Genre: Horror
Premise: (from Blood List) Based on TRUE EVENTS. In response to this “astonishing” increase in demand for exorcisms, the Vatican opens a secret exorcism training academy where a young, gifted nun defies the church leadership to join her colleagues in the battle of good versus ultimate evil.
About: Today’s script finished numero TWO on this year’s Blood List. Robert Zappia has been writing for over 25 years, and actually wrote an episode of Home Improvement, which made him the youngest writer ever to write an episode for a number 1 rated show.
Writer: Robert Zappia (story by Earl Richey Jones & Todd Jones & Robert Zappia)
Details: 100 pages

It used to be that exorcism scripts were the best bang-for-your-buck sub-genre out there. Think about it. All you needed was a camera, a bedroom, and an actress willing to act crazy and you had a movie. These 500,000 dollar productions could fetch up to 30 million bucks at the box office. 600% return on your investment? Who doesn’t want that?

But either the public got sick of exorcisms or screenwriters ran out of ideas, because I can’t remember the last exorcism movie that was any good. Something-Something Emily Rose Exorcism? Is that what that one was called? It seems that audiences have gotten hip to the fact that someone writhing around in agony and screaming bad words isn’t must-see cinema. But with every dead genre, there’s an opportunity for a clever writer to reinvent it. Has today’s author done so? Let’s find out.

There has been an “unprecedented” rise in reported demonic possessions. This has resulted in the Pope setting up exorcism schools across the world. One of those operates in the United States. And this is where we meet Sister Ann, a nun in an affiliate church who doesn’t follow the rules. Ann, as is the case with all women, isn’t allowed to take any exorcism classes. But she does anyway!

One of the teachers, Father Quinn, takes exception to this, and warns Sister Ann that if she comes to another class, she will be expelled. Sister Ann ain’t no pushover, so she makes her case, but in the end agrees to leave it alone. That is until one of the priests runs into danger during an in-patient exorcism. Sister Ann runs into the room and bullies the demon back inside the patient, saving the priest’s life.

When Father Dante sees this, he asks Sister Ann to secretly come perform an exorcism on his pregnant sister. The school did not find sufficient evidence to label her sickness a possession, which is why he can’t go to anyone else. Sister Ann goes, only for things to go disastrously wrong. Ann gets kicked out of school. But only a few weeks later, they come back to her. It seems as if someone is possessed by a demon Ann has a special relationship with. Will this be her redemption? Does she want it to be?

What’s DIFFERENT about this script? That’s the first question a reader asks. And actually, it’s better if the reader doesn’t have to ask it. They should know immediately. They should feel this is different without having to ask why. There’s two things that are different here. A female exorcist and the movie takes place in an exorcism school. The next question the reader asks is, “Is that enough?” Is it enough to build a movie around a female exorcist in this setting?

I’ll say one thing. It’s smart. This is the market we’re in right now. Find the female angle. And it’s best if the angle exploits something that, traditionally, women haven’t been able to do. A female buddy-cop team-up isn’t that inventive because women have been able to be cops for a long time. But women have never been allowed to perform exorcisms. So it truly is giving us something fresh.

The final question a reader asks is, “Does it work?” And, ultimately, that’s the only question that matters. You can make all the arguments you want about why your idea is awesome. But if it doesn’t work on the page, it doesn’t work. To that I’d answer, Devil’s Flame sorta works? But not for the chances taken above. More so for the exorcism scenes, which are fun. There’s a scene, for example, where a possessed girl’s long matted hair has been slung around and shot deep into her throat. The priest is pulling on the hair, like a rope, grip-pull, grip-pull, trying to get it out, trying to prevent the girl from choking, until we finally see a demon’s hand emerge from the mouth, holding the other end of the hair, pulling as hard as it can back into the body.

Sweet.

The problem with Devil’s Flame is that the setting where the majority of the film takes place isn’t scary. We’re at an Exorcism School, and therefore all the possessed patients are kept in well-guarded, carefully insulated observation rooms. It’s a far cry from some of the exorcism scripts I’ve read where the priest has to travel to an isolated house in the middle of Romania or something. Out there, no one can hear you scream. Here, you have the entire school on call if something goes wrong.

And to Zappia’s credit, he knows he has to offset that. So he makes the exorcisms really intense. Almost to the point where I’d forgotten where we were. But still, it’s hard to make something scary when the setting is built specifically to make it not scary.

