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With Valentine’s Day only 24 hours away, it’s only natural that we review a script about LOVE…. and killing.
Genre: Rom-Com/Action
Premise: (from Black List) After Liv, a world-class hitwoman, breaks up with her boyfriend, Martin, he puts out a massive contract on his own life to get her attention. What Martin doesn’t realize is that it’s an open contract with a 48-hour expiration, so now every assassin in the western hemisphere is coming after him. Liv makes a deal to keep him safe until the contract expires, if he pays her out the full bounty. With the clock ticking, the two must elude some of the world’s most prolific killers.
About: This finished Top 20 on last year’s Black List. The writer has one credit, which was pretty recent! Copshop!
Writer: Kurt McLeod
Details: 111 pages
Florence Pugh in a fun role for once?
It may not seem like it sometimes. But we here at Scriptshadow support LOVE.
TayTay and Travis? They’re like two giant halves of a heart in my eyes.
And so today, just 24 hours before the loviest day of love on the calendar, I present to you this Black List rom-com.
29 year old Martin is a software engineer who can count the amount of times he’s had sex on two hands. Not people, mind you. But ACTUAL TIMES. To put it mildly, Martin is not suave with da ladies.
MARTIN’S DATING PROFILE
PHOTO [harsh lighting, unflattering angle, same smile]
OCCUPATION: Software programmer, self-employed
LIKES: Romantic comedies, good wine, picnics in the park, spa days, quality time with family and friends
DISLIKES: Toxic masculinity, conspicuous consumption, heights, enclosed spaces, public swimming pools
LOOKING FOR: That perfect someone to spend the rest of my life with…
But due to a dating app screw-up, Martin has somehow been matched with the drop-dead gorgeous Lex. Lex does not hold back her disappointment when she arrives at the restaurant date, looking at Martin and saying, “Wait, who the f&%$ are you?”
LEX’S DATING PROFILE
PHOTO [sexy silhouette, sunglasses, bangs hiding pouty face]
OCCUPATION: work
LIKES: no
DISLIKES: yes
LOOKING FOR: no strings
For some reason (aka, because the writer needed a movie) Lex kind of likes Martin. So she sleeps with him that night and then starts sleeping with him on the regular. However, after several months, she ghosts him. And soon after is when we learn that Lex is a big game hitwoman. Which partially explains why she keeps her relationships short and surface-level.
Cut to a year later and Lex is following up a gigantic score – 2 million bucks. The reason it’s so big is because it’s an open target. Any assassin can collect. But when she gets to the target, she finds out it’s Martin, who’s been doing some development and looks a lot better. Martin says that he bought the contract on himself cause he’s since learned about her job and realized this was the only way to see her again.
Due to some complicated financials and a hit-man loophole, Lex concludes that she’ll make more money off the hit if she waits until it’s called off (or something). So she still plans to kill Martin. But, in the meantime, she has to help him evade all the other hitmen trying to kill him. However, when her handler, Francis, realizes she’s trying to game the system, she puts a separate hit out on Lex. So now Lex and Martin are running for their lives and, quite possibly, falling in love.
Let me start off by saying I’m noticing a trend in a lot of the scripts I’ve been reading.
Which is: THE FIRST SCENE (OR SEQUENCE) IS THE BEST SCENE IN THE ENTIRE SCRIPT.
The scene where Lex shows up for this date with Martin and Martin bumbles through it is really funny. Nothing ever quite reaches the perfect balance of awkwardness and humor as this date.
Writing a great scene is hard. So kudos if you can achieve it at any point in your script. But if your first scene is your best scene, that means that the reading experience gets worse the further through your script the reader gets. Which is not what you want.
So why does this happen?
Writers want to show off the coolness of their concept right away. So they come up with an early scene that sells their concept. Also, the earlier you are in your script, the less dependent you are on the plot, which hasn’t locked you into any scenes yet. So you have more freedom to play around and have fun.
But you can’t allow that to be the best scene in your script. You just can’t.
When you write a great scene early, consider that THE BAR. And then, every subsequent major scene, try to clear that bar. If you can’t honestly say that your later scenes are better than that first scene, rewrite them.
This all comes down to laziness. Lazy writers start strong then fizzle out. Strong writers start strong then keep getting better. Yes, it will require more effort on your part. But embrace that challenge! Don’t be Mr. Lazy Pants.
Especially if you’re allowing your alter ego, Movie Logic A-Hole, to do your writing.
Movie Logic A-Hole is your lazy alter-ego. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t do any outlining, he wouldn’t do any research, when he ran into a script problem he wouldn’t try to figure it out. Instead, Movie Logic A-Hole barrels through the script regardless of whether what he’s writing makes real-world sense or not. As long as it makes “movie logic” sense, that’s all that matters to him.
Love!
Movie Logic A-Hole makes a big appearance in today’s script, destroying any legitimate chance the script has of working. This entire movie is based on the idea that a man who’s trying to get his assassin girlfriend back puts a 2 million dollar blanket hit out on himself. Let me reiterate that. A man knowingly pays money to have every major hitman in the world try to kill him in the hopes that his hit-woman ex-girlfriend will get to him first and he can try to get back together with her.
