Tawnya is basically one of my favorite people in the world. She’s sweet, smart, cool and has a staggeringly high screenwriting IQ. So when she told me she was starting up Script Anatomy, which would teach both TV and feature writing (in Los Angeles), the first thing I said was, “Well we have to get you some students.” Not for Tawnya’s sake, but for the students’ sake! I knew that anybody I could get into her class was going to become a hell of a lot better screenwriter.
To give you some background on Tawnya, she taught at the Writers Boot Camp for 4 years. She now writes on USA’s “Fairly Legal” with her writing partner, Ali Laventhol. The pair are in development on two original pilots, and have optioned a few features, one being packaged by CAA. They are repped at CAA and RABINER/DAMATO Entertainment. Feel free to jump over to her site right now or sign up for spots while they’re still open (I don’t know how long they’ll be available after this post). Or get to know her and her philosophy on screenwriting first in our interview. Enjoy!
SS: So why did you get into screenwriting? Are you a masochist?
TB: I started out as an actress. I had gone to an Acting Conservatory. Worked in the theater in Seattle, Chicago, Vienna and Prague and then moved to LA. After struggling, not getting enough auditions and doing a slew of crappy B films (if we’re letter grading they’d be D minus at best), I’d had enough. The writing was awful. The directing was awful. I was awful. And it was painful. This was years ago, and my boyfriend at the time was in the business and doing pretty well as a writer/director. I think I was the only actress in town for whom the casting couch failed — he never gave me any work. Bastard!
I started writing because I wanted to write a short for myself but I ended up catching the bug. I knew inside that I was really a writer. I quit acting and started writing. Two screenplays in and one thing was clear: I had no idea what the hell I was doing. So I set out to change that. I read books. I read scripts. I took every class and workshop under the sun: Robert McKee, William Martell, Jen Grisanti, Blake Snyder, Michael Hague, John Truby… I went to Writers Boot Camp for 22 months, where I then ended up teaching for four years. Am I a masochist? Isn’t every writer?
SS: You and I have chatted about the craft before. What do you think is the hardest thing about writing a screenplay?
TB: Writing the screenplay.
Seriously, I think what’s difficult about writing a screenplay is going to vary depending on the individual and where they are with their craft and process. I feel like dialogue and scene work were always strong suits for me. Early on, getting the structure right did my head in. Later, it was theme and arcing the character throughout their journey. I worked hard on those and now specialize in them as an instructor. Not many instructors out there teach theme and how to apply it, which blows my mind because it’s so important.
Anyway… focusing solely on my last two scripts, I’d have to say the most difficult part was getting the opening right. There are so many ways in, but maybe only a few ways that will get your story off on the right foot. On the most recent one, we (the producer, my writing partner, and I) had a two hander and there was some disagreement as to whose story it really was. We went back and forth. We ended up making the right choice – but it wasn’t without trying it many different ways. On another project, I was hired by a director to write his idea. Looking back, I shouldn’t have taken the job. I wasn’t excited about the material, which made it a long and hard row to hoe. If you don’t love what you’re writing — if your heart isn’t in it — you constantly have to pull out the defibrillators. Even when you love what you are writing, rewriting over and over again without losing enthusiasm for a project can be challenging. Writing is rewriting. It’s how you turn something good into something great — yet if you lose your passion it shows on the page.
SS: You’ve also taught a lot of screenwriters. In your experience, what was their biggest misconception about the craft that you needed to correct?
TB: I think the biggest misconception is that structure kills creativity. That if you’re writing a smaller independent film, structure doesn’t matter. Of course, that would launch me in to breaking down the structure of Another Earth, Lars and the Real Girl, Happy Accidents, The Swimming Pool or In the Bedroom and what have you. All storytelling adheres to structure — it’s just whether it’s weak, ineffective structure or strong, effective structure.
SS: What were some of their common mistakes? And don’t hold back!
TB: I think the usual suspects are:
– Weak concept or no concept at all
– Poor structure or no structure at all
– Passive writing
– Inactive characters
– Too many characters
– Characters who don’t have distinct voices
– No conflict or stakes
– Dense action lines
– Dialogue heavy/action light
– On the nose dialogue
– Taking too long to get into the story
– Unmemorable characters that lack a flaw and therefore possibility for growth and change.
– Characters who are two-dimensional archetypes instead of three-dimensional humans. If they don’t come alive we can’t possibly care about them and their story.
– No theme
– Too much directing on the page. Pet peeve: CUT TO. When you write a new slug line that is a cut.
– Typos
– Incorrect formatting
– Scripts that are too long
– Lack of surprise
– Getting into a scene too early / getting out too late
– Lack of craft in transitions
– No story. Yes, that’s right. No story! Just a lot of words and bumbling about that doesn’t lead anywhere.
Etcetera.
SS: Wow, you really didn’t hold back. Okay, so, let’s move on to something more positive. I always have a lot of writers asking me how to write great dialogue. I find it one of the harder questions to answer. What’s your approach to teaching dialogue?
TB: I like Elmore Leonard’s list, especially, “Leave out all the boring parts” and “If it sounds like writing, rewrite it.”
After going over a long list of dialogue no-no’s, I teach dialogue techniques and give writers examples of those techniques from existing TV or feature scripts. Sometimes I show clips as well. In class, students rewrite one or two of their scenes implementing the techniques they’ve learned. A partial list is: tangents, parallel construction, reversals, unexpected response, comeback zingers, exposition, subtext, character interruptions, echoing, similes, character on own track, response implying answer, set ups and pay offs, comic contrasts… etc.
Here are a couple of examples…
EXAMPLE 1 – From the MAD MEN Pilot written by Matthew Weiner, illustrates a few techniques: SET UP AND PAY OFF, an UNEXPECTED RESPONSE and a COMEBACK LINE.
DON
We should get married.
MIDGE
You think I’d make a good ex-wife?
Don sits up and grabs a cigarette off the end table.
DON
I’m serious. You have your own business and you don’t care when I come over. What size Cadillac do you take?
EXAMPLE 2 – From UP IN THE AIR, screenplay by Jason Reitman, based on the novel by Walter Kirn, uses ECHOING and PROGRESSIVE DIALOGUE.
