Carson here. Okay, a little background. I have this friend who recently broke into that oh-so exclusive “Hollywood Screenwriting Club.” In other words, people actually started paying him for his work. It was exciting to watch him finally get that recognition, go to meetings, officially tell people that he had representation. But as the months rolled by, I saw that he’d gotten a little down. So I asked, “Yo, Good Friend. What’s wrong?” And he assured me that while there wasn’t a day he didn’t wake up pinching himself for the opportunity to write for a living, he was a little crushed by some of the realities that go into the profession. As he started explaining them, I said, “You know what? Why don’t you write this all out and I’ll post it on the site? It’ll be like, a way for you to exorcise your demons.” He agreed that’d be a wonderful idea. So why am I posting this? To remind everyone that getting to the “spec sale” finish line is really just the start of a new race, a much longer and tougher race. Because now, instead of trying to be the king of the amateurs, you’re competing shoulder to shoulder with the heavyweights, writers who can all tell a good story (something you didn’t have to worry about in the amateur camp). You gotta work your way up. You gotta take jobs you may not necessarily like to pay the bills. It’s not easy. This is what he wrote…

Necessary dance for when you sell your first script.

When you sell your first script, you will cry.

I know that seems dramatic. It might be. But you’ve worked for this moment. Whether it’s for two years or twenty, writing is hard work—it’s impossible work. Squeezing your brain till it’s dry like brittle, staring at a glowing screen for hours until your eyes sting red, forgetting what it’s like to shower (or interact with other human beings). Writing is hard. Which is exactly what makes opening that email from your agent or manager and reading the words, ‘We got an offer’ so much sweeter.

So when you sell your first script, you will cry.

Because it feels amazing. This thing that you’ve been slaving over—outlining, emailing to trusted friends, fixing the outline, sending out again, fixing it one more time, scene-writing, banging your head against the keyboard, character work, act one is done (hurray!) oh wait it’s shit (boo!), rewriting, sending out, head-banging, writing, writing, writing, napping, read a professional script that makes yours look like a Hallmark Channel D-movie, writing, writing, almost there, final scene, DONE, sending out, rewrite rewrite rewrite, ignore these notes, apply those notes, rewrite rewrite, send to manager or agent and wait a million years until—someone actually LIKES it.

Liked it enough to, um, pay you for it.

And not just pay you. They want to make it. Into a movie. That people will watch. You IMDb the interested party immediately. Good resume, a few films under their belt, a couple you’ve heard of but have never seen. Netflix them—not too shabby, your script is better so you’re not worried because the movie’s getting made. The dream is here. In a year’s time you’ll be on a red carpet, smiling awkwardly for the cameras, right? Friends come out of the woodwork to ask about free screening passes, can you read their work, who is your manager—the uphill battle is over. You’ve made it, you’ve sold a script. Your bank account will go from $1.17 (checking AND savings combined) to some number that allows you to shop for actual groceries instead of driving thru Taco Bell for the 9th time this week. You’re gonna be sitting pretty in a dark theater with strangers laughing (or screaming, or crying, or ooh-ing and ahh-ing) at words YOU WROTE, watching actors saying things YOU MADE UP. Life. Is. Grand.

Except that doesn’t really happen.

Or maybe it does. Maybe for some people that’s really how it goes. But as far as I know, that’s like Supermoon Rare, an anomaly akin to Ahab’s white whale. That doesn’t mean selling your script isn’t awesome—it is, it’s just not the perfect, smooth sailing, seven-figure life changing event people make it out to be. But here’s what it does change:

It makes you hirable. Or, more hirable than you used to be. So you’ll get meetings. Sometimes generals, where people with a lot of power offer you a free water bottle (always take the free water bottle) and ask questions about the script you sold that they may or may not have skimmed over last week. Sometimes generals with baby producers who talk a big talk and name-drop every other sentence and try to get their talons into you early before a studio notices you. Let me just get this out now: BEWARE OF BABY PRODUCERS.

What’s a baby producer? That rando with one short film IMDb credit who blows up your inbox with questions about the script you sold, where’d it find a home, what are you working on now—that’s a baby producer. And they’re slick because the high of selling your script is just that—a very cool, ego-inflating high, and people will not hesitate to exploit it. You’ll think, Great! People want to hire me and read more of my stuff and having two produced scripts is CLEARLY better than selling one so why not?! I’m gone ride this wave of attention to the Academy and never eat Taco Bell again!! It’s easy to think this. It’s easy to assume that these people just want to make a good film and they read your work and loved it and trust your voice. It’s so, so easy.

