With financiers and mini-studios and Blumhouse and A24 and Focus and Amazon and Netflix’s industrialization of the production process, more movies are being made than ever before. Yet you still can’t get your script sold, or even noticed for that matter. What’s up? I’m going to address that right now. Here are 10 things you can focus on that will improve your chances of getting your script purchased.

1) Is your concept marketable? – If your concept isn’t a proven successful movie template (contained horror, guy with a gun, action-comedy, etc.) or a current trend (biopics, true stories, WW2, etc.), you’re not going to get a lot of interest. Less interest equals less reads equals less of a chance someone says yes.

2) Can your movie be made for under 5 million dollars? – Put simply, the less your script costs, the more production companies can afford to make the film. Which increases your selling options exponentially.

3) Negative attitude – Lots of writers believe that the journey is impossible. They’ve convinced themselves that the big evil conglomerate known as Hollywood is conspiring against you. This becomes a self-serving prophecy as everything you do is dictated by negativity. For example, if you query a producer, the e-mail is dripping with a bitter subtext, which puts the producer off, so they never bother getting to your script. I know this because I receive these e-mails. Writing is hard. But breaking in is harder. You have to stay on the path and continue to be positive. This is how most artists break into their respective industries. Positivity and persistence.

4) Keep pumping out material – Work hard on each script, but don’t be the writer who keeps hitting people up with a new revised version of a script they’ve already read several times. Everybody likes NEW. NEW is almost as important as MARKETABLE in Hollywood. There’s nothing more powerful than being able to say, “I’ve got this NEW script you have to read.” To be more specific, try and write 2 scripts a year, and promote those scripts for 6-9 months. While you’re promoting, you should be concurrently working on your next two scripts.

5) Do you know how to write a query letter? – I can suss out 95% of bad writers just by reading their query letters. They spell words wrong. They use weird fonts. Their grammar is off. They ramble aimlessly. If you can’t even say “Hi” correctly, I know there’s no point in opening your script. So get feedback on your queries before sending them out. And put more of a premium on presentation going forward.

6) Are you blanketing the world with your screenplays? – This is where I see most writers fail. They don’t get their scripts out to enough people. Get coverage. Get notes from me. Submit to Amateur Offerings. Submit to the Black List. Submit to Page. Submit to Sundance Labs. Submit to Nicholl. Get a writing group. Trade reads with them. Cold e-mail managers, agents, and producers. Hell, cold call them. A writer was just telling me that he cold-called a mid-major production company, asked for the head guy, and was shocked when they sent him through. It gave him the confidence to call other managers and agents, and while not all of them took his call, more of them took it than he expected. And he was able to send his script out to a handful of them. But the point is, this is a numbers game. If 2-3 people a year are reading a script, you’re never going to break in. The odds aren’t in your favor. Set a goal to get a script to 10 people a year at least (that could be contest readers, writing group friends, whoever).

7) Are you being realistic about where you are on your journey? – If you’re pissed off that nobody’s giving you the time of day on your third ever completed screenplay, or if this is your first year screenwriting, you may need to accept that you’re not ready yet. I mean in what business does someone shoot to the top .001% of the company in a year? You haven’t even figured out how to order coffee yet. You have to be realistic. Get a handful of scripts under your belt, get to at least 3000 hours (5000 would be better) of practice, and then start sending your stuff out there.

8) Are you getting into your story quickly? – Readers are quick to judge. Think about how many of you won’t even open a script after reading the FIRST PAGE on Amateur Offerings. Believe me when I say busy producers and agents are doing the same. There are caveats to this. If the script comes highly recommended, they’ll read it no matter what. But if you’re a newbie, chances are your script is coming with zero fanfare. Even a few seconds of boredom could get you the hook. So get into your story quickly, even if it’s an indie-drama. The Social Network starts with an intense breakup. Juno starts with a 16 year old getting a pregnancy test. Don’t make excuses. Hook the reader immediately and they’ll give you their attention.

