I spend almost every day on this site discussing the nuts and bolts of screenwriting. Give your characters a goal. Add urgency to that goal. Arc your characters. Make sure everyone’s motivation is strong. I love discussing all that stuff. But I got to thinking how there are a bunch of things we don’t talk about. The intangibles. Those overlooked but essential pieces that play into one’s success (or lack thereof). These things aren’t as sexy or fun to talk about as setups and payoffs, reversals or dramatic irony, but because they’re so rarely breached, writers often forget their value. Let’s lay out ten of these intangibles and discuss how they affect your writing.

Perseverance – Recently, two writers who have been long-time readers of the site (I’m talking 5 years) both broke through. One of them signed with a major agency and has a script that’s about to make a lot of noise. The other finally wrote a script I feel can sell. I remember both of these writers’ early efforts vividly, and they were rough. But they kept writing and kept writing and they got better. Writing is just like any other job. The longer you do it, the better you get at it. The toughest thing about persevering is that, in this business, the finish line is invisible. And it’s different for everyone. But I can promise you this: With the exception of the .0000001% of screenwriters who get lucky, it takes years of perseverance to break through.

Getting Feedback – Too many writers aren’t getting any feedback on their screenplays. Feedback is essential if you want to improve your scripts. It’s why almost everyone who comes away from an Amateur Friday experience tells me how much better their script is because of it. The reason you want feedback is because your writing never quite comes off the way you think it does. You need people to tell you that the hero you’re convinced comes off as a dashing rogue, actually comes off as a raging douche. Or that all that set up in your first act that’s going to pay off in your third act like gangbusters, actually makes your first act slow and boring. What’s in our head and what’s on the page are often two different things. Which is why you need impartial parties to give it to you straight. Meet and trade scripts with people here in the comments section or build up your contacts via Twitter. Start trading and helping each other. I promise your writing will improve as a result.

Thick Skin – Writers are fragile people. I mean we’re putting our heart and soul on the page, we’re going months at a time without any feedback, and when we do hear a response to our work, it’s usually a curt “A pass for us. Sorry.” Talk about a tough business. For this reason, you have to grow thick skin. If someone doesn’t like your script, it’s not the end of the world. You don’t have to start a six-month drinking bender. Look, nobody likes to be told their script (or their main character, or their third act) sucks. The trick is to turn those negatives into positives. Instead of being afraid of criticism, seek it out. Know that every critique helps you locate problems that you can now fix. That means criticism makes your script BETTER. It’s really the only way to roll. In an industry where feedback is 90% negative, you have to have this attitude to survive.

Don’t be delusional – One of the biggest things that prevents writers from breaking through is delusion. They hitch their rides to these extremely non-commercial ideas, whether they be slow period pieces or straight coming-of-age films or quirky small-town indie flicks. The strange thing is that most of these writers seem to know that they’re doing this. And yet they do nothing to change it. Maybe it’s fear of success. Or wanting an out (“Well, I never sold anything. But then again, I never tried to write anything commercial.”). The truth is, if you want to succeed, you gotta stop deluding yourself about your choice in material. I’m not saying to write commercial ideas with no heart or passion. You have to find that within your commercial concept. But I see too many writers pushing these scripts and I’m thinking to myself, “Who’s going to buy these? No one.”

Work Habits – One of the strangest things about writers is that many of them don’t want to write! Again, I don’t know if this is a fear thing (fear of writing something terrible?) or what. But many writers put off writing for as long as possible. Look, everybody works differently, but I believe writers should write every single day. Even if it’s just for 5 minutes. The key is to get SOME writing in. And it’s not that hard. It’s like going to the gym. The hardest part is getting there. But once you’re there, you usually work out. So figure out a way to write every day. And don’t say you don’t have time. You can find five minutes in your day.

