Sorkin. Meanwhile, Bobbi starts battling her own demons, namely, does she even want to have this baby? Has she ever wanted to have this baby? And now that she thinks about it, did she ever want to be with Colin in the first place?
It’s all going to come to a head in a “Young Hollywood” party for the ages.
Much like our characters’ reaction to their baby potentially being a demon, I wasn’t a believer at first. But the more I read of “Young Hollywood,” the more of a believer I became.
I’ll tell you the exact moment, actually, when I knew this wasn’t another AA script (average amateur). And I’ve been reading a lot of AA scripts lately, so I consider myself an expert. It was when we found out that Bobbi had this complex past where she chose to abort a child when she first met Colin, since she was afraid he’d leave if he found out she was pregnant.
So often in the screenplays I read, the only complex backstory the writer thinks about is the hero’s. Now occasionally, the slightly-less-lazy writer will go a step further and provide backstory for their secondary characters, but it’s always something generic, a screenwriting 101 box they can say they checked.
When a writer takes the time to find complex thoughtful backstories for more than one character? That script is usually worth reading. And I loved everything we learned through this couple’s backstory.
But what’s really amazing about “Young Hollywood” is the tone tightrope it walked. We have tragic child deaths sharing the same margins as voodoo witches promoting their new screenplay. And let’s not forget our killer fetus that slinks out of our wife’s uterus every night to get its killing fix in.
How did Voyer manage to make it work?
It’s simple really. He was more interested in these characters than he was the “gimmick” of his screenplay. That’s where so many writers go wrong. They’d take a premise like this, think up a bunch of goofy ways a uterus could kill someone, and fill the rest of the script with a half-ass exploration of a “struggling marriage.”
Colin and Bobbi are REALLY going through something here. Even if this was a normal baby, they’d still have issues to work through. It seems so simple when we see it in practice. But the reality is, we rarely get screenplays where characters and relationships are explored in a genuine way.
The problem with all these bad screenplays I read is that yes you have characters, yes they have flaws, yes these characters have issues with other characters, yes there’s conflict, yes there’s drama.
But none of it feels REAL. And it’s because the writers aren’t basing their choices on what real people would really have going on. They’re basing them on fakey movie reality where every choice is a variation of past movies they’ve seen.
I wasn’t surprised at all when I read Voyer’s “Why You Should Read” that he wrote this when his wife was pregnant and he was working at an agency. He was clearly working through some shit that was reflected in the characters and the situations, all of which felt truthful.
On top of all that, I had NO idea where the fuck this was going. And holy shit is that rare to experience. Every script I read has an inevitable quality to it that makes it seem like you’ve already read the outline before you read the script. This script had choice after choice that was ambitious, weird, unexpected, you name it.
When we killed a child? Wow.
When our villain promised to lift the curse if our hero read her screenplay? Didn’t see that coming!
The steady stream of backstory revelations? Ongoing wow.
And here’s the thing with choices, guys. I didn’t always like the choices. Some of the choices actually made me uncomfortable. But choices aren’t about being liked. Choices are chances. You’re taking a chance. And the safer the chance you take, the less of a reaction you’re going to get. The more dangerous the chance you take – whether they like your choice or not – they’re going to remember it.
Could I pick apart aspects of this script? Yeah. But like any good script, the weaknesses are actually what make it interesting. If we tidied everything up, the script would feel too “clean,” too “predictable.”
For example, I would’ve liked the comedy-to-horror ratio to have more comedy. I also would’ve liked for the final party to have higher stakes. But these are cosmetics. It doesn’t change the way you feel about these characters or how you react to this script’s twists and surprises.
This is the kind of script that makes me want to do more Amateur Offerings.
Screenplay link: The Young Hollywood Party Massacre
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[xx] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: What do I mean when I say that writers don’t base their choices on truth, but rather past movies?
Well, let’s say a writer’s favorite movie is Jerry Maguire. And in this writer’s new script, their hero gets fired. Instead of getting into the head of their hero and asking what led to this firing and what he’s feeling in this moment and how would someone like that react in real life, they think, “Oh good, I get to write my big memorable firing scene like Jerry Maguire!” The last thing on their mind is truth. And if all you’re doing is writing variations of scenes from other films, nothing you write will ever resonate with anyone. Read that line again because it could be the difference between you becoming a professional screenwriter or not.