9) Have you given us one great character? – One of the first things producers and agents ask when they’re reading a script is, “What actor can we send this to?” If you don’t have a compelling or fascinating or unique or complex or scene-stealing character (doesn’t have to be the hero – just one of the characters in your script), it seriously lowers everyone’s interest in the project. I always say, write a character that an actor would die to play. Recent examples include Harper from yesterday’s script, the mom in Hereditary, Jennifer Lawrence’s character in Red Sparrow, or JK Simmons’ dual-roles in Counterpart.

10) Is your script under 110 pages? – It better be. You can start writing 120 page scripts when you’re established. But right now you’re an unknown spec writer. Nobody knows you and therefore they don’t owe you anything. One of the first things a reader does is check the page count. If they see 120 pages from an unknown writer, I GUARANTEE YOU they’re rolling their eyes and going into your script with a chip on their shoulder. Keep your break-in script lean and mean. Trust me on this.

Genre: Dark Comedy/Satire
Premise: (from Black List) When a liberal white girl who knows exactly how to fix society accuses her equally liberal professor of hate speech, it throws the campus and both their lives into chaos as they wage war over the right way to stop discrimination.
About: Today’s script is a perfect example of workshopping something until it’s solid enough to make some noise in the industry. Writers Emma Fletcher and Brett Weiner first got their script accepted into the Sundance Screenwriters Lab, where they got some notes from professionals, and were able to then rewrite the script (presumably several drafts) and get it on last year’s Black list (with 7 votes). Let this serve as a reminder. Pursue every screenwriting avenue you can afford. And if you can’t afford any, there are plenty of free options (Ahem, Amateur Offerings). This is a “No thank you” business. So the only way to break in is by getting as many people to read your script as possible. Then, and only then, do you have a chance of landing that life-changing “yes.”
Writers: Emma Fletcher & Brett Weiner
Details: 115 pages

Angourie Rice for Harper?

“I want to open it up to anyone who had an uncomfortable moment, a difficult feeling, or an experienced micro-aggression.”

One of the many great, and terrifyingly accurate, lines from today’s script.

Social Justice Warrior is so accurate at times, that you wonder if it’s a satire, or if this is the world we live in.

It was only a matter of time before somebody wrote a script on this topic. The question was whether it would be any good. Lucky for these two, they got it workshopped at one of the best places in the world to get a script workshopped – Sundance. Getting the tone right is so hard with satire and I’m sure the people at Sundance helped them nail it.

18 year old freshman Harper Penzig (female, white, cisgender) is so taken by classmate Deshaun Barnes’ story of discrimination that she immediately declares herself a fierce advocate for race and LGBT equality.

A few days later, in a European Intellectuals class, Harper takes exception with professor Susan Brodbeck’s (female, 40’s, white, cisgender) use of the word “ugly” in the sentence: “In your reading, Oppel claims that Nietzche is actually employing irony here to comment on societal attitudes that he finds ugly.”

Harper immediatley raises her hand and says she has a problem with the word ugly as it “alienates important segments of our community.” Specifically as it relates to her sort-of trans-friend Liz, who’s also in the class, and has been called ugly before. Liz, for the record, couldn’t give a shit about Harper’s argument.

When Susan refuses to apologize for her use of the word, Harper takes her fight to the school Dean, demanding a hearing for Susan violating the right that all classrooms must be safe spaces.

Within days, Susan has recruited a small army to picket in front of the history department, calling for Susan’s resignation. When Susan realizes this problem may affect her tenure, she apologizes to Harper. But Harper’s already on a roll, uploading her protest to social media.

Meanwhile, Harper starts “SAFES,” a group that will define every single word and action that constitutes hate. Beginning with a “Privilege Walk,” Harper shows everyone in the group just how privileged and, therefore, hateful they are. Which only reinforces how important the group is. Can a white man eat a burrito? Is this not cultural appropriation? SAFES says it indeed is.

Eventually, Harper’s fight goes viral, and she gets drunk on her social media power. Every injustice is instantly uploaded, where half the world can celebrate and the other half decry her. After awhile, the lines become blurred. Is she doing this because she believes in it? Or is she doing it for the attention?

In the end, Harper and Suzanne will battle it out, in a “safe space” room of all places. Whoever comes out in one piece may dictate the direction of social justice for us all.