Movie Logic A-Hole is very persuasive. When Real World Writer says to him, “But no one would ever really do that,” Movie Logic A-Hole replies, “Chillllll dude. It’s a commmeddy. Comedies are funny. They don’t have to make sense.” When Real World Writer says to him, “But how could he know that another hitman wouldn’t find him first and kill him?” Movie Logic A-Hole replies, “Because she’s like, the best. She would get to him before any other hitman.” When Real World Writer says, “But how would he know that she was the best? I’m not sure you can go on a guess when you’re putting your life on the line.” Movie Logic A-Hole replies, “You’re thinking way too deep, man. Nobody cares about that stuff when they’re watching a movie.”
While it’s true that audiences never think of the word “logic,” when watching a movie, they do know when something feels off. If they sense that the storytelling is lazy, they stop being engaged. That’s the primary effect of movie-logic. If you use it enough, your story takes on a general feeling of laziness.
If you want to see how this looks in practice, go watch “Lift” on Netflix. Notice how quickly you stop caring about what’s happening. That’s because many of the creative choices (especially the sequence that opens the movie) reek of movie logic. It feels LAZY.
With that said, there is room for Movie Logic A-Hole to be involved in your screenwriting journey. Especially in comedy, where, if you have to make a choice between funny or logic, you pick ‘funny.’ BUT ONLY OUTSIDE THE MAIN PILLARS OF YOUR PLOT. You don’t want to hammer movie-logic nails into the pillars of your story. Those pillars need to be as logically strong as possible. This entire movie rests on the idea that a guy would put a contract on his life in the hopes that his hitwoman ex-girlfriend will get to him before the other killers. That’s the aspect of the story that needs to be the most convincing. Yet it’s the least convincing.
Save your movie logic for stupid stuff like a killer has your heroes trapped in the back of an alley and then a crazed cat leaps out of nowhere onto the killer’s head, allowing them to get away. I’d prefer you *not* write this scene. But if you’re going to use movie logic, that’s where you want to use it – on stuff that isn’t directly tied to major plot points.
The most dangerous thing about Movie Logic A-Hole is that he’s super convincing. Especially late at night. Especially deep into a writing session. Especially when a deadline is coming up and you’re running out of time. Movie Logic A-Hole starts whispering all types of nonsense in your ear and, unfortunately, he’s persuasive.
So watch out for him. Because he’s the difference between a solid well-constructed story and a messy weak one.
Ever since pure rom-coms became excommunicato, these “rom-coms with an edge” took their place. So I wouldn’t be surprised if this became a movie. It would make for a fun trailer. But the script wasn’t for me. Does this mean love loses?
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Okay, let’s take a look at the disastrous logline the Black List included…
After Liv, a world-class hitwoman, breaks up with her boyfriend, Martin, he puts out a massive contract on his own life to get her attention. What Martin doesn’t realize is that it’s an open contract with a 48-hour expiration, so now every assassin in the western hemisphere is coming after him. Liv makes a deal to keep him safe until the contract expires, if he pays her out the full bounty. With the clock ticking, the two must elude some of the world’s most prolific killers.
That is more of a mini-summary than it is a logline. With loglines, it’s about conveying the concept, the main character, the goal, and the major source of conflict. You should aim for 30 words or less. With that in mind, we get my rewrite…
After his hitwoman girlfriend ghosts him, a lovesick introvert takes out a 2 million dollar contract on himself in the hopes of luring her back into his life.
I do basic logline analysis for $25. E-mail me if you want to get your logline in shape! carsonreeves1@gmail.com
Week 6 of the “2 scripts in 2024” Challenge
If you haven’t been present on the site lately, here’s the deal. I’m guiding you through the process of writing an entire feature screenplay. Then, in June, we’re going to have a Mega Screenplay Showdown. The best 10 loglines, then the first ten pages of the top 5 of those loglines, will be in play as they compete for the top prize. So far, I’ve helped you choose a concept, sculpt your outline, and build your characters. Last week, we wrote our first ten pages. Here are the links if you’re late to the party…
Week 1 – Concept
Week 2 – Solidifying Your Concept
Week 3 – Building Your Characters
Week 4 – Outlining
Week 5 – The First 10 Pages
One of the things I baked into this challenge was making this ACHIEVABLE. I mean, all you need is one hour a day. Who doesn’t have that? So, if everything is going according to plan, you should have ten pages written by now. Two pages (aka one scene) for five days a week, with two extra days in the week to catch up, make adjustments, or rewrite.
Now that we’re headed into our second ten pages of the script, that means we’re hitting one of the most important beats of the entire script. I’m talking about the inciting incident.
The inciting incident is built out of this idea that, before the crazy stuff starts happening in your story, we have to get to know your character. We have to see them in their “normal” habitat. The reason we want to see them in their normal habitat is so we have something to contrast them against when they’re thrown on this big journey.
In that sense, the inciting incident (which typically occurs between pages 12-15) is a divider. It divides the past life (pages 1-14) from the future life (pages 16-110). My favorite way to think of this “divider” is the event that causes the “problem.” The problem is the thing that your hero must now deal with for the rest of the movie. The problem also creates the goal because the act of solving any problem is a goal. If I wrote a story about a guy whose car broke down on the way to a date with the girl of his dreams, the car breaking down is the event, which creates the problem (I no longer have a car to get to the date anymore), which creates the goal: do whatever needs to be done to get to the date.