CRAIG GREGORY
Today I took my first crap in two weeks. Hallelujah.
RYAN
That’s me, applauding.
CRAIG GREGORY
That’s me, passing blood.
RYAN
That’s me, hanging up on you.
SS: What’s your general screenwriting teaching philosophy? What do you focus on most?
TB: Character, character, character. And structure and theme. My TV and feature classes begin with concept and continue through full development of a writer’s first draft. However, because of the depth of in class exercises and tools I teach, usually the resulting first draft will look more like a second or third. I really believe in investing the time up front – developing ideas and characters, brainstorming infinite options and outlining vigilantly before writing pages.
SS: You seem to be hitting on theme a lot. It’s definitely one of those things screenwriters struggle to grasp. Can you give me a basic breakdown of what theme is in your opinion and how you apply it?
TB: Theme is the foundation on which your screenplay is built. Theme is the spine, the core, the heart and soul of your story and what makes it relatable and universal and meaningful. Because it’s the lesson or moral of the story and expresses your unique point of view about the world and the state of humanity, theme is your voice.
And how do you express theme? Through symbolism and cinematic imagery, dialogue… many ways… but most importantly, through character and transformational arc. I do a workshop on theme and I hate to simplify because it’s actually more complex than this but I’ll distill it here for “page” length purposes.
Theme is the opposite of the main character’s flaw. (Carson note: I like this! I’ve never heard it expressed this way before)
Your Main Character or Hero is flawed. They have a goal they are not getting because of this flaw. To achieve the goal the MC will have to change and grow, overcoming the flaw throughout the second act journey – hence learning the lesson. (In some cases, the character doesn’t grow or learn but the theme is still articulated). This process is the transformational arc. We see this evolution occur as the MC confronts his flaw via conflict and obstacles, a strong opponent and a catalyst character(s)… we see them “become the theme” in a sense.
Like I said, there’s much more to it – in class I focus on it in more depth as writers develop their projects.
In TV, theme works a little differently. You’re obviously not arcing your characters in one episode to the point of alleviating their flaw. If Nurse Jackie cures her drug addiction do they still have a show? Her med addiction is so connected to the concept, character and arena, they have to draw out her transformational arc – but – she has other flaws to play with that stem from the addiction: lying, cheating, stealing… Which brings me to branches of theme. Theme is like a tree. There might be one primary theme that is the trunk, but other secondary facets of theme, like branches, stem from the trunk.
A show will likely have a series theme and possibly another theme per season, and individual themes per episode – which all may or may not be related.
SS: You work in both TV and features. What would you say is the big “writing” difference between the two mediums?
TB: Writing-wise it’s obviously much more manageable to tell a 24 to 60 page story than it is 110. There’s a lot more to track in a feature. And much more room for mistakes.
Work/Career-wise, the TV and feature world couldn’t be more different. Writing features can be a lonely business. It’s collaborative in that you might get notes from the studio or a director, but you’ll go off and write by yourself. Working in television you’re surrounded by other writers and it’s a collaborative process. Movies are difficult to get made and it can take years whereas everything about TV is fast. You can start working on a TV show and within months you can have a produced credit. I think most writers would think that’s golden.
SS: I’m curious. Which one do you think is easier?
TB: Oh boy. I don’t think it’s ever easy to write well, but… but TV. As I mentioned, it’s an extremely collaborative medium. The room usually breaks story as a group. If you’re lucky, like we are on our show, you have an amazing showrunner with a strong vision and voice. Writing an episode is much more manageable than a feature just by way of page count but also because some of the work has been done for you: the template, characters, tone, the world, relationships and conflicts are pre-existing. Writing an original pilot is as difficult as writing a feature, it just takes less time. The real challenge of writing for television is the pace. It’s incredibly fast. Recently we (my writing partner and I) had two days to outline our episode and two weeks to write it.
SS: Which one do you think it’s easier to break into?
TB: I’d say TV. There are more jobs in television. There are also specific ways a new writer can break in such as becoming a writers’ assistant and then getting bumped up. Acceptance into one of the prestigious Studio Writing Programs (I did FOX’s Diversity Initiative and NBC Writers On The Verge) can be a great launching point for a writer. Neither is easy to break into, but it can be done.
SS: In your experience, is an agent necessary to become a successful screenwriter?
TB: I’ll most likely contradict myself, so here goes: yes and no.
No. Writing careers are like snowflakes. There are no two alike. And everyone’s way in is different. I really believe that great writing will rise to the top and get noticed eventually if you are putting yourself out there. That may be through friends and contacts or a reputable screenwriting contest or fellowship. Hell, it might be because your script got caught in a tornado and five pages landed on Spielberg’s desk. If those pages knock his socks off he’ll come find you even if you’re not repped. Maybe I’m exaggerating, maybe not, but I’ve always done my best to believe that anything’s possible in a career that sometimes feels like the lottery.
Yes. An effective agent or manager can help build your career. They have relationships in the business that you don’t — especially starting out. They can guide you, connect you with the right people and help sell you to those people. A big agency might package a project. And then of course, it doesn’t hurt to be validated by someone respected in the business. People feel more confident about you if you’ve been vetted. That said, I have friends who have agents who are ineffective yet they stay because they’re afraid of not having one.
In our experience, our agents and managers were crucial in getting a job on Fairly Legal. We’re really happy with our reps and their involvement in our career.
SS: You’re repped at CAA. How did you find your way over there and what can Joe and Jane Writer do to get there too?
TB: I can’t make an exact trail map for Joe and Jane, but I can tell you how we got there… (sorry we should have left bread crumbs!)
My writing partner and I have a feature with a producer attached. This producer had given our script to a talent agent at CAA who happened to like it for his star client. A few weeks later my partner and I went to The Austin Film Festival. At one of those panel discussions we noticed a CAA TV agent who stood out as being incredibly savvy and smart. After the panel, we introduced ourselves and asked her a question. During the conversation we managed to slip in that were currently in NBC’s Writers On the Verge program. A few weeks later our feature producer put in a call to the agent. The rest was history. Just kidding. Nothing happened after the call. The agent, more senior in the company, had mostly established writers on her list and wasn’t exactly looking for new writers. After NBC WOTV was over, the head of the program made a call, but it wasn’t until our mentor, who at the time (he’s since been promoted) was the Sr. Vice President of Drama Development at NBC, made a call that we got a meeting. Now we have 4 people on our team there — two TV and two feature agents aside from our two managers.