I’ve been reading some really boring scenes lately, guys. It still baffles me that writers view quality in scenes as optional. Like, “Okay, I know this scene isn’t great, but it’s only one scene, so the reader will have to deal.” You have to make every scene entertaining. Every one!
I know this is easier said than done. You read all these things in books about how a scene must a) move the plot forward, b) reveal something about the characters, c) integrate conflict, d) invisibly weave in exposition, e) avoid cliche, that if you somehow manage to do all of these things, you feel like you deserve a giant pat on the back! That readers should be all, “Man, you were so technically proficient there. I don’t care that the scene was boring.”
That’s why I say, screw all that!
Your first thought when creating a scene should be, “How can I make this scene entertaining?” Because none of that other stuff will matter if the reader isn’t entertained. After you figure out where the entertainment is going to come from, then figure out how you’re going to pull off the checkboxes.
Now, remember the basics for a scene. At least one character should want something important in the scene. It could be your hero. It could be your hero’s girlfriend. It could be the villain. Someone must want something. Then, you simply don’t want that character to achieve the goal easily. Something, or multiple things, should come up, so that the character must work hard for that goal.
Here are a few things a character might want in a scene.
A character might be going to a bar to find a girl to bring home.
A character might need to fire one of his employees.
A character might need to tell her boyfriend she’s pregnant.
A character might need to get home before curfew.
Always, always, have at least one character want something in a scene. And, yes, it’s okay if multiple characters want something in a scene. In fact, that’s where scenes get fun, when characters want opposing things. Now we have heads butting. We have conflict.
But the want is the key. “Want” is what drive’s the purpose of the scene, and pushes us towards our scene climax (which answers the question of whether the “want” was achieved or failed).
But that’s not even what this article is about. You guys should know that already. What I came here for today was to give you five FIXES for boring scenes. Say you followed the above advice yet no matter how many times you rewrote your scene, it still sucked. Join me… for FIVE SCENE FIXES!
Move from private to public: A lot of times a scene will suck when it’s just two characters alone. The audience feels safe and at ease in such a scenario, and that’s not how you want the audience to feel. You want them to be scared, anxious, unsettled, unsure. To achieve that, leave the private setting and place the characters in a public setting with the potential for interaction from outside sources.
Example: In a recent script I consulted on, our hero needed to ask a professor about something. In the story, the professor didn’t like the hero. Anyway, the writer had the hero show up at the professor’s lecture, sit down, wait for the lecture to end, then afterwards, when the students had left, talk privately with the professor and ask his questions. The scene was boring. I simply suggested that the professor put our hero on the spot during his lecture. Make him talk to him with 100 students backing him up. All of a sudden, with everyone listening in, a boring scene became entertaining.
Add a time constraint: It’s one of the simplest tricks in the book and yet it can turn the driest scene into a memorable one. If your characters have all the time in the world to talk and there’s nothing on the horizon that needs tending to, there’s a good chance the dialogue will be leisurely and, therefore, boring. By adding a time constraint you’ll find that, all of a sudden, your characters might not be able to say everything they wanted. They have to be more judicious about what they say. And if they’re not getting the answers they want, frustration starts to creep in, since time is running out!
Example: Another recent script I read. A soldier needs to ask her commander a series of questions. Originally, the writer had the soldier come to the commander’s office and ask away with all the time in the world. Borrrr-innnggg. I switched the scene to the commander giving the entire outfit a briefing, then our soldier needed to ask her questions as the commander hurriedly walked to his next meeting. Similar conversation, not enough time to get all her questions in, MUCH BETTER SCENE.
Up the stakes: A lot of times a scene sucks simply because there isn’t enough on the line. This goes back to the “want” we talked about earlier. If what the character wants isn’t that big of a deal, then the scene won’t feel important. The reader doesn’t know why they don’t care. They just know they don’t. As a solution, see if you can up the stakes in some way.
Example: Two loser friends are at a crowded LA bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention. But every time he walks by, he won’t look at them. It’s an okay scene if you play it for laughs. But we could make it better if we upped the stakes. Let’s say two gorgeous girls are nearby and they ask our heroes if they’ll buy them a drink. “Of course. Yeah.” This time, with each failed attempt to catch the bartender’s attention, we have two girls who become increasingly skittish (“You know what, we were on our way out anyway.”), and two guys who see their luck slipping away (“No, trust me. It’ll just take one second.”). We’ve become more invested in the “want” (the drinks) because there’s more on the line (the girls).