One of my favorite examples of an inciting incident is War of the Worlds. In that movie, we see Tom Cruise’s everyday life as a construction worker and a family man and then BOOM, the event is sprung on us. And boy is it a good one. Alien tripods come out of the ground and start killing everyone! This creates a problem: Tom’s family (half of it) is in danger. Which creates the goal: Reunite with family.
Like all classic story beats, inciting incidents work best when you’re using the Hero’s Journey. The Hero’s Journey is when a character is content (but unknowingly unhappy) living a mundane life. And then: BAM! Something happens to shake them out of that existence, sending them off on a life-changing journey.
But inciting incidents can be tricky when they don’t fall under the classic Hero’s Journey template. That’s when I hear writers complain and say, “These forced plot beats are restrictive and ruin the art of creation! They are evil, Carson! Eviilllll!” Watch, you’ll see some commenters make that argument down below.
Look, no one’s saying you have to use an inciting incident. But it’s such an organic part of every story, it makes your story better 99% of the time. Think about it. If you told a friend about your day, you’ll include an inciting incident without even thinking about it. “I was at work, minding my own business. Then Sara comes up to me and says I’m responsible for our biggest client canceling their order.” Sara coming up and saying you screwed up the order IS THE INCITING INCIDENT of your story.
But yes, it’s true that some scripts don’t allow for organic inciting incidents. Take yesterday’s script for example: Neobiota. In that story, Melanie’s “normal life” occurred before the script even began. The inciting incident, technically, is the plane crash that placed her in this position. That created the problem that our hero had to solve.
But Mikael actually did something clever here. He made the “life in her normal habitat” section of the script her life on the beach after the crash. We spend 10 pages of her getting acclimated to her new surroundings before we introduce a new problem, aka the inciting incident: one of the dead passengers stands up and starts moving.
Another movie that has a non-traditional use of the inciting incident is Star Wars. In that script, we don’t even MEET the main character until 15 pages in. That’s when we start Luke Skywalker’s “normal life.” The inciting incident doesn’t come for another 15 minutes when Luke’s aunt and uncle are killed. This motivates Luke to head off on this journey to save the galaxy.
What’s interesting about Star Wars is that it has an earlier inciting incident as well. But, in order to understand it, you must understand that the first fifteen minutes of the movie has a different protagonist: Darth Vader. Yes, Darth Vader is the “protagonist” of the first segment of the movie. The reason he’s the “protagonist” is because he’s the one with the goal: Recapture the stolen Death Star plans.
That’s why he barges into the ship. He needs those plans! The inciting incident for Darth Vader’s story, then, is R2-D2 escaping in a pod and heading down to nearby planet, Tattooine. This is the “problem” that gives Darth Vader his goal: Retrieve that droid. Some people might even call this the “actual” inciting incident of the movie as it happens near the traditional “inciting incident” point (12-15 pages in). But the real inciting incident is what motivates your *real* protagonist, which is why Luke’s aunt and uncle being murdered is the more accurate representation.
A lot of people get the inciting incident mixed up with the break into the second act (pages 25-30) and it’s understandable why. Once your inciting incident happens, your hero should technically be thrust on their journey, which is where the second act begins. But what’s supposed to happen in the traditional Hero’s Journey is that your hero feels safe in his world. He likes his world. Then this inciting incident comes around, creating a problem he must solve. But guess what? He doesn’t want to solve it. Solving it requires going off into this new strange scary world that he doesn’t want to go into. So what does he do? HE RESISTS. That’s what the space between the inciting incident and the beginning of the second act is supposed to be. It’s supposed to be the section where the character resists.
The reason this resistance matters is because it conveys something important to the audience: that your hero has a weakness. Their refusal to change conveys that they have growing to do. If the problem occurred and the hero was just like, “Yeah, let’s go! Woohoo!” Then your hero is already internally strong, which isn’t as interesting. The resistance shows that growth is required. And growth is the whole point of a journey.
Another reason why the resistance after the inciting incident is important is because it’s similar to real life. In real life, nobody wants to change. We’re all resistant to it. So when we see our hero resist, we relate to that. This is a key reason why stories work so well. When our hero finally does take on the journey and ultimately change, it’s a reminder that we can change too! So it invigorates us, gives us hope, sends us back out into life with a pep in our step.
Now, as some of you might’ve caught onto, certain scenarios don’t lend themselves to this. Take War of the Worlds. The attack of the Tripods is so intense and in your face that you don’t have the opportunity to sit around and resist. “Hmmm, I don’t know if I want to go on this journey. It’s too difficult.” No, the journey has come to you! You have to go on it!
But you can still create resistance in how your hero reacts. A hero only truly goes on a journey when they take action. So you can create that resistance by having Tom Cruise run away a lot, hide, resist. Then, when he realizes he has to save his freaking family, he takes action and you’re thrust into your second act.
Star Wars had its own issue with the resistance period. It had used its first fifteen minutes on a bunch of characters other than its hero. So when Luke experiences his inciting incident of his aunt and uncle dying, we’re already 30 minutes into the movie. We don’t have time to dilly-dally so Luke takes a beat then says, “I’m ready. I want to go on this journey.” And off they go.
