Hey guys.  Carson here.  I’ll be moving today’s review to tomorrow.  Today, I have something special and interesting, something that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before – a screenwriter openly admitting defeat – giving up on his dream.  It’s a brave and scary thing to confront.  And I’m sure a draining thing to write about.  But like our guest columnist, Randy Steinberg, says, if it can help just a few people avoid the mistakes he did, it’ll be worth it.  I don’t agree with everything he says below, but I agree with most of it.  I know one thing.  This should be a very interesting comments section.  

*Note* Throughout this essay, when I refer to screenwriting it should be meant to understand I am discussing theatrical film writing as opposed to television writing.

I received a Master’s degree in Film in 1998. My concentration was screenwriting, and from that point forward I set out to write movie scripts with the goal of finding an agent, getting produced, and building a career. In 2011, I ceased trying. I threw in the towel. Tapped out. I had failed. I made very little money during all those years, had a virtual rolodex of contacts who probably wouldn’t remember my name in six months, and a bunch of old scripts that only myself and the universe knew existed.

How had this come to pass? It’s not as if I didn’t try. I had diligently written scripts for more than a decade. I knew people both in and out of the Hollywood system liked my writing. I had the chops, the drive, and the ideas to succeed. Why didn’t I?

No one will tell you success in screenwriting is easy, but few impart just how high the odds are. You may secure an agent or a manager, but that is only one step. Once you have representation, your script may be circulated. You may even get an actor or director attached. A small paid option will seem like a giant leap forward. If you are extremely fortunate, your script may sell and even be produced. This may mean some solid income, but don’t quit your day job because you could go dry for years after that. To actually live off screenwriting and that alone (and hope to support a family if that’s part of the equation) is an achievement few realize.

It’s not as if I was unaware of the long odds, but I didn’t play the game correctly. The age old saw “if I had only known then what I know now” applies, but even armed with better knowledge the odds of success increase only slightly. Still, if one hopes to achieve a dream it is best to embark on the journey with the proper tools and information.

What was it I didn’t know? What should I have done differently? Why did I fail where others succeeded? What can I pass on so new writers avoid the mistakes I made?

******************************

As with most failures, you have to look at yourself (though many are wont to do that). First, however, let me indulge in a bit of self-pity. When I emerged from film school, I was ill prepared to commence a career in screenwriting. It was the classic dichotomy of theory and practice, and many film school grads face this: no matter how well-schooled they might be, they are not prepared for what lies beyond the halls of the academy. For me, at the time of my graduation I did not hit the ground running: I just hit the ground.

It took me a few years to get over this poor start, but that amount of finger pointing aside, I have no one but myself to blame about the subsequent mistakes I made.

One of the appeals of screenwriting is the lottery-like nature of it. You can go from rags to riches overnight. One day you are the struggling writer in the garret, the next the toast of Hollywood. There is an entire industry built around tips, strategies, formulas, etc. that can help a writer achieve that big payoff. The allure is hard to resist.

That is probably one of the reasons I stayed at it as long as I did. Every time you begin a new script, you have hope. This could be the one. All the disappointments of the past are washed away, like so much sin after a sprinkling of holy water. Writers of all stripes have to deal with constant rejection and self-doubt, but they are the ultimate optimists. No aspiring writer would ever begin a new project if he or she didn’t think it would be the one that was going to make a big splash.

But here is the first and greatest mistake I ever made: I never moved to Los Angeles (I am from the Boston area). I had the opportunity when I was younger—before family and work made it an impossible decision—but I didn’t seize it. I labored under the impression I could write from afar, and, perhaps after a sale or another big development, then move to Hollywood—or maybe never have to live there permanently.

It’s not that this can’t happen. There are writers who don’t live in LA, who write scripts and visit frequently but don’t call the town their home. Some can make noise, but if you are going to make screenwriting your career (especially television writing) you simply have to live in Los Angeles—or at least reside there for some amount of time.

This is truer now more than ever, as reps eschew some clients simply because of out of town status. It’s harder to build the career of a young writer (and sustain the career of an established writer) if he or she isn’t known around town and can’t meet with industry players on a day in and day out basis.

Some writers may be content with one sale or maybe writing material for independent films. Maybe they want to write and produce their own scripts, in which case Hollywood matters less. But if you want to work in the Hollywood system and make a true living from it, you’ve got to be in the mix. There are always exceptions, but personally, in retrospect, it was a very large error not to move to Los Angeles—at least for a time if not permanently.

But let’s put that decision aside. Could I have achieved more, even removed from the center of the American movie industry? Yes, but again I made some poor decisions. If you want to succeed in screenwriting you have to be focused—like a laser. You are only as good as your last script. Everyone wants to know what you are working on next, and if you get sidetracked with other pursuits you fall behind. Reps and producers forget you. Tastes change and new trends form. To succeed in screenwriting you have to stay relevant, and to be on the forefront of people’s minds that means new material all the time.

Life intercedes, so it’s easier said than done, but for a time I wrote a few novels (lousy ones) and then I tried representing other writers for a bit. Both were worthy endeavors, but they forced me to put down my own screenwriting, and this was time I could have been writing newer and better scripts and perhaps breaking through.

And speaking of the wasted time department, I fell into the writing trap that is almost impossible for people to avoid, but bears mentioning because, undoubtedly, it will be asked of you if you attempt to make screenwriting your career: writing for free or writing “on spec.”

Every script that a writer begins without compensation is essentially that. Unless commissioned or written with an eye on raising money for your own film, every screenplay is penned on speculation that it can be sold or at least a manager or agent gained by it.

Some years back, times were a little easier for writers (not much but some). An unknown could procure a rep based on solid writing samples and then work his or her way into the system with small paid assignments. Money for the development of screenplays was freer and studios and production companies were more likely to take a chance on an unknown writer. Those days are gone and writers are being exploited.

More than ever, writers (both new and established) are working for free. These are not their own projects, which they then try to sell or pitch to reps. These are the ideas of producers, managers, and executives. Writers are asked to work on these for months, maybe even years with no pay, hanging only on the promise of a big score when the script is finally sold.