Add some sort of choice (and make that choice matter): A common scene I run into is one where the character does nothing. For example, the hero might be sitting in his car before work, staring forward, hating life. If there are no decisions to be made in a scene, is it even a scene? A scene needs to have action, and choice is a simple way to dictate action, as well as add suspense and unpredictability.
Example: Using that same scenario, let’s say that while our hero is staring forward, a woman drags her child up to the car parked in front of him (this happened to me once). The child is being difficult, resisting, and the mom is getting angry, becoming uncomfortably physical as she manhandles her child towards the door. It’s at the point where our hero should probably step in and do something. And hence we have our CHOICE. Is he going to get out and say something or isn’t he? This doesn’t mean when you need excitement in your script, add child abuse. The choice you add will depend on your story, your tone, and the type of character you’re exploring. But an important choice is a simple way to beef up a scene.
Add a secondary focus: When a character only has to concentrate on one thing, they can usually handle it easily. And once we feel like our hero has things under control, we relax. And if we’re relaxing, we’re becoming less interested in the story. A trick is to add a secondary focus for the hero, something else they have to worry about. This way, they’ll be spinning two plates instead of one. And guess what follows? Entertainment, baby.
Example: Let’s say we have a protagonist who’s a gambling addict. And a scene takes place where his wife is talking to him about problems in their marriage and what she needs from him. We’ve seen this scene before, right? It can certainly work on its own. But what if, during this talk, our gambler keeps checking the score on his phone of the game he bet this month’s mortgage on? This secondary focus adds another dimension to the scene so it it’s a little more dynamic.
In case you guys didn’t notice, there’s a theme here. Figure out what your character wants in the scene and make it difficult for them. Cause if whatever your character wants comes easy, you’ve written a boring scene.
Genre: Comedy
Premise: George Washington puts together a band of renegade historical figures to take down Benedict Arnold the Werewolf and form the country he promised a dying Abraham Lincoln he would build, America.
About: This 2016 Black List script, which looked like it’d never rise above a fun curiosity, shocked the world last week when Netflix purchased it and decided to turn it into an animated film. Channing Tatum will voice George Washington and the film will be directed by Matt Thompson, one half of the beloved “Archer” team. The writer, Dave Callaham, is best known for writing The Expendables films. More recently, Callaham penned the upcoming Zombieland 2.
Writer: Dave Callaham
Details: 101 pages
First of all, I think Netflix is great. It’s one more outlet for creators to bring material to, and not only that, but unique material, the kind of material that takes chances. Now, after procuring America The Motion Picture, they’ve announced themselves as a new destination for animation. Just 15 years ago, there were three places that made animated movies. Now there’s triple that. Think about that. Spec screenwriters can actually write animation now!
However, Netflix is also learning that luring talent into their fold by offering them creative freedom has its drawbacks. Some of these movies and shows premiering on Netflix are so bad, it’s getting uncomfortable. Have you seen that new Brad Pitt War Machine trailer? It looks like everyone in it is acting in a high school play (by the way, when is Hollywood going to learn that war comedies stopped working in the 70s).
But here’s the scariest part. When a movie used to bomb in the theatrical world, there still came with it some notoriety. The promotion, the build-up, the press the movie got for bombing. People at least KNEW OF THE MOVIE. When a movie bombs on Netflix? It just… disappears, into a Netflix black hole, as if it never existed at all.
The point being, now that the sheen has worn off, the reality sets in. Netflix buying you doesn’t mean jack shit unless your movie connects with viewers. Will “America The Motion Picture” connect with people? Joint me for a little history lesson to find out.
While George Washington is enjoying a show with his best friend, Abraham Lincoln, his evil nemesis Benedict Arnold pops out of nowhere and kills Lincoln right in front of his face! Lincoln, with his dying breaths, makes Washington promise that he’ll create an independent country called America!
Knowing he can’t do this on his own, Washington puts together a super-team that includes demolitions expert Thomas Jefferson, transportation expert, Paul Revere, science expert Thomas Edison, and an Indian, Geronimo.
This all star team quickly corners Arnold, only to watch him BITE GERONIMO’S ARM OFF! That’s when the true nature of what they’re dealing with is revealed. Arnold is a werewolf! Which means the only way they can kill him is with a silver bullet. Now this was the 1700s, when silver bullets weren’t easy to come by. So off to the best blacksmith in the land!