Now, Lucas and his writing crew did a sly job here because they incorporated an earlier scene after Luke and Obi-Wan escape the sand people where Obi-Wan tells him, “You need to help me out.” And Luke resists then. He says, “Nope.” So that resistance was retroactively built into him in a way where he could say “I’m ready” the second his aunt and uncle are murdered. That’s important to note. Each inciting incident has its own potential issues. It’s up to you to figure out how to solve them.
Some of you may want to say that the real inciting incident in Star Wars is Leia’s message to Obi-Wan Kenobi but it isn’t. That message is not meant for our hero. It’s meant for Obi-Wan. Let me make this clear. The official inciting incident is the thing that sends YOUR HERO (not any of the supporting characters) out on their journey.
By the way, this is why important plot beats such as the inciting incident get complicated in big ensemble pieces (Star Wars movies, Avengers, Fast and Furious). In those movies, each character has their own journey, which forces you to motivate all of them. In some cases, this requires you to create a bunch of mini-inciting incidents, like Star Wars does. A lot of writers will solve this problem by treating the group as one character (Avengers). Give us a Thanos trying to destroy the world and everyone’s problem and subsequent goal is the same.
Also, with Avengers, or serial killer movies with detectives, or Indiana Jones, you often don’t have that resistance period because the problem is their job. Indiana Jones doesn’t resist because his freaking job is to find ancient antiquities. The Avengers don’t resist because they’re superheroes and saving the world is their job. Same with detectives and cops. When they get a new case, they don’t usually resist (although in some situations they will and I actually find those stories to be better because of that) because it’s their job.
The main thing to remember here for these next ten pages is that you want to introduce a big problem in your hero’s life and then, if it fits your story, show them resisting it afterward. A character journey is almost always more powerful if they, at first, don’t want to go on it. This shows the audience that they’re not yet ready and that change is needed. That way, later on, in your third act, when they finally are ready to change, it will be more powerful. This is why they say that if you have a problem in your third act, it’s usually because there’s a problem in your first act. Not properly showing that resistance could very well be that problem.
Friday = write 1 scene
Saturday = write 1 scene
Sunday = write 1 scene (you should be near your inciting incident here)
Monday = write 1 scene (should be an inciting incident day)
Tuesday = write 1 scene (the beginning of your hero’s resistance)
Wednesday = go back and correct any issues with your five scenes
Thursday = go back and correct any issues with your five scenes
Week 5 of the “2 scripts in 2024” Challenge
We’ve chosen our concept. We’ve prepared our characters. We’ve written our outline.
Week 1 – Concept
Week 2 – Solidifying Your Concept
Week 3 – Building Your Characters
Week 4 – Outlining
It is now time to write our first screenplay of 2024. I’m going to guide you through the whole process, making crafting a screenplay as easy as mixing a smoothie. You know, I once tried to go on an all-smoothie diet? Big mistake. Biiiiiiiigggg mistake. Let’s just say I’ll never drink another smoothie again.
Hey! Focus, people. Stop getting distracted.
I’ve thought long and hard about how to approach this and I decided I wanted to go with the most realistic approach possible. So I’m not going to put you on some crazy-fast pace where you get left behind the second you run into trouble. I’m building “running into trouble” into this process because I realize that screenwriting is trouble-shooting.
It would be nice if you never had to look back – if every choice you made was perfect. But a screenplay is a living breathing thing and, just like we make mistakes in our lives, a screenplay “makes mistakes.” You might have screwed up the main character and have to replace him with a different character. You may discover that there’s a better way into your story. You may go down a road in your script that leads to nowhere and have to back up. This type of stuff happens all the time.
Which is why I’m going to set a leisurely pace here. You only have to write one scene a day. I’m also giving you TWO FULL DAYS during every week to go back and correct any issues with the other five scenes you wrote.
For those who don’t know, an average scene in a script is around 2 pages, which means that most scripts have between 45-50 scenes. At 5 scenes a week, we’re going to finish our first draft in 10 weeks.
So, to be clear
Friday = write 1 scene
Saturday = write 1 scene
Sunday = write 1 scene
Monday = write 1 scene
Tuesday = write 1 scene
Wednesday = go back and correct any issues with your five scenes
Thursday = go back and correct any issues with your five scenes
Simple, right?
Does this mean you can only write one scene a day? Of course not. You can write two, three, four, five, ten scenes. However many you want. The more scenes you write, the more time you’re giving yourself to correct problems that will pop up. But, at the very least, no matter what, you have to write one scene. Even if you don’t have any ideas for a scene, you still have to write one.
“But Carson, I don’t want to write a bunch of bad scenes and put them in my script.” Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered. You are going to have a second Final Draft document open whenever you’re writing. This will be your “scrapbook” document.
Scrapbook documents are ideal for perfectionists, worrywarts, and writers who will do anything to not write. If you can’t make yourself write a scene into your script, you still have to write a scene in your scrapbook. The advantage of this is that there’s no pressure to write this scene since it isn’t actually in your script. Therefore, if it’s beyond terrible, you just erase it. But if you like it, you can always copy and paste it into the main document.
But just to reiterate, you must write a scene five days a week no matter what.