It is often hard for the writer to turn down these opportunities. There could be the chance to work with someone who has clout or access, and passing that up feels like starting at square one. It’s better to cling to something than have nothing, so writers take the chance and work this way, putting aside their own original material to spend time on ideas they might not even have full intellectual control of.

This, as with not living in LA, can occasionally work out, and that one out of one thousand success story fuels the notion that “it can happen to me, too.”
I don’t believe most of those asking writers to work on spec are bad eggs, looking to fool writers or get something for nothing. I do think it’s an unfortunate practice, on both sides of the equation. If you want good work, you pay for it, and there seems to be a belief that writers will still give their best effort even if not getting paid. On the other side, writers naively believe because someone is offering to get their scripts to higher ups these assurances will be followed through on. But I’m a firm believer that if there is no skin in the game on the producer or managerial side, even if the intentions are noble, you are unlikely to gain traction working on spec.

Of course, there are some looking to exploit writers, but whatever the motivations of those asking for free work, the writer should avoid it. I made this mistake several times. With limited time in this life, a writer should look askance at these situations and try to stay with his or her own original material.

But, if you must do it, do it when you are younger. Trial and error should happen when you have time and freedom on your side. You don’t want to be 20 scripts into your career, maybe with a spouse, children, and other responsibilities, putting down your own work to take free passes at someone else’s idea.

This happened to me toward the end of my screenwriting efforts, and it was not without appeal. It was a situation about a well known true crime story, one which I had a lot of background in. The producers could not afford to (or just didn’t want to) pay me up front, but as it was a front page story (and still is) there was some mojo for the project and the belief that it could be sold. In my younger days, I probably would have bit. But having learned the lessons of a failed screenwriter, I passed.

***********************

It’s not just with producers that writers can fall into this trap. Finding representation can also be a time suck and lead to failure.

In theory, the rep is supposed to work for the writer, and this may be true at the higher echelons where a well-known writer can fire an agent or manager and easily sign up with a new rep. But at the beginning stages the writer has little negotiating power. Your only leverage is to walk away, but many writers feel it’s better to hang on to something rather than beginning the search for a rep again.

Part of the reason for my failure is that, in several instances, I did just this. I should have headed for the exit far sooner, but I played the part of the ingénue too long hoping against hope that reps who took interest in my work would actually advance my career.

For example, I had once been introduced to a strong management team. They liked my writing and asked what else I was interested in doing. After discussing some ideas, we settled on something to script. Nine months and four or five drafts later, we were basically nowhere, and these reps didn’t seem interested in trying to work on something else. Furthermore, they did very little to put me forward to the industry as a writer with ideas and skills worth hearing about.
The emotional screws are similar to writing on spec for a producer and go down just as deeply. You have a legitimate rep, an industry player, interested in you and your work. They have the access and the contacts to get you where you want to be, so you are shy about asking questions or pressing the rep too much. They have all the power. The time I spent working on a script the reps never really showed to anyone was time I could have used writing other material and making more –and possibly better—contacts.

The small advantage to these situations is you have control over the material (unless you sign something to the contrary). You are working on your own ideas, with the rep helping to develop but not legally entitled to them. Still, unless you ask specific questions and “manage your manager” you can easily wind up in the same situation you would working on spec for a producer. You labor on a script for months and possibly years with the expectation that your rep will eventually get you and the work out there, but in the end they do neither.

There are many variations on this kind of relationship. A writer can spend much time working on different things for the same rep, but when push comes to shove the rep doesn’t feel it’s right for the market and asks his or her client to begin again on something new. Or the rep is only half-interested in the writer and strings him or her along hoping he or she will produce something amazing, but, short of that, won’t lift a finger to help the writer’s career.

Indeed, a few years after my failed efforts with Management Company A, I was introduced to Management Company B. Company B had an even better track record in the business than A, with big sales and an impressive client list. I showed them some scripts, and they thought I was a skilled writer but stated they could not sell those particular screenplays (more indy, character-driven pieces). Nevertheless, they wanted to discuss other ideas I might have. It quickly became apparent they were only looking for concept-driven scripts –action, big-comedy, horror and sci-fi—and their interest in me was of the “hip-pocket” variety.
This is a situation where a client is not formally signed with the manager, but he or she will agree to look at material the writer submits even though providing no guidance. When the script is complete, if the rep sees possibility in it, he or she will then sign the writer.

Had I been younger, I might have attempted to play ball, but I had learned my lessons by then and realized I would probably spend several months writing on a wing and a prayer—and in a genre that I had little passion for. In the end, I told Management Company B we didn’t have much common ground. They did not seem surprised and made no attempt to convince me we should try to work together.

*************************

The experience with Management Company B came in 2009-10. Even then, nearing 40 years of age and with much experience, I let the situation play out for too long. I was still holding out hope this one could be different. I did not want to admit failure. But when I did walk away I actually felt relieved.

After a few months of reflection, I realized I should start to move away from screenwriting entirely. I also realized the irony of it all. My final failure (the reality that I no longer aspired to practice the art of screenwriting professionally) came about because I was not afraid to fail. All those years, I was afraid to walk away from dodgy opportunities, afraid to ask for more commitment from potential reps, afraid to move to LA. Once I stopped fearing those things, I could be realistic with myself and summoned the courage to let it all go.

It was about this time, after more than a decade of trying, that I really and truly started to understand the system and could see why I had failed to make headway.

I began to realize that writing scripts was not the hard part, because if you want to succeed in the Hollywood system you have to be more than a good writer. There’s no question you need skill to make it; one can’t bumble his or her way into a successful writing career. But once you get past some of the first hurdles, success in screenwriting becomes more about market savvy, how you position and develop yourself, and saying the right things to the right people.

You’ll hear Hollywood insiders frequently tell new writers to just “write a great story” and you will get noticed. I think this is terrible advice. If there are two writers of equal skill, one who loves writing period dramas with female leads over 50 years of age and the other who scripts action pieces with 30-year old male leads, it’s not hard to see who is going to get more traction.