Stamina – Stamina, to me, is what really separates the men from the boys. And when I refer to stamina, I’m referring to how much effort you’re willing to put into each script. As we just talked about Monday, Back to the Future started off as a good idea with an uninspired execution. They then wrote dozens of drafts to get it where it needed to be. I heard Damon and Affleck wrote a hundred drafts of Good Will Hunting. If you’re serious about screenwriting, this makes sense. Every time you rewrite your script, you get a chance to fix the weakest link. And after fixing the weakest link 30-50 times, your script’s probably going to be a damned good read. I’m not saying EVERY script will take this long. I’m saying that if needs that long, you need to be willing to go there. Also, make sure it’s the RIGHT SCRIPT to spend all those drafts on in the first place (See above – “Don’t Be Delusional”).

Persistence – Push through the draft you’re working on, even when it doesn’t look like you can. Most abandoned drafts occur due to writers running out of ideas. But really, there’s no such thing as “running out of ideas.” It’s more that you “run out of ideal options.” You can always write SOMETHING. The great thing about screenwriting is, you can fix the bad stuff in the next rewrite. So if you get to a place where you can’t think of how to move forward, just write the “shitty placeholder version” in order to continue your story. Chances are, as you keep going, you’ll come up with a solution to that problem later. But don’t let a script die just because you can’t think of the perfect way to move forward. Keep pushing along and solve the problem later.

Dedication – I think it’s important for screenwriters to be obsessed with screenwriting. If you’re really serious about it, it only makes sense that you would learn every possible thing you can about it. That means reading interviews from screenwriters, reading books about screenwriting, reading professional scripts, reading amateur scripts, reading novels, watching all the old classic movies, even the ones you know you won’t like. I’m not the biggest Western fan, but I went back and watched all the big ones because Westerns are a huge part of cinema history and influence many of the movies we see today. If screenwriting is something you want to succeed in, make it your life. Everybody else who’s fighting for a spot on that coveted Hollywood food chain has.

Plan/Schedule – Not enough writers set schedules or goals. One of the hardest things about writing is that it’s so open-ended. It’s such a casual process that a year can go by and you’ve made barely any progress on your script. The way to combating this is through scheduling and goal-setting. I’ve found screenplay contests are great for this. Whether you like them or not, they give you a clear defined deadline to finish your script by, which can be motivating. Go for two or three a year. Then, set your short and long-term goals as a writer. Where do you want to be by the end of the year (Secure a manager? Place in the semi-finals of a contest?). What about two years (Secure an agent? Option a script to a known production house?). After each year, assess your progress. If you didn’t meet your goals, ask why (is it because your writing or your promoting skills aren’t up to par?), then work on those things as you push towards your new goals. The path to success in screenwriting is never a straight line. But if you build some structure into your approach, it’s going to be straighter than most.

You – Bring what only you can bring to the table.  What are your unique experiences?  What is your unique view?  What is your unique writing style?  What unique people do you gravitate towards?  What goes on inside you that feels different from everyone else?  Bring that to your writing.  That’s going to create your unique voice and it’s going to be what makes you stand out.

Genre: Comedy-Drama
Premise: When an aging irresponsible meat truck driver learns he’s fathered over 500 children via artificial insemination, he does everything in his power to help them, as long as they don’t find out who he is.
About: Well this is a bit of a rags to riches story. Writer-Director Ken Scott was making small indie movies in Canada for a decade when he conceived of “Starbuck.” The small-budgeted film made all of 1.6 million dollars at the global box office. Then Vince Vaughn saw the movie and wanted to make an American version of it. Instead of going the typical Hollywood route of hiring a flashy big-name screenwriter to adapt the film, he hired Scott himself. Not only to write the film, but to DIRECT it. Talk about getting your shot. Apparently, Vaughn liked Scott so much, he’s having him direct his next film, the Walter-Mitty-like “Business Trip,” as well (which I’ve read and thought was quite good). So I guess there ya go. You stick with it long enough and good things come to you.
Writer: Ken Scott (adapted from the film “Starbuck” written by Ken Scott and Martin Petit)
Details: 103 pages – February 2012 – First Draft

As long as we’re laying our cards on the table, I gotta be true to you.

I kinda liked the Google movie. The one with Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson? You have to keep this between us because I don’t want anyone else to find out.