Again, if you struggle, you have those extra two days a week to catch up. So if you write a scrapbook scene on Monday that you hate and discard. If you write a scrapbook scene on Tuesday that you hate and discard. Use those final two days of the week to catch up.
“What if I want to write 30 pages right away?”
Back in 7th grade, I’ll never forget our P.E. teacher taking us outside and telling us that he was going to time us all for the mile. We had to run around this big blacktop in front of the school six times in order to equal a mile. We all, eagerly, asked what the world record was and he said 4 minutes (or something) so we of course were all determined to break that record.
We lined up, he yelled out, “On your mark, get set, go!” And you’ve never seen 40 kids sprint as fast as we did…. for about half a lap. By lap two, we were all jogging. By lap three, we were walking. By lap four, some of the kids had started throwing up. And by lap 5, most of us were writhing on the ground in pain a la Michael Scott during his Rabies Run.
I’m a big believer in “momentum writing.” When you feel that momentum, ride it as long as you can. Just know that it’s not going to last the whole screenplay. You will come to a screeching halt at some point. Once that happens, come back to these posts I’ll put up every week and use them to go back to this simpler output of one scene a day for five days a week.
That way, if you get a 40 page head start, you’ll just finish before everyone else, which will give you more time to REWRITE. Any extra time you have during this process, I want you to use it to rewrite. We’ll get into the specifics of rewriting in another post. But the basics are:
1) Assess what the major problems in your script are.
2) Write down solutions.
3) Execute solutions.
Okay, now that we have our daily goals set, let’s talk about these first ten pages you’re going to write. You’re free to write the script however you want, of course. But the advice I would give you is don’t fall into “Setup Mode.” “Setup Mode” is when, all you do, is set things up. Here’s my main character. Here’s why he’s a good guy. Here’s his flaw, which is why he hasn’t fulfilled his promise in life. Here are a few more characters you need to know. Here are some setups I need to establish which I will pay off later.
If you write this way, you are not writing a story. You are writing a checklist of things that the reader needs to know.
Instead, use the power of storytelling to ENTERTAIN THE READER as they’re learning all of this information. The act of entertainment should always be priority number one when writing a screenplay. Because, guess what? If the reader isn’t entertained, it doesn’t matter how well you set everything up. We won’t care. Why should we care if we’re not pulled into your story in an entertaining manner?
Think of scenes like mini-stories. Each one should have something that grabs us in some way, or pulls us in, or asks an interesting question that needs to be answered. With Barbie, it was, “Why am I having thoughts of death?” It’s like: BOOM! We have to keep reading cause that question doesn’t sound right in the Barbie World. Or go watch The Killer. Each scene is built to entertain you. Even that first scene, which some people had a problem with, creates this question that needs to be answered – when will he assassinate this person across the street? And then we get that great reversal of him missing and now we’re off to the races.
And don’t feel like your scenes need to be 2 pages each. You’ll find that, when you embrace this “each scene is a story in and of itself” approach, your scene-writing will be longer. It’s okay! You might only have 30 scenes in your movie. It will be based on your writing style and the kind of movie you’re writing. If you’re writing The Hangover, then you’ll write a lot of 2-page scenes. If you’re writing Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, you’ll be writing 6-page scenes.
Okay, I’ve given you enough to get started so, what are you waiting for? Time to begin your screenplay. Good luck!
The box office is so dead right now that the biggest story in Hollywood is Sydney Sweeney doing Hot Ones and the 500 memes that have already been born out of her episode. Of course, you’re not going to get any argument from me. The more Sydney Sweeney on the internet, the better the internet becomes. That’s indisputable math. I checked with Neil deGrasse Tyson.
I am happy to see that The Beekeeper is still buzzing along, though. The underrated flick with the honey-sweet script dipped just 17% from last week to reclaim first place. That’s good news for screenwriter Kurt Wimmer, who may have laid claim to the stash that every screenwriter dreams of – a franchise.
But since there’s nothing else to talk about on the box office end, I thought, why not jump right into “Why Your Logline Didn’t Make the Cut?” This Thursday is reserved for a “Start Your Screenplay” post. Friday we’ve got a review of this weekend’s Showdown winner. Today is about teaching writers the value of a strong concept and logline.
Title: Safe Space
Genre: Thriller
Logline: From her bird’s eye point of view, an alcoholic crane operator on probation races against time to piece the clues together to prove a murder happened in an apartment before she becomes the killer’s next victim.
Analysis: I actually thought this logline had potential. It’s one of the more unique contained thrillers I’ve seen. But this is a great example of how the message of a logline can be lost due to the absence of a few words. I *think* this all takes place in the crane. But the logline doesn’t make that clear. “From her bird’s eye view,” is just vague enough to make us wonder. When it comes to loglines, don’t get cute. You need to actually say: THEY’RE IN THE CRANE THE WHOLE TIME. Cause otherwise it’s too easy to misinterpret it. I’d also want to know why they’re in the crane the whole movie and why that’s relevant. These things are not clear enough in the logline.
Title: Bunker Mentality
Genre: Zombie comedy
Logline: A group of high-ranking government officials struggle to manage the emergency response – and their own survival – after they accidentally lock themselves inside a secret military bunker at the outset of a zombie apocalypse.