Zappia tries to remedy this by giving Sister Ann a backstory that has her seeing ghosts and demons around the halls. And to a certain extent, it works. But it doesn’t work as well as when we’re in the middle of nowhere, which is a staple of good horror. For example, Get Out doesn’t work if it’s set in the city. It only works cause it’s in this quiet isolated town where you get the feeling that all the neighbors are helping the bad guys.

I also think that further drafts could explore the theme of why priests don’t believe women can do this job. There’s a moment in the last possession where the demon possessing the person is saying these horrible awful things to Ann about her sexual past. And I felt like that should’ve been explored early and often – this belief that women can’t “handle” what the demons throw at them. Ann then being able to stand up to and conquer the demon in that way, would’ve placed emphasis on this theme of not underestimating women.

This is a tough call because the script has its strengths. But, in the end, it didn’t take enough advantage of its unique attractor, the female exorcism angle. Bump that up and there’s something here.

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

What I learned: Hollywood is looking for more female-driven movies. If you’re going to take advantage of that, do it like Devil’s Flame did. Find a job that women aren’t supposed to do, and make it about the first woman to do it. That’s better than finding a movie that had a famous male role and switching it to female. For example, you want to avoid Rodney Dangerfield in Back to School being changed to Melissa McCarthy in Life of the Party.

Great teasers are expected in horror scripts – When you write a horror film, you HAVE to write a great teaser scene. It’s expected. The teaser in 2018’s Halloween was the most memorable scene in the film. And the same can be said for this Halloween – a boy wearing a mask murders his naked sister in POV. If a horror script gives me a lame teaser, it’s a guarantee that the rest of the script is going to be lame as well.

Bodies in motion – I like when scripts start with something HAPPENING. The characters are IN MOTION, on their way to something. In contrast, bad scripts often begin with characters sitting around. Nobody wants anything. Nobody’s trying to do anything. This sets the tone for a slow dull movie. Get your characters moving after the teaser, preferably doing something that sets the story in motion. After the teaser in Halloween, we cut to Dr. Loomis and a nurse in a car driving to the mental institution to talk to Michael. We’re off to the races already!

Save the Cat still works! – If you’re ever in doubt about whether your hero is likable enough, give them a Save the Cat! scene. It doesn’t even have to be some big production. Like saving an old woman from getting hit by a car. With Laurie, it’s a simple scene where she runs into the boy she’s babysitting that night. The boy clearly loves Laurie, and she’s adorable with him, adhering to all of his demands (watch a movie, make jack-o-lanters, read to him, make popcorn). It’s a short scene, but just like that kid, we now love Laurie as well. The scene speaks to the power of simplicity in storytelling, as pretty much every choice in Halloween is a simple one.

Build build build – In a horror movie, you don’t want your killer to start killing people right away. You want to BUILD towards it. Tease it. Draw out the suspense. Someone’s broken into the local hardware store and stolen a bunch of stuff. Laurie sees a strange figure in a mask standing across from the school. Then a couple of additional times, behind a bush, and in her yard. We’re building building building before the terror is unleashed.

The scariest things don’t have to be complicated – The reason Michael Myers is still terrifying after 40 years is that he’s so simple. A killing machine in an expressionless mask who never says a word. I bring this up only because people think today’s characters have to have really elaborate backstories and motivations. And while that works when done well, sometimes all you need is a simple terrifying monster.

Horror works best under a tight time constraint – Halloween takes place in less than a day. The majority of it takes place in real time. That’s when horror cooks the hottest, when the threat is so immediate that your characters have to deal with it NOW.

Integrate both active and passive storylines – One of the problems with these horror-slasher screenplays is that the victim is passive. Laurie doesn’t know that this man is after her. So she can’t go after anything herself. All she can do is live her life, and unfortunately, our lives are pretty boring. The solution to this is to add an active storyline. This is usually done by bringing in a policeman or detective who’s chasing the bad guy. Halloween does it with Dr. Loomis. He knows Michael will go back to Haddonfield, which is why he goes back there, to try and catch him. This allows you to cut back and forth between Laurie’s passive storyline and Dr. Loomis’s active one.

Dramatic Irony Alert – Remember that dramatic irony is when the audience knows something the character does not. It’s a device you should be using a lot as a horror writer. After Michael kills the guy who’s gone to grab a beer for his girlfriend, Michael puts on a sheet and walks upstairs to the girlfriend, who’s waiting in bed. She giggles when she sees her “boyfriend” in the sheet, and asks for her beer. WE know this isn’t her boyfriend. SHE does not. Hence the dramatic irony. This allows us to squirm and scream, desperately hoping she’ll find out before it’s too late.