The next place they know Arnold will be is at the Gettysburg Address. The problem is, they don’t know the address. So they spend countless days trying to figure out what the address of the Gettysburg Address is, until Washington uses some next level Davinci Code shit and figures out that the “A” in America is actually a code for “1” and therefore the address is 1 Merica Dr. And then the five blow up the Titanic.
Finally, after recruiting another well-known Washingten who spells his name with an ‘e,’ not an ‘o,’ and who is a dinosaur rancher who owns his own Tyrannosaurus Rex, the group attacks King James’ army. But will a T-Rex be enough to rid America of the redcoats for good? Spoiler Alert. Merica is on the map, isn’t it?
I refer to this kind of comedy as non sequitur comedy. Nothing really needs to make sense. Non sequitur comedy requires a writer with a huge imagination who’s naturally funny, the written equivalent of Robin Williams. Throw it all out there knowing not everything’s going to hit. But when it does, it will be HI-larious. And there are definitely hilarious moments in America The Motion Picture.
My favorite character was easily Edison, who would just scream out “SCIENCE!” and randomly be able to send a laser beam at people, vaporizing them instantly. Or you’d have all five heroes chasing someone on Paul Revere’s horse, and that someone would get on a boat and speed off, and Washington would ask, “Do you think your horse can leap across that water?” Paul Revere would reply, “That lake is 200 feet long.” “Well, do you?” Beat. “Yes. Yes I think he can.”
And so Revere would trot the horse back, make a run at it with all five people on, and the horse leapt… and make it all of four feet before falling in the water.
However, when the jokes weren’t hitting, you were stuck with a plot that wasn’t exactly Chinatown. I mean, it did have GSU! We had a goal (defeat King James), stakes (America’s independence) and urgency (they needed to defeat them before the Gettysberg Address).
But the comedy was so goofy that there wasn’t a lick of depth to anyone. Nobody was trying to overcome any sort of internal issue. With that said, I don’t know if you want that in non sequitur comedy. I think if you try to force character arcs into movies like this, they don’t work.
I’ve been reading the science fiction book, Rendezvous with Rama, recently. It’s a book that’s light on character, and heavy on the mystery behind a giant abandoned ship in our solar system. I later found out that a different author wrote a sequel that was universally panned. Everybody seemed to have the same reaction to the sequel: “What was so great about the first Rama was that it focused exclusively on the mystery,” they said. “Rama 2 sucked because it was all about characters and drama.”
Point being, sometimes you have to lay off the rules of the craft. If Screenwriting 101 books tell you you have to insert “A” whenever you do “B” but as you’re writing “B” you’re thinking, “I don’t think it would work if I added A.” Well, then maybe you shouldn’t add “A.”
For example, if you’re writing The Martian and you’re thinking, “I know screenwriting sites like Scriptshadow say I should give the story a contained time frame. But geez, I don’t think that’s going to work for a movie like this. I think this movie only works if you let it breathe and extend it out over a long period of time.” Then go against the rule.
Everything is a case by case basis, guys. So if you’re writing a goofy comedy like this one and adding character arcs feels wrong, don’t add them! Go by what you feel.
As long as you’re good at delivering what the audience wants, nothing else matters. And America The Motion Picture delivers exactly what its audience wants.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Extremely goofy comedies like this do not need character development (inner conflict, vices, character arcs). But they do require some sort of structure. America The Motion Picture has one giant goal (defeat King James and gain independence) and a series of smaller goals (create a silver bullet, find the Gettysburg Address, etc.) that always keep the plot moving (whenever there’s a nearby goal, the plot is moving towards that goal). If you try and write non sequitur comedy without structure for 110 pages, the reader will probably want to murder you.
The hottest TV spec of the season. Is it any good??
Genre: TV Pilot – Drama
Premise: When the world’s biggest magician’s biggest trick is exposed, he gives up magic. That is until the FBI offers him a job.
About: Deception was THE hot pilot spec of the season. Which is probably why super-producer Greg Berlanti (Arrow, The Flash, Supergirl, Riverdale) jumped on board. The show comes from the mind of Chris Fedak, co-creator of “Chuck.” ABC is going all-in on this one, making it their number one new show priority going into next season. So expect to see a lot of Deception promos on your local buses.