It’s also incredibly stupid.

Baby producers are the worst. They’re dangerous. Because they’re inexperienced and because they’re inexperienced they’ve had to learn how to talk to get into rooms they have no business being in. So they’ll talk to you. But you’ll be naïve (well, you won’t because you read this article but anyways). So you’ll work. On insane timetables, too, because you’re riding that momentum from your script sale and don’t plan on losing steam anytime soon. You’ll work on their terms, with their ideas, and always with the understanding that you should be grateful for this opportunity to be writing for pay. You will write the first draft in less than a week. And the pay will be shit.

Meanwhile, you’re in rewriting hell from your own spec. There’s that saying, “Writing is rewriting.” That’s never truer than when you sell your script—because the studio or producer or independent prodco owns you. And they want a quality product. Oh, they liked your script, your ideas. But they like theirs better. So you’ll rewrite your precious baby into Kingdom Come to get their stamp of approval. After all, they are the gatekeepers here—they don’t like what you do, you get paid out and a shared credit with whomever they bring in. Which, as a new writer with an original spec, is not good news.

And you’ll learn that the feature world is harsh. That the writer is not the revered king but the lowly fool. That staying afloat in this pool requires some serious stamina—this is a marathon, not a sprint (and how many metaphors was that? yeesh!). You’ll learn that the producers are really the writers and most of the time they really aren’t writers but just think they are and they’ll tell you what darlings to kill. You’ll kill your darlings. You’ll do it reluctantly but you’ll do it.

You will question your own sanity. Notes will start to look circular—isn’t that how I had it in the original draft? why are we circling back??—and this script that you’ve lived with for months, years, will begin to haunt you. And you will despise it. It’s important, though, to realize exactly why this happens, why you might hate your own work so much at this point in the process: This is your baby. It’s been your baby since its conception. You know it inside and out, forwards and backwards and upside down. You saw it take its first steps, lose its first tooth. Then you sell it and someone else joins the family. Except they haven’t been living with the script for months or years—it’s new to them. This is both a blessing and a curse. Their perspective is fresher than your own, but it’s also not your own. Some ideas these new eyes have will be great, like Why didn’t I think of that?! ideas. Others will be awful, like, There’s a reason I didn’t think of that. Whatever the case, you’ll spend hours slogging through producer notes and draft after draft after draft until your eyes bleed from reading notes that tear your precious script apart piece by piece, slugline by slugline. And maybe, if you’re lucky, if you’re working with a producer who maybe kinda sorta knows that they’re doing, it won’t be so bad.

Maybe it’ll be good. Great, even. Awesome.

Because you sold your first script—the key word being “first.” I cannot stress this enough: This is a snapshot, not the whole picture. The trailer, not the movie. Somewhere along the way, this becomes clearer. You might complain about how hard the work is, how harsh and pointless the notes seem, how ridiculous and unprofessional the baby producers are, but you’ll realize that many people have this dream, and for you it’s now a reality. So you will shut up with the negativity and start to tell people when all that gratitude and excitement finally sinks in. And their reactions will be priceless. You’ll spend a lot of time answering questions from friends and family about when your movie is coming out (this will never stop until, I’m guessing, your movie actually comes out). And then you’ll smile—because that’s actually a very likely outcome to all of this. Your movie will come out.

Unless it doesn’t. In which case, it’s time to sell your second script.

Genre: Sci-fi e-book
Premise: Set during an unknown time, Wool follows a select group of workers inside an expansive 100-story underground bunker who begin to suspect that the world they live in is a giant lie.
About: Writer Hugh Howey initially wrote Wool as a stand-alone short story. He published the work through Amazon’s Direct Publishing system. After the story began to do well, he started writing more entries for it (the entries are now combined into a single book). 20th Century Fox bought film rights for the book last year, and Howey just signed a print-only deal with Simon and Schuster for half a million dollars.
Writer: Hugh Howey
Details: 530 pages

One of the things I’ve been keeping an eye on of late is Hollywood’s interest in self-published material. It used to be that, on the book end, there was only one chance of getting your work adapted. You had to get a book published! And to publish something, you had to crack into an industry that was just as hard to break into as this one.