The False Kill – Nearly every horror movie has a false kill of the monster/killer near the end of the film. Unfortunately, audiences have gotten hip to this and don’t believe it anymore. “Make sure he’s dead!” they’re screaming as the hero ignores this obvious advice. So if you’re going to do this these days, you want to use every trick in the book to convince the audience the monster is dead. That way, when they come back, we’re genuinely surprised. Unfortunately, Halloween is not one of these movies. Laurie weakly stabs Michael, who falls down behind a couch, and Laurie assumes he’s dead without even checking. Of course, only minutes later, he’s back on her trail.

We’ll forgive a basic plot if we like the hero – Yesterday I said that a cool plot cannot survive weak characters. The opposite is also true. A bad plot can be saved by strong characters. And when I say “characters,” I’m really talking about your hero. This might be the biggest screenwriting hack of all. If you give us a hero we really like, we’ll pretty much forgive everything else. Everything in Halloween is predictable. A killer escapes a mental institution. Some teenagers are baby-sitting that night. The killer finds them and kills them one-by-one. That’s basic horror movie 101. But we like Laurie so much that we don’t need a big fancy plot with lots of twists and turns. All we want is for her to survive. If that happens, we’ll have enjoyed the experience.

No

“Like it Didn’t Love It” refers to an old industry response to the glut of screenplays shoved into the system, and the many people who were required to read them. “What did you think of the script?” a co-worker or boss would ask the reader. “Liked it, didn’t love it.” It was a nice way of saying, “not bad.” Unfortunately, “not bad” doesn’t get a script anywhere. And if we’re being honest, it essentially labels the script dead in the eyes of the company that read it.

As someone who’s read north of 7500 screenplays, I know this experience all too well. The majority of the scripts I read are not good. A select few are very good. Between those extremes is a frustrating selection of screenplays (probably around 15%) that are pleasant reading experiences, but nothing more. I may even enjoy them while reading them. But if literally any distraction comes up, I choose that distraction over the script. These are “Like it Didn’t Love It” scripts. And it’s time to get into how to avoid writing one.

“Like It Didn’t Love It” scripts fall into five categories. The “Technically Perfect” script. The “Safe Concept.” The “Lacks Passion” script. The “Third Draft.” And the “Not Up To the Challenge” screenplay. Let’s take a look at each of these in detail.

The Technically Perfect Script – The technically perfect script is often written by screenplay-book junkies. They know everything about screenwriting, more than me even. They are slaves to the “rules” of screenwriting, often strangling the creativity from their story in favor of meeting plot beats on the right pages. If a writer’s been at this for a while, they can make a “Technically Perfect” script pretty good. But the ceiling for scripts this devoid of creativity is only so high, which is why even the best ones can only hope to achieve “Like it Didn’t Love it” status. When it comes to recent films, Skyscraper and Life of the Party are “Technically Perfect” scripts.

The Safe Concept – The safe concept has some crossover with The Technically Perfect Script because when you choose a safe generic concept, you will usually execute it in a safe generic way. But the main difference between these two is that the “safe concept” is so vanilla that, even under the best circumstances, the script can only be taken so far. With that said, the word “safe” is used for a reason. It’s “safe” because it works. And that means these scripts, if written well, are mildly enjoyable in the same way that orange chicken from Panda Express is mildly enjoyable. Unfortunately, the reaction to both afterwards is the same. “Why did I put myself through that?” Examples include “I Feel Pretty,” “Truth or Dare,” and “The Commuter.”

The I Clearly Am Not Passionate About This Script Script – These scripts often come about by writers who are sick of their low-concept dramas (or any non-traditional script) being ignored by the industry and finally give in to the notion that you need to write a marketable screenplay to get noticed. They hop on the latest trend (say, Girl With A Gun), writing their version of it, only to get rebuked by the industry once again, reinforcing their belief that their initial approach was the right way to go. — Look, you have to love what you write for it to be any good. Even great screenwriters struggle to make stories work that they’re uninterested in. It’s hard to find produced examples of this, since virtually any lifeless movie could be an example. But yeah, if you’re not getting paid, think long and hard about writing something you have no passion for.