I don’t even remember what it was called. Google Guys? Google, The Film? Don’t Loogle On My Google? Whatever the case, I assumed it was going to be horrible because it was so clearly an ad for Google. Yet it was fascinating to watch in the oddest way. You’d have these situations – like this evil villainous Indian character who worked at Google – and you’re wondering, how bad are they going to make him? Because if they make him too bad, they’re basically saying, “If you come work at Google, really angry Indian men are going to yell at you all day and make your life a living hell.” Which isn’t the best endorsement for the company. At the same time, the story requires a villain to work. So the writer wants Angry Indian Man yelling at all these poor interns.  You, then, get to watch this push-pull battle between Google and the writers in real time, desperate to find out who wins! Okay, maybe that’s not as fascinating as I originally thought it was, but for someone obsessed with screenwriting, this is prime entertainment.

What does this have to do with today’s script? Everything!!!! Actually nothing. But being dramatic always sounds better. I didn’t know a whole lot about Delivery Man going into it. I just knew that this was supposed to be the beginning of Vaughn’s resurgence as an actor. He’d been making these really terrible goofy movies for a decade now (with the exception of a couple) and I guess he just got sick of it. Call it Matthew Mcconaughey Syndrome. Let’s see if he’s indeed changed his ways.

David Wozniak never quite grew up. He’s 42 years old. He works as a delivery man for his family business (a “Meat Store”) and he’s the low man on the totem pole. If somebody needs something done, they DON’T call David.

But David’s not a bad guy. He sort of wants to be better. But it’s hard to change your habits when you’ve been doing them for 42 years. Take the fact that his girlfriend, Emma, is pregnant. David KIND OF wants the baby. He just isn’t confident he’ll be able to handle it when the shit hits the… diapers.

Well David’s about to get a crash course in fatherhood. A lawyer breaks into his loft and informs him that twenty years ago, when David donated his sperm to a fertility clinic, “complications” resulted in that sperm being given out to 700 women. Which has translated, today, into 533 children, 342 of whom have put together a class-action suit to find out who their father is.

While at first, David can barely handle this burden, he eventually becomes obsessed with all his children, doing what anyone who’s been told they have 500 children would do – he stalks them (no word yet on whether Scott is applying the Rian Johnson Looper approach of digitally super-imposing Vince Vaughn’s features on all the kids’ faces). He finds out one is a professional basketball player, another is a wannabe actor, another a drug addict, another an emo goth, another black, another gay, and yet another developmentally challenged. David does his best to touch and guide these childrens’ lives, but there are so many that he can only do so much.

Eventually, the class action suit starts heating up and David must do everything in his power to protect his identify, even as the story about the “mystery donor of 500 children” goes global and everyone in the world wonders who this man is. In the end, David will have to decide whether to disclose his identity or not, a decision that will go to the very core of whether or not he’s finally ready to grow up.

Starbuck (aka Delivery Man) was pretty good. I mean this is definitely not your typical Vince Vaughn flick. The scene where David finds out that one of his kids is developmentally challenged alone has more emotional layers than Fred Clause, Dodgeball, Couples Retreat, and The Watch combined.

I think the big takeaway here, though, is the notion of turning an idea into a story. This particular idea (of someone fathering tons of kids via artificial insemination) has been all over Hollywood for the past 15 years. But nobody was able to get it right in movie form. And the reason for that is, they weren’t able to take the IDEA of a man who fathered a bunch of children through artificial insemination and figure out how to build a STORY around it.

Think about it. Let’s say you’re starting to spitball this idea into an outline. A guy has fathered 500 kids. That sounds funny, right! Yeah! Err, but what happens after the scene where the lawyer tells your protagonist he’s fathered 500 kids? Uhhhhh… Have you thought that far? Because most writers don’t. You can’t have your character go meet every single one of his kids because you don’t have enough time. So then where’s the story? Does he only meet a few kids? Then what about all the others? You can see how it starts to get complicated.

Delivery Man uses an offbeat cobbled-together approach to create its story, but manages to make it work. David sees and helps five of his children, then Scott amps up the class action suit against him, so that David must hire a lawyer (his friend – who’s the worst lawyer in the world) to protect his identity. In the meantime, David continues to see his children (anonymously) and even attend the meetings for the class action suit (anonymously).