Times have changed. The burgeoning E-book industry has allowed that “nobody” writer to finally bypass a system previously designed to keep you invisible. Having published an e-book myself (yeah, yeah, the physical copy is coming), one of the things that baffled me was how easy it was. I mean you literally go to Amazon, upload your document, and it’s on the site 6 hours later.

Now, of course, you still have to get noticed. You still have to find ways to get people to know about your book. But the tools are in place, especially with the pricing flexibility you have. You don’t need to compete with those huge books because you can price your book at 1/10 their price (99 cents), making it an easy gamble for hungry readers looking for something new to try.

Not to mention you’re not beholden to any page count. A lot of e-writers are selling serialized novellas, allowing them to write a quick 150 page book, charge 99 cents, gain some fans, then write three more 150 page novellas (each a dollar) to finish the series (which is similar to what Wool did). This is a great way for screenwriters to dip their toes into the medium and see if they like it.

I bring this all up because Hollywood is obsessed with adaptations. They want to see things proven before they take a chance on them. And this is a way for you to exploit that business model without having to convince a publishing industry to print half a million copies of your debut book. You can create a small tremor in the book world and turn it into a big splashy sale that way as opposed to the spec route. Which brings us to today’s book, Wool.

Note: Wool is the kind of story that plays best when you don’t know all its little surprises. I recommend you read it if you don’t want to know what happens. There will be spoilers below.

Wool is about an immense underground “silo” (almost 150 levels deep) that houses a community of people doing various jobs all focused on one thing – keeping the silo running smoothly. Although it’s never explicitly stated, it’s implied we’re in the far off future and that something terrible happened that destroyed the atmosphere and made earth inhospitable. In fact, if you’re lucky enough to be on the top floor of the silo, you can see giant monitors displaying the outside’s rolling lifeless hills, as well as the decrepit remains of a city in the distance.

The story centers around a young machine welder named Juliette who becomes an unwitting sheriff of the silo. She received the job after the previous sheriff was picked for the “lottery.” While winning the lottery may sound wonderful to you, the lottery of this world means you’ve been designated to clean the cameras outside the silo. Because the atmosphere is so harsh, this ensures your death, even with the most technologically advanced suits available. This is actually considered an honor in the silo. Wining the lottery allows you to do your duty for your people.

Anyway, while running across some of the old sheriff’s e-mails, Juliette finds out that he had begun questioning the purpose of the silo (a huge no-no in the community). Even worse, he found that some silo truths didn’t add up. Maybe the lottery wasn’t a “privilege” after all. Maybe it was a backdoor way for the silo leaders to get rid of those who were onto their secret? But what was it the silo leaders were covering up exactly? And why did all trails seem to lead back to IT, the secluded computer hub of the silo?

Juliette does some more digging and learns of something called “the uprising,” something that happened many years ago in the silence, and finds evidence that there wasn’t just one, but maybe many uprisings. Dozens! Her curiosity finally causes her downfall though, as IT catches her snooping, and announces she is the next “lottery” winner.

Before she goes down, Juliette learns that there is a much bigger world out there with many secrets, and that IT is entrusted with keeping those secrets. If she’s going to find out what those secrets are, and she’s going to survive “cleaning,” a procedure that not a single Silo member has ever survived, she’ll need to call on her friends, her unique skills, and her intelligence to identify exactly what this Silo is.

I mean, is it any surprise at all that I liked this? It’s right up my alley in just about every category. And I don’t know if Fox only bought it for a feature adaptation, but this would be an even better TV show. That’s all I kept thinking while I was reading it. “This is the next fucking Lost.” It’s got such a vast mythology (mythology I’m still learning about in the sequel, Shift) and such a great environment for characters, you could just see this thing taking over the geek community.

But this could just as easily be a film. And that’s one thing I admired about Hugh’s writing. Taking a page out of screenwriting books, he always kept the mystery high and the story moving. We always had a clear goal – much of which was based on Juliette’s desire to figure out what was really going on in the Silo – investigating mysterious murders, looking into mysterious e-mails, following up mysterious rumors.