Third Draft Scripts – Third draft scripts are scripts where you can see the promise of the story but the writer hasn’t done the hard work yet. Now, obviously, every writer defines drafts differently. For some, it’s an extensive process that requires tons of outlining and character work each time out. These writers can write a good script in 4-5 drafts. For others, they write quickly, and can belt out a draft in a week. For them, writing a good script takes 10-15 drafts. So “third draft” is more of a symbolic moniker that represents a writer who’s written a decent script that could’ve been a lot better had they written a few more drafts. The example I always give of this is The Sixth Sense. In the third draft of The Sixth Sense, M. Night’s story was about a kid who drew pictures of the future. By the 10th draft, it was about a kid who saw dead people.

Not Up to the Challenge Scripts – “Not Up to the Challenge Scripts” are actually scripts that have the potential to be “Love It” scripts, but the writer’s skill level isn’t yet high enough to stick the landing. Or another way to look at it is that their eyes are bigger than their mouths. These scripts often cover weightier material, a biopic with Oscar in its crosshairs (White Boy Rick) or a time-spanning period piece (Gangs of New York), or really ambitious rule-breaking type projects, a Pulp Fiction or an I, Tonya. You need to have been at this for awhile to pull one of these scripts off. In the meantime, you will be praised for your script’s “flashes of brilliance,” but condemned for its inability to “bring it all together.” While I think it’s important that every writer push their limits, it’s also important to know your limitations. You’re not going to write Pulp Fiction as a beginner. You’re just not.

Now that you know what scripts are most likely to turn into “Like it, Didn’t Love It” scripts, what can you do to write these elusive “Love It” screenplays? There’s no definitive answer to this question. But I will say this. The scripts most likely to make readers fall in love with them are scripts that contain a high level of emotional resonance. A heavy focus is placed on the interplay between character and theme. This is the best combination to emotionally affect the reader. And once you make a reader FEEL something, the chances of them falling in love with your script rise dramatically.

A perfect example of this is Eighth Grade, the film I reviewed on Monday. That was not the most amazing script. It didn’t have much of a plot. But Bo Burnham so effectively explored the theme of loneliness and the desire to connect through this imperfect but impossible not-to-like 13 year old girl, that it didn’t matter. We FELT something. And when you feel something, you don’t care about inciting incidents and first-act turns and whether the “fun and games” section was long enough. Emotion is the great-eraser of logical analysis. Which is why, if you’re trying to become a better screenwriter, the primary area you should be studying is character development. Understanding the psychology of people, then combining that with the technical know-how of establishing flaws in characters (in “Eighth Grade,” it’s that Kayla is too quiet) is the first step towards mastering this skill.

With that said, there are several additional things you can offer that increase the chances of writing a “Love It” script. Number one, take chances in your story. I always say that it isn’t the rules you follow that make your script great. It’s the rules you break. Anybody watch “Swiss Army Man” and think, “Way too many safe choices here?” Two, as I mentioned above, try to write something you’re passionate about. The more passionate you are about something, the more effort you’re going to put into it, and that’s going to come across on the page. Three, if you have a strong voice, like Zoe McCarthy from Tuesday’s review, write a script that takes advantage of that voice. And four, write a “tweener” script. The advantage of tweener scripts (scripts that combine two different genres) is that you’re more likely to write something original. But, of course, everything with a big upside has an equally steep downside. Get these wrong and people ask you, “I couldn’t tell if this was an [x] or [y] film!” A good tweener film is Get Out (horror and social commentary). A bad one is Tag (was it a comedy or a drama?).

I’m sure some of you are asking, “Well, Carson. If some of these Like it Didn’t Love It scripts are getting made, then how bad can it be to write one? Look, Hollywood has too many slots to fill not to make some Like it Didn’t Love It movies. The reality is, however, Hollywood doesn’t look to you, the unknown screenwriter, to provide them with this material. They can come up with average material on their own. As an unknown writer, you must STAND OUT in order to get your scripts through the system. Which is why you should be aiming to write “Love It” material.

I want to finish this off with one final piece of advice. I am not advocating that you write your passion project about the irrigation issues that the native peoples of 1781 New Zealand faced. Every script idea should be seen through the lens of “Will anybody pay to see this?” That’s the caveat to all of this – the one rule you have to follow. Nobody’s going to make your movie if there isn’t an audience for it. Conversely, the bigger the audience potential your idea has, the more lenient the analysis of your script will be.