Everything is building up towards the judge’s decision, and so that becomes the engine that drives the story. Without Scott discovering the class action suit, I’m not sure this ever becomes more than an idea. Because with the suit, we have a destination. And once you have a destination, you have a story.

While I believe the script on the whole is good, I don’t think it fulfills its promise (at least not in this draft). (spoilers). That’s because we’re supposed to be worried about David being exposed as the father, and I’m not sure we do. Scott does his best. He shows articles and talk shows discuss how horrible this anonymous donor is for doing this, in hopes that we’ll say, “Oh my God! David will be roasted on national TV if he’s found out!” The problem is David hasn’t done anything wrong. It was the clinic that fucked up. David was just a stupid 20 year old desperate for cash. I guess I just didn’t see how it was bad if he was exposed.

Despite that, Delivery Man was packed with enough heart, charm and earnestness to make up for its faults. It really is a step up for Vaughn. And I’m curious to see it. I know Business Trip (Vaughn and Scott’s next collaboration) is a very visual director-y type script. So I’m curious to see how Scott is as a director as well. Can’t wait.

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

What I learned: The problems with this script come down to stakes. As a screenwriter, you always have to ask, what happens if my character “loses” at the end of the film? If the answer isn’t something catastrophic (his job, his wife, his kids, his life) then the stakes probably aren’t high enough. In this case, what happens if David gets discovered? He becomes a national media topic for a week. Then his life probably goes back to normal.  He may even become a minor celebrity.  I’m just not sure that’s bad enough.

Man, I’m going off-book for every post this week. I said I was going to do ten tips for The Karate Kid or Rain Man, but instead, I’m going with another 80s movie, The Road Warrior! Now The Road Warrior may seem like an unlikely choice for a plate of screenwriting lessons. The script focuses mainly on action, which doesn’t translate very well on the page. But look closer and you’ll find that how the script tackles action is the secret to its success. Today’s studio films are so jam packed with action, they’ve lost track of why they’re adding it in the first place. Maybe to fill up their trailers. Maybe because they’re afraid the audience will get bored. I don’t know. But The Road Warrior comes in at a lean 95 minutes, and only includes action sequence when they’re necessary (true, the smaller budget probably contributed to this, but that may be a lesson in itself – don’t spend money if you don’t have to). What sticks with you when you watch The Road Warrior are its amazing set pieces (read: car chases), and particularly the climactic chase. These may not be as flashy as the stuff you see today, but they’re definitely more brutal and real. That’s because there were no special effects.  Everything you saw was real.  The problem with these digitally-aided chases today is that they all carry a sheen of fakeness. And “fake” feels safe – the exact opposite of how you want your audience to feel in the theater. But I’m getting off track here. Let’s reach back to one of the greatest action movies ever and see if we can’t learn something from it.

1) Never underestimate a simple story – I see so many writers writing themselves into corners because they’re trying to do too much with their story. Look at the plot of The Road Warrior. The good guys must find a way to escape the bad guys with their fuel in tact. The great thing about a simple plot is that the audience is never confused. Everybody always knows what’s going on. These days in movies like Transformers 2 or Pirates of the Caribbean 4, that’s rarely the case.

2) Universal Motivation – Movies work well when there’s universal motivation. This means every character is motivated by the same thing. In this case, it’s fuel. Every character wants it. No character wants to give it away. This provides ample opportunities for conflict, since all of your characters are fighting over the same thing.

3) If your hero doesn’t say a whole lot, make sure he does a whole lot – A character who doesn’t speak much must speak with his actions. Max isn’t a talker, but he’s very active. If he’s not outrunning the road pirates, he’s stopping to inspect curious objects (the gyro-copter), forming his plan to get into the fuel yard, heading out to get the fuel truck. He’s always DOING something. If you have a character who doesn’t speak and doesn’t do, you have a boring character.