That’s a great tip for all you young writers out there. Put your character in some sort of investigative position. That way, they’ll always have a goal. They’ll always have something to solve, something to look up, something they must find out. This keeps your character active and active characters are almost always the most interesting to watch. Wool doesn’t play nearly as well if, say, Juliette is a stay-at-home mom. She has no reason to investigate any of the cool stuff she had to investigate as a Sheriff. And if you DO send a stay-at-home mom off to investigate a bunch of things, you have a very confused reader on your hands wondering, “Uhhhh, why is she doing this?”

In addition to its TV and feature qualities, I also enjoyed Wool doing certain things you can only do in a book. For example, we originally start off following the sheriff (whose death Juliette looks into later). So he’s our main character. But then he walks outside for the lottery, experiences something mind-boggling, and dies. So our main character’s dead! Then in the next section, we meet the mayor, who we follow for awhile. She too starts to dig into some silo inconsistencies. She’s then picked for a cleaning and dies too. So our SECOND main character is dead. This finally leads us to Juliette, who becomes our hero throughout the rest of the book.

Now in retrospect, of course, this makes sense. Howey originally wrote this as a standalone short story. So the need for a new hero to replace the dead hero from that original novella was obvious. And he probably didn’t know yet if he was going to write an entire book, so again he followed that storyline to its logical conclusion, ending up in the dead Mayor. Once he realized he was going to turn this into an entire book, he knew the next hero would have to be the protagonist for good.

But I love reading stuff like this because it’s easy, after immersing yourself in screenplay land for years, to think the Hollywood beats are the only beats available. Try killing your main character off twice in a script. We wouldn’t meet the third real main character until at least page 40 and by then it’s too late to start your story.

But I still love seeing this because it REMINDS me that there are other ways to do it. You don’t HAVE to do it the way it’s always been done. I don’t know how you’d do two fake-out main character introductions in a major Hollywood movie but MAYBE it could be done with the right approach and the right writer. And knowing that’s an option, no matter how far-fetched, keeps you on your creative toes. You can do anything you want to with a screenplay. Wool reminded me of that.

Getting back on track, I just think it’s cool that these other options are popping up for screenwriters. You no longer have to have a best-seller to get your script adapted. Just put a great story up on Amazon. Heck, start with a simple short story and charge 99 cents.  You could be the next High Howey!

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

What I learned: People do judge a book by its cover. If you’re going to self-publish, pay the extra dough and get a professional cover done. I saw the old (before a publishing company came in) cover for “Wool” and I would’ve never read it off that cover. It just looked so cheap. The much more professional one I placed at the top of this review is actually how I first spotted the book. It got me to click on it, learn about it, and actually buy it.

When I first saw Donnie Darko in the theaters, I left confused. What was it I had just seen? It didn’t make sense. Nothing coherent appeared to have happened. It honestly felt like some clueless writer just threw a bunch of weird scenes together and called it a movie. I thought it was terrible. Then I began reading all over the internet that people had actually liked the film. Some were even calling it genius. I tried to tell anyone who would listen that there was absolutely zero skill going on here but they insisted that the writer, Richard Kelly, was a modern day Leonardo Da Vinci and would continue to grace us with cinematic genius for decades to come. I like to think of Southland Tales as my “I told you so.” I remember reading up on the movie’s development back during the AICN glory days. We’d get pre-viz tests of Kelly’s special effects shots, like cars having sex with other cars. Everyone in the comments section was like, “Wowwwww. That’s amaaaaazing.” I sat there going, “Cars having sex with other cars?? That isn’t cool. That’s stupid.” When would you ever want to introduce a story element that had cars having sex with other cars? It solidified my belief that Kelly did not have a firm grasp on the craft of screenwriting. Then came Southland Tales. It was a disaster pretty much on every level. It was bloated, confusing, incoherent, rambling, bizarre. It’s such a terribly constructed story that it’s hard to create a basis for even critiquing it. But I’ll try. Now I actually read TWO versions of the script, the original 2001 version, and then the more recent 2006 version (which Kelly changed significantly as he was inspired by the 9/11 attacks).

1) There is such a thing as finding success too early – Don’t be upset if you’re 27, 28, 29 and haven’t made it yet. I’ve seen tons of writers get lucky and find success too early (usually from a script with a great premise that was terribly executed). This almost always results in a floundering career.  Now I don’t know Richard Kelly personally.  I don’t think anything bad of him as a person.  But I believe he’s a pretty good example of this. He found success via a script/movie that showed little recognition of basic storytelling skills.  A guy in a weird bunny costume is a cool image, but it isn’t storytelling.  So I’m not surprised he’s struggled since.  He never learned how to write a cohesive story, which is what Hollywood is built on. Learn and practice screenwriting AS MUCH AS YOU CAN so that when you do make it, you’re ready.

2) It’s always a sign of a bad script if we don’t know what the story’s about by page 25 – Page 25 is typically the end of the first act. It’s the time at which we should know what the main character’s goal is or what the main dramatic question is. In Southland Tales, all I know is there’s a lot of people, it’s the future, and there are some “tidal brakes” that may or may not affect how people act.

3) A new vision often means scrapping your old vision – A common screenwriting mistake is to come up with a new vision for your story, write a new draft, but still keep a bunch of outdated elements from the old draft. In Southland Tales, the original story was about a movie star who inadvertently gets mixed-up in a botched framing. The new story is about a post-Apocalyptic world of terror and “tidal shifts” and evil German corporations. So why is Kelly still incorporating his “movie star who inadvertently gets mixed up in a botched framing” plot? It has NOTHING to do with this new story. This decision is often born out of laziness. Writers believe that if they bring stuff over, they’ll have 30-60 pages already written for the new draft, which is, of course, better than having 0 pages. But what does content matter if it has nothing to do with your new angle? Each rewrite is different. But know when you’ve changed a story so much that you need to blow everything in the old draft up.

4) No main character = bad news – Whenever you don’t have a main character, you increase the difficulty of writing a compelling story by 100%. It can be done but the level of writing skill required to make it work is dramatically higher. So many writers make this mistake and think they can pull it off. But 99% of the time it turns into a confusing mess (just like Southland Tales!). Until you’ve proven you know how to make a single protagonist story work, don’t try a multi-protagonist story.

5) Multiple protagonists means a more slowly emerging story – Remember that readers are impatient people. They’re typically looking for a reason to check out. Almost all the agents and managers I know stop reading as soon as they’re bored. They don’t feel any duty to read the whole script. That’s why every single page of your script should be entertaining. The thing is, when you’re telling a mutli-protagonist story, it’s taking you 3, 4, 5 times as long to get your story going because you’re setting up 3, 4, 5 character storylines instead of one. This typically results in readers getting frustrated and bailing on you before your story becomes interesting. Another warning for those wishing to dive into multi-character waters.

6) Don’t put pointless weird shit in your script just because you think it’s “cool.” If you can’t explain it, ditch it. – We meet policemen David Clark staring at himself in the bathroom. We’re told, “Every time he moves, his reflection in the mirror is late. There is a one second delay in his reflection.”  Again, cool image, but what does this have to do with the story??   Where’s the logic in this image?  How does it connect to the rest of the script?  Nobody cares about writers’ trippy coffee-shop style ideas if they don’t serve a purpose in the story.

7) Don’t have your characters quoting classic novelists or poets – Characters reciting people like Robert Frost or T.S. Elliot often come off as a desperate attempt by writers to sound “deep” and “intelligent.” The only time this works is when the character is so well-crafted and their interest in these authors so organically intertwined with their character, that the quoting feels honest. This is rarely the case though

8) Beware losing important information in the draft process – Writers often detail an important action or motivation or backstory or plot development in a draft, only to pare it down or eliminate it altogether in a subsequent draft. This happens for a number of reasons, but usually because writers start to know their story so well that they erroneously assume that the information in question is embedded in the fabric of the story whether they mention it or not. This results in huge chunks of relevant information being lost from draft to draft, leaving a story where not a whole lot makes sense. In the 2001 draft of Southland Tales, much is explained about how Boxer (The Rock) is researching a cop role. In the 2006 draft, barely anything is mentioned about it. So it isn’t really clear why Boxer’s doing what he’s doing. This is a classic case of writers getting lost in the draft process. If it’s not on the page, the reader won’t know it. So if you’re getting rid of information, be sure it’s information that can be gotten rid of.

9) Never drown your reader in information – On the flip side, too much information results in reader circuitry overload, which results in the reader giving up on you. Here we have “tidal braking,” which changes people’s personality, we have Utopia 3, a tidal generator, we have nuclear attacks, we have a new police unit called US-ident, we have a fuel source called Karma something, we have a strange new drug sweeping the streets, we have porn stars, we have action stars writing screenplays they believe they’re living inside, we have twin cops, we have Neo-Marxists, we have a character count approaching 40. Drown your reader in information and they will surely jump ship.

10) Use common sense – While seemingly obvious advice, I am shocked by the number of writers out there who don’t ask themselves this simple question: “Will anyone actually want to see this movie?” They get so wrapped up in the machinations of their story that they never ask themselves the hard question. I read so many bad scripts that would’ve never existed had the writers been honest with themselves. I mean go read the synopsis for Southland Tales here. It’s beyond laughable. It’s impossible to follow. Everything from the idea to the characters to the story is laughably ridiculous. Be honest with yourselves, guys. Write movies that people are actually going to want to see.

Sing it with me now.  “Mish Mash Monday…. Mish Maasssh Muuunnnnday!”

There were no major releases this weekend that contained see-ocity and therefore no big movies to write about. Unless you’re Team Smurf (hey, Hank Azaria was genius as Gargamel in Smurfs 1 – not that I’ve, um, seen it). As for the other major release, 2 Guns, I thought it was pretty original when I read it, but once I saw the trailer, it dropped on the priority list to somewhere between a kitten funeral and sign flipping. It was like all the originality was sucked out of whatever I read. It looked Generic City, like Safe House in the desert.

I was discussing this the other day. Everyone starts off making a movie with these great intentions of creating something unique, but as the development process (and the production process) goes on, everybody starts freaking out that people aren’t going to “get it” and therefore tip toe closer and closer to the most generic version of whatever they’re doing. I understand this phenomenon because it’s scary to go off and be different. But I wish more production teams (and studios) would trust themselves with what they originally bought and stick to that vision.

My movie-going experience was not totally deprived of optimism, however. Miss SS and I went to see The Spectacular Now and both really liked it. Let me just offer some words of wisdom though for those in the LA area. Do NOT go see any movies at the West LA landmark unless you a) wear adult diapers, b) sport life alert or c) smell like a hospital. The median age of the showing we were at (about a high school couple, ironically) was 87 at least. The 106 year old woman next to me wore one of those audio assist headphones and it was BLASTING static louder than a freaking Kanye West concert. It didn’t help that her husband had to go to the bathroom 9 times during the first 45 minutes. And you know the annoying person at a theater who always asks their date/friend, “What did they just say?” Imagine if there were FIFTY of them in a single theater. There was more talking going on OUTSIDE the movie than inside it. I don’t know if we accidentally stumbled in on a special hospice showing or Landmark was allowing Civil War vets to use their facilities, but you won’t see me at the Landmark again for another 60 years at least.

Anyway, from what I was able to hear, the performances of the two leads (Miles “No, I’m not going to be in Fantastic Four” Teller and Shailene “I got cut out of Spiderman 2 because Andrew Garfield wants a male love interest” Woodley) lived up to the hype. They have wonderful chemistry that elevated a script which was already good to begin with. And I loved that director James Ponsoldt used long takes with his leads, which made the dialogue even more natural than it already was. That decision is what’s making this film play so well in my opinion. We don’t get any of those hard artificial dialogue cuts where you can tell the editor is fishing for the best line reading. The actors were allowed to just let go, and the film feels like real life as a result.

The only thing I didn’t like about The Spectacular Now was the last twenty minutes as it reminded me of a problem a lot of screenplays (especially character-driven screenplays) face: RRSS (“Relationship Resolution Stacking Syndrome”). Whenever you write a character piece that has your main character embedded in multiple relationships that need resolving, the last 20 pages of the script becomes a chore of stacking all those resolution scenes on top of each other.

That happened big time in Spectacular Now. Obviously, our main character was going to need to resolve stuff with his absent dad. That was fine. But then we have the scene where he wraps up his issues with his sister. Then the scene where he wraps up issues with his boss. Then the scene where he wraps up issues with his mom. Finally the scene where he wraps up things with Aimee. It just went on and on and on. I feel like there’s a more delicate way to handle this, where you don’t feel the scenes climbing up on top of each other.

Then again, if you try and create space between them, the third act can go on forever, which is a whole other problem to deal with. I think the key may be to resolve some of these relationships earlier. Maybe at the end of the second act. And also ask yourself if you really need to resolve every relationship. Like did we really care about his three-scene boss enough to resolve that? I know the writers might say, “Well yeah, but the boss is the one who makes it clear that he’s not fooling anyone with his drinking. So that scene was needed.” True, but remember, this is writing. There are a million ways to solve a problem. Why not give one of the other characters he’s resolving issues with that observation?