Analysis: This one has a similar issue. It’s unclear what we’re actually going to experience in the movie. We get locked in a bunker at the outset of a zombie apocalypse. Considering that being outside WITH THE ZOMBIES is a much worse scenario, my assumption is that this is a good thing! A movie idea is supposed to pose a problem. Not a solution. I did e-mail the writer, pointing this out, and he said that there are going to be zombies in the bunker that they’re stuck in. Well, that needs to be in the logline then! Also, I’d think that military bunkers could be opened from the inside. So I don’t know how you lock yourself in. That last part is a minor question but it’s the kind of thing that goes through a potential reader’s head when they’re deciding whether to request a script or not. You don’t want that. You don’t want there to be any questions. I hate to use these breakdowns to pimp my logline service but seriously, I could help you get rid of all of these problems. carsonreeves1@gmail.com
Title: The Love, The Bend & The Break
Genre: Thriller
Logline: After an aspiring cyclist’s thoughtful birthday gift sparks his wife’s affair, his curiosities lead him to confront her lover, as he unlocks a fury that even he would never have imagined.
Analysis: I’m beating a dead horse here but, again, we’ve got a logline that’s not giving us enough information. When some of the readers of the site complain that the loglines posted aren’t good enough, you have to understand that more than half of the entries are like these listed above where they don’t give you enough information to even make sense. That’s not to say the script isn’t good. But the logline needs to reflect all of that in a way where we can understand the movie you’re pitching. A thoughtful birthday gift sparks a wife’s affair. What does that mean? Why would a gift do that? It’s such a specific cause and effect that we need to know what the gift is in order for it to make sense to us. From there, the rest of the logline is platitudes and you guys know how much I hate platitudes (“unlocks a fury,” “he would never imagine”). Platitudes are phrases that sound important but ultimately mean nothing because they don’t provide the reader with enough information to understand what’s happening. They are particularly harmful to your logline on the back end of it. You’re supposed to be leaving us with a big exciting climax to your logline that makes us want to read the script! Instead, we get platitudes, which creates the opposite effect.
Title: the secret recipe.
Genre: black comedy
Logline: A frustrated 32 year old man kidnaps the chef from his favorite burger restaurant after repeated failed attempts to get the recipe. He finds out real quick that the chef may not be who he seems to be.
Analysis: For starters, no capitalization on the title or genre. You’re toast right there. Nobody in Hollywood is even going to read your logline after they see that. Show appreciation and care for the language you’re using to tell your story. It’s not only professional but it shows that you care about attention to detail. The first part of this logline creates some sense of a movie. But the logline is destroyed by its second sentence. He finds out the chef’s not who he seems to be. What does that mean? Is he secretly a woman? Is he a vampire? Is he a used car salesman? Is he an alien? Is he a vegetarian determined to destroy the meat industry from the inside? Every one of those options tells a different story. So if you don’t give us that information, we don’t know the story. This is a constant theme with people sending me loglines. They play it too coy. They hide information that they should be giving the reader. One of the best pieces of information I can give everyone writing loglines is PROVIDE MORE INFORMATION THAN YOU THINK YOU HAVE TO. NOT LESS.
Title: Cutie Pie
Genre: Defiled Rom-Com
Logline: When a disturbed female chef falls for a bent cop who’s getting married tomorrow, she cooks up a diabolical plan to win his heart and stop the wedding.
Analysis: I’m going to say this as plainly as I can. THE DIABOLICAL PLAN IS THE MOVIE! Therefore, IT NEEDS TO BE IN THE LOGLINE. One of these days I should livestream myself reading these loglines because all I do, 99% of the time, is either throw up my hands in exasperation or my head falls into my hands in frustration. Cause these problems are fixable yet writers keep making the same mistakes over and over. Why keep the most critical part of your story a secret? It doesn’t make sense to me yet SO MANY WRITERS think it’s the right thing to do.
Title: PHANTASMAGORIA SUCCESSION
Genre: Horror
Logline: After becoming trapped in a logic-defying mansion, a newlywed fights to stop a centuries old supernatural vendetta that will ensure her new family’s global empire and enslave her for eternity.
Analysis: With this one, the issue is more specific. It’s not clear, upon the initial reading, what the “strange attractor” is. A “strange attractor” is the unique thing about your movie that isn’t in any other movie. It’s what sets your movie idea apart and will make people want to read it. I read the logline again and saw, “logic-defying mansion” and decided that that must be the strange attractor. Except here’s the problem: Nobody knows what a logic-defying mansion is. Whatever it is, is the hook of the movie. So it needs to be explained in the logline or else your logline sounds like every other movie where people go to a big house and crazy stuff happens.
Title: Do You Fear What I Fear
Genre: Horror/Comedy
Logline: There will be blood… Elf blood! When a masked killer out for revenge goes on a rampage at the workshop, only Santa’s pissed off, recently-fired daughter Karen can save Christmas.
Analysis: The tagline here is fun. But I need to make something clear to screenwriters everywhere. I’ve read a million and one versions of this logline. For whatever reason, half the screenwriters out there have a Christmas horror script. It *seems* clever but it’s a surprisingly common idea. Also, I just don’t think it works. I get the irony (evil on Christmas). But, at least for me, Christmas is a good time. The Christmas scripts I like celebrate Christmas. — By the way, I’m not saying other people won’t like this. Everybody’s different. But you probably don’t want to send *me* one of these ideas unless it’s honestly the most clever version of this sub-genre ever written.