4) Script Exercise: Pretend that sound isn’t working on set today – Pretend you’re a writer on set and the director’s just informed you that the sound equipment broke. Hence, you need to come up with a version of the scene that doesn’t contain dialogue. As a guideline, watch the scene in The Road Warrior where Max befriends the Ferrel Kid. There’s no dialogue in it but it’s very powerful. Max takes out an old music box he found on the road and starts playing it. The kid is intrigued. Max plays a little more before tossing it to him. The kid spins the crank, the music comes out, and he gets excited. It’s a simple scene, but it establishes a solid friendship between the two. The Road Warrior has a few really nice moments like these.

5) Establish the danger in your world – If we don’t feel the danger, we won’t be afraid.  And you need your audience to feel afraid of the bad guys.  Early on, we watch a band of the road pirates mercilessly kill a man and rape his wife. Admittedly, this would be a hard scene to show today. But it really established how dangerous this world was. If you do this right, it will pay dividends throughout the rest of the movie. When the bad guys are chasing Max in the truck, for example, we know if they catch him they’re not simply going to put a bullet in his head.  There will be torture, pain, horrible things done to him that we can’t even begin to imagine.  Which is why we don’t want him to get caught!

6) Urgency in the form of an ultimatum – One of the easiest ways to create urgency is through an ultimatum. The road pirates come up to the oil yard and broadcast an announcement that the good guys have 24 hours to leave the yard or else they will be slaughtered. Urgency is one of your best friends as a storyteller (as evidenced by yesterday’s article), and this is a really easy way to instigate it.

7) Make characters memorable with their actions, wardrobe, disposition, possessions – Too many writers try to make characters memorable with their words. Instead, look for ways to make them memorable with their actions and outfits and overall disposition. Helicopter Guy wears goggles and has a quirky flying machine. The Ferrel Kid speaks in grunts and has a bladed boomerang. Max eats dog food to survive. It’s these extracurricular things that the audience typically remembers, not what your characters say.

8) You want your hero going into the climax at his worst – The worse your hero is prepared for the climax, the better. Max is nearly dead when he takes control of that tanker. He’s got one leg, one eye, and one arm (think about that – he has only ONE ARM to drive this tanker!).

9) You want your bad guys going into the climax at their best – It shouldn’t be a fair fight. The bad guys have 30 cars and hundreds of weapons to Max’s 1 car and handful of weapons.

10) Find irony in your set pieces – Set pieces are supposed to be big and action-packed and crazy. So writers look for the biggest most action-packed craziest way to do them. By taking this approach, however, they often miss out on the more nuanced moments that make a set piece memorable. Many times it’s the TINIEST thing that can be the stand out moment in a set-piece. For example, in the ending of The Road Warrior, a final shotgun shell rolls out onto the hood of the truck. It’s out there dangling on that dashboard and getting that final bullet turns out to be the only thing we care about for two minutes.  This amongst an insane car chase with over 30 cars!

As great as this movie is, there’s still one thing I haven’t been able to figure out about it. Max is a really selfish hero.  He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.  He’s not very talkative.  He’s a dick to everyone.  I mean there’s a moment where he’s about to save somebody but before he does he says, “I’ll only do this if you give me gas.”  But we still love this guy.  Why?  Is it as simple as that he has a dog?  That he connects with the little kid?  Is it that the bad guys are so much worse?  Max today would probably be rewritten to be more “likable.”  And it would’ve ruined the character.  So my question to you is, why do we like Max?  I feel like if we can figure that out, we can shed some light on just what “likable” means.

Genre: Sci-fi Comedy
Premise: A plucky teenage boy is accidentally sent 30 years into the past, where he inadvertently prevents his parents from meeting, in the process threatening his very existence.
About: This is the very first draft of Back to the Future, written in 1981.
Writers: Robert Zemeckis & Bob Gale
Details: 110 pages (but the formatting here is really tight – this feels more like 130 pages) 1981 draft

I swear. I tried to see Thor 2 this weekend (as I said I would in my newsletter). With every fiber of my being I tried to go. At one point I actually constructed a catapult on my couch (from nearby items like couch pillows and a floor lamp) that would physically propel me towards the door so that I’d be forced to go.