SS: I know you’re pushing me to stop by your classes. But you know I’m a busy guy! If I came by, what should I expect? What would an average class be like?
TB: You are a busy guy! And I’m so proud of you, by the way, for all you have created with ScriptShadow and all of the exciting things coming up. Still… you should stop by one of my classes! So, um… what to expect… well, nothing average. Haha. You should expect to learn a lot about screen or TV writing (depending on the class) and to become a better writer through not only lecture and theory but more importantly through exercises and tool work. You should expect to gain an applicable process (or improve the process you already have) that will serve you throughout your screenwriting career. My next TV Workshop is already in progress but my next Feature Class is ten weeks long and starts up February 25th.
SS: Before we finish up, do you want to do a shameless plug for the show you’re writing on?
TB: It’s an “all new” FAIRLY LEGAL Season 2 which will air on USA March 16th on Friday nights at 9pm. “All new” because the entire writing team from the showrunner down is brand new. Expect some very exciting changes. My episode, which I wrote with my writing partner, Ali Laventhol, is “Gimme Shelter”. Hope you enjoy it.
I’m already on the Tivo. Does Tivo allow you to tape shows two months in advance? Anyway, thanks Tawnya for dropping by and sharing your wonderful insight. I think I need to take your class for dialogue alone. I’ve never even heard of some of those terms before but I like them. So, if you guys want to learn a little more about Tawnya and her site, check out Script Anatomy. Or if you want to grab a spot while they’re still available, here’s the site where you can sign up for her classes. Good news for Scriptshadow readers. If you sign up before this Sunday at midnight (Pacific Time), it’s 10% off. When it asks for the promotional code, just enter “Scriptshadow_22.” If you have any question about the classes, feel free to e-mail Tawnya at tawnya@scriptanatomy.com. What are you waiting for! Go become a better screenwriter. And who knows? You might even see me there. :)
Amateur Friday Submission Process: To submit your script for an Amateur Review, send it in PDF form, along with your title, genre, logline, and why I should read your script to Carsonreeves3@gmail.com. Keep in mind your script will be posted in the review (feel free to keep your identity and script title private by providing an alias and fake title). Also, it’s a good idea to resubmit every couple of weeks so that your submission stays near the top of the pile.
Genre: Comedy
Premise: A print shop owner who moonlights as a counterfeiter finds himself in over his head after a money deal gone wrong.
Writer: Robert Cornero
Details: 142 pages
Amateur Friday has been switched to Amateur Thursday this week!
So today we’re going to do something different. Robert, a longtime reader of Scriptshadow and a really nice guy, e-mailed me to let me know he had finally written a script he was confident enough in to submit to Amateur Friday. There was only one problem, he noted. It violated one of my most hardcore rules. It was 142 pages long.
I told him I couldn’t read it. 142 pages? There was no way. We then had a back and forth discussion/argument on why a script can’t be 140 pages. I argued my side. He argued his (his main point was that his script was dialogue heavy, which takes up a lot of space). And at the end of the discussion, I realized, this is the exact same argument I hear from every screenwriter who writes a long screenplay. So that gave me an idea. I could use this script as a learning tool. I would show writers our argument, and then, assuming I was right, use the review to show why a 140 page script shouldn’t be written. At the same time, I would be open-minded and give the script a fair shot. If Robert proved me wrong, I would happily admit so, and writers everywhere would have new ammunition for their super-sized screenplays. So, here was our e-mail exchange…
MY REPLY
Hey Robert,
I hear you. Dialogue heavy scripts are a little longer, but 142 pages??? I’ll be honest. If that landed on my desk and I didn’t know who you were, I would never read it. That’s not true. I MIGHT read the very first page. If it made me BURST OUT LAUGHING then I’d keep reading. But comedies are supposed to be lean and mean, not bulky, even WITH dialogue (remember, most comedies are dialogue based, so you don’t get much leniency in that area). If you got it down to 110, I’d put it in the mix. The thing is, I’ve only ever read 2 scripts over 130 pages that were good. The Social Network and Brigands Of Rattleborge. That’s 2 in maybe 400. I know you think yours is the exception, but every one of those bad 130+ page scripts also had writers who swore theirs was the exception. So it’s hard to believe anyone when they say that.
Gut that puppy! I know it’s hard but you gotta do it. :)
HIS REPLY
I hear ya. Believe me, I hear ya. It wasn’t a choice I made lightly, and it’s still something I’m concerned about, not for story reasons, but exactly for the kind of length-bias you echoed here – which isn’t to accuse you of being biased. After all, there’s good reason for it – there are a lot of bad writers out there and they tend to multiply their words. But I have to wonder if Hollywood as a whole suffers for its reluctance to read lengthier pieces (or at least automatically equating length with story quality). I mean:
Citizen Kane – 167 pages.
The Shawshank Redemption – 131 pages
Silence of the Lambs – 145 pages
Batman Begins – 150 pages
The Dark Knight – 141 pages
Toy Story 3 – 131 pages
Lord of the Rings – 173 pages
Inglourious Basterds – 166 pages
The Hurt Locker – 131 pages
Inception – 147 pages
City of the Gods (Darabont) – 141 pages
Smoke & Mirrors – 128 pages
Catch Me If You Can – 134 pages
And of course, all established pros, right? They get to do that because they earned it, or so the logic goes. But it seems that lengthier scripts generally turn into better, more timeless movies than their shorter brethren. It’s just a fact of the page; you’re never, ever going to jam as meaningful a story into 90 pages as you would spending 130 pages on the story.
Idk, maybe I’m wrong, but a lean cuisine, microwave friendly script is not going to be as satisfying as a home cooked meal script, meat, potatoes and all. Just because 90-110 is dominant doesn’t mean it’s healthy, or good.
Maybe there’s an article somewhere in that thought there for Scriptshadow.