Screenwriting is, far more than any of the other writing forms, business-based. No one is going to shell out millions of dollars to make a movie without expecting (misplaced as this often is) millions more in return. Writers need to realize this.

I’ve read enough screenplays (at different levels of development) and seen enough movies by career-professional writers to know the gap between them and the talented aspirational class of writers is not as large as we are led to believe. It’s true that being in the right place at the right time is something no one can predict or prepare for, but I think a certain class of writers separate themselves from the pack by doing the little things that others can’t or won’t do.

No story about how a writer broke in to the system and succeeded is ever the same. There is no magic formula. The best advice I ever heard about success in screenwriting is “be pleasantly persistent.” But some succeed while others fail because they learned to do the little things. The little things evaded me for a long time, and when I did finally understand them I didn’t want to put them into practice.

I found the ideas that spoke to me as a writer were not commercial enough for Hollywood. I was not interested in moving to LA, ever. And I was unwilling to talk the kind of eager-beaver talk that producers and reps in the system want to hear. Perhaps some of this was due to the fact that I was nearing 40 and at a different place in life, but there are plenty of writers, no matter what age, who succeed because they play the game correctly (in addition to possessing great storytelling skill).

Perhaps I was never truly cut out to be a Hollywood-style screenwriter, but all those years of trying would have been less of a letdown if I had not made some of the mistakes I did. Then I could have chalked up lack of success to poor timing as opposed to some of the other missteps I made.

***************************

Even though I harbor little ambition for screenwriting any more, I still have people approach me and exclaim “I’ve got a great idea for a movie.” It’s difficult to even hear this because there is so much beyond having a great idea. I used to respond, “Sounds good. Write it up.” Now, I feel I should be a little tougher or at least ask “What’s your goal?” You need a great idea to begin, but that’s one piece out of a 1,000 item jigsaw puzzle.

It’s hard to be entirely negative. A prominent screenwriter I’ve known for years has always counseled me not to bother with the craft. Naturally, I never liked that advice, but he knew what I was up against. You don’t want to lead on aspiring writers by telling them just to try hard and believe in themselves. You want to encourage someone to pursue their dreams, but at the same time you want them to know exactly how steep the climb is.

As I noted earlier, there are a million books, articles, and blogs about screenwriting that will tell you all the things you need to do in order to sell a script or land an agent. The point of this essay is not to follow suit. I don’t want to tell anyone reading this article what they must do in order to succeed at screenwriting: I’m here to tell readers what I did wrong and why I failed.

A screenwriter who did succeed once told me something about the business when I asked him what I should expect out of a situation with an agent. He said, “It’s all a mystery until it isn’t a mystery.” If this article can take just a small slice out of the mystery by highlighting my missteps, I will take solace in helping someone else succeed where I did not.

Due to work constraints, I’m switching Tuesday and Thursday around.  That means 10 Screenwriting Tips via E.T. is moving to Thursday.  Right now, I have to post one of my favorite comments of the year.  It came in response to Thursday’s post about the intangibles of screenwriting.  Writers come from all different backgrounds and situations.  Some are trust fund babies with all the time in the world.  Some are parents barely able to scrape up enough money to keep their families above water.  Whatever the case, writers tend to make up reasons to procrastinate, to not write, to hold off.  This comment just makes you want to write.  Print it and tape it next to your workspace.  It’s from Half-Robot.  Enjoy (and Half-Robot, I’ll read your script when it’s finished!).

If you are finding reasons to avoid writing, maybe it’s not for you. It’s all about effort.

Megastar athletes are there because of dedication and perseverance. Not a single person wakes up one day and is amazingly talented.

Famous musicians.

Actors.

Scientists.

You name it.

I’m sorry but you gotta churn stuff out to get better. The whole 10,000 hours thing. It’s almost as simple as math. Writing a great story, no. But getting better? Elementary.

Unless you just REALLY aren’t getting it. But that’s a whole different story…

I started writing five months ago.

Five.

Before that (and now) I just worked regular, everyday jobs. I’m currently a payroll manager for a mid-size marketing firm. I live an hour away from my job. I work 40-50 hours a week, plus another 10-15 commuting on a cramped bus reading every screenplay I can get my hands on. Plus, I’m married to someone who doesn’t really like movies. Don’t tell me you don’t have time to write.

I don’t have a fancy film degree. I haven’t watched all the classics. I just sit my ass down, forget about sleeping, and write. I leave for work at 5:30 AM, get home at 6 PM. Spend a few hours with the wifey and I’m usually writing from 9 until about 1 or 2 AM. It’s what it takes, man. It ain’t easy. No one said it was. But don’t give me a bullshit excuse that you don’t have time. Suck it up, buttercup.

Though, admittedly, when I started, I thought I would be one of the lucky ones. Sell my first script, dash away to the hills of Hollywood, hob-nob with A-listers. At first, that was my inspiration. The golden dream. Who doesn’t dream of that scenario? It still has to be a small part of your inspiration to make it as a writer. Maybe those things don’t happen to writers, but you still have to swing for the stars. Literally and metaphorically.

It obviously didn’t go that route. And months later, I’ve completely shifted my view on the art of screenwriting. I stopped caring about others “making it” and focused entirely on what I was doing. MY projects.

And you know how much I’ve written?

2 (god-awful) complete feature specs. Both rewritten a few times before I moved on to a fresh idea.

Countless outlines.

2 half-baked feature specs.

Dozens of half-baked ideas, scenes.

A million “A day in the life of” character sheets.

3 separate ideas for The Writer’s Store contest in 2 weeks.

And I’m now on my third draft (technically sixth, but some are partial rewrites) of my 3rd feature.

Five months, people. Don’t tell me it can’t be done.

Feedback is HUGE. I’ve connected with a dozen people through this site and I can’t even tell you how pleased I am to have met them.

Carson, thank you for providing a pretty relaxed atmosphere where we can discuss and connect with each other.

Contrary to popular belief, there aren’t a lot of sites like this. I’ve read a few blogs and they get MAYBE two or three comments. We’re consistently pushing 70+ on most articles. That is fucking stellar y’all.