This script was great.

What made it so great will surprise you, since I rarely talk about it on the site.

Social Justice Warrior built its entire plot around a thematic question: “Have we gone too far in our quest for social justice?” Every scene was built around that question. And what’s so great about the script is that it gives both sides an equal voice. Harper and Susan have several debate scenes together and in each one, they both make solid points. I bring this up because I read so many scripts where the writer has a clear agenda. So when he’s (she’s? they’s?) writing argument scenes, the point he agrees with always gets the best argument. This script proves that it’s way more interesting when you make the debate even because the writer has to keep reading to get to the conclusion.

For those of you who want to construct screenplays around a thematic question, here’s something to keep in mind. It doesn’t work unless the question is a) charged and b) difficult to answer. So if you built your script around the thematic question, “Is it okay to steal if you’re poor?” that’s not a question people are dying to know the answer to. SJW is built around a charged question that people have intense opinions on. And that means readers are going to keep turning the pages.

There are a few plot related things I want to bring up as well. The script starts off with Harper’s pursuit of getting Susan fired. I could see an early iteration of this script where that was the only plotline. If that were the case, the plot would’ve been too thin. So Fletcher and Weiner added the SAFES plot, where Harper’s goal is to define hate speech and implement it around the school.

As a screenwriter, you’re always feeling out if you have enough plot or if you need more. If you need more, this is an option – using dual-goals. Goal #1: Get Susan fired. Goal#2: Define hate speech for the school. This allows us to bounce back and forth between two storylines, keeping each of them fresh.

I also liked Fletcher and Weiner’s choice to make sure EVERYBODY in this story had something at stake. A common mistake is to only give stakes to your hero. But we had it for our “villain” as well. Susan is going to lose tenure if Harper wins this battle. And the Dean gets a call from the president that if this keeps blowing up, he’ll be fired.

What this does is it gives WEIGHT to these characters’ scenes where there otherwise wouldn’t be any. Because Susan has so much riding on this, we can feel her desperation in her scenes. If tenure was never mentioned, her scenes become infinitely less dramatic. Who cares if she loses this battle? As far as we’ve been told, her job will remain the same.

Finally, I liked the message of the script. That there are legitimate strides that need to be made in the area of social justice. At the same time, there are narcissists out there using the cause as a weapon to gain attention. And because they’re the loudest voices, they get propped up as the faces of the movement, which places said movement in a negative rather than a positive fight.

Where is all of this social justice headed? We’ll need a sequel about a year from now to find out.

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

What I learned: Thematic questions result in dialogue-heavy scripts. If you want to write a lot of good dialogue, you might try building your script around a thematic question. That’s because you’ll spend many scenes having characters debate the question. And questions that don’t have easy answers are often fun to write and to read. Social Justice Warrior was 95% dialogue for that reason. It set up its question then it let its characters battle for the answer.

DIALOGUE WEEK IS HERE! – All this week, I’ve been breaking down dialogue scenes from the movies you love. Monday’s Dialogue Post is here. Tuesday’s post is here. And yesterday’s post is here.

If you want to go to dialogue school, check out Training Day. It’s basically a 120 minute dialogue scene. Which brings us to our first lesson. Don’t focus on writing great individual dialogue scenes. Focus on creating great characters who can then write the dialogue for you. Alonzo is the ultimate dialogue-friendly character. And Jake is the ultimate straight man. Put those characters together and you have dozens of scenes where the dialogue writes itself. Let’s check out their famous first meeting together. For those who haven’t seen the movie, it’s about a young cop’s first training day with a veteran narcotics officer.

Okay, let’s jump into the easiest way to write a good dialogue scene. Are you ready? Give us one character who doesn’t want to talk and one character who does. That’s it! Boom! You do that, you will write good dialogue. I promise you. And that’s the whole premise of this scene. Jake wants to talk. Alonzo doesn’t.