MY REPLY
Lol, that’s not really fair to list those movies. I could also list you the 398 130+ screenplays that I’ve read which have been terrible. That would multiply exponentially if you included the ones ALL the readers in Hollywood have read…
Ager’s Toothache 159 pages
Prophecy Boy 181 pages
Caramel Is My Favorite – 143 pages
The Barber Ate My Baby – 156 pages
(and on for another 50,000 scripts)
Here’s the thing I ALWAYS see with big scripts. They always show a lack of discipline. They always include more than they should. It’s incredibly rare that I read a long script where the writer ACTUALLY utilizes every single one of those pages. Am I saying yours can’t be that one? No. But I’d probably want to read something of yours that was 100 pages so I could at least see if you could write before I gave you that chance, you know?
But you’re right. It’s reader-bias that’s your biggest problem here. It doesn’t really matter if your script is good or not. If it’s 140 pages (with a comedy no less, which are supposed to come in between 100-110), they’re not giving it a chance.
HIS REPLY
But haven’t you read an equal, if not greater, amount of terrible normal-sized scripts? My point in listing those was to show there’s no direct correlation between length and skill.
I mean, the 90-110 page rule isn’t exactly a hidden secret. Everyone knows it and shoots for it. I’d be willing to wager that the vast majority of terrible scripts out there fall into the 90-110 page category. So the question is, why then don’t “normal” scripts get the same negative reaction?
When it comes to long scripts, if a reader gets a terrible one, it just takes the reader longer to figure out that it’s terrible, and because they’ve spent that much more time on it, they get that much more fed up and end up decrying all long scripts. We live in a microwave culture. We want catharsis immediately. We want gratification and pay off right away. A great example is The Godfather. That script would not get made today. It barely got made in the 70’s and today, it wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance.
Anyway, thanks for the conversation and feedback. It’s given me some things to consider. My hope is that the reader won’t be dismissive when they arrive at page 1.
MY REPLY
The longer scripts are always worse for three reasons. 1) They’re always more unfocused (naturally, since the writers are using the extra pages for the wrong reasons), 2) Instead of only having to endure bad for 100 pages, you have to endure it for 140, which if you read a lot of scripts is the worst! and 3) They steal an extra 30-40 minutes out of your day. Readers live to work on their own writing. When a script steals nearly an extra hour out of their night, they get mad as hell.
Robert, all I can say is that when I was just writing, I thought the EXACT SAME WAY you did. I was making these exact same arguments to people. In fact, most young writers offer these same arguments. It took me being on the other side to realize how wrong I was.
:)
HIS REPLY
And I agree with you, for the most part. I see the value and truth in what you are saying, and what many have said before you. I guess I just wish I could communicate the gravity with which I made that decision to allow it to be long, so that you would understand that page count is not something I take lightly.
Anyway, I’m not going to worry about it. Whether it moves forward or not is largely out of my hands at the moment.
And that’s when I offered to read his script if I could post this discussion. So, it’s time to look at Funny Money and see if it’s worth the 140 pages it takes to tell its story or if it, indeed, could’ve been cut waaaaay down. Let’s begin…
Funny Money follows a 30-something print shop owner named Andrew Piero. Andrew is raising his 11 year old precocious son on his own because his wife died after a very long and expensive battle with cancer.
But we soon learn there’s more going on to Andrew than we thought. He and his 70-something assistant, Hugo, are counterfeiting money in their basement! These guys just print money at will. What they find out, however, is that the Feds might be onto them. The bumbling duo of Agent Charlie and Agent Cynthia have been monitoring them for weeks. They just need that last “smoking gun” piece of evidence to convict them.
Once they realize this, Andy and Hugo decide to make one last giant sum of money and then dump the equipment. This is where the story got a little confusing to me, but I believe they need the help of some special guy who knows the secret ingredient that the U.S. Treasury is adding to all their new bills, in order for their fake money to look/feel authentic. And it just so happens this man operates out of Monte Carlo.
Cut to Europe, where we meet Marie Aubert, a sort of gold digging con woman, the hotter younger female version of Steve Martin in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. This woman sucks men out of all their money then moves on to the next target.
She runs across Andrew and Hugo, as well as Agents Charlie and Cynthia (who are following them) and puts two and two together. These guys are up to no good. Being her con-woman self, she decides to play both sides of the fence, telling the agents she’ll help them for a sum of money and our heroes she’ll help them for a sum of money. In the end, she’ll be able to run off and live happily (and lavishly) ever after. Except complications arise when she starts to have feelings for Andrew. Ahhh, might Marie have finally met her match? Love? And does any of this even matter, with our agents close to finally securing the evidence that they need?
So, we shall ask the age old screenwriting question once again: Is it possible to write a great 140 page script? Or is this proof, once again, that all super-long amateur scripts are going to be wandering messes? Well, I hate to answer this so anti-climactically, but the answer is…I’m not sure. The thing is, Funny Money has some story issues that have nothing to do with page length. And it’s only once we fix those that we can determine how length affects this screenplay. Having said that, there were numerous places I felt could be easily cut.
Let’s start at the top. The opening scene was quite strange. Andrew buys a ham. Another man steals it from him as he walks out the door. Andrew chases him, corners him, and then pays him $375 for the ham back. I believe this was to show that money wasn’t a problem for Andrew, but I was having a hard time accepting the logic of the scene. Why not just go to one of the 800 other butchers in Manhattan and buy another ham for 30 bucks? Or back to the one you just came from? I’m assuming butcher shops keep more than one ham.
But that issue paled in comparison to the big issue I had with the script. What was Andrew’s motivation for needing all this money he was printing up in the first place? He lived a very middling existence. He didn’t have fancy cars or a nice place. Through all of these money-making montages, the implication is that hundreds of thousands of dollars is being made. Where exactly is all this money going if he’s not using it? And if he’s not using it, why does he need it? I’m sure it’s not every day that he gets a ham stolen from him.
Eventually we’re told that Andrew’s wife died from cancer. And her care was expensive. So maybe – though it’s not ever made 100% clear – he’s using the fake money to pay off her medical bills? The problem with this is two-fold. One, we never actually see him PAYING a medical bill. So is the reader supposed to assume he’s doing this off-screen? And two, he’s not printing money out of an HP inkjet printer here. He’s got huge heavy-duty equipment that can print dozens of hundred dollar bills at a time.
I’m not a math-major. But let’s just assume worst-case scenario here. His wife’s cancer cost them 2 million dollars. From the equipment I’ve seen, I’m thinking he could probably print that up within 2-3 weeks tops? Yet it’s implied his wife has been dead for years. So what’s taking so long to print up all this money?
Anyway, after he and Hugo try to print up one last lump sum, I either missed a key plot point or something wasn’t explained well, because I couldn’t figure out exactly why they needed this guy in Europe. I think it was to secure some special ingredient that was being used in all the U.S.’s new money. This was probably the death knell for me because not only did I not understand why our main character printed up so much money that he never used, but I didn’t understand the main goal of the movie – why he’s going to this European man for help. I mean, it’s not like if you print up money without the special ingredient that it won’t be any good. Hundred dollar bills from 10 years ago are worth the same as hundred dollar bills being printed today. So who cares if you print old bills? Due to all this shaky logic, it was hard to give myself to the story.
Once they get to Monte Carlo, Marie approaches Andrew about the agents chasing him and offers to help, but when they go back to the room to get Hugo, he’s gone. At this point I assumed that Hugo was some sort of double agent and had screwed Andrew over, which I thought was sort of a cool idea, as Andrew’s plan couldn’t work without him. But then later we learn that Hugo just LEFT! He left because he got a strange phone call from someone totally unaffiliated with the plot. I can’t appropriately convey my response to this choice. But it was somewhere between utter frustration and complete bafllement. A main character exits the story because of a random phone call??
From this point on, I was just confused as to what the story was about. I guess a new goal was introduced where they needed to get Andrew a passport so he could get back to the U.S. safely (because Hugo had his original passport maybe?). But it seemed like such a strange choice to have this entire story build up what they needed to do in Europe, only to have your character get there and have to come right back. Dramatically, it’s sort of uninteresting. I didn’t love the storyline with the mysterious money-ingredient guy, but at least that storyline held some promise.
As for the length of the screenplay, there were definitely places to cut. There’s an incredibly long scene early on, for instance, where an insignificant character Marie is talking to breaks his finger. It’s something like 3-4 pages of a man talking about how his finger is broken. Those are the easiest cuts to make in a 140 page screenplay.
We have a pointless scene on page 53 where Andy talks about how his feet hurt. Easy cut. Andy doesn’t meet the love interest until page 65!!! He needs to meet her by page 30 (and we should be in Europe by page 20 at the latest – probably earlier). We have this whole random Blackjack storyline with Marie, who is some sort of Blackjack genius and can beat the dealer every time. When I refer to scripts “wandering,” this is what I mean. Blackjack should have nothing to do with this story. It needs to be ditched (Also, if she’s so great at blackjack, why does she need men for money? Why not just win a billion dollars for herself in Vegas?).
Hugo gets a 7 line paragraph description. Unacceptable in a 140 page screenplay. On page 88, characters spend a half a page ordering drinks. Ordering drinks is not interesting and should never be included in your script unless it’s plot related. Just from a general first read, I would’ve been able to chop 20 pages off this guy without a second thought. Then you just have to go in there and do a bunch of minor snips to bring it down to 110.
The thing is, Robert clearly has some talent. The dialogue at times is funny. The idea of a printer who’s secretly a counterfeiter is one with all sorts of potential, but I don’t think this story allows any of that potential to be explored.
I see this kind of script a lot actually. It happens a lot with young writers. There’s some talent on display, but the script reads like it only makes sense to the writer himself, as if he thinks we’re in his head with him. For example, if the point to printing all this money is, indeed, to pay for his wife’s medical bills, that needs to be shown somewhere. We need to know how much money is left on the tab. We need to see him paying the hospital bills. We need to understand HOW much money his machines can print at a time so we understand WHY he hasn’t already printed up enough money to pay the bills. I’m sure all of this is clear in Robert’s head, but unless he shows it to us, we’re left in the dark.
This is all tough love here. Robert’s always been super nice to me. And I take no happiness from digging my claws into this script as deeply as I have. But I’m hoping that, like most everyone who submits for Amateur Friday, these notes end up making the script (and the writer!) better.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: If your script is heavy on dialogue, you need to lose some weight in your description. Dialogue takes up a lot more space than description. So if all that dialogue is pushing you past the 120 page mark, do yourself a favor and thin out ALL YOUR DESCRIPTION LINES to make up for it. You can’t complain that your script is long because of the dialogue, then have a 7 line introduction for one of your characters. I would try and keep EVERYTHING under 2 lines. That’s the sacrifice you have to make if you’re going to have a dialogue heavy script.
Genre: Comedy
Premise: (from Black List) Four overachieving high school students in Cape Cod reinvent themselves during the summer after graduation.
About: Good Kids finished with 12 votes on the 2011 Black List, the same number of votes as yesterday’s encyclopedia, Cities of Refuge. My love for writer Chris McCoy is growing. I did NOT like his 2009 script “Good Looking,” at all. It had a pretty good premise – you’ve been with someone for 5 years only to find out that an online dating service knows, with 100% certainty, your soul mate, and it’s not the person you’re with – but the execution was weak. Then last year he sold his script “Get Back,” his ode to “Back To The Future,” about a Beatles fanatic who finds a time machine and decides to go back in time and prevent Yoko Ono from ever meeting John Lennon. A little derivative but a big improvement over Good Looking. And today we have his latest spec, “Good Kids,” about one last crazy summer before a group of friends go off to college. This one, it turns out, is his best yet. It’s always nice to see a writer improving. It is a little strange though that all his titles contain two words and start with the letter ‘G.’ I wonder if there’s something deeper going on there. Maybe Chris has done some research and found that two-word titles starting with “G” have the best chance of selling. Scriptshadow Nation, please do some research on this for me.
Writer: Chris McCoy
Details: 101 pages – Oct. 2011 draft (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).
Good Kids takes places in Cape Cod, Massachusetts and follows four newly graduated high school students. There’s Andy, the “John Cusack” of the group. There’s “Spice,” the slightly pudgy future chef. There’s Nora, the girl who’s always been “one of the guys” but in the last two months has become smoking hot and none of the group knows how to handle it, including her. And finally there’s Lionel “The Lion,” Miller, who’s basically a big fat weirdo.
These lifelong friends are the “good kids.” They actually paid attention in school. They did their homework. They got into great schools. BUT, in the process, they didn’t do anything else. They never went to parties. They never took any risks. They’ve played it safe their entire lives.
And here, on their last summer together, they realize this is going to be the only time in their lives where they can actually have some fun without any consequences. So they make a pact (Hmmm, American Pie anyone?) to say “yes” to any opportunity that sounds like fun this summer.
When the rich summer crowd comes in for their two months of vacation, the good kids find themselves attending parties and making new friends. Andy, a tennis pro, gets his Mrs. Robinson act on and starts sleeping with his MILF students….FOR MONEY. Nora starts dating her much older co-worker at her bio-lab internship. Spice spends every waking second trying to secure his first handjob. And The Lion does a ton of drugs.
Andy also has an online relationship with a really hot Indian girl who’s been dying to come see him, but can’t afford it. This is, of course, why Andy becomes a gigolo, so he can save up enough money to get her a ticket. Ahhh, teenage logic. I used to love rationalizing things like that. – All in all, their plan turns out to be the greatest plan in the universe. They’re all having the time of their lives!
But as everybody knows, anything that’s too good to be true probably is (except for Scriptshadow). And soon these choices start coming back to haunt them, particularly Andy, whose “tennis lesson’s” husbands get wind of the fact that it isn’t tennis balls their wives are playing with. Nora also realizes she may be in over her head with this older guy. Spice manages to piss off more girls than he attracts. And The Lion? Well, he might be too high to realize what’s going on. But in the end, all four of them will have to face the consequences of their actions.
Let’s start with some miscellaneous notes here. Once again, we start with a crazy opening scene…AND THEN JUMP BACK 12 WEEKS EARLIER. I’m not lying to you guys. It’s a disease I tell you. A disease! The flashforward is in almost every script I read now! There’s no stopping it! In Good Kids’ defense though, it was one of the few times where it worked. The opening scene was so weird (Andy in a junkyard wearing war paint running from a bunch of 40 year old men) that I actually wanted to see how we got there.
I liked the “fish-out-of-water” angle of the story as well. Remember, fish-out-of-water situations almost always work! To see the “nerdy” kids tackle all these unfamiliar situations was instant conflict. And as we know, conflict equals drama, and drama equals entertainment!
I also dug the time period McCoy picked. Maybe someone can correct me, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a major film about this specific time in people’s lives. I’ve seen a lot of movies about high school kids in their last days of high school. But none that focused on the summer between high school and college.
Now, as for the script itself, it’s by no means a traditional story. Let’s put it through the GSU wringer, shall we? Goal. There’s no concrete goal here. The goal is an open-ended one. It’s to “have fun.” As I’ve mentioned before, the less defined your goal is, the harder your story will be to execute. American Pie had a clear goal – for each of the guys to get laid before prom. That’s what gave that movie so much focus.
Stakes. What are the stakes if they succeed or fail? Not a whole lot. And this goes back to “goal.” If there’s no concrete goal in your movie, then how can there be any stakes attached to it? However, as the script goes on, the stakes do get higher for each character. Andy, for example, is threatening his job by banging all these women. Nora begins to really like her co-worker. So there’s something at stake if he dumps her. Still, the stakes are pretty low.
Urgency – There’s no real urgency either. And again, this goes back to the goal. If there’s no goal ,then there’s no amount of time our characters will have to achieve it by. There is a “ticking clock” though, always important when you don’t have urgency. Remember, audiences like to have an idea of when the story is going to end. So here, it’s the 12 weeks of summer, indicated right after the opening scene when we see the title “12 weeks earlier.”
So then wait a minute. No GSU? How is this any good? Well, for some of you, it isn’t good. I’ve had a handful of e-mails telling me they didn’t like this script. And the fact that there’s no real plot (no “GSU”) is probably a big part of that. People like characters who are after things. You’re not going to get that in Good Kids.
If you don’t have any of those structural things in place, you’re basically resting your script on the creation of original, interesting, compelling characters an audience will want to follow (other examples of this include Breakfast Club and Dazed and Confused). You do that, and the audience will want to know the answer to this question: “What happens to these guys?” They want to see how their situations are going to end up. You saw this in Swingers as well. Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau don’t have a goal in the movie other than to find chicks. But we want to see how their situation will end because we like their characters. I’ll continue to warn you though, these movies are incredibly hard to write. If you don’t have a plot pushing the story forward, you better be amazing with character. And I thought McCoy produced three (Spice doesn’t make the cut) really fun characters here. But like I said, I’m already expecting a portion of you to hate this for its directionless story.
[ ] What the hell did I just read? (for Karlos)
[ ] wasn’t for me
[xx] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Teasers. If you don’t have a structured plot, MAKE SURE YOU HAVE TEASERS. What are teasers? Teasers are events coming up later in the story that you tease. We may not have an overall goal to look forward to. But with teasers we still want to keep reading because we want to get to those events. Here, it’s Andy’s online Indian girlfriend. McCoy teases her later arrival a few times, and therefore we want to see what happens when she shows up. You can also call the opening of the script (with Andy being chased by the 40-year old men) a teaser (we want to see how we get there), although I still think you should avoid the opening flash-forward if at all possible. It’s in every script I read now!
Genre: Drama
Premise: (from Black List) A former FBI psychologist is called in to investigate when a young girl goes missing after the apparent murder of her father and brother by two strangers in a small Oklahoma town.
About: This script finished near the middle of the Black List with 12 votes. It was optioned in September with Charlize Theron coming on to produce and possibly star. Brandon Willer continues a trend of Black List writers who have made this year’s list a harkening back to the Black Lists of yesteryear, when more unknown talent was celebrated. While many have attacked the 2011 Black List for having a below-par selection of scripts, it’s to be expected that if the list caters to younger more unknown writers, the quality of those scripts is naturally going to be lower. Willer is just finishing up his only previous credit, a tiny indie film he wrote, directed and starred in called, “The Racket Boys,” about two men and a woman driving from L.A. to San Francisco.
Writer: Brandon Willer
Details: 111 pages (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).
Welcome to Cities of Refuge, or as I like to refer to it: “Introduce-A-character-A-Thon.” There were more characters introduced in this script than live in India and China combined. This made Cities one of the hardest reads I’ve ever tried to get through. At one point I hired a second person to take notes for me because my Microsoft Word document – for the first time in history – gave me the error “out of space,” due to all the characters I had written down.
Cities of Refuge begins with 40-something Nathan Spiller, a former marine, hanging out with his two kids, 19 year old Colt and 10 year old Jenny. Nathan clearly loves his daughter more than anything, and even though he and Colt have issues, he loves him too.
Well I hope he loves them in DEATH! Because a group of three bad men sneak into Nathan’s house, apparently looking for money, and kill him and his son. When the cops arrive the next day, they find the bodies, but realize Jenny, the daughter, is missing. Did these thugs take her?
After the FBI gets involved, they recruit former FBI missing persons specialist, Brooke Benedict. This girl used to be the best in the biz. She had a perfect record for finding kids alive. But then one case went bad and she hasn’t investigated a missing child case since. But the FBI give her the hard sell and she decides to make a comeback.
When they bring in their lead suspect, a former nasty marine named Marcus, they want Brooke to see if she can get anything out of him. But the interrogation proves too much for her and she realizes that maybe she shouldn’t have come back – that she’s in over her head.
During this time, there’s a local drugpin (I think?) named Delgado who seems to be interested in the case for some reason. There’s also some guy who’s pissed off that the police aren’t looking into the case harder so he gets the town all riled up for a possible run on the police station, where Marcus is being held. Marcus starts becoming a lot like Hannibal Lecter. At first he hates Brooke but then he starts liking her for some reason and giving her clues about the case. Eventually all these stories come crashing into each other in the end.
Okay, so look. I’m not going to lie. I’m angry. It’s one thing to have a lot of characters in your story but it’s another to introduce a character per page. Having lots of characters in your screenplay is no sin. The story you’re writing will dictate how many characters you should have. Pirates of The Caribbean, for example, will have a lot more characters than Buried.
However, you have to be realistic about what the reader is capable of remembering. But before we even get into that, let’s deal with the industry side of this. Do you already have a producer on board? If you’re writing for a producer (as I’m assuming Willer was) who will later package your script and sell it to a studio, character count isn’t as big of a deal. You already have a producer on your side who likely knows the underpinnings of the story, so who cares if there are a lot of characters? To that end, Willer is off the hook.
Same thing goes, to a lesser degree, if you’re working with a manager or already have an agent. They’ll be able to get your script to important people so it’s not as big of an issue.
However, if you are an unrepped, unmanaged, un-anything’d as a writer, DON’T WRITE SCRIPTS WITH LOTS OF CHARACTERS! Don’t do it. Because your scripts will be the lowest priority for industry readers. Therefore they will have the LEAST AMOUNT OF PATIENCE for you. If they’re already confused about who’s who on page 20? You’re dead. They’re not going to go back and check who’s who. They don’t have time. They’re going to keep reading through it, subsequently being less and less sure of which characters are which, resulting in more confusion, resulting in more skimming, resulting in a snowball effect that leads to total confusion by the time your script ends. Your script may ACTUALLY make perfect sense. It might even be good! But because you made things so difficult on the reader with the character count, they wouldn’t know.
That’s why most people in the spec sale market favor simple easy-to-understand stories. Because they can easily keep track of who’s who and therefore what’s going on. That’s not to say you can’t have complications and twists and turns. You just have them on top of a story that a reader can actually follow. Source Code is a good example. It has a low character count and yet it has plenty of twists and turns and complications.
So I guess what I’m saying here is: Don’t write a movie like Cities Of Refuge unless you’re working with someone pretty high up in the business. And even THEN, you need to use a smart approach to your character count, your character content, as well as HOW you go about creating characters, so that the reader ACTUALLY has a chance of remembering them. For example, if I know a character is in only one scene, I’m not going to name him Bob Jensen. I’m not even going to name him Bob. This implies that we’ll see him again, which means the reader has to reserve a spot in his memory for when this guy comes back later. One more character in the memory banks means one more character to potentially mix up with ALL THE OTHER CHARACTERS. Instead of doing that, just name the guy, “Slick Guy,” or “Truck Driver.” This indicates to the reader that the person will only be in one scene.
There are about 10 tricks of the trade you can use to make characters memorable amongst high character counts – this being one of them. But even if you do have a producer or manager already on your side, you’re still trying to write the best story possible. You’re still trying to make the read as enjoyable as you can since other actors and producers are going to be reading it to see if they want to be a part of the project. So show some restraint. Look for ways to make it easy on them so they actually enjoy your story.
I suppose I should use this time to tell you what I thought of Cities of Refuge but I can’t. I literally had no idea what was going on by the midpoint. There were too many damn people. Not only did this make the character count high, but it added too many subplots, many of which I also found hard to follow because I couldn’t remember who was who.
I will say that the final act was pretty damn explosive and has tons of twists and turns. It might even be enough to save the movie. But as I preach to you on top of this broken record player, I will say this one more time – I didn’t understand what was going on during it. There were too many characters.
[x] Wait for the rewrite
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: The best way to handle a story that requires a lot of characters is to ask yourself, “Do I really need all these characters?” You’d be surprised at who you can cut and which characters you can combine. Also, another little trick is to give lesser characters memorable nicknames. For example, instead of calling someone “Jim,” call him “Big Jim.” Jim I won’t remember. “Big Jim,” I will. But the real solution to this problem is the most basic one. Ask yourself: “Do I honestly need all these people to tell my story?” Chances are you don’t.
Genre: Comedy/Romantic Comedy
Premise: After committing her first ever one-night stand, a young woman begins her walk of shame, only to realize she’s been snowed in. But the worst is yet to come. When the man she slept with wakes up, she quickly realizes she hates him.
About: 2 Night Stand finished in the middle of the 2011 Black List. This is Mark Hammer’s breakthrough screenplay.
Writer: Mark Hammer
Details: 98 pages (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).
I really hope today’s writer, Mark Hammer, isn’t the same Mark Hammer who starred as “Old Man” in Meet The Parents, seeing as that Mark Hammer died back in 2007. That would reflect REALLY badly on the Black List, if dead people were making it. Although I guess it would explain all the zombie scripts.