The flip side to feedback is what to do with it. Get over yourself. You’re not god’s gift to the screenwriting world. We’re all (aspiring) story tellers. See what others think.

From the people I’ve met here, they usually have some pretty great ideas on how to improve that scene where your lead is slicing someone’s throat but in a way we’ve all seen before. You probably thought it was fucking brilliant. Guess what?

It wasn’t.

To quote the Barenaked Ladies, “It’s all been done.”

So yeah, feedback and a thick skin. WHEN (NOT IF) you sell something, you’re going to get hit with notes. Probably a lot of them. I obviously don’t know, but from what I’ve read, get ready for a lot of rewriting.

Rewriting is the fun part anyway. That’s where your script comes alive. I read an interview from here last night from E. Nicholas Mariani that talked about rewriting being the connective tissue, the “scene between the scenes.” That really resonated with me. You can only discover that stuff the second (third, fourth, fifth, sixth…) time around.

That’s why I have an issue with so many AoW scripts. They are clearly first drafts. They are not thought through. It’s basically a (way too long usually) first draft of some cool scenes you thought of. Guess what? After countless weeks of offerings, how many have really gained traction? Yeah. Exactly.

I think we are too easy on amateur writers. You sugar coat the issue, they don’t grow. Simple as that. I’ve read notes from friends that always start with “let me know if I’m being too harsh” and the really grinds my gears.

Let me have it. Make my story better. If you’re polite, I don’t see the problem. If you’re rude, we may have an issue. But I haven’t met anyone here or anywhere else that is a raging douchebag.

I have to disagree with Carson on three things, though.

One –

Don’t read screenplay books right away. I did that. If I could go back, I wouldn’t. Yes, read a book on formatting. Don’t be that guy. BUT, don’t read Save the Cat! and go from there.

Those bad habits will stick with you. Don’t count pages. Don’t worry about 15 beats. You will hit roadblock after roadblock. Write INTERESTING CHARACTERS doing INTERESTING THINGS that makes us want to KNOW WHAT HAPPENS.

If your inciting incident doesn’t land on page 10, an executive isn’t going to jump out of a bush and murder you.

The best way to describe if something is good to me is this rule:

How many pages have I read before I check to see what page I’m on.

If it’s good, I don’t check.

If it’s bad, well, you get it.

We all do it when we read.

We’ve read stories our entire lives. We’ve watched countless movies. Telling a story isn’t rocket science. Well, it is, but not really.

Read SCREENPLAYS. A SHIT TON OF THEM. I’ve read more screenplays in five months than movies I’ve watched in my entire life. And you know what? My scripts are stronger because of it. Half the movies you watch aren’t like the screenplay anyway. READ. READ. READ.

Because you are –

WRITING. WRITING. WRITING. They are words. Go outside, feel emotions, nature. Next time you’re on a walk, mentally think how you’d describe where you are in the most interesting, brief way. Not how your favorite movie ALREADY DID IT.

Two –

Yes, you should write. Every. FUCKING. Day. No excuses. BUT, it has to be more than five minutes. I know that is metaphor for just spending at least some time on writing, but you’ll get no where.

Five minutes? Ten minutes? That’s how long it takes me to come up with a fucking tweet for christ’s sake. How many pages do you think you’ll get done in a year writing even 30 minutes a day? Maybe enough to post a new blog entry every couple of days.

Put your ass in that seat and get excited. Tell sleep to go fuck itself. Tell five minutes to go fuck itself. You’re a writer, not a stopwatch. Get to writing.

Three –

Don’t write something because it’s a “commercial idea.” It will be so obvious. Another interview I read from the fucking talent that is Brian Duffield explained how he starts his specs… A thought or emotion that he’s struggling with. That’s what you need to do.

Yeah, that’s right. YOU.

Pick something challenging. Pick a flaw in your life. Writing will become therapy and before you know it, you’ve got something good.

My current project is about relationships. Their complexity… their brutal way of making you vulnerable, exposing you to another soul. How unfair they can be. How they shape us. How in dire situations, knowing the person you are with has your back. Trust. Finding your soul mate.

The logline? A former couple must survive a road trip during the zombie apocalypse.

And it’s a fucking rom-com. It’s a dark comedy, but a rom-com nonetheless.

If you write based only on a commercial idea, that’ll get you a couple scenes. It WON’T get you a deep connection with the reader. Look, we’re all human. We all have fears, worries, problems, complications, themes, ideas, struggles, whatever. Pick one. Tackle it. Challenge yourself. Brian Koppelman bashes this idea into our heads with his six second screenwriting advice vines. They are brilliant.

Once you’ve grasped the idea you want to work on, then you can attach the story to it. I could have written a dumb comedy about two opposites stuck in car together and all the wacky, crazy things that happen to them. But I grounded it first, then added the story later. I want you to know, at the heart, WHY they are a former couple, HOW that affects the trip, WHY they are even on the trip to begin with. I want you to watch and FEEL them grow, arc, whatever word you want to use for it.

I don’t want Kevin James butt to touch David Spade’s face for a laugh.

Your Bridesmaid is a Bitch isn’t just about some guy going to his sister’s wedding where his ex-girlfriend will be. That is the story, sure. But at the core, like Brian says, is the complexity and struggles with relationships we’ve all been in. We’ve all had our hearts broken. Now, I’m sure a very small percentage of us actually have been to our sister’s wedding where our ex was. But we relate to the feeling. It’s pretty universal. No one is reinventing the wheel, here. And it doesn’t need to be, either.

In conclusion – sorry for ranting. I’m pretty fired up about this. It all comes down to you. Do you want to do this. Like, for reals. Or is it just a hobby?

Here’s a clue. In the last week, how many hours have you dedicated to a blank page? If it’s less than 15, you might need to reevaluate your goals.

As always, if anyone wants to connect, trade scripts, or engage in hilarious, off-beat emails while I’m at work, email me.

driftinginscripts@gmail.com

I’m also on twitter. I’ve kind of fell off the map there, but I still whip up a few quips every now and then.

@half_robot

When I win an Oscar, I will thank all of you in my speech. Especially you, Carson.