As I like to remind all the screenwriters out there… always keep an eye on the box office. Hollywood spends so much money on productions these days that a single unexpected triumph or a single earth-shattering failure can create a tectonic shift in the business. Look no further than Solo. Many considered Star Wars the most bullet-proof brand of them all. Solo barely clearing 200 million domestically resulted in Disney pulling their “2 Star Wars Movies a Year” plan and icing all Star Wars movies after Episode 9. A single bomb could mark that current script you’re working on irrelevant. Or an unexpected hit could mean that idea you’ve been sitting on is all of a sudden a hot commodity. So always keep up to date. Here are 10 2018 overperformers and underperformers and the reasons for their box office results.

OVERPERFORMERS

The Meg ($142 mil dom, $525 mil worldwide) – Sharks, sharks, sharks, sharks, and sharks. Probably the most bullet-proof subject matter there is behind horror. When’s the last time you heard of a shark movie doing bad? To show you how solid this genre is, look no further than 47 Meters Down. That movie was supposed to go direct-to-video. Instead they released it in theaters and it made 44 million dollars. Wow.

Crazy Rich Asians ($169 mil dom, $226 mil worldwide) – Crazy Rich Asians brought back an old-school approach to movie-making – Introduce us to a unique culture and tell us a story within that culture that is both entertaining and educational. Something that’s oft-forgotten is that audiences want unique experiences. If you can introduce them to a fresh world that they haven’t seen before, and promise them they’ll be entertained in the process? They’ll show up.

A Quiet Place ($188 mil dom, 334 mil worldwide) – I don’t care what anybody here says. This was a genius concept. I knew it the second I read the script. I knew right away it was going to make a ton of money. You can either keep complaining or seek to understand why this did well. Because these are some of the last concepts a screenwriter can come up with and make a big spec sale with. A family that operates in a post-apocalyptic monster-ridden world where you can’t make a sound. Boom. That’s a dream concept producers everywhere would die to find the next version of.

Hereditary ($44 mil dom, $79 mil worldwide) – Hereditary proves the value of the horror brand. This is about as non-traditional as a horror film gets. It’s dark and weird and unsettling. In other words, it’s not “The Nun.” But if you can come up with a great image or a great trailer that promises scares? People are going to show up. Which is why if you’re a screenwriter who likes horror even a LITTLE bit, you should be writing in it. While the rest of your screenwriting friends are debating what’s more important, theme or a character’s fatal flaw, you’ll be deciding whether to buy a house next to Leonardo DiCaprio or Will Smith.

Searching ($25 mil dom, $65 mil worldwide) – Searching is a film that begs the question to every screenwriter trying to break in: “What are you waiting for?” People are making movies where they don’t have to leave their bedroom! Why are you complaining that nobody will read your script when there are clearly opportunities to write and create movies for next to nothing? Do you have any idea how hard making movies used to be? You used to need to buy film. FILM! And it was expensive. Now you can use your darn phone. Stop the excuses!

UNDERPERFORMERS

Skyscraper ($67 mil dom, $303 mil worldwide) – If “Crazy Rich Asians” is the embodiment of giving us something new, Skyscraper is the embodiment of giving us everything old. I mean, these people do realize they’re remaking Die Hard, right? This reminds me of the crap studios used to pull before social media could destroy word-of-mouth in less than 12 hours, where they’d vomit out an unoriginal screenplay then try to hide it behind a big star. Audiences aren’t fooled by that anymore. Studios? You have to do better.

Tag ($54 mil dom, $77 mil worldwide)– Imagine coming up with an idea that had absolutely no stakes at all (someone getting tagged is literally the stakes of the movie) and then asking people to pay to see your movie. Slap onto that “tweener” status (when a movie is stuck between genres – this one both a comedy and a drama) and you’ve got a disaster in the making. As long as we’re here, let’s add the trifecta. The movie ends at a wedding. A wedding! The ONE THING you have going for you here is that your idea’s a little bit unique. So instead of embracing that you give us the most cliche ending scenario of them all? They should’ve gone full comedy here and figured out a plot that had some actual stakes. Also, casting Jeremy Renner in anything that involves comedy was the final nail in the coffin.

The Happytime Murders ($20 mil dom, $25 mil worldwide) – Here’s an odd one. This movie is actually giving us something we desire – a fresh idea. Yet it bombed. And not just bombed. People gleefully celebrated its demise. You realize you’re the same people who complain that Hollywood never tries anything new, right? “But, but, but…” you say, “we DO want something new. We just want the good kind of new.” You can’t have it both ways. You have to celebrate when people take chances, even if they fail. The reason this movie failed is a subtle one, and one of the hardest to calculate as a screenwriter – tone. I like the idea of puppets acting bad. But they pushed it too far. I mean, at one point, they have a puppet ejaculating for five minutes onscreen. Somewhere around 15 seconds is when you know you’ve gone too far. If they would’ve pulled the humor back and made it a little less risky, I could see this being a success.