Another idea is to create devices where you can resolve a relationship quickly, as opposed to with endless melodramatic conversations. Good Will Hunting did this famously. Damon and Affleck set up the whole Chuckie, “I’m hoping that one day I show up for work and you aren’t there” moment early on. That way, at the end, they could quickly show Chuckie going to Will’s door and Will isn’t there, and that’s it. Relationship resolved. And now that I think about it, they resolved the relationship with Robin Williams quickly too. Will leaves him a note that says, “I’m going to see about a girl.” (another payoff of a setup). So maybe the lesson here is to set something up earlier so you don’t have RRSS problems in your final act.

Moving on to a completely different genre, I finally saw Evil Dead (the remake) this weekend on iTunes. I have to say that I was really disappointed. When I read the script, I thought it was kind of clever that they created this whole “heroin-addicted woman takes her friends out to the middle of nowhere to help her beat her addiction” storyline. I’d never seen that as a way to start one of these middle-of-nowhere horror movies before.

But when I watched how this played out onscreen, something felt off and I couldn’t figure out what it was. Everybody seemed so… bummed out. I’m talking right from the beginning. Nobody really liked each other. They all seemed to be in a pissy mood. And that’s when it hit me. The detox storyline was all wrong. It meant that the characters were already starting in a dark place. So there was no shift when the horror hit. Everybody was pissed off and upset beforehand and everyone was pissed off and upset after.

There’s a reason the classic formula of a bunch of happy college kids going out to a secluded cabin works. Because we start from a high place. We start with a positive charge, with hope. That way, it’s more jarring when bad shit starts happening to them. There’s an arc in the emotion. And we never experienced any arc in Evil Dead. I mean, it was a well-made movie, but it was such a fucking downer. As silly as it sounds, we like to ENJOY being scared. This film made being scared sad.

Moving on, I couldn’t help but notice this story about George Clooney and Daniel Loeb. The short of it is that this guy, Daniel Loeb, is one of the biggest investors in Sony, and he got really pissed when two of Sony’s big blockbusters bombed this summer (After Earth and White House Down). So he publicly bitches and moans that Amy Pascal and the Sony folk have no idea what they’re doing and that Sony, to protect people like him, needs to sell off the entertainment division to another company (or something like that – I don’t understand all this financial terminology). In other words, he’s trying to strike fear in Hollywood so that they become even MORE risk-averse than they already are. And we all know what risk-averse gets us.

Well George Clooney to the fucking rescue. Clooney basically told Loeb to go fuck himself. That Loeb doesn’t know jack shit about how the entertainment industry works and that he was part of the financial culture that almost bankrupted the U.S., so why the fuck should he have anything to say about how to run the movie business. I mean he really handed it to him. And when you think about it, that was a dangerous thing to do. Clooney is a movie star, but money crushes everything, and this Loeb guy is loaded. You just don’t hear guys of this stature taking each other on in the public like this. Props to Clooney for speaking his mind and defending this business we’re all dying to get into.

Look, I didn’t think After Earth was very good. And the trailers for White House Down made it look like they cared more about Channing Tatum’s muscle definition than, you know, a story. But that doesn’t mean Sony won’t make good movies in the future. There will always be duds. I can only imagine how difficult it is to be a studio head and come up with a slate of films for the entire year. There are so many variables at play and you don’t always get the movie you thought you signed up for. But this business is predicated on taking risks and if you, as an investor, don’t know that’s what you signed up for, take your money elsewhere. This business is mega-profitable and we’ll find the money somewhere else.

Finally, I wanted to congratulate writer Mickey Fisher. He did well in a small pilot contest, which got him repped by Brooklyn Weaver, and now he finds the pilot he entered in that contest (Extant – about an android boy) as the hottest TV pilot in town. Every network wants it. This guy is about to become very rich, very fast, and probably get a guarantee that his show will be on the air. That never happens. And it definitely never happens for a nobody.