Get Your Script Reviewed!: To submit your script for an Amateur Review, send in a PDF of your script, along with the title, genre, logline, and finally, something interesting about yourself and/or your script that you’d like us to post along with the script if it gets reviewed. Use my submission address please: Carsonreeves3@gmail.com. Remember that your script will be posted. If you’re nervous about the effects of a bad review, feel free to use an alias name and/or title. It’s a good idea to resubmit every couple of weeks so your submission stays near the top.

Genre: Thriller
Premise: (from writer) A mother and daughter held hostage at an isolated farmhouse struggle to survive as one of their captors grows increasingly unstable.
Why You Should Read: (from writer) This script was a Nicholl quarterfinalist in 2011. It’s gotten some attention in the past, but has always managed to get lost in the shuffle. I thought this would be a good opportunity to inject new life into a script I feel has been overlooked. I don’t claim the concept is unique, but I do believe the execution is. I wrote it partly to prove to myself I could write a contained thriller and still be original. It’s difficult to stand out once the budget gets below a certain level, but I think this script shows a good effort. It’s got strong structure, three dimensional characters, and has something to say I’ve wanted to express in a story for a long time. It’s a quick read in both style and page count and I’m confident you’ll enjoy it.
Writer: Breanne Mattson
Details: 100 pages

Halle Berry for Audrey?

I don’t know what it is with you Scriptshadow readers. But you always seem to endorse the darkest shit! Last week it was child murder. This week it’s moms and daughters being tied up and threatened in every way imaginable. There’s even a rape backstory. What ever happened to happy stuff!? Why can’t there be a script about ducklings and puppies? Maybe a ducklet and a puppy named Pupplestor team up to solve a farmland crime? It can be a prequel to Babe. I don’t know. This is probably a reflection of me. Something about my writing brings you dark-minded folk to my site. I must be a sicko.

With that being said, today’s script, while hurting my happiness, is actually quite good. The story flies by. Lots of conflict. Lots of drama. Lots of suspense. You could do a lot worse than Warning Shot, that’s for sure. But why hasn’t it done more for Breanne? Let’s throw on our script-fighting capes and find out!

30 year old Audrey is a former valedictorian who dropped out of college for reasons unknown (reasons we’ll find out later). She’s got an 8 year old daughter, Cheyenne, who’s the only thing that gets her through the day. And those days aren’t pretty. Her diner tips barely get above the 2 dollar variety and she’s THIS close to getting evicted from a trailer park. That’s when you know things are really bad.

Lucky for her, her grandfather dies! Well, not “lucky,” but you know what I mean. He left Audrey his farm, and that means her and her daughter at least have a roof over their heads. Little do they know, across town, this loser named Bobby doesn’t know about the grandfather’s death. And Bobby’s grandfather (who’s on his deathbed) has been trying to get the water rights from that man for 60 years. Bobby thinks if he can get them, his grandfather will finally respect him.

Bobby’s plan is to hire the ultra slimy Rainy and his dope head pot dealer, Juarez. The two have simple instructions. Go get the old man to sign the rights away to the water but don’t kill him. Well, when they get there, they find that Audrey and Cheyenee are there instead. And that Grandpa is dead.

So they tie them up, wondering what to do. And that’s when the loose cannon, Rainy, starts getting other ideas – as in maybe he’ll have a little fun before doing business. The threat of rape quickly turns into the threat of murder, but it’s when an innocent church goer, David, comes by and accidentally sees what’s going on, that Rainy loses his shit. He ties all of them up, with plans to kill the lot.

This is WAY more than Juarez bargained for, and he’s eventually able to restrain Rainy, but in this house, on this day, nobody has control of the situation for long. The guns and the power keep shifting, leaving small windows for the weak to make their move. But nothing will prepare anybody for when Bobby shows up. He wants this deal done and he wants it done now. And he doesn’t care who’s standing at the end of the process.

You know, I don’t think I’ve ever 100% agreed with a writer’s “Why You Should Read” until today. This script is EXACTLY what Breanne says it is. The concept’s a little bland. The structure’s really tight. It moves fast. It feels different from other contained thrillers. Understanding your work well enough to know exactly how it comes off is a talent in itself.

The thing holding it back is that lack of a compelling concept. I mean, if I’m a producer and I’m trying to figure out how to market this movie, I’m confused. What are you selling? A movie about a bad guy who ties up a mom and her daughter? That kind of thing happens in almost EVERY MOVIE at some point. It’s an eventual part of every story. So to make something so ubiquitous the hook of your film? That’s not going to get people excited.

I suppose if you got movie stars to play the parts, it might make some money, but these days, with more and more star vehicles going straight to VOD, it’s just really hard. I mean maybe that’s your answer. You get this made as an independent film for a small price and then go straight to VOD. That could happen. But as someone looking at it from the other side, I need to get excited about the concept. And I’m not. Which sucks. Because it is well written, and like Breanne says, well-executed.

In addition to those things mentioned, it’s got a great villain in Rainy. I mean this guy is scary shit. This is highlighted in the section where Rainy doesn’t have a gun. Juarez has taken charge and put Rainy “in the corner” until Bobby gets there. Despite the fact that Rainy doesn’t have a weapon, he’s the scariest he is all movie. The way he grills Audrey with probing questions, you just know he’s biding his time. You know he’s got something up his sleeve. The dude sends chills up your spine!

The dialogue here was really good too (with the exception of Cheyenne, who spoke too much like an adult at times). There’s a strong emotional anchor with Audrey and her daughter. Over the course of the script, we learn that Cheyenne may have not been in the plans, which forces Audrey to tell Cheyenne the truth about her father. And I mean come on. A mother and daughter in a life or death situation? Even if you don’t add a lick of backstory, we’re automatically rooting for them. So the script pretty much has us right from the start.

And then there’s the metaphor (spoiler) behind the story, which is obviously the fact that Audrey was raped in college (which is why she had Cheyenne) and then the farm’s water rights weren’t even hers. They belonged to the city. Which meant none of this ever had to happen. Just like the guy who raped her in college, all they had to do was ask. So that certainly adds an extra layer to the story that makes it hit harder.

The only weak story element was how Bobby’s plan didn’t make sense. He was going to come here, get this woman to sign the rights away, then kill her? It doesn’t take the Dateline Team to figure out that a woman signing over the rights to her land then getting killed a day later may be connected somehow. So I would’ve liked if Bobby’s plan was a bit more tidy, seeing as he’s supposed to be a smart guy.

Breanne is a really good writer. But this is a hard sell.  If I were her, I’d contact every big actress with a daughter, preferably young daughters.  Protecting your daughter is such a primal instinct I could see one of them making a big connection with this material.  And once you have the actress, you have a chance to make your movie.  I’ll be keeping an eye on Breanne.  This is a solid effort.  I can’t wait to see what she does with a bigger concept.

Script link: Warning Shot

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

What I learned: When you’re doing one of these contained thrillers, it’s all about changing the dynamic to keep the story fresh. Cause you can’t change the setting. So changing who’s in charge, what information is revealed, when new characters are inserted – anything that changes the dynamic in that room – that’s how you keep a low-location story fresh. So here, Rainy starts out in charge. Then David shows up. Then Juarez takes charge. Then Bobby shows up and takes charge. Changing the dynamic keeps the story from becoming stagnant.

Genre: TV pilot
Premise: (from AMC) Set in the early 1980s, the series dramatizes the personal computing boom through the eyes of a visionary, an engineer and a prodigy whose innovations directly confront the corporate behemoths of the time. Their personal and professional partnership will be challenged by greed and ego while charting the changing culture in Texas’s Silicon Prairie.
About: This is one of the next big shows coming to AMC, the network that brought you Mad Men, Breaking Bad, and The Walking Dead. As for the writers, I’ve actually reviewed one of their scripts before and WOW have they improved. I thought their spec effort, The Knoll, was below par, with my main beef being that it was stick thin. But this is the polar opposite. Very rich and detailed and deep. Good job guys!
Writers: Christopher Cantwell and Christopher Rogers
Details: 64 pages

Breaking Bad is over. Mad Men has only one season left (well, two halves of one season actually – in a sly or slimy move, depending on who you talk to). Which leads to the inevitable question, what does the network producing the best shoes on television have next? Word on the street (or from a Google search) says that AMC has over 60 shows in development. So they’ve got plenty of potential successors. “Halt and Catch Fire” is first trying to take the baton. Will it succeed? Let’s find out.

It’s 1981. You know, when E.T. came out? When Michael Jackson had only a couple of facial reconstruction surgeries in the rear-view mirror (the MAN in the rear-view mirror)? And when the personal computer was just starting to hit the world. Computer systems salesman Joe Macmillan is someone who knows the PC boom is coming. The problem is he’s also suicidal, and actually drives his car off a cliff in the opening scene in an attempt to meet his maker. But he survives. Bummer. Or not bummer?

Joe, who used to work at IBM (and hated it), decides to use this second chance to take over the PC industry. He’s heard of this computer innovator named Gordon Clark, a bar-brawling family man (yeah!) who spends his nights pulling apart and putting back together Atari 2600s. Joe specifically comes to IBM rival Cardiff-Giant (at the time just a software company) to work with Gordon. His goal? To build a PC that’s better and cheaper than IBM’s.

And that’s exactly what they do (with a lot of resistance on Gordon’s part). They take one of IBM’s PCs and they reverse engineer it. Which is kind of a legal no-no. But Joe doesn’t stop there. He actually CALLS IBM and tells them that he did it. Which gets every lawyer within 5 miles of IBM’s headquarters together to take down Cardiff. What’s going on? Is Joe trying to destroy his own company?

Not exactly. In a somewhat difficult-to-understand development, the only way for Cardiff to avoid getting sued into bankruptcy is to pretend like they were working on a PC all along. This forces Cardiff’s top brass to allow Joe to head up the PC side of the company, where he of course brings with him Gordon, and a plucky (yet attractive!) young computer genius from a nearby university, Cameron. The three will do the impossible. They will take on the biggest computer corporation in the world and try to beat them at their own game – making PCs.

Lee Pace will play Joe.

Well, I don’t really know what I just read. I just know it was good! Almost an impressive. See, here’s what has me tripped up. This is a show about a company called “Cardiff-Giant” competing with titan IBM in the early days of the personal computer business. The thing is, I’ve never heard of Cardiff-Giant. Are they an also-ran company that eventually succumbed to IBM? Did Cardiff-Giant merge into some other famous company that’s still alive today? Or is this all just fiction? I mean, the Cardiff Giant IS one of the most famous hoaxes in history – a ten foot tall mummified man. So is the company title a hint that there’s more to this show than meets the eye? I don’t know!

Luckily, this is a really well-written pilot with a lot of good stuff going on. The first thing you notice about “Halt” is the irony (always use irony in your ideas if possible guys!). This is the computer business, a place where we expect dorks to huddle in their closets and basements and build computer boards. Which does happen here. But one of our two leads starts bar fights and the other is a ruthless closer that would make Alec Baldwin’s character on Glengary Glenn Ross feel like a spineless chump. These don’t feel like the geeky techies we associate with this industry, instantly giving the show some edge.

And Chris and Chris not only built those characters ironically, but used them to instill a lot of the conflict that drives the script. Joe is a suicidal dick who never takes no for an answer, and Gordon is a frustrated family man who isn’t afraid to tell someone to fuck off. The two don’t really like each other (or each others’ contrasting styles) and that adds a lot of fire to their scenes. Conflict, conflict, conflict people. It’s the oldest dramatic tool in the book. It’s gotta feel natural (you can’t force it) but if you set the characters up right and they’re naturally butting up against each other, the scenes will write themselves.

And the script just made some cool choices along the way. One of the easiest ways for me to spot a bad writer is to read a scene play out the exact way I’ve seen it play out 6000 times before. Only the good writers say, “How can I do this differently?”