Tomb Raider ($57 mil dom, $273 mil worldwide) – There wasn’t a single person who came out of Tomb Raider and said, “Man, I’ve never seen that scene before!” Tomb Raider suffered from “Save the Cat” syndrome. This is when you follow the formula so closely, there isn’t a single surprising or fresh idea in your screenplay. Yes, you could take your script in front of a USC screenwriting panel and point out how every single component of the script is perfect. But screenplays can’t just be technically perfect. They have to be imaginative, creative, and unexpected. You have to make bold choices every once in awhile so that your story feels original. I didn’t like Hereditary (spoiler), but the choice to kill off the sister halfway through the script helped separate that film from everything else in 2018.

Fahrenheit 11/9 ($6 mil dom, $6 mil worldwide) – A documentary? Carson, have you gone mad? What does the box office of a documentary film have to do with screenwriting? I’m actually including this movie for a specific reason, one that director Michael Moore is so out of touch with, he wasted millions of dollars and a year of his life for. What’s the lesson? Don’t write anything that people can get for free. Back in 2002, we didn’t have hundreds of online political outlets to spout off about 9/11. Which is why that earlier documentary made so much money. It was one of the few places you could go to get a thoughtful detailed look at how 9/11 went down. But now, the second anything happens in the news, there are hundreds of Youtube channels breaking it down WITHIN HOURS. If we can get it for free without having to put our clothes on, why would we pay $15 bucks to go see it in the theater? Let this lesson extend to the concepts you choose to write. Give us things we can’t get anywhere else but the movies. What are examples of documentaries that fit this bill? Tickled and Three Identical Strangers.

The most tragic thing in the world is an abandoned screenplay. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. But at least in the screenwriting world it’s true. There have been tens of millions of abandoned screenplays over the years. Maybe more. And the reason that’s a travesty is because we’ll never know if any of those would’ve been great movies. Jordan Peele almost quit writing Get Out fifteen times. Imagine for a moment if he would’ve given in just one of those times? He wouldn’t have an Oscar on his mantle.

So let’s talk about why writers give up on screenplays. The most common scenario is you come up with an idea you’re excited about and need to write it NOW! You rip open Final Draft, start typing away, and the pages are flying by! You get through the first act in a few days! Then, seemingly out of nowhere, everything sloooowwwws down. That magical inspiration has been replaced by a dogged hatred for film. You have no idea what happened. “Everything was so easy before!” you cry out to your dog. “What changed?”

What changed is that when we come up with ideas, we’re mainly thinking about the setup. Take Independence Day. When you come up with that idea, you’re not thinking about what the characters are discussing on page 70. You’re thinking about the alien ship hovering over the White House then blowing it up. When you finish writing those scenes, you’re left with… well, you’re left with THE REAL STORY. The stuff with the characters and the theme and the relationships. And you weren’t thinking about that. This is why most screenplays die in the early stages.

Also, a new idea can feel like the greatest movie in the world! Santa Clause kidnaps Jeff Beznos because Amazon is putting him out of business? Hell yeah, you say! I can see the opening now. Santa catches his elves ordering Christmas toys from Amazon. Except three weeks later you wake up and realize this is the dumbest idea ever and it has zero legs. Of course if became a screenplay casualty. So here’s my first piece of advice to you.

Tip #1: When you come up with an idea, sit on it for at least three months.

I know that sounds crazy. But I’d even extend it to six months if possible. Bad ideas disappear quickly. Good ideas stick around. So if you’re still thinking about an idea six months after you conceived it, chances are it’s worth exploring. Not only that. But by waiting, you can add notes and flesh out the story. I think of these notes as “script ammo.” The more script ammo you have going into a script, the more likely you are to finish that script.

Okay, let’s say you come up with an idea, you sit on the idea, six months later you still want to write the idea, in the interim you’ve come up with script ammo for your idea, so you start writing your script, onnnnn-ly to end up in the same predicament. You’ve gotten a LITTLE further than you would’ve had you started right away. But still, by page 60, your creativity has taken a vacation in the Bahamas. What’s going on? I’m going to tell you what’s going on. But it’s going to make some of you mad. So if you’re easily triggered by words that rhyme with “shoutshine,” please turn away.