I could stop there and you’d be halfway towards dialogue mastery. But I want to revisit this week’s theme. Which is that the best dialogue comes from what you’ve done BEOFRE the scene. Not during. We’ve built this entire movie around a dialogue-friendly character in Alonzo. He’s opinionated. He’s brash. He’s colorful. He’s un-p.c. He says the things you’re not supposed to say.

We then placed him across from a straight man. Dialogue-friendly characters work best with straight men. Two dialogue-friendly characters is like having two chefs in the kitchen. With that said, 2 DF characters can work. In Silver Linings Playbook, Pat and Tiffany were both dialogue-friendly and their scenes were great. But generally speaking, the rhythm of good dialogue follows a dominant and submissive pattern.

Which segues nicely into our next topic: power dynamic. Power dynamic is HUGE when it comes to dialogue. The very nature of somebody being “in charge” creates an imbalance. And that’s where the tension is. Tension is conflict. Conflict is drama. Drama is entertainment. In this scene, the power dynamic is obvious. It’s built into their job descriptions. But there’s a power dynamic to every conversation. Yesterday, the power dynamic was with the parents. They were in charge of the conversation. Chris was merely trying not to fuck up. In The Big Lebowski scene, Walter was on top of the power ladder, The Dude was in the middle, and Donny was on the bottom.

In this scene Alonzo’s power is SO MUCH HIGHER than Jake’s that Jake’s walking on eggshells the whole scene, which is what makes the conversation so fun. You can see Jake trying to say something – ANYTHING – to get Alonzo’s approval. If Jake and Alonzo are on the same power level, this scene doesn’t work.

It shouldn’t need to be said that dialogue reveals character. Which means you should be looking for opportunities to tell us about your character through the lines they deliver. Especially early in the screenplay, when we don’t know them yet. It just so happens there are a couple of prominent character revealing lines in this scene.

Alonzo is fed up that Jake won’t stop talking to him, so he demands that Jake tell him a story. Jake mumbles out that he does’t know any stories and Alonzo doubles down. Tell me a fucking story. “A real one or should I make one up?” Jake replies. I love this line because not only is it unexpected. But it reveals how indecisive and eager to please Jake is. I know everything I need to know about this character after this line.

Ditto Alonzo with his response to Jake’s story. Alonzo has no issues with telling Jake that his story sucked (he’s mean). And that getting laid is more important than preventing murder (seriously warped moral compass). In one sentence, we know just how screwed up and ruthless this man is. That’s good writing.

Let’s get into some minutiae. I love how Ayers says that Alonzo never stops looking at his paper during the conversation. It creates this literal barrier for Jake to bang up against for the first half of the scene. A lot of amateur writers assume you need to create the perfect circumstances for a conversation. It’s the opposite. You’re trying to find the angle that creates the most un-ideal circumstances for conversing. By forcing Jake to talk to a wall, it injects one more layer of conflict into a situation that’s already drowning in it.

Another example of this would be two people who meet at a loud club. They can’t hear each other. They have to keep saying, “What??” They misunderstand words, which leads to strange conversation tangents. That’s always going to be more fun than if they meet in a quiet room with no distractions.

I also love this exchange. “Have some chow before we hit the office. Go ahead. It’s my dollar.” “No, thank you, sir. I ate.” “Fine. Don’t.” Alonzo could’ve questioned what’s wrong with Jake here (“Who doesn’t eat at a diner?”). He could’ve challenged him (“You knew you were meeting me for breakfast and you already ate?”). Instead, he uses two words. “Fine. Don’t.” It’s savage. I actually shivered when I read those words. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the fewer words you use, the better. You don’t always have to craft a wonder-line.

Speaking of wonder-lines, there’s one flashy line in this scene. The newspaper line. And that’s appropriate. You shouldn’t be trying to win the lottery with every line. The very act of limiting yourself to one killer line ensures it will stand out. “This is a newspaper. And I know it’s ninety percent bullshit but it’s entertaining. That’s why I read it. Because it entertains me. If you won’t let me read my paper, then entertain me with your bullshit. Tell me a story.”

How do you write a line like this? Because I read a lot of amateur versions of this line. They come out more like, “Now you done fucked up. I can’t focus no more. All because you think you’re more entertaining than a newspaper. So if that’s what you think, then go ahead. Entertain me.” It’s clunky, not as clean. And doesn’t end with the same decisive POP that Ayers line does.