Writer: Chris Fedak
Details: 62 pages
The nice thing about teleplays is that they’re only half as long as screenplays. And when a reader knows they only have to invest 45 minutes into a read, it allows the writer to do some things he wouldn’t be able to get away with in a feature. He can be… how do I say this? More “surface-level.” Especially if you’re writing a pilot for one of the major networks. And that is how we come across Deception, a pilot so light and fluffy, you might mistake it for a toaster strudel. And yet, I haven’t met too many people who can eat a toaster strudel and not want another one.
Cameron Black is the coolest most cutting edge magician in the world. Even worse? He knows it. And in case you think we’re going to get a lot of cleverly edited magic trick bullshit here, the writer assures us that everything we see on-screen is a REAL magic trick. Which is why the show is co-produced by real-life magician, David Kwong.
We meet Black during one of his shows, a slick multi-coastal endeavor where he starts his show in Vegas but teleports to New York, actually walking out of a TV screen in Times Square. How is that even possible????? I’ll tell you how. MAGIC!
Oh, and also, Cameron has a twin. Spoiler alert! But we’re not there yet. Later that night, Cameron picks up a hot babe, drives her around town, then gets into a huge crash and she dies. This is when it’s revealed that the man in the car is actually Jonathan Black, Cameron’s twin brother, and that they’ve been pretending to be the same person for 30 years.
Jonathan goes to prison for manslaughtering the woman, but Jonathan swears to Cameron he’s been set up. That the dead body was a plant. Someone’s been using magic on them! Whaaaat!!!??? Cameron now makes it his life goal to expose this trickery and free his brother from prison.
Meanwhile, FBI Agent, Kay Alvarez, is escorting cartel leader Felix Ruiz (I swear it’s like these names are coming out of a screenwriting character name generator) in a plane where, once they land, he’ll be put away forever. Except when they pull into the hanger and everybody’s getting off the plane, it blows up!!!
Ruiz is killed. But luckily, Kay and the rest of the FBI survive. It sucks at first until they realize, hey, we just got rid of one of the biggest drug czars on the planet. Hooray! That is until Cameron Black shows up and says, “You guys have been fooled!” He walks over to the wall of the airplane hanger, busts it open, to show that the plane explosion was a ruse!
The plane was swapped out with an exploded one to trick the FBI. And that means… Ruiz is still out there. Kay is pissed. Not so much that her drug lord got away. But that a freaking magician made her look like a fool. So she tells Cameron to get lost. “Not so fast,” Cameron says. “What are you talking about?” “I’m going to help you find Ruiz.” And hence, Deception is born!!!
I don’t know how to react to this pilot.
It’s like it came out of some pilot version of a cotton candy machine. I think I enjoyed myself? But holy banana cream sundae, can I get a little depth please? Somewhere?
The cliches. The number of cliches.
And the leaps of logic one must make to buy into this show. A plane was swapped out for a damaged one during a fake explosion and nobody noticed? In the age of the internet, twins have been able to keep their duality a secret for 30 years. Doesn’t this take one bored TMZ journalist a quick internet search to find that Cameron was born with a twin?
I’ve got a bigger beef with Deception though. Everything in this damn plot was too easy!!! For drama to be good, the journey must be difficult. The characters must run into real obstacles. If the audience isn’t in constant doubt that the characters are gong to solve the crime, the story isn’t working.
For example, there’s a scene in the middle of the script, after the plane explosion, where Cameron and Kay go to a diner near the airport where they’re convinced someone must have seen the swapped plane driven away.
Cameron does some silly magic trick to captivate the diners while Kay watches everyone’s reaction. When a single busboy isn’t captivated by the trick, Kay determines he must know something. What???? Anyway, she approaches him. He runs. She tackles him 2 seconds later and asks, “You saw something didn’t you?” He immediately blurts out: “A truck, with a plane on it.”
That’s every plot point in this pilot. They’re handed over to our heroes like breadsticks at The Olive Garden. They don’t have to work for anything.
So a lot of you are probably asking then… “Why is this getting made while my pilot is collecting dust?”
Well, I’ll say this about Deception. It utilizes the setup that television likes the most. Cocky charming rogueish main character who doesn’t follow the rules teamed up with a straight-arrow female co-lead who doesn’t like him. That formula right there is gangbusters. And all you need to make it work is a new take on the charming rogue character. It just so happened that the writer struck gold with the magic thing because there’s nothing else like it on television.