But in the end, I just couldn’t (make the catapult work or see the film). I never did get into the whole Greek God thing in English anyway. Much like my distaste for Doritos and Everybody Loves Raymond, they were wisps of popular culture I never understood.

Instead, I decided to do something different today – read the first draft of Back To The Future! From what I’d heard, it wasn’t very good. The word on the street was that every studio in town passed on it. True, neither Zemeckis or Gale had done much at the time (Zemeckis’s first movie, Used Cars, had just come out and done so-so at the box office) but even if they had, nobody was drinking the McFly juice yet.

And therein lies the reason I must review it. I want to show screenwriters what can be done with a bad script. As long as there’s a good idea at the core, you can turn something bad into something good. It takes time (it took these guys 3 years). But if the script has potential and you’re willing to put in the work, there’s hope.

Back to the Future Alpha is essentially the boring version of the movie you’ve come to love. The script starts off strangely with Marty McFly perfecting his video pirating skills. He’s even trying to get Doc to streamline his bootlegging process so he can sell films out on the street before they hit theaters! I’m not kidding. And this is 1981!

Marty hangs around Doc’s place before and after school, shooting the shit. Doc’s always talking about power sources and how he needs more power for his latest project – oh, and there’s a secret locked room that he refuses to allow Marty to see.

Marty’s parents are both here, but their personalities haven’t been fleshed out yet. Likewise, Biff is operating on about 25% of his eventual personality. Marty’s still got a girlfriend (her name’s Suzy) whom he passes notes to in long classroom scenes where the teacher warms about the upcoming nuclear apocalypse.  There are no siblings here, though (and therefore no famous disappearing picture).

One day Marty’s hanging out at Doc’s and, out of curiosity, pours some Coke into one of his devices. This causes a chemical reaction that turns out to be exactly what Doc needs for his mysterious behind-the-locked-door project. Coke (due to its secret formula) actually plays a big part in this version of the story.

We finally learn that the thing behind the door is a time machine. It needs incredible amounts of energy. And the mix of Coke and plutonium generate that energy. There is no car here. No 88 miles per hour. Just a machine in a lab. CIA agents eventually show up at that lab looking for the plutonium Doc stole. There’s a shoot out, and Marty accidentally gets caught in the machine and travels back 30 years.

After realizing where he is, Marty runs to his mom’s house and she’s, of course, his age now. He asks her what’s going on. She doesn’t know what he’s talking about or who he is. Marty passes out and when he wakes up, Doc has come to pick him up (Marty had Doc’s name in his pocket from earlier, so they called him).

Doc seems to know what’s happened right away in this version (Marty doesn’t need to convince him he’s from the future), and sets about getting Marty home. He tells Marty he MUST stay in his house in the meantime so he doesn’t upset the space-time continuum. But Marty gets bored and heads to school (because, why not!) where he sees his mom again, who starts falling in love with him.

From that point on, everything happens pretty much the way it happens in the film, except for the final sequence, where instead of the clock tower, we get Doc and Marty driving to Nevada to channel energy for the time machine from the very last nuclear bomb test in America. And in a sequence that would come back to haunt moviegoers worldwide three decades later, Marty will have to hide inside a refrigerator to survive the nuclear blast.

The biggest change you see from this draft to the final one is that of URGENCY. Everything in the final draft MOVES FAST. Characters are always late. Characters are always on the move. Characters always have somewhere to be.

In this version, Marty’s just hanging out at Doc’s place with all the time in the world. Then he’s hanging out in his classroom with his teacher droning on about nuclear bombs. The story ISN’T MOVING. It’s GETTING READY TO MOVE. And that’s one of the major things that rewrites change. You locate all the places in your story that are GETTING READY to happen, and you replace them with things that HAPPEN.

Take Doc’s time machine, for instance. In this version, Doc’s still in the process of building it. He hasn’t come up with all the answers yet. This means four or five scenes of Doc wondering how he’s going to do it. In the movie, DOC’S ALREADY FIGURED THIS OUT. He already has the time machine ready. So the story’s already on the move. He calls Marty to the mall and we’re off to the races.

Or look at the classroom scene. The final draft would NEVER have a classroom scene. Characters sitting around while a teacher slowly doles out exposition? No way! Instead, Marty’s late for class. He’s getting stopped in the hallway by the principal. He’s trying to set up his date with Jennifer. We don’t have time for class! There’s always somewhere to be!

You also see a lot of forced set-ups here, which is one of the easiest ways to spot an early draft. Take Marty’s skateboarding. Obviously, one of the key scenes in the film is when Marty outmaneuvers Biff in Town Square on a makeshift skateboard. So we need to set that up. In this version, in the first act, Marty is walking home with Suzy and some kid’s skateboard shoots off towards Marty. Marty hops on it, does all these ridiculous tricks for no reason (other than to set up he’s a master skateboarder), then hands the board back.

Contrast that with the final draft. The skateboard is an integral part of Marty’s everyday routine. It’s how he gets around. We see him hop on it and hurry to school as early as the second scene of the film. That’s one area where rewriting helps, is taking those isolated ideas and interweaving them into the fabric of your screenplay.

The same thing can be said for stuff like the Clock Tower, the lightning bolt, the car-as-time-machine, the 88 miles per hour. We saw seeds of those ideas here, but they needed time to grow in order to be realized. Doc is living in the main building in town, which looks like it eventually became the Clock Tower. And the idea of them only getting one shot at this lightning bolt originated from the one and only shot at catching energy from the nuclear bomb test.

Speaking of the ending, that was another huge problem with this draft. You don’t keep your characters in one location for 90% of the movie, then put them in a car and drive them on a six hour road trip for the climax. It feels clumsy and disjointed. I’m guessing Zemeckis and Gale eventually realized this, which necessitated a more local solution. Hence the atomic bomb turning into a lightning bolt.

Also of note is the movement of a key plot point that really helped the structure of the second act. In this version of Back To The Future, Marty doesn’t disrupt his parents from meeting right away. Instead, he runs into his mom, then goes to Doc’s, then Doc tells him to hang out while he works on sending him back to the future.

Despite Doc hammering Marty on how dangerous it is to interact with anybody, Marty leaves the house and heads to school out of boredom. It’s only then that he screws up the meeting between his mother and father. This, of course, makes zero sense. Why would Marty go to school and potentially endanger his existence if he doesn’t have to?

In the final draft, they wisely changed the position of this plot point to maximize motivation. Marty saves his father after he falls out of the tree, getting hit by the car INSTEAD of his dad, and getting taken into his mom’s house, where she falls in love with him (instead of his father). All of this happens BEFORE he meets Doc. This way, when Marty and Doc game plan sending him back, they realize that Marty has already endangered his existence by having his mom fall for him instead of his dad. Marty now HAS NO CHOICE but to go to school and correct his mistake.  This works so much better than, “Eh, I’m bored. Let’s go to High School.”  Right?

I think to some of you, all of this is obvious. “Yeah, it was an early draft. Of course it wasn’t as good as the final draft.” But this is the draft Zemeckis and Gale were originally trying to sell. And that’s the problem. I see a lot of writers going out there with drafts like this. Drafts with huge potential but where the writers haven’t come close to maximizing that potential.

Think about it. Is your ending the refrigerator-in-a-nuclear-explosion ending? Or is it the Delorean racing 88 miles per hour while Doc swings from the clock tower lightning bolt ending? Sure it takes lots more drafts and lots more time to get the lightning bolt ending, but how the hell do you think you’re going to beat the competition with a subpar product?

I don’t think this draft of Back To The Future was bad. But it reads like a lot of early drafts do. Some fun ideas. Some decent characters. Some clumsy exposition. A start-and-stop story that’s still trying to find itself. But it didn’t feel FINISHED.

The lesson here is to look at what can happen when you rewrite. I heard stories about how these two, after getting rejected, wrote draft after draft after draft of this script, debating every single detail of the story until it got to where it needed to be. That takes dedication. And that’s what every screenwriter needs in order to succeed.

