What is the gangbusters screenwriting lesson within Project Hail Mary that nobody’s talking about?

Project Hail Mary dropped just 23% in its third weekend. Is this amazing hold because of Ryan Gosling? Yes. Is it because of a stellar marketing campaign? Yes. But when a movie holds this well, there’s one reason that rises above all others – THE SCRIPT.

Only awesome stories have 23% drops. Because awesome stories hit audiences more powerfully. Which means audiences come back from this film and tell other people about it, who then go see it themselves. It is the oldest and most effective form of marketing there is.

Now, there are many reasons why this screenplay is great. I’ve gone over some of them on the site. But I want to tell you a secret screenwriting reason this movie is killing at the box office that nobody’s talking about. It’s a reason that Hollywood keeps forgetting. But it’s been around forever and a day.

Here are some of the movies that should cue you in on the tip…

Step-Brothers
Bridesmaids
Swingers
Back to the Future
Good Will Hunting
Midnight Cowboy

Know what it is?

Okay, let’s put up the final movie that represents this tip, what some say is the greatest movie of all time.

The Shawshank Redemption.

Now do you know what the tip is?

It’s FRIENDSHIP.

Actually, it’s more specific than that. It’s a love story told through the lens of friendship. A platonic love story. Audiences absolutely love this simple formula. Two people fighting against the world to achieve what they need to achieve.

And Project Hail Mary falls into that category perfectly. It’s a love story told through the lens of friendship between Grace and Rocky.

Here’s how to make this formula work. You imply that the friendship has to end at some point. Just like a love story. You have to tell us that the lovers may not get together at the end.

I was just watching Back to the Future the other day again. Doc and Marty’s future is threatened by the fact that Doc is dead in the future. So, the very act of succeeding results in a friendship dying. That’s what makes these narratives so special.

And it’s the same thing here in Project Hail Mary. Grace and Rocky are trying to save the galaxy together but by doing so, they will never see each other again. That creates this looming feeling of worry and sadness in the audience, that makes things all the more amazing when the two end up together at the end.

So, why aren’t there more movies about friendship? We’ve established it’s a powerful blueprint to create an exceptional film. Well, until recently, Hollywood always thought you needed the female love interest to make a movie work. So, that was the relationship that always took precedence.

That’s why, when you saw The Shawshank Redemption back when it came out, it felt so different. There was no love interest.

But anyway, building a story around friendship can be dramatically powerful. And if you can couple it with a high concept like Project Hail Mary did, well then watch out, because you can take that movie to the box office stars.

Not all the entertainment news out there is as peachy as Ryan Gosling’s hair, unfortunately. There’s a really bad show that just debuted this week. It’s called The Miniature Wife. Now, you may say, “Uhhhh, Carson? Why would you think that show would be anything other than terrible?”

I assumed it was probably bad, yes. But I love Matthew McFaddyen! And I like Elizabeth Banks. Also, I really want someone to make the movie, “Kitten,” (scroll down in link for review) from a script I reviewed a few months ago. And I was wondering if this show would, in any way, negate that project.

That answer came pretty quickly: DEFINITELY NOT.

Cause this show is terrible.

I mean ACHINGLY terrible.

But here’s the good news. Failures like this can teach writers something and this show actually has a powerful lesson you can learn from the poor writing on display.

It’s something I call “SETUP BLOAT.”

I’m highly aware of Setup Bloat at the moment because I’ve consulted on several scripts recently, all of which had setup bloat in them. And setup bloat is a uniquely evil issue in that it kills your script immediately. Because it’s happening during the setup. And the setup is where readers decide, quickly, whether they’re in or out. If you have Setup Bloat, the reader will not make it through your first act.

So, what is Setup Bloat?

It consists of two things.

One: THERE’S WAY TOO MUCH GOING IN YOUR STORY
Two: THE EXPOSITION REQUIRED TO INTRODUCE ALL OF THOSE PLOT ELEMENTS

Exposition will always be required in your first act. You need to set up your story. Which means you need to write exposition. But here’s the thing about exposition in your setup: The reader only allows for you to provide so much exposition before they tap out. (if you want to learn how to effortlessly add exposition, my dialogