Could is be? Did someone just write American Psycho with a 13 year-old girl?

Genre: Thriller
Premise: 13-year-old Emily Derringer seems like the perfect girl. But she’s not. She’s a serial killer known as “The Misfit Butcher.”
About: Another high-ranking Black List script from last year. Chris Thomas Devlin is one of the newer writers to make the list. This is his breakthrough script!
Writer: Chris Thomas Devlin
Details: 94 pages

Like I always say, one of the best ways to get noticed is to take a common genre or idea and come at it from a fresh angle. That’s exactly what Devlin’s done. He’s taken the serial killer genre and infused it with the most unlikely of killers – a 13 year old girl.

Herein lies the challenge with doing something new. When you’re looking for things that haven’t been done, you’re likely to find that there’s a reason they haven’t been done. Making a 13 year-old girl a serial killer sounds great in a logline, but practically speaking, has all sorts of challenges.

Serial killers need to be strong to kill their victims, especially if they’re doing it without guns. So now you’re rubbing up against suspension of disbelief, and some people won’t go there with you. I’ll give you an example from the script. At a certain point, there’s a second killer, a man (more on this in the plot breakdown), and Emily “confronts” him in the woods. So you’re saying that a grown killer is confronted by a 13 year-old girl in the woods and he’s not going to kill her right then and there?

There are ways around this. You can take on a more absurdist tone, a wink-wink understanding with the audience that, yeah, we both know this wouldn’t happen in real life. But let’s have fun with it anyway.

That leads to its own set of challenges. The further into the absurdist universe you go, the less clear it is what the rules are. And without rules, it’s hard to know what the audience will and won’t buy into.

All of this is a long way of saying, I wanted to see how Devlin tackled this unique premise. Let’s check it out.

Emily Derringer is a perfectionist. When she kills someone, she wants it done right. Killing is an art. And if it’s messy or lazy, it sheds a bad light on the person responsible. Therefore, our 13 year-old protagonist makes sure that everybody she kills is killed with respect.

After taking out the local priest, Emily preps for a killing vacation, that is until she attends the first day of school and runs into former best friend turned mega-bitch Pepper Devonshire. Just a few cunty words from Pepper and Emily decides she’s going to be next.

But then a problem arises. Emily’s new milk man, Garret Bluestone, kills the local soda shop owner. Nobody else knows this, of course. But Emily is a trained killer, and therefore recognizes others with the affliction. And Emily is pissed because Garret is sloppy. If people mix up his work with hers, it’ll ruin everything she’s worked so hard for.

She confronts Garret, tells him if he does it again, there’s going to be problems, and goes on her way. Meanwhile, Emily starts planning the school Halloween party with her favorite teacher, Mr. Goodwin. But things turn sour when he also pulls in, duh-duh-duh-duhhhhhhh – Pepper Devonshire!

Emily decides to use the time to plan Pepper’s murder. However, a strange thing happens as their meetings go on. Emily and Pepper begin to mend their broken friendship. The question is, will they be able to mend it entirely before Emily decides to kill her?

The Wretched Emily Derringer was pretty good.

There’s a lot for screenwriters to take away from the script, especially if you’re writing a serial killer movie yourself.

For starters, serial killer protagonists only work when you make their plight sympathetic ON SOME LEVEL. And there are some easy ways to do that. For starters, make sure the victims deserve it. All we need to see is a slimy priest who’s trying to snare little Emily off the street before we’re rooting for her to take him out.

We also have the lesser known “voice over” technique. Voice overs are tricky to execute. But they work well when your main character is a serial killer, since they put us inside their head. If our hero seems like a good person and she makes good cases for killing people, we’ll be on board.

Without the voice over, there’s a detachment there. We’ll never feel as close or sympathetic towards them as we would if we’re listening to their reasoning.

Bonus points if you can motivate the voice over. Sure, you could just place us in their mind. But it always feels more natural if it’s motivated. For example, lots of young girls write in diaries. So it makes sense that Emily has a diary. And her musings in said diary are where we get our voice over.

Another lesson we can take away from Emily Derringer is the idea of CONCEPT EVOLUTION. One of your jobs as a writer is to evolve your concept. If your concept stays the same the whole way through the script, it’s likely to be boring.

So here, the concept is a 13 year old girl who’s a serial killer. We could play that out from page 1 to 100 and have an okay story (focusing solely on Emily’s obsession with killing Pepper). The problem with that is, readers get ahead of you. You’re not evolving the concept so there’s nothing new to look forward to.

What Devlin does is he brings in Garret Bluestone – A SECOND KILLER. Now, a story we thought we had a handle on, takes an entirely unpredictable turn. We’re not sure where things are going to go. And, of course, that’s exactly why we keep reading.

The only thing I didn’t like about the plotting was the lack of a detective. One of the easiest ways to create tension in a story where your hero is the killer (or has killed someone in any capacity – by accident or otherwise) is to have someone on their trail. That way, the whole time we’re thinking, “Oh no, they’re catching up to Emily! Will they figure out it’s her?” It’s exciting.

And, actually, the thin page count here tells me that’s exactly what was missing. This is 95 pages but could’ve easily been 110. Those extra 15 pages are your detective storyline.

I don’t know if this is going to become a movie. It’s a tough sell to say the least. They have to play it really absurd and get a director who’s a complete weirdo. Because if this is played anywhere close to straight, people are going to be scratching their heads.

With that said, it’s the perfect type of script to get you noticed. And that mission was accomplished, since this made the Black List. Sometimes, it’s about showing you’re a unique writer, not writing the perfect Hollywood screenplay. Whatever gets you through the door, right?

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

What I learned: Your premise starts as a baby. It’s your job to help it grow. If it stays the same the whole way through, the audience will get bored. This advice isn’t just for your main plot. It’s for your subplots as well. Make sure your plot elements are changing and growing into the “adult” version of the ideas. Bringing in a second serial killer was exactly what this script needed to grow into an “adult” version of the concept. Without that evolution, I fear the script would’ve been too thin.

Genre: Drama
Premise: Steve Bartman, the infamous Cubs fan who changed the fortunes of the Chicago Cubs forever, tries to pick up the pieces of his life after inadvertently thwarting a championship.
About: This script finished top 10 on last year’s Black List!
Writer: John Whittingong
Details: 104 pages

Let me take you back in time.

The year was 2003.

My Chicago Cubs (my favorite sports team on the planet) were 5 outs away from going to the World Series. The last time that had happened?

1907.

In the city of Chicago, where I grew up, entire generations of fellow Cubs fans had grown up AND DIED, never to see their team even have a shot at the championship.

And then 2003 came.

Not only were the Cubs good, they had quickly become the favorites to win the championship. They were one game away from a trip to the World Series, up 3-1, with only 2 innings left to go.

At the time, I was in Los Angeles, teaching a tennis lesson, and I stopped the lesson to check the radio in the pro shop. Cubs up 3-1. 8th inning.

For those unfamiliar with baseball, when you’re up 3-1 in the 8th inning, you have a 95% chance of winning the game.

I went back into the lesson confident that I’d be watching my Cubbies in the World Series. I mentally calculated plane ticket prices as I dreamed of watching one of the games at Wrigley Field. A half an hour later, I came out to check the final score. What I saw that day tore a hole in my heart that’s never quite been re-filled.

Florida Marlins 8
Chicago Cubs 3

WHAT

THE

FUCK???

I drove home in a daze, wondering how this could’ve happened. Scoring 7 runs in a single inning was unheard of. There had to be an epic meltdown.

It turns out there was. And it started when Steve Bartman, a fan at the game, got in the way of a Cubs outfielder trying to make a catch that would’ve solidified the win. If you talk to Chicago Cubs fans these days, the narrative is that Steve Bartman didn’t cost the Cubs the game. The Cubs cost themselves the game.

I find that to be utter politically correct bullshit. I believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that Steve Bartman cost the Cubs the World Series. Had he not gotten in the way of that catch, there would’ve been two outs instead of one, the Cubs wouldn’t have been as shaky. The plethora of mistakes that followed would never have happened. And the Marlins would’ve faded.

Steve Bartman is a fascinating character for that reason. The ultimate Cubs fan. Now a symbol Cubs’ futility. And the crazy thing? He’s never been seen since that day.

Which is why someone writing a script about him is so weird. Today’s writer is taking a real person, who’s still living, telling us the true story of what happened to them that day in the first half of the script, then completely inventing what happened to him after he left that game. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a script do this before.

The first half of True Fan introduces us to Steve Bartman as he gets ready to go to the game that will change his life. He’s going with a couple of work friends, although the term “friends” might be a stretch.

You get the sense that Steve, a 26 year old who still lives with his parents, only has one friend. And that’s the Chicago Cubs. Steve is so much a fan, that he doesn’t just go to the game. He brings a walkman so he can LISTEN to the game while he watches it AT THE SAME TIME.

Obsessive? Yeah, a little.

The script takes us through the harrowing aftermath of Bartman after he prevents the catch. For those who don’t know the story, when Bartman screwed up the play, the Cubs were up 3-1. After that, the Marlins started scoring runs. 3-2, 3-3, 3-5, 3-6, 3-8. As the fans at Wrigley Field got further and further away from victory, they turned their anger on Bartman.

One fan actually walked up and poured beer right on Bartman’s face. But that wasn’t the worst of it. People started screaming death threats. Soon, security had to come down and save Bartman from literally being pulled apart.

Bartman’s name had become so famous by the next day, that people actually came into his work overnight and destroyed his desk and computer. This wasn’t some internet meme. People hated this man.

This is where things segue into the fictional world. I know this because no one from the media has spoken to Bartman since that day. So there’s no true record of what Bartman did.

Anyway, in our story, Bartman moves to Baltimore to escape being the most recognized man in Chicago. He lives a quiet life, still haunted by the foul ball he tried to catch, made worse by the fact that his father recently passed away, and he feels responsible for robbing him of a World Series.

In Baltimore, Bartman meets Annie, a bit of a nut job, but more importantly for Bartman, someone who knows nothing about baseball. The two start a relationship, and Annie slowly encourages Bartman to get his baseball mojo back. There’s a series in town between the Orioles and the Cubs that the two go to, and Bartman finds his love for the sport rekindled.

But eventually, Bartman will have to decide if he’s going to spend the rest of his life on the lam, or if he’s going to move back to his home city where his favorite team still plays.

Let me start off by saying John did something that I didn’t think was possible. He made me feel sympathy for Steve Bartman. Seeing this unfold from Steve’s eyes as opposed to an angry fan’s eyes made me see the botched catch in a whole new light.

I think that’s a good screenwriting lesson. A story can become completely different depending on who’s eyes we see the story unfold from. A murder can be covered in two different ways depending on if we see it through the murderer’s eyes or the victim’s eyes.

Where True Fan gets weird is in its structure and in its love story. The structure here is bizarre in that the first half of the script is dedicated to the build-up and coverage of the infamous foul ball. The second half, then, is the love story.

It’s very unconventional to introduce your love story halfway into the script. You don’t have enough time to put the relationship through its paces. You’re going to be rushed. And that’s what happened here.

Because we only had half a script, John was forced to throw Annie at us hard (she comes onto Steve in the grocery store) and then practically force Bartman to go out with her.

If we stick to the rule that the best writing is born out of truth, then this was not John’s best writing. I have lived an entire life in grocery stores and never once has a girl come onto me or asked me out. Not only does that never happen, but this is STEVE BARTMAN we’re talking about. Look at that picture up above. Is the one time when a girl hits on a guy at the supermarket going to be with that man? I think not.

And it’s these choices that bother me. Once you start doing things that WOULD ONLY HAPPEN in the movie world, you’re no longer telling the truth. You’re a liar. And the audience senses that lack of truth. I’m not sure True Fan ever recovered from that.

However, because of this weird freaking character and this unique situation, you’re compelled to keep reading. And while there are no home runs hit, there are a few doubles.

I liked, for instance, when Steve and Annie went to the Orioles-Cubs game. Where do you want to put your characters, guys? IN THE LAST PLACE THEY WANT TO BE. If you put your hero in places he doesn’t want to be, you’re usually going to get a good scene out of it. Going to that game, with the potential of being seen, kept me invested in Bartman’s story.

But John runs into a final problem in that Bartman’s story doesn’t have an ending yet. He’s never talked to the media. Ever. So how can his story end in a satisfactory way?

The answer might come this year. The Cubs are, once again, a few games away from the World Series. If the Cubs win the series, Bartman’s mistake will finally be forgiven. So maybe that’s the ending. It just hasn’t been written yet.

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

What I learned: Whenever you’re telling a story or even just writing a scene, ask this question: “Am I telling this story through the most interesting person’s eyes?” Is your break-up scene more interesting told through the dumper’s or the dumpee’s eyes? Is your road rage scene more interesting told through the guy’s eyes who got cut off or the guy who cut him off? Is your serial killer film best told through the killer’s eyes, the victim’s eyes, or the detective’s eyes? Or a combination of all three? You never know. By sliding the point-of-view just one character over, a boring scene can quickly become the best scene in your script.

Genre: Biopic/War
Premise: The story of one of Hitler’s top 5 most hated men, Jasper Maskelyne, a magician who used his unique talents to thwart the Nazis in World War 2.
About: The War Magician has been in development for almost a decade. The best chance it had of getting to the big screen was when Cruise and Wagner bought it, hoping to make it one of their United Artists projects. Well, UA went down the garbage disposal like a bad egg salad sandwich, and the project got spit back out into the ocean. Currently, it seems to have reemerged with Benedict Cumberbatch attached and Rogue One screenwriter Gary Whitta penning the screenplay. But this is the Cruise-Wagner draft, adapted by Ari B. Rubin. Rubin doesn’t have any major credits but was featured in the 2009 documentary about screenwriting, Tales From The Script.
Writer: Ari B. Rubin (based on the 1983 book by David Fisher)
Details: 134 pages – August 12th, 2007 (First Draft)

There are some ideas you hear and immediately say: “That’s a movie.” You can tell that, one way or another, the script is going to make it to the big screen. The War Magician is one of those ideas. I mean, come on, a REAL LIFE STORY of a magician who uses illusion to defeat the Nazis? I can hear Steven Spielberg cancelling his Ready Player Two plans as I write this.

But adapting these projects is harder than it looks. You’re dealing with an extremely serious subject matter in World War 2, yet you have this goofy conceit to play with – someone using magic to defeat the Nazis. So what started as a slam dunk starts looking like a no-look pass into the stands. I mean check out Monuments Men, a film that attempted this same approach. Those guys got bludgeoned by the Tonal Gods and the results cried for themselves.

Jasper Maskelyne is a 10th generation Magician. His father was the biggest magician in Britain at one time, so Jasper has a lot to live up to. And when World War 2 rolls around, Jasper starts questioning his life choices. Men are dying for his country every day, yet he’s goofing around on-stage with bunny rabbits.

So Jasper does the unthinkable. He goes to Winston Churchill and asks if he can join the army. “To perform for the troops,” Churchill asks? “Sure, why not?” No, Jasper replies. He wants to be an ACTUAL SOLDIER.

Not only that, he wants to use his unique set of skills to help them win the war. Jasper is particularly obsessed with Hitler’s number 1 desert general, Rommel, “The Desert Fox.” Rommel has the British army chasing its tail. But with the power of illusion, Jasper thinks he can take him down.

Churchill reluctantly gives him the go-ahead, but it doesn’t get any easier. Britain’s generals think this is a giant joke – a publicity stunt maybe – and do the army equivalent of making Jasper sit in the corner wearing a dunce cap.

But Jasper doesn’t give up. He puts together a rag-tag group of illusionists (a guy who can paint life-like paintings, for example) and starts looking for magical ways to defeat the Germans! The first is painting a hundred green tanks brown, so that they’re camouflaged in the desert. The next is to create a fake miniature port town of Alexandria, so that the German bombers skip over the real city and bomb Jasper’s paper mache one instead!

All the while, the surprisingly cad-ish Jasper falls in love with another woman on the team. And they set out to do the impossible – defeat the Nazis with magic!

There’s something to be said for finding that premise that allows you to have fun. Because outside of over-the-top comedies, it’s rare to discover a premise that grants you a chest of fun scenarios you can raid for 120 minutes.

Back to the Future is a good example. You read that premise (a high school kid gets sent to the past where he must help his father win over his mom, who’s ironically fallen in love with him instead) and the scenes just materialize before your eyes.

War Magician (what a title, by the way) leaves a similar sweet taste in your mouth. Just by reading the title you start imagining scenes. And here’s where the script first tripped up. All that cleverness we’re hoping to see? It never really emerges.

A healthy chunk of the second act is dedicated to Jasper painting green tanks brown so that they’re camouflaged. The catch? He uses camel dung to do it! Um. Okay. That’s sort of interesting, I guess. But is it magic? Cause it sounds to me like it’s not magic.

It’s one of the first things you learn in screenwriting: THE PROMISE OF THE PREMISE. If the premise promises awesomeness and you can’t deliver on that awesomeness, don’t write the script. Cause all you’ll have at the end of the day is a lot of disappointed readers.

It makes me wonder if this script shouldn’t move one step over into “sort of based on a true story” territory. Cause once you have that, you can invent your own magic tricks that Jasper thinks up, even if they never happened. Maybe you go into “Prestige” territory, where Jasper starts doing crazy shit and we’re not sure if he’s performing magic or if this is, indeed, an illusion.

I’ve found this to be a common debate in Hollywood. The people making movies seem to be divided down the middle between “focus on the reality of it” and “focus on the supernatural of it,” which makes collaborations on these films tough, since there are always two people at the heart of the project diametrically opposed to which one of these directions the movie should take.

In addition to that little issue, the storytelling here just isn’t very good. Part of that, no doubt, is due to this being a first draft. But even with that caveat, I found the script to be a classic victim of the “boring linear biopic approach.” We meet our hero when he’s young. Something bad happens to him. Meet him again when he’s a young adult and makes his decision that sends him off on this adventure. Then we see him engage in said adventure, which has its own formulaic stages.

I was watching The Imitation Game recently, which could’ve had the same problem. But the jumping around in time gave us just enough unpredictability to keep us off-balance. I think that’s an important component to screenwriting that writers don’t talk about enough: Keeping the reader off-balance. Because if the reader never has to worry about falling, they’re likely bored. You gotta shake the balance beam every once in awhile. This balance beam was three feet wide and rock-steady.

I love this idea. I think someone will make a great movie out of it. But it won’t come from this draft.

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

What I learned: “Going through the motions.” One of the more common mistakes with biopics is “going through the motions.” The scene where they’re a young kid. The scene where they’re a teenager. The scene where they’re a young man, making the big decision. You have to remember that you’re trying to entertain, not lead someone through a checklist. So always ALWAYS prioritize that side (entertainment) over the other side (setup). Or here’s another way to put it: Never write a scene because you believe you have to. Write a scene because you want to.

THE WINNER OF WEEK 6 HAS BEEN LISTED BELOW

The Scriptshadow Tournament pits 40 amateur screenplays against each other that you, the readers of the site, will vote on. Ultimately, YOU will decide the winner. Today we have the sixth group of entries. You can see who won Week One here, who won Week Two here, who won Week Three here, who won Week Four here, and finally, who won last week. Read as much as you can from each of the entries and vote for the week’s winner in the comments section. Although it’s not required, your vote will carry more weight if you explain why you chose the script (doesn’t have to be elaborate, just has to make sense). I say “carry more weight” because a vote for a script without any explanation from an unknown voter may be seen as fake and not count towards the tally. I will announce the winner of this week here, in this post, on Sunday, 10pm Pacific time. That script will then go into the quarterfinals. Good luck.

Title: Corpse Flower
Writer: Michael J. Kospiah
Genre: Horror
Logline: After a brutal home invasion, a psychotic mother must go head-to-head with a sadistic plastic surgeon to save her abducted little girl — a little girl who isn’t as innocent as she seems.

Title: BLOOD RED, SILVER SCREEN
Writer: Andrew Sieger
Genre: Horror
Logline: When independent filmmaker, William Roman, gets the opportunity of a lifetime to direct a movie for a big time Hollywood studio, he jeopardizes his career and maybe his life when he casts a real Vampire in his Vampire movie.

Title: Gods of Rock
Writer: Sean Woolford
Genre: Dramatic Comedy
Logline: After faking their death to get out of a bad management deal, a KISS-type rock band resurfaces 19 years later as their own tribute band.

Title: Jump
Writer: Andrew Bumstead
Genre: Thriller
Logline: After losing their loved ones in a terrorist accident ten years ago, three strangers get the chance to rewrite history by transferring their minds back in time to that fateful day.

WINNER OF WEEK 6: “JUMP” by Andrew Bumstead. Great job, Andrew! And congrats to Alison, as well, who got herself a producer connection off of Log. And a special thanks to Scott’s tireless work on tallying up the votes. Now we even get QUOTE-VOTES, which was really fun to see (not that I expect you to keep that up, Scott. But it was definitely fun)! Have had a great time doing this guys. Can’t wait to see what emerges next week!

1) You’re not writing enough – There are two reasons writers don’t write. One, we don’t have enough time. Two, we construct a false reality to make us believe we don’t have enough time. In my experience, the majority of writers fall into the second category. You need to be writing – AT MINIMUM – 2 hours a day if you want to compete with the big dogs. A lot of professional writers tell me that 3 hours a day is the magic number. And then you get the workhorses who can go 4, 5, and 6 hours. Wherever you’re at, sit down and find a way to carve out more time during the week to write. Oh, and get the Self-Control App! It will block you out of Reddit, Pornhub, ESPN and all the other sites for a defined period of time so you can focus on writing!

2) You still haven’t gotten your fundamentals down yet – Throwing caution to the wind and seeing where your story takes you is a fun endeavor, but until you learn the 3-act structure, what character flaws are, how to arc characters, how to build suspense, how to avoid on-the-nose dialogue, and all the other basics, you’re basically kidding yourself. Your scripts may feel great to you and your undiscerning eye. But to the people in this business who read hundreds of scripts, these glorified writing exercises feel like practice runs. Even if we see the potential in you, we know you have a long way to go. Read all the books and all the blogs on how to write a screenplay. You can’t choose to ignore a rule unless you know it. Trust me. We know when you don’t know it.

3) You don’t read enough screenplays or watch enough movies/TV shows – Guys, you have to read scripts. One of the things I’m most embarrassed about is how many bad screenplays I wrote before reading a single script. Had I just read, say, 50 scripts, I would’ve avoided the dozens of mistakes I made time and time again in each script. Reading is one of the quickest ways to learn the craft. Also, make sure you’re watching all the latest films and TV shows. Not just as entertainment, but with a critical eye. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard a screenwriter say, “I don’t even go to the movies,” as if it’s a badge of honor. Um, THIS IS YOUR JOB. You need to watch and study as many movies as you can.

4) You’re not sharing your work enough – I was doing a consultation with a writer the other day and we were discussing his script. He wanted to kill a certain character off. I explained to him that doing so would be a cataclysmic mistake. That character was the heart and soul of the movie and if he killed him, the audience would never forgive him. The writer took a minute and replied, “You know what? You’re right. I never realized how important this character was to the story.” Staying in your own head only gets you so far. To unlock the potential of your script, you need feedback. You need to talk about it to other people. If you can afford me, hire me. If you can’t, find people on this board to share your work with. Or join one of many writers’ groups. Or start your own. I promise you that if you don’t bounce your script off others, it’s never going to become great.

5) You’re not exploring every avenue – Tell me if this story sounds familiar. A writer scores a lucky connection to a producer in LA. The two chat over e-mail and the producer says, “Sure, send me your script when it’s ready.” The writer pours every ounce of his soul into his script for months, putting everything on this one singular connection with this one producer. He finally sends it to the producer, who reads it, and then reports back. “It was okay. But not quite what we’re looking for.” The devastated writer heads to the liquor store, blows their paycheck on an obscure Japanese bottle of whiskey, gets drunk, goes into a three month tailspin where they question their purpose on this planet, and ultimately decide that Hollywood is a place for hacks where nepotism reins supreme and therefore they’re done with screenwriting. — I want to make something clear to you guys: HOLLYWOOD IS THE CAPITAL OF ‘NO.’ “No” is normal. The biggest screenwriting names in the game get told “no” all the time. The only way to thrive in this business is to blanket it – is to create so many opportunities that, sooner or later, amongst that sea of nos, a yes arrives. And you do that by, yes, taking advantage of that producer contact, but also entering as many contests as you can afford, sending your scripts to the Black List site, trying to get featured on this site, engaging in as many writers’ groups as you can. Since “no” is the norm, you need to endure a lot of them to find your “yes.”

6) You’re not using every screenplay to improve – Every screenplay is an opportunity for you to improve as a screenwriter. While some of that will happen naturally, the bulk of it should come via a plan. Try and nail a certain part of the craft in every script. It might be learning how to write sympathetic characters. It might be integrating conflict into every scene. It might be showing and not telling. It might be arcing characters. If you’re just mindlessly bumbling through every screenplay, you’re not improving as a screenwriter.

7) You believe either concept or execution is the end-all-be-all – It’s true: Hollywood is a concept-driven business. But if you think you can come up with a slick idea and paint-by-numbers your way through the execution, think again. Especially in this day and age, where scripts need to blow people out of the water to put writers on the map. Conversely, if you think the concept doesn’t matter and only focus on characters and execution, nobody will read it. To get noticed, YOU MUST DO BOTH.

8) You’re writing outside one of the six Hollywood-friendly genres – Say it with me now. Thriller. Sci-fi. Horror. Action. Adventure. Comedy. These are the genres Hollywood best knows how to market. Therefore, these are the bags they’ll be choosing their treats from. That doesn’t mean you can’t play with these genres, push them, explore fresh avenues within them. But you’d rather be writing in these genres than westerns and dramas and period pieces, as it’s much harder to get those movies off the ground.

9) You’re writing writer-director fare even though you’re not a director – Swiss Army Man. Amazing movie. Inglorious Basterds. Lost in Translation. Mud. Tree of Life. If you’re writing structure-less character pieces with vague plots that focus on feelings and music – that’s fine. But don’t expect anyone to buy those scripts. Why? Because those scripts only work if the writer is also the director. When it comes to the screenwriting side of things, Hollywood wants to see that you can craft a story with compelling characters inside of a fresh marketable concept. That’s the skill Hollywood pays money for.

10) You’re not taking enough chances in your writing – Someone pointed out the other day in the comments section that the writers of Swiss Army Man throw a bunch of bad ideas onto a bulletin board then select the bad ideas that can actually work and mix them together. I’m not sure I’d go that far. But you should develop your own process for taking chances in your writing. As I said above, I want you to learn the proper way to write a screenplay. But once you do, make sure to bend it and twist it and test it in unique ways. If you follow everything to a “T” so that it’s “perfectly executed,” it will almost always end up boring.