Title: “LAST BREATH”
Genre: Horror
Logline: When a group of college students discover how to get possessed by inhaling the last breath of people who died, they become hooked on the new thrill, until they go too far and unleash terrifying supernatural forces.
Analysis: I know a few of you liked this one, which is why I wanted to include it here – so you know why I passed. What tripped me up was the logistics of it. I couldn’t understand how they did what they did. Did they just look for people who were dying, hang out nearby, wait until it looked really bad for them, then go kiss them at the last second and hope, during the kiss, it was their last breath? How did they time it? Unless they’re killing these people to create the last breath. In which case that needs to be in the logline. Cause now we’re watching a bunch of serial killers. It just seemed a bit too wonky to work. That’s why I didn’t include it.
Title: Not Alone
Genre: Horror (Found Footage)
Logline: On a cutthroat wilderness survival show, a contestant vanishes. The shocking recovery of her bodycam footage unveils a harrowing encounter with a hermetic clan of inbreds that turns her quest for victory into a desperate fight for survival.
Analysis: I played with the idea of including this one but here’s why I didn’t. If you’re going to revive a dead genre (found footage), you need to bring it back in a way that either reinvents the genre or covers a subject matter that’s never been in that genre before. This feels too familiar. That’s one of the frustrating things about writing scripts. You may have a PRETTY GOOD idea. But oftentimes, “pretty good” is what causes a reader to NOT request a script. “Not Alone” looks like it could be pretty good. But hermit inbreds? I’ve seen that before.
I may do more of these another day. But this gives you an idea of the types of loglines I’m pitched. For the most part, they’re not bad. But they aren’t exciting enough to pull the trigger and feature them. What do you guys think? Did I make a mistake not including any of these?
Don’t worry. Scriptshadow has the best outlining method in the business. Even the Outline Haterz are going to love it.
We are in WEEK 4 of our Writing 2 Scripts in 2024 Challenge. It is probably the most controversial week because this week we’re outlining. And, as we all know, there is a contingent of screenwriters who believe that outlining is Satan reincarnated. I’m not here to argue with those people. All I’m here to say is that the more prepared you are, the better your script tends to end up.
Here are the links to the first three Writing A Script posts if you need to catch up:
Week 1 – Concept
Week 2 – Solidifying Your Concept
Week 3 – Building Your Characters
As far as how much time I need from you this week, at the bare minimum, you need to give me an hour a day. But if you want your outline to have real impact, two hours is preferable. And for those of you youngsters who don’t have jobs yet and have all day to write, put in as much time as you’ve got because when it comes to writing a screenplay, your progress will be proportional to your preparation.
The idea here is we want to create CHECKPOINTS. These are key moments in the script where the scenes are of elevated importance. If you can construct a series of script checkpoints, you’ll always have something to write towards.
The more checkpoints you create, the shorter the distance until the next checkpoint, which makes writing easier. For example, if you have a checkpoint on page 10 and then your next checkpoint isn’t until page 50, that’s where you’re going to run into trouble. The amount of space feels too vast, you don’t know how to fill it up, which leads to the dreaded “writer’s block.”
Remember, writer’s block is rarely about your inability to come up with something to write. It’s more about a lack of planning. The more you plan, the more pieces of your screenplay will be in place, and the easier it will be to connect those dots together.
So here’s the first thing I want you to do. I want you to think of three big set-piece scenes. These are the scenes that are going to sell your screenplay. When you came up with your concept, these are often the first scenes you thought of. For example, if we were writing Barbie, a set piece scene would be the big “I’m Just Ken” musical number. In Heat, it’s that iconic bank robbery scene. In Spider-Man: No Way Home, it’s Dr. Octopus attacking Peter Parker on the highway. In Bridesmaids, it’s the dress try-on scene.
And don’t limit yourself to 3 if you want more. What was so cool about Fincher’s The Killer was every single scene was a set-piece. So he had like eight of them in there. Whatever’s right for your movie, come up with that number of set pieces. And if you really want to do this justice, come up with 20 set-piece ideas and whittle it down to the top 3.
Pro Tip: One of the easiest ways to separate yourself from the competition is to NOT SETTLE. If you settle for the first three ideas that come to you, your script is not going to be as good as if you came up with 20 ideas and picked the best three.
From there, open your outline document and place the scenes at the rough page number where you think they’ll work. Just post “Page 45 – I’m Just Ken musical number.” It doesn’t have to be perfect. Again, you just want to create these checkpoints that you’ll be able to move towards. Even if you only create these three checkpoints, you’ll be in better shape than if you went into your script naked.
The next thing I want you to figure out is your first scene. Your first scene is SO IMPORTANT. I could write 5000 words on the importance of the first scene and it wouldn’t be enough to convey just how important that scene is. So just trust me on that.
If I were you, I would not go with a “setup scene” as your opening scene. This is a scene where you’re setting up a character or setting up your plot. You know the opening scene of Die Hard? Where we meet John McClane on a plane? That’s a setup scene. You CAN do that if you really want. But it’s better to start with a dramatic scene that pulls the reader in.