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

What I learned: Every time you get an idea, it’s just a seed. Your job is to water that seed and help it grow to as big as it possibly can. Too many writers are too impatient to do the watering. And their scripts always reflect that.

This is your chance to discuss the week’s amateur scripts, offered originally in the Scriptshadow newsletter. The primary goal for this discussion is to find out which script(s) is the best candidate for a future Amateur Friday review. The secondary goal is to keep things positive in the comments with constructive criticism.

Below are the scripts up for review, along with the download links. Want to receive the scripts early? Head over to the Contact page, e-mail us, and “Opt In” to the newsletter.

Happy reading!

TITLE: Winning Isn’t Anything
GENRE: Drama, Dark Comedy
LOGLINE: A struggling baseball team owner must finish the season or lose his lease, while corrupt politicians, small town con artists, and a high stakes wager between rival mobsters conspire to stop him. Inspired by actual events.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: Almost everyone knows that feeling of pain so deep that it momentarily becomes laughter before reverting to tears. That’s what it felt like to write this script. It’s not just a “based on true events” story – but it should resonate with readers because it runs the gamut of characters that we know (the suburban guy and his family down the street), to those we’d dare to know (the Mafia). You ever want something so badly that you ignore the signs all around you that say “Stop”? That’s what this script is about, and that’s how it felt at times to write it. Often painful, occasional tears that blurred the keyboard, but in the end rewarding.

TITLE: Day 666
GENRE: Self-Contained Psychological Horror
LOGLINE: A demonic outbreak leads the Smith family into their backyard bunker, where they hope the above threat starves to death before they do.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: I have three brothers, two of whom have degrees in writing, one of whom has degrees in producing, so I am always able to get initial notes from them. Two responses were quite positive and one was mixed, at best. The thing is, I’m not sure who is right. Although I like the script, I don’t know whether it is good enough to continue working on, or whether or not I should move on. Recently, I have become very paranoid about everything I write, and I have reached an impasse with this script. Any help would be greatly appreciated. Really, I’d just like to know if I can write a solid script.

TITLE: A Hand’s Reach
GENRE: Drama
LOGLINE: A crack dealing yet intellectual seventeen year-old must choose between university offers or the only life he has ever known.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: I am not a Page winner nor a Nicholl finalist (I’ve actually never even submitted anywhere except here) but am a writer of honesty and genuineness. I believe it’s necessary for characters such as the protagonist to have their voice heard no matter the decisions they make in life – right or wrong…. or maybe I’m just biased because the script hits close to home. That’s why I leave the rest to you. I sent the script to two script consultants in L.A. who praised the character work, particularly the protagonist. One of them even gave it a rare “Excellent” grade, stating he can sometimes go a year without giving one.

Not bad for someone’s first script.

TITLE: Cipher
GENRE: Sci-fi
LOGLINE: Framed for the murder of a mafia boss, a futuristic courier has four hours to fight his way through hostile gang territories to deliver his message that will prevent an all out turf war.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: Yeah, it’s basically a futuristic version of The Warriors but with cyborgs, mutant tigers and four-armed chainsaw wielding maniacs. So, you know, better. Hoping I’m passing the Hollywood litmus test of “it’s X but different” here. I put a rough draft of this up on the tracking-board forums and it ended up being requested by three management companies as well as a producer reaching out to me. This is the latest draft and I’m hoping lightning will strike twice.

TITLE: Moira
GENRE: Supernatural
LOGLINE: A former hard-partying exotic dancer vows to win back the “love” of her life, by supernatural means if necessary.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: So I was living in Seattle, watching a ton of movies — “Near Dark”, “Chasing Amy” and “Closer” in particular — and reading Diablo Cody’s novel “Candy Girl”. One night after a very smoky bottle of sangiovese (ok, maybe two), I hammered out a 45-page treatment of what would eventually become “Moira”.

Something really fascinated me about the idea of a person changing themselves entirely based on what they believed the object of their affection would want in another human being, only to learn that that reinvention was based on a lie. Where would he or she go from there?