This is a case of a writer paying attention to his environment. You have this newspaper here. It’s already a major part of the scene. Let’s keep using it. But how can we use it to craft a great line? Start by asking questions. “What is a newspaper?” (It’s mostly bullshit) “Why is my character interested in this newspaper?” (it’s his calm before the storm) “What’s in here that he needs so badly?” (nothing really. But it’s one of the few things that entertains him. And since not many things entertain him, he values it).

You now have some PIECES you can use to form a line.

The answers to those questions pretty much form the basis of the first 75% of the line. Ayers then gives the line extra pop at the end by adding some wordplay. Entertainment and bullshit were featured words at the beginning of the line, so he brings them back at the end (“If you won’t let me read my paper, then entertain me with your bullshit”). There’s no science to this stuff but that’s one way of arriving at the line. Of course, for some writers, this stuff just comes naturally. Lucky bastards.

Finally, what I love so much about this scene is that while Denzel got a ton of credit for his performance, the truth is, it’s all there on the page. I don’t see that often. A lot of writers are wishy-washy and it opens the scene up for lots of interpretation. There’s no interpretation here. Any actor reads that beat of Alonzo keeping that newspaper up between him and Jake, and they know exactly who this character is and how to play him.

What I learned: Don’t over-describe pointless actions during heavy dialogue scenes. The less action you write, the more we can focus on what the characters are saying. Ayers writes barely any action here, and when he does, he keeps it to one line, except for a couple of times when it reaches one line and a quarter.

Now that you’ve read the scene, check out the finished product.

Schedule Change Alert! – Tomorrow, I’m reviewing Solo. Monday, Memorial Day, I’ll be off. Tuesday-Friday will be Dialogue Week. That pushes the Amateur Offerings Winner to June 8th.

As we get ready for Dialogue Week, I want to remind you of the basics. Because in order to write good dialogue, you have to first set up a situation that allows good dialogue to be written. The majority of the time, this will boil down to one law:

One character in the scene needs to want something. Another character in the scene needs to resist.

There’s a reason for this. You need “want” in a scene to give the scene direction. If someone doesn’t want anything, then why would we care what they say? In the same way a goal gives your character reason to act. A “want” gives your character reason to speak. The reason you want the other character to be resistant is because this creates CONFLICT in the conversation. And conflict is where dialogue is the most charged.

A simple version of this is a nerdy high school kid going up to ask a popular girl to prom. These scenes almost always work and the reason is that the dialogue “pedestals” holding the scene up are so sturdy. Character A wants something. Character B doesn’t want to give it to him. This is the secret nature of good dialogue. Even if you don’t dress this scene up with Diablo Cody like word magic, it’s still going to work because the situation is so strong.

On the flip side, if you write a scene where two friends get together to have coffee, and neither of them wants anything from the other, chances are the scene’s going to be boring. Audiences have a threshold for listening to conversations that don’t go anywhere, and it’s getting shorter every year. This is why, whenever you see a scene like this, it almost universally segues into, “I need your help with something.” Or the other character might say, “What do you want?” “What do you mean?” “You never ask me to coffee unless you want something. So what is it?” The scene then segues into the proper format for good dialogue. Want + resist = conflict = charged dialogue.

It’s also important to note that a “want” doesn’t have to be on the surface. In fact, most writers will tell you that it’s better if it isn’t. For example, let’s say a married couple who haven’t had sex in awhile are having a dinner night. The husband is hoping to get lucky. The wife isn’t. So the husband has put together this really romantic dinner in the hopes of convincing her.

Of course, he doesn’t say this out loud. He’s just hoping to spark the mood. So you have your want (to get lucky) and you have your resistance (she doesn’t want to). Therefore, when they talk about their day or how good the food tastes or that annoying co-worker, the dialogue’s still charged because we know what’s going on underneath that conversation.