Lame jokes aside, it’s time for some lame jokes INSIDE. As in “Inside” this script. Haha. Actually, that’s not true. Two Night Stand is by no means a bad script. But unless you’re 22 years old, I’m not sure you’re going to like it too much. It’s sort of like Scenic Route but with a vagina. And if I remember correctly, you guys weren’t loving that one (I still stand by it as an interesting piece of screenwriting!).
But I will say this. You are one bold motherf*cker if you try and write a romantic comedy that takes place in one room. This isn’t a contained thriller where you can throw in a bunch of sweet twists and turns the second things go slow. It’s just two people talking about their issues and stuff. Which means if those two people aren’t captivating beyond all reason? And their dialogue isn’t the greatest dialogue in the universe? It’s going to be Bore City. So, is this script Ricky Gervais circa the 2011 Golden Globes or is it Ricky Gervais circa the 2012 Golden Globes? Read on to find out.
22 year old recent college grad (and I’m assuming very cute) Megan spends her days surfing the internet and watching TV. In other words, she’s my hero. Her gorgeous roommate, Faiza, has been enduring this for months and is finally fed up with it. She confronts Megan on why she’s been such a lazy worthless pile of excrement and tells her she needs to get a job!
But see, Megan’s still getting over her devastating breakup with her fiance and, as a result, can’t muster up the enthusiasm to re-enter society. So Faiza gets an idea. Megan needs to get laid. She needs to meet some random dude and take him to the bone zone! This’ll put a period on her mourning and allow her to move on. Megan’s a little reluctant at first but decides, “What the hell?” It just might work. Pause it. If I can just interject here for a moment. WHERE THE HELL ARE THESE WOMEN WHEN I’M OUT ON THE TOWN?? Unpause. Right, so, after Megan can’t get into a bar, she comes home and meets some random guy on the internet and asks him if she can come over and have sex with him.
Pause it again. WHERE THE HELL ARE THESE WOMEN WHEN I’M ON THE INTERNET??” Unpause. Megan goes over, the two get drunk, and we cut to the next morning, after a wild night of sexual escapading. Embarrassed that she’s stooped this low, Megan gets her clothes together and tip toes out the door, trying to disappear before the guy wakes up. Pause it.
WHERE THE HELL ARE THESE WOMEN WHEN I’M…
Kidding! Just a joke there ladies. Sort of. So yeah, Megan gets outside only to realize the biggest snowstorm in New York since Pocahontas and John Smith shared a tent, has trapped her in this apartment. With this dude. Who she doesn’t know. And had sex with.
Up until this point, I kind of liked the script. We were moving towards something. The story was pushing FORWARD. But here’s the issue with one-location scripts. Once we get into that location, there’s no more going forward. Your characters are stuck together. And now, it’s purely about how interesting those characters are and how entertaining you can make their interactions.
Your best tool once you’ve backed yourself into this corner is conflict. And that conflict has to be pretty intense because the whole movie rests on the drama in this room, and if you can’t create drama, you don’t have a movie. The problem with Two Night Stand, at least in my opinion, is I didn’t feel that conflict was authentic. I see this in a lot in romantic comedy scripts, where the writer knows he has to keep things interesting, so he makes the characters hate each other, without really knowing why. He just knows that it needs to happen.
So out of nowhere, these two just started hating each other. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. It just happened all of a sudden. This led to a lot of forced dialogue where they attacked each other about their sexual prowess, their relationship status and everything else in between. Some of it was definitely amusing but the whole time I couldn’t stop wondering what had caused these two to get so worked up about each other in the first place.
Here’s an idea (spoiler alert). Later in the script, Megan finds out that Alec (oh yeah, that’s the guy) has a girlfriend. Instead, she should’ve found that out right away, like as soon as she woke up. She finds some piece of evidence that proves he has a girlfriend. She’s disgusted with him. Tries to leave. And when she has to come back and face him, she just starts going off on him about it. THAT I could believe. Now the conflict has some basis in reality.
OR possibly she doesn’t tell him she knows, which could lead to all sorts of dramatic irony during their conversations. He could tell her that he’s one of the most loyal men in the universe. His middle name is loyalty. And Megan is just stewing inside, waiting for the right moment to pounce on him about what she knows.
I also would’ve looked for ways to involve the rest of the building somehow. You may not have the luxury of space to play with. But you do have, presumably, a building full of potentially interesting characters. Have a few memorable people you can shift in and out of the apartment. The creepy maintenance guy. The hot neighbor Alec formally had a fling with who does NOT like Megan at all and who Alec never officially “ended” it with. If the Koreans next door were also the managers, and Alec was late on rent, that could lead to some interesting conflict when Megan had to go over there to use the bathroom (the bathroom in Alec’s apartment has overflowed). Alec begs her not to go but she does anyway, which leads to the manager storming over and, of course, demanding Alec’s rent. I don’t know, it just seemed like there was so much more opportunity to play here, and instead we stayed focused on these two talking to each other for 60 straight minutes. It’s not that it’s bad. It just gets a little…stale. I mean usually when you pull out the “You wanna get high?” scene, it means you’re plum out of ideas.
I also had a bit of a problem with the tone. Parts of it felt like an indie-comedy (especially the premise), with a 500 Days Of Summer vibe to it. Other parts (like scaling the building) were broad enough to be outtakes from How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days. But I don’t think you can write a movie like that that takes place in a single apartment. I mean, this isn’t a part a Matthew McConaghey type would play. Not that there are rules to that sort of thing. But I just felt the indie vibe lent itself to a slightly more realistic tone.
Anyway, I’m probably over-thinking this. Like I said, the script wasn’t bad. It’s just that the forced conflict threw me and the single location got stale after awhile. I was hoping for a little more out of this one.
[ ] Wait for the rewrite
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Do not repeat in your description what your characters have just said or done. In Two Night Stand, when Megan and Alec first wake up, they make a few jokes to defuse the awkward situation. Right afterwards, we get this line of description: “They’re making the best of the awkward situation with humor.” You don’t need to tell us that. We just saw it ourselves.
What I learned 2: Scriptshadow Moratorium. I am disallowing, from this point on, female character backstories that include finding out their old boyfriend/husband was gay. I have read this in possibly over 200 screenplays. I’m begging the writing populace out there. Stop using this. Please!