I read the pilot (the 2013 version that went out to the networks) and while it starts slow, it really gets good at the end. In addition to the android boy storyline, his mother has just gotten back from an 18 month solo-trip on the space station where she’s inexplicably pregnant. We have hints that aliens could be involved. There are mysterious Japanese men coming out of hyper-jello sleep. And probably, most interestingly, the pilot poses questions about a future society WITHOUT the famed “3 robot rules.” In other words, the robots can do whatever they want. They’re not bound by directives like “never hurt humans.” And the more I think about that, the more I’m starting to see the reason why everyone wants this show. I mean it has the possibility of going on for 30 seasons if approached right. We could watch as these robots integrate deeper and deeper into society and explore the issues and philosophical questions that come with that integration.  What the humans want.  What the robots want.  If robots should have the same rights as humans. What happens if a robot kills someone?  They’re still the same person after an 80 year jail sentence.  Do they just get out again?  The show would be able to explore issues extensively that movies like Bi-Centenial Man and A.I. and 2001 and I-Robot were only briefly able to touch on because of their 2 hour format.  That sounds like it could be pretty awesome to me.

That’s all for Mish-Mash Monday. I had this epiphany about clichés that I wanted to get into but I’ll save that for another time. See you tomorrow when I give you 10 screenwriting mistakes to avoid via Southland Tales.

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!

P.S. The newsletter link to ‘Waking Up in Vegas’ led to the wrong script. It should be fixed now! Apologies for the inconvenience :)

TITLE: Taking Bacon
GENRE: Comedy
LOGLINE: In a last ditch effort to sell his screenplay, a self-absorbed writer kidnaps actor Kevin Bacon.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ (from writers): “Carson, according to our mothers, we’re a couple of sexy, cool screenwriters with a fun little screenplay. According to us, we think you’re going to enjoy reading TAKING BACON. Why? Well, for starters, we’re already getting attention from some of Hollywood’s biggest movers and shakers. Who you might ask? Do Steven Spielberg and J.J. Abrams ring a bell?

Matt & Mike: Steven, you think you’d be interested in Taking Bacon as your next project?
Steven Spielberg: Yeah, yeah, I’m putting it at the top of my list.
M&M: But that’s the garbage can.
Steven Spielberg: Security.

TITLE: VOSTOK
GENRE: SCI-FI/THRILLER/ACTION
LOGLINE: A team of scientists at an Antarctic research facility unleashes a deadly prehistoric creature from two miles beneath the ice.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ (from writer): “The script was a ‘Featured Submission’ on Triggerstreet and top three in Zoetrope’s monthly competition, so I believe it’s on the right tracks. A solid script that could make a solid film if paired with the right filmmaker.”

TITLE: NETHER
GENRE: Psych Thriller / Neo-noir
LOGLINE: A man with an identity disorder becomes the prime suspect in a gangland robbery and must evade police and a legendary kingpin in order to carry out a mysterious personal vendetta.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ (from writer): “Nether” is a sleek neo-noir psych thriller set in modern-day Los Angeles. I love classic noir and wanted to create a tale that could be shot reasonably inexpensively ($3 – 5 million). I’m a graduate of Columbia University’s MFA directing program, and have written and directed an indie film in the past, and am currently seeking representation. I’ve done my 10 specs that no one will probably ever see, logged my “10,000 hours,” and am a perpetual student of the craft. It’s my hope that “Nether” incorporates some of the best elements of noir, and yet also brings a riveting commercial sensibility to the genre.”

TITLE: Waking Up in Vegas
GENRE: Rom Com
LOGLINE: Follows a small-town college student and her high school sweetheart as they begrudgingly reunite to keep their rash friends from eloping in Las Vegas.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ (from writer): “Because I’m positive it will entertain you. Drag queens, chases through casinos, road trips, girl fights, and a heartfelt story of young love.”

TITLE: It’s a Long Way to Tipperary
GENRE: Comedy
LOGLINE: When a wealthy Jewish man is buried in a Catholic cemetery in Ireland, he comes back from the dead and forces a grave digger to carry him to Tipperary, USA before he decomposes and his soul ends up in hell.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ (from writer): “Who I am: I’m the guy that wrote the Alien Diaries and I’m taking a stab at a zombie comedy which can be hard to pull off. You talked about conflict in a logline – well what’s funnier than a dead Jew being buried in a Catholic cemetery and having to dig his way out as a zombie? You talked about ticking time bombs – the dead guy has gotta be buried in a Jewish cemetery before sundown in three days, and there’s a kleptomaniac priest as well.”