Out of curiosity, I threw on Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle to see if it adhered to this rule. It’s a movie that has a lot of fun dialogue so it seemed like a great test bed. Indeed, it follows it closely. Here are the first seven scenes…

1) Spencer’s mom WANTS to make sure he has everything for the day. Spencer is upset that his mom busted in on him and is invading his space.

2) Fridge’s mom WANTS to make sure her son is studying so he doesn’t get cut from the football team. Fridge is elusive and assures her he’s fine.

3) Spencer uses the favor of doing Fridge’s homework to ask him if he WANTS to hang out this weekend. Fridge resists.

4) A scary old man from the nearby house WANTS to know what Spencer is doing there. Spencer resists, apologizes and walks away.

5) A teacher WANTS to know why Bethanny is on her phone during a quiz. Bethanny resists by saying she deserves to finish the call, ultimately leading to detention.

6) The gym teacher WANTS Martha to join the activities. Martha resists, giving her several reasons why gym is stupid.

7) The principal calls Spencer and Fridge into his office. He WANTS to know if they cheated. The two are elusive at first, but eventually Spencer cops to it.

I want to make something clear. Dialogue doesn’t fit into this perfect formula every time. Just most of the time. And that was on display in Jumanji as well. For example, after Spencer and Fridge leave the principal’s office, they start arguing with each other. There’s no apparent “want” here. It’s more of a reaction to something that already happened. But there was CONFLICT, which is why the dialogue still popped. It’s going to be fun discovering more of these variations next week.

But this is your starting point. Make sure a character wants something. Have there be some level of resistance from the other character, and you’re bound to write, at the very least, DECENT dialogue. As for writing great dialogue? Well, gosh-darn, you’ll just have to wait until next week for that. :)

Genre: TV Pilot – Drama
Premise: A group of Boston friends’ lives are changed after a member of their group unexpectedly commits suicide.
About: Today’s pilot comes from former comedy writer DJ Nash, who took a chance in writing his first drama. That chance paid off when ABC made it their first pickup of the season, positioning it as a This is Us counterstrike. Nash formally created Growing up Fisher and Truth Be Told. Ron Livingston and Romany Malco star in the show.
Writer: DJ Nash
Details: 57 pages

TV pilots are funny things. The shows with the longest staying power tend to have the weakest concepts. That’s because TV shows are character-driven as opposed to concept or plot-driven. Why is that? Well, if you’re writing 20 hours of television per season, that’s 18 hours more than a feature film. Seeing as it’s hard enough coming up with a series of cool plot points for a feature, you can imagine how hard it must be when you multiply that by ten.

Therefore, TV has no choice but to focus on character.

But this is what’s always confused me about TV. How do you get anybody’s attention with a lame character-driven concept? Like if you pitched me, “Four Boston friends have their lives uprooted when their friend dies,” I’d be like, “Annnnnnnd???” With a movie pitch, you know what you’ve got after the logline. With these things, it seems like a crapshoot.

Anyway, I’ll continue to stir fry that thought in my head while I dish out today’s review.

Rome, an almost-30 commercial director with the perfect life, is two minutes away from ending it. He’s got the pills. He’s prepping the deed. It’s only a matter of time. But before we watch him kill himself, we cut to his friend Jon, who has an even better life. The master of the deal and a real estate titan, Jon is currently on the phone, closing a deal in his kick ass high-rise office. How easy is it to love life when you’re killing it?

Cut to friend numero 3, Gary. Gary is getting the results from his doctor about whether his cancer’s back. His breast cancer. Yes, Gary is in the one percent of males who have breast cancer. But the good news is, he’s making it work for him. Gary bangs a new breast cancer survivor every week at his breast cancer support group.

Finally, there’s Eddie. Eddie hates his wife. Every day she drags him deeper into the pits of married hell. And while Rome’s about to off himself and Gary’s ready to get his results and Jon is ready to close the deal, Eddie is throwing all of his clothes into a suitcase. Eddie’s about to run away with another woman.

But then he gets the call from Gary that changes everything.

Jon just committed suicide.

That’s right. Not Rome. Jon. After he closed that deal, he leapt out the window.