Tip #2: The number 1 reason for getting stuck is that you didn’t outline.

There was a time when I thought outlining was the equivalent of throwing baby squirrels in a blender – pure evil. Since then, I’ve learned that nearly all anti-outliners are beginners or intermediates who believe that outlining destroys artistic expression. Meanwhile, 99% of professionals swear by outlining. So who do you think is right? The great thing about outlining is you’ve created a safety net for idea generation. You have a plan in place for any moment you run into trouble.

I’d always found this to be the end-all be-all solution to writer’s block. You can’t be blocked if you’ve written it all out beforehand. But a writer recently brought up a good point to me: “What if you run out of ideas in your outline?”

An outline is essentially a script, only abbreviated. Just because you’re writing in outline form doesn’t mean you magically have ideas for every stage of the story. It’s arguably harder to generate ideas in outline form because you’re not building ideas on a foundation. You’re building on conceptual fragments – “idea babies” if you will. So what happens if you can’t even finish an outline?

Tip #3: An outline is useless without a pre-existing understanding of story structure.

An outline isn’t some random sequence of ideas you cobble together. It must be built on the basic tenets of story structure. That means before you write anything down, you must understand that stories have a beginning (where you set up the main character’s journey) a middle (where that journey is put to the test) and an end (where you conclude that journey). Anti-structuralists will debate this but it’s the basis for all the best stories ever told so ignore them.

The beginning of a script (Act 1) will run you about 25 pages. The middle (Act 2) will have about 50 pages. The end (Act 3) will have about 25 pages. Why is it important to know this? Because one of the reasons we give up on screenplays is fear of a blank page we can’t fill. The less we plan, the sooner that page arrives. The goal then is to distill as many of those 100 pages into manageable chunks as possible. You don’t have to write 100 pages. You only have to write 25. And then you only have to write 50. And then you only have to write 25. Then you’re done!

But 25 is still a lot when the creative juices aren’t flowing. So let’s distill the script into even smaller chunks. I favor the 8-sequence method. Act 1 has two 12 page sequences. Act 2 has four 12 page sequences. Act 3 has two 12 page sequences. Now you don’t have to fill up 100 pages. You only have to fill up 12. Then you only have to fill up 12. Then you only have to fill up 12. You get the idea. For this approach to be effective, you have to know what to do within each of these sequences. If you bear with me, I’ll help with that.

Sequence 1 (page 1-12) is where you set up your hero’s normal everyday life and then throw a problem at them that interrupts their life. Upgrade – A guy with a nice life has it ripped apart when his girlfriend is killed by criminals and he’s paralyzed.

Sequence 2 (page 13-25) is where your hero will resist the journey before coming around and thrusting himself after the goal. There’s some leniency here. Sometimes this is a “calm before the storm” sequence where the machinations of the plot force the hero into action. Gone Girl is an example of this. After Nick finds out his wife is missing (Sequence 1), he’s dragged into the investigation whether he wants to be or not.

Sequence 3 (pages 26-38) This is where your hero will begin their pursuit of their goal. This is a very logical section. Whatever your hero is trying to get, you have them take the first steps towards getting there. In Game Night, it’s going to be leaving the house so they can find the “killer” in this game. In Jumanji, it’s traveling across the countryside to find the crystal that transports them out of the game.

Sequence 4 (pages 38-50) This is where your hero realizes things aren’t going to be easy. It’s also where you begin exploring the conflict within your relationships. This is what makes scripts fun, is that they aren’t just about physical obstacles. They’re about inter-personal obstacles (disagreements, old beef, differences in world-view, deep-seated issues characters have been avoiding for years). To use Jumanji as an example again, this is the sequence where The Rock and Kevin Hart get into a big fight about the deterioration of their friendship back in the real-world.

Sequence 5 (pages 51-62) Something significant should happen at your midpoint that throws things out of whack. Your characters are forced to react to this new challenge, which distracts them from the ultimate goal. In Juno, this is the scene where Juno comes over to Mark’s house and Vanessa isn’t home. The two spend the afternoon together, where things become dangerously close to inappropriate. It changes the entire dynamic of who Juno is leaving her child with.

Sequence 6 (pages 63-74) This is where your hero gets back on track and makes a push for the goal. However, things will end up imploding on both the plot side and the character side and your hero will end the sequence at their lowest point, so low that we’re convinced they’ve failed. In A Quiet Place (spoiler), this is where the dad dies.