There’s a scene early on where Joe needs an engineer for their group. So he goes to the local college to look for one. Now it’s important to see how this scene would’ve been written by a bad writer. We probably would’ve shown a professor type lecturing his students, and then a particularly difficult question would’ve been posed that stumped everyone, and our plucky young student, Cameron, would’ve answered it in an unexpectedly clever way. Joe would’ve been waiting in the wings, witnessing this, then caught up to Cameron afterwards and asked if he could talk to her.

Here’s how the scene went instead. Joe works his way in front of the class and tells everyone who wants to be an engineer to raise their hand. He’s going to list off several categories. Every time he lists a category they don’t have experience in, they have to lower their hands. He lists a bunch of stuff (electrical engineering, software design, microprocessing, etc.) and each time, more and more hands go down until there are three left. Of those three, he asks each to tell him one thing that will be true about computers 10 years from now. They each give their answer. Cameron ends up giving the best one. Macmillan says, “See me after class.”

I haven’t seen that scene before. And those scenes don’t just come to you off the top of your head. You have to fight for them. You have to go through a couple of cliché scenes until you find them. And the writers who are willing to put forth that extra effort and find that fresh take on a scene are typically the ones who succeed.

Speaking of Cameron, I loved how the Chris’s added ANOTHER layer of conflict within this three-person team. Later on, after Joe discovers Cameron, he gets drunk and sleeps with her. Realizing he screwed up everything, he ditches her the next morning. Later, however, when he becomes in charge of Cardiff’s PC division, he needs that engineer still. So he must go groveling back to this girl that hates him and ask her to join the team. She reluctantly does, and now we’ve got one big unhappy family.

We also have a boss who hates Joe. We have a rival (his old boss from IBM) who hates Joe. Everyone seems to hate these guys. And that’s PERFECT for a show because it creates drama. It creates resistance. It creates conflict. That’s what you need!

Now not everything is blueberries and soft shell tacos here. I had a couple of issues. Gordon’s character was inconsistent. He starts off as this guy who beats people up in bars. But when he meets Joe, he becomes meek. This tends to happen when you try and create two alpha males. In the scenes, one of them has to become dominant, and by association, the other’s going to disappear a little. However, Gordon disappeared too much. I liked him better when he would beat somebody’s ass. I hope they go with that guy in the show.

And also, this pilot was so heading for an impressive before the “Cardiff PC Division” plot point. This whole time, Joe looked like he was cleverly orchestrating this really cool plan that was going to outsmart everyone – an outsmarting I was dying to see – but it turns out they sort of accidentally get asked to start this new PC division because of a weird legal loophole that was never clearly explained. It drives me NUTS when major plot points are fudged over by unclear plot developments. I was hoping for more there.

Still, everything else here was top notch. Is it the next Breaking Bad? Too early to tell. I gave AMC show Hell on Wheels the same grade I’m giving this and thought it was headed for big things. But that show was bigger than AMC was capable of making it. It needed Boardwalk Empire dollars to do it justice. “Halt” doesn’t require a big production budget, so it will be all about the characters and the story. They’ve got some cool characters. Let’s see where the story goes from here.

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

What I learned: QUESTION MARK CHARACTERS – In a lot of good TV shows, you have characters who are question marks. You don’t know what they’re capable of or what they’ll do. You need to almost present them as ticking time bombs, waiting to explode. Here we have one protagonist who’s willing to beat the shit out of people (and get beat up) if they get in his way, and another who drives his car off a cliff at the beginning of the show, trying to commit suicide. Those are two big question mark characters if you ask me.

Genre: Indie Rom-Com
Premise: A recent Ivy League grad is forced to work at a Trophy Store, where she runs into the guy who stole her virginity then never called again.
About: Diablo Cody is baaaack. IN TIME! There isn’t a whole lot known about this script. The title page indicates this was before Cody had an agent and therefore hadn’t made the LA jump yet. But as it’s a first draft, she may have gone back to the script at some point over the years. I can tell you this isn’t her directing debut (that’s Lamb of God – or whatever it’s been re-titled) but rather a film that last had Ol Parker directing (The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel) and star Julianne Hough (Safe Haven). Then again, that was in 2012 and there’s been no movement since, so I’m not even sure these two are attached anymore. For more on Diablo, she just offered her 7 tips for future successful screenwriters article over on Vulture. Check it out!
Writer: Diablo Cody
Details: 1st draft – 112 pages

Diablo Cody has gotten a lot of unwarranted heat over her writing since her debut back in 2007. I think a lot of that came from everyone proclaiming she was a great writer when in actuality she was probably only a good one. She hadn’t really mastered the craft yet, and her Juno draft that won her an Oscar had just as much to do with those guiding her as her own writing (at least that’s what I heard). There was some blog nakedness and some light stripping that added fuel to the fire, and when you throw in a healthy dose of jealousy – well, that’s going to create a controversial figure.

But I think Cody’s a good writer. She understands female characters better than almost anyone. She’s good with dialogue when she doesn’t push too hard. And she’s got a great sense of humor. Take Young Adult, for example. That was a nice little movie. And I don’t think there’s a writer on this earth other than Cody who could’ve made it work. But here’s why I’m really curious about “Time and a Half.” It looks to be written before she had her big break. The reason that’s significant is because Cody’s writing has gotten a lot tamer since Juno, a result of, I’m guessing, the blowback she got for all the cutesy-ness of that film. She took those critiques so hard, it’s like she went too far in the opposite direction. But when you’re good at something (like quick witty dialogue) you should probably write quick witty dialogue. I’m curious to see if this (supposed) pre-Oscar script gives us the original Cody and not the post-Juno Cody. Let’s find out.

Krista Mattson (23 or 25, depending on the spot of the script) was the artsy chick in high school, the one who aggressively wondered why all the hot guys went for the pretty popular girls instead of the artsy cool ones, like herself. 5 years later and she still hasn’t gotten over it. Every aspect of her life seems to revolve around the fact that the people in high school sucked. Starting with her older sister, Shawnee.