The rest of the script has the guys coming together for Jon’s funeral and the gathering afterwards. The wives are all there, including Maggie, the latest girl Gary banged from his support group. Yes, their first date is officially a funeral.

As the group ponders the impossibility of someone like Jon, who had everything, ending his life, little hints pop up that there may be more to the story. When the guys go get tonight’s Bruins tickets from Jon’s office (going to Bruins games is a long-standing tradition), they get into Jon’s phone and find out that he made one call before he jumped. To Eddie.

The guys turn to Eddie, who looks back cluelessly. He never got a message. But later that night (major spoiler), when Eddie is alone, we see why he’s being so coy about that call. We finally find out who Eddie’s been planning to run away with. It’s none other than Jon’s wife.

I had mixed green feelings about this script.

I loved the early misdirect. Nash totally got me with Jon’s death. And I liked the ending twist, that Eddie was running away with Jon’s wife. Not only for the twist. But because you’re setting up a line of dramatic irony that can be drawn out for 5-6 episodes. Us and Eddie know that Jon may have killed himself because he found out that Eddie was sleeping with his wife. But the other friends don’t know that. And like any good line of dramatic irony, it’s the kind of thing that viewers will stick around for to see what happens when that bomb explodes.

My problem with A Million Little Things was the rest of the script, the middle part.

It’s mainly just a bunch of characters being sad, talking to each other, remembering things. And I think the problem here is that Nash didn’t use a good old fashioned goal. There are some writers who don’t think you should use goals in TV one-hours. That it’s more about “covering the bases” of each subplot. But I find that when there’s an overarching goal pushing the characters along, it gives the narrative an engine. We feel like there’s a PURPOSE to the story.

It’s not to say you HAVE to do this. If we’re inside of a particularly dramatic portion of a season, then each storyline (the A, B, or C) in an episode can be powerful enough that a uniform goal isn’t required. But my theory with pilots is that you can’t take any chances. You can’t even RISK a 3-5 minute down period. Because 3-5 minutes is all it takes these days for someone to decide your show is boring and never watch it again. TV viewers are not a forgiving bunch. I’ve met them.

With that said, there are still plenty of good things to talk about. When you’re writing a character driven pilot (as opposed to concept-driven pilot), you want to get an inciting incident into the story ASAP. Usually within the first 5 pages. This is to alleviate any suspicion that your show will be a group of characters talking for an hour. You need that “thing” to happen so that they know you mean business. A character dramatically killing themselves, via a misdirect, was a great way to get audiences hooked.

Building off of yesterday’s character development talk, we see again today how important it is to establish characters immediately. The first scene we meet each character in A Million Little Things is a scene where we learn the essence of who they are at this moment in their lives. Gary has breast cancer. Eddie is about to leave his marriage. Rome is suicidal. One of the biggest mistakes I see amateur writers make is they take 3, 4, 5 or MORE scenes to tell us what professional writers can tell us in one.

That’s not to say you can’t have characters of mystery, like John Locke in Lost. That’s a different discussion. But when dealing with straight-forward characters, you want to start developing them from their first frame.

A Million Little Things is obviously ABC’s attempt at a This Is Us killer. But it’s not as good as that show. One thing Dan Fogelman is great at it is he knows exactly how hard to press the melodrama pedal in each scene. He knows when it’s too far. He knows when it’s not enough. He knows when to alleviate tension with a joke. He knows the right tone that joke needs to be.

A Million Little Things is more hit and miss in these categories. There’s a scene late where they’re at the hockey game and Rome reveals out of nowhere that he tried to commit suicide. It’s an odd moment for the admission and the aftermath is too heavy-handed (“With nothing to say, Gary does the only thing he can do. He puts his arm around Rome and gives his friend a hug. Rome cries harder. So Gary just squeezes harder.”)

But hey, Fogelman’s the master at this stuff so let’s not hang any competitors out to dry here. The pilot isn’t great but it’s got just enough presence to make it worth your time.

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

What I learned: Whether it’s a movie or a TV show, the simplest plotline you can use that uniformly works is to start with a dead body. In other words, I don’t think this pilot gets picked up if it’s this same group and we don’t get a suicide at the beginning of the show.