Sequence 7 (pages 75-87) should see your character mope around a bit before apologizing or resolving issues with other key characters. This then reinvigorates them and they either run after the Ark or confront the villain or drive to the airport to STOP THAT PLANE.

Sequence 8 (pages 88-100) This sequence should be the easiest to write. It’s the final showdown. The big climax. Tom Cruise fights Henry Cavill to stop the nuclear bombs from exploding. Harry professes his love for Sally. Natalie Portman confronts the being inside the heart of the Shimmer in Annihilation. You’ll then have 1-3 prologue scenes and you’re done.

This is a VERY simplified breakdown of the 8-Sequence method, guys. The page numbers are not to be taken literally (some sequences may be longer, some shorter, depending on your story). You’ll want to throw a ton of obstacles at your heroes during sequences 3-6 (if your recruitment of a former girlfriend scene feels lame, throw a crazy Nazi into the mix – Raiders of the Lost Ark). I also skimmed over how important character development is. When you’re struggling to fill pages, it usually means you’re not exploring characters enough. You need characters with flaws so that you can build scenes that challenge those flaws. And you need unresolved conflict in every major relationship in the movie. That conflict will be worth 5-6 scenes in the script of just them trying to hash out their differences.

Feel free to play around with the format, especially if you’re writing scripts for practice. However, if you’re a newbie, it’s a good idea to learn how to write structured screenplays. Once you learn the rules, you’ll be more successful breaking them.

Now you understand structure which allows you to properly outline which allows you to write a script without getting stuck. All good in the hood, right? Yeah, we wish. Just because you plan ahead doesn’t mean you won’t encounter problems. You’ll often find that something you were convinced would work doesn’t. Or your main character is boring. Or you encounter a plot problem that doesn’t have a solution. I once wrote a time-travel script where I needed my main character to travel through time whenever he wanted, but all the other characters could only time-travel once. I never solved the problem and eventually gave up on the script.

If you’re still running into these blocks, here are some things you can do…

WRITE DOWN THE EXACT PROBLEM – Most writers can’t get unstuck because they haven’t identified what’s wrong. Why are you stuck? Is it because you don’t know how to get your hero from A to B? Is a scene boring and you don’t know why? (Add conflict somehow!) Do you not know what your hero should do next? (Add mini-goals!) The more specific your problem is, the easier it will be to find a solution to it. It takes me awhile to fall asleep so I like identifying problems then trying to solve them as I drift into Dreamland.

KEEP WRITING EVEN IF IT SUCKS! – Writing doesn’t cure all. But it cures more than not writing. I’ve found that if you write for long enough, you’ll eventually come up with a good idea, no matter how unlikely that seems in the moment.

BOUNCE IDEAS OFF SOMEONE ELSE – Talking out loud, even with a friend who knows nothing about screenwriting, can lead to ideas. Give them a bare-bones summary of your story, tell them why you’re stuck, then throw ideas back and forth at each other. No-Judgement Zone. Terrible ideas are fine because lots of good ideas are born out of bad ideas.

THERE’S GOLD ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THAT PROBLEM – The biggest breakthroughs in screenwriting tend to come from solving the biggest problems. Some of you may have experienced this. You thought there was no way to save your script. You spent weeks trying to fix the unfixable. Then when you finally came up with the solution, it helped you see the script with a defining clarity that, up until that point, didn’t exist. There’s something about defeating tough problems that elevates your understanding of a screenplay.

IF ALL ELSE FAILS, GET FEEDBACK – If you’re truly stuck and can afford it, get professional feedback. Most readers will read unfinished scrips for a discount. And I know with me, it helps if the writer tells me exactly what’s wrong. That way I can specifically troubleshoot the problem. If you can’t afford professional feedback, make your screenwriting friends read your script. You’d be shocked at what a new pair of eyes can see that you can’t.

Also, keep in mind that there’s a reason screenplays are rewritten so much. It takes awhile to find the best version of your story. So it’s okay if you can’t figure things out right away. Follow the 8-sequence formula, get AN ENTIRE SCREENPLAY WRITTEN, even if it’s not perfect, evaluate the script for problems, then start solving those problems. The great thing about screenwriting is that there’s always something to improve. So if you don’t know how to solve one problem, work on another. And what you’ll learn is that each solved problem generates ideas that solve other problems. If you truly believe in the screenplay, guys, don’t give up on it. Don’t be Alternate Universe Jordan Peele who didn’t win an Oscar because he gave up.