You see, Shawnee WAS one of the popular chicks. She had it all. And Krista resents her for that. The only thing that kept the relationship tolerable was the fact that Krista knew, once they reached adulthood, their rolls would switch. Because adulthood is where all the pretty high school boys and girls become nobodies, and all the quiet geniuses become somebodies. Operation Fail on that front. Shawnee just got a big promotion at her real estate job, and Krista just got fired from her ad agency. What the hell is going on??? This is not how it’s supposed to happen!

So with Krista desperate to simply pay the bills, she ends up at the only place that’s hiring, a trophy store. There, she’s teamed up with the handsome Noah, one of the very popular kids she hated in high school, her sister’s former boyfriend, and, oh yeah, the guy she lost her virginity to (and who never called her again)! Krista wants out. But the rumor goes, if you don’t pay your rent, they make you leave the apartment n stuff. So she’s gotta stay at Loser Trophy Shops R Us.

But! But it turns out grown-up Noah is kinda sweet. And when he asks Krista on a “fake date” where there’s no pressure to do anything but have fun, she obliges, and the two have the time of their lives. Until Shawnee and her friends show up, turning the clock right back to high school and putting Krista square in the middle of her ultimate nightmare. Will she bail? Will she endure? Will this kill her only shot at happiness? Is the eternally bitter Krista even capable of happiness? Time for this girl to test her mettle and find out.

Time and a Half is a good script but I don’t think it’s ever going to get made. It’s too thin. It’s about a girl who runs into a guy she once knew and they hang out with each other. That’s not just thin. That’s catastrophically thin. This is a MOVIE. Millions of dollars will be spent. And for that reason, there has to be a concept with some meat, with something other than a premise that could easily be the setup for a sitcom episode. This is why I tell you guys not to write scripts with no hook. If Diablo Cody, one of the best known screenwriters in the business, can’t get this kind of movie made, how are you going to?

But if you ARE going to write one of these simple “boy meets girl” screenplays, you have to push the envelope in places. You have to add some edge to your material – anything that GETS the reader’s emotions revved up. This script was too sweet, too nice. Everyone got along with only a few minor hiccups here and there. And when everything’s too easy, the script doesn’t STAY WITH the reader. There’s gotta be conflict. There’s gotta be major obstacles!

Personally, I would’ve encouraged a more relentless “boy loses girl” section. Here, Krista loses Noah in a fight that would’ve rated 2.5 on the Richter scale, then her sister gives her some great advice and a few scenes later, they’re together and happy again. I probably would’ve had the sister (who was Noah’s girlfriend in high school) sleep with Noah again. I know it’s sorta cliché, but the characters would’ve had to work a LOT HARDER to get back to a happy place. And the betrayal would’ve stung a lot worse. We never got that low here. This would’ve brought us low.

However, Cody does a nice job, again, building an interesting believable female lead. She does a great job adding a flaw (Krista thinks she’s better than everyone else) and the character DEVELOPS into someone much less snobby by the end of the ride. It reminded me that the best character flaws are usually the simplest, and they’re usually made very clear to the audience. I’ve read too many scripts lately where writers have been incorporating really complicated character flaws (i.e. a character who believes people are too obsessed with the future and who wants to prove that we should focus on the present by communicating more) and their characters just get lost as the writer attempts to explain that. How can you have a character change when you’re not even sure what’s wrong with them?

And I know whenever you bring up Cody’s dialogue, the screenwriting world ignites, but she really is better than most. I mean say what you will, but her dialogue’s always so ALIVE. She’s always choosing unique ways to say things and dropping in zingers and giving each character a unique way of talking. Here’s a little snippet from page 97, where Krista’s old boss is presumably trying to get her to come work for him again. The two have just sat down for lunch and Clive (the boss) is nursing a “totally absurd looking breakfast drink.”

CLIDE
You made it.

Krista eases self-consciously into her chair.

KRISTA
What is that thing you’re drinking?

CLIVE
It’s a Bloody Margeaux. It’s made with truffle oil and tomato juice. You have to drink it fast before it separates.

KRISTA
Like science in your mouth.

CLIVE
Do you have a spoon?

KRISTA
(checking)
Mmm, no.

CLIVE
I need a spoon.

An awkward moment of silence.

CLIVE
I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you to come here…

Let me tell you why I like this dialogue. Because it brings the characters ALIVE. They’re not just two pawns on the writer’s chessboard being manipulated through the scene. It’s just enough talk BEFORE we get to the plot stuff, that it makes the moment feel real. I’ve seen so many scenes like this where the writer doesn’t inject ANY life into the moment and only focuses on the mechanics of the scene. Something like this:

Krista sits down.

CLIVE
Glad you could make it.

KRISTA
What am I doing here, Clive?

CLIVE
You’re not still mad are you?

KRISTA
Yeah, in fact, I am. You fired me two weeks ago and then, out of nowhere, you call and say you need me back. Wouldn’t you be mad?

CLIVE
Look—

KRISTA
No! No “look” Clive. I’m finally starting to figure out my life and then you throw this curve ball at me. Not cool.

Boring, right? We miss the “real-ness” of the opening. We miss the laughs. And the exchange is a lot more mechanical and on-the-nose. Dialogue is something you very much have to have an ear for, but if you recognize the difference between good and bad exchanges like these, you’re one level up on the competition. Then again, it’s important to note when to have fun and when to stay serious. This script is mostly a comedy. You’re not writing the first version of the scene if this is a serial killer mystery, a la “Seven.” So always make sure the dialogue is appropriate for the situation.

I liked this script for all the reasons I just mentioned. But the more scripts I read, the more I’m realizing that these “okay” scripts that don’t really have anything to market rarely get made. You need something a little more eye-catching in your concept or execution. Or a fresh angle. I just felt this was too soft.

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

What I learned: The simplest solutions are usually the best. When I talked about making character flaws simple, you can really apply that approach to everything in scripts. Keep the theme simple. Keep character motivations simple. Keep the goals simple. Keep the backstories simple. It’s when writers overthink everything and create these really elaborate solutions to problems that aren’t really there, that the script loses focus and falls apart. There are situations that require complexity, don’t get me wrong. But if you’re having trouble with something in your script, start with the simplest solution.