My favorite example of this is Source Code – the spec script not the movie – A dude lands inside someone’s body on a train and is told he has eight minutes to find a bomb or the train blows up. But a more recent, less intense, example is Tuesday’s script I reviewed – The Getaway. A married couple attempts to have sex in an airplane bathroom and get busted for it. Just make something happen in that opening scene. Don’t bore us.
Okay, now we’re going to get into the technical stuff. Most writers don’t like to do these story beats because it’s, well, technical. Screenwriting is supposed to be free-flowing, fun, artistic. It’s art! Art should never be dictated by technicalities! Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
Screenwriting is inherently mathematical. It’s 110 pages. Those pages are divided into four sections – Act 1, Act 2.1, Act 2.2, Act 3. Essentially, each of those sections are going to be 27 pages long, although that will change depending on the length of your script. But the key to remember is that the end of each section will ALSO work as a checkpoint, since a major moment will happen at the end of each section.
Don’t worry. You’re not going to stick to this like a bible. The nature of writing is that you’re constantly generating new details in your story and those details will generate new story ideas. So, much of this is going to change. But we have to start somewhere.
Which leads us to the inciting incident. This is the thing that happens that INTERRUPTS your hero’s world, usually between pages 10-15. You know that moment in body-switch movies where they first switch bodies? That’s an inciting incident – it’s the disruption of your hero’s everyday existence that now forces them to act. In The Killer, it’s when our main character killer tries to assassinate his target but misses.
After this happens, your hero will be in denial. That’s because just like you and me, movie characters don’t like it when they’re forced to change. So they resist, resist, and resist. But then, at the end of Act 1, which will be your next checkpoint, they accept that they need to solve this problem and head off on their journey (usually around page 25).
The next checkpoint I want you to figure out is your midpoint (around pages 50-60). Now, midpoints are one of the trickier parts of a screenplay because every screenplay is so different that by the time you get to the midpoint, there is no “one-size-fits-all” scene you can write, like the inciting incident. Oppenheimer’s midpoint doesn’t have anything in common with Star Wars’s midpoint. The two movies are trying to do something completely different with their stories.
But something you can keep in mind is that you don’t want the second half of your movie to feel exactly like the first half of your movie. So, for example, if you’re writing a contained thriller where our heroine is being held captive in a basement that she’s trying to escape from – if you just have her try to escape for 90 straight minutes, we’re going to get bored. You need something to happen at the midpoint that changes the story up considerably.
Maybe the most obvious example of this is the movie, Room. The first half of that movie is a woman and her kid being held captive in a room. The midpoint is their big escape. And they succeed. The second half of the movie covers the aftermath as our heroine tries to deal with the trauma of what happened. You can’t do this with most movies. But it’s a great example of how the midpoint should affect the second half of your story.
A more subdued version would be The Equalizer 3. The first half is Robert McCall recuperating in this small Italian town, watching as a local gang makes the locals’ lives a living hell. He doesn’t do anything because, if he does, it will bring attention to himself. But at the midpoint, the gang goes too far, and Robert has had enough. So he starts taking them out one by one.
That’s a good example of a midpoint by the way. The midpoint should always make the second half BETTER, if possible. That’s why Room was not the perfect movie. Its first half was more entertaining than its second half. You always want it to be the opposite.
Once you have your midpoint, your next checkpoint will be the end of your second act (between pages 75 and 90). This is when your hero will “die,” – figuratively of course, but sometimes literally (The Princess Bride). They’ll be at their lowest point. They’ll have tried to solve the problem but failed. There are no other options. The audience should truly feel, in this moment, like there is NO WAY our hero can win. That’s when you know you’ve written a great finale to your second act. In Barbie, this is when Barbie comes back to Barbie Land only to realize that the Kens have taken over.
And the final major checkpoint is your climax. This should be easy because, if you set up a clear goal for your hero at the beginning of your story (John McClane – take down the terrorists and save my wife), then this is the scene where they’ll attempt to do that.
Also, the reason we did that character work last week is so that you can match up your character’s transformation with your climax. For example, if your character’s flaw is that they are selfish, your climax should test that selfishness. It should give them an opportunity to become selfless. If you can pull this transformation moment off, it’s the kind of thing that makes your script feel really intelligent and satisfying.
Okay, those are your major checkpoints. If you get all of those down, you should be in a really good place by the time you write “FADE IN.” However, if you want to go deeper, I prefer that you never go more than 12-15 pages without a checkpoint in your outline (12 if your script is 100 pages, 15 if it’s 120 pages). Even if you just have a cool idea for a scene – that’s all you need for a checkpoint. What we want to do here is close the gap between those big empty holes of space in your script so that you’re never writing in a void. That big void of empty space between checkpoints is when you start freaking out and get writer’s block.
Easy, right?
As you can see, I’m not big on these super-detailed outlines that include things like, “The Circular Resistance Modifier To The Protagonist’s Conflict Moment.” Screenplays are too varied for those specific moments to work in every script. My outlining method keeps things loose enough that you don’t feel controlled by your outline, but it’s tight enough that you have confidence when you start writing your script.
If you have any outlining questions, I’ll be dipping in and out of the comments all weekend. If I have time, I’ll answer what I can. Now start outlining! Cause next week, WE BEGIN WRITING!