And sometimes that’s all success is. It’s not writing the best piece of material. It’s finding that fresh “pot of gold” twist on a trusted formula. And the irony of it? Oftentimes, that pot of gold is sitting right there where everybody can see it.
Fifty Shades of Grey. Sex. How much more front and center can a subject be? And yet E.L. James turned it into a money-making machine.
Even so, I wish Fedak would’ve slowed down and let his scenes breathe every once in awhile. This pilot reads like it was written on coke. One of the pilot’s most important sequences, where “Cameron” meets a mysterious girl, goes on a drive with her, and crashes the car, killing her, takes place over half a page. HALF A PAGE!
Keep in mind that this woman is the driving force behind the enteire show. She’s our “secret magician” who’s trying to screw Cameron and his brother over (by the way, I’m 99.99999% sure she’ll be the sister they never knew they had, since that’s the most obvious choice and this pilot is built on obvious choices). Cameron will be going after her for multiple seasons. And she’s introduced and killed all within half a page.
I don’t get it. I feel that a script that’s getting this much heat requires a little more attention to detail. I understand the sale but not the laziness. It’s frustrating and sends the wrong message to aspiring writers that this screenwriting thing is easy. Humph.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: I hate writing this. But it’s the truth. If you want to sell a Big 4 network show, it’s a good idea to make your lead character 35 years old, roguish, charming, cocky, and full of one-liners.
What I learned 2: If you’re not good at writing that kind of character? Don’t try. As a screenwriter, one of your jobs is to understand what you’re good at and what you’re bad at and avoid what you’re bad at. I’ll read a lot of writers trying to write shows like Deception who aren’t funny. Who don’t know how to write funny one-liners or quippy back-and-forth dialogue. If you don’t know how to do that, move over to something else that plays to your strengths.
I woke up this morning feeling like a bacterial army had stormed the shores of my brain. This is usually the result of a downtick in In N Out visits. I’ll have to remedy that. In the meantime, I need some TLC. So if anyone is in the Hollywood area and wants to come over, heat me up some chicken noodle soup, add bubbles to my bathwater, and give me a footrub, text me.
Speaking of TLC, I’ve been dong a lot of reading lately, paying particular attention to scene-writing, and noticed that a lot of writers are leaving good scenes on the table. Especially you TV writers. Remember that with television, you don’t have the benefit of spectacle or action. You need to keep our interest through good old fashioned drama. Which is why I’m leaving you today’s tip.
TSC
TSC stands for tension, suspense, conflict. Every scene you write should contain at least one of these three devices. Where a lot of writers get thrown is they believe that as long as they’re moving the story forward, the scene is okay. Oh contrere mon frere. You must not only move the story forward, you must do so IN AN ENTERTAINING WAY. And that’s where TSC comes in. It ensures that what the characters are doing is entertaining.
Tension is the easiest of the three to add. Teenage Sister talking to Teenage Brother about a ride to school is boring. However, what if Brother is dating Sister’s best friend? Now a discussion about a ride to school is laced with tension. This is exactly what they did in The Edge of Seventeen.
Suspense is a little trickier, but the most effective of the three options when used well. Staying with our high school theme, a test scene can be boring. However, what if, during the test, our student is waiting for his buddy to text him the answers? There’s only 10 minutes left. He keeps checking his phone. His friend still hasn’t texted. Will he get the answers in time?? SUSPENSE!
Conflict is the broadest of the three options and covers a lot of ground. Remember, conflict is not just characters yelling at each other. The trick to adding conflict is adding an element THAT MAKES THE SCENE DIFFICULT FOR AT LEAST ONE OF THE CHARACTERS. If the scene is easy for everyone, there’s no conflict. For example, let’s say Jimmy’s at a party and he’s about to approach his crush, Jenny. If these two get to talk freely, the scene will lack conflict. So what about bringing in Football Player Hank. Hank strolls in and starts talking to Jenny as well. This makes Jimmy’s plan to talk to Jenny MORE DIFFICULT, which adds conflict to the scene.
Conflict can be found everywhere as long as you’re looking for it. If I woke up and was feeling fine this morning, BORING. I woke up and was sick. All of a sudden my day is MORE DIFFICULT. Conflict!
There you go. Now get back into your scripts and start adding some TSC.
And somebody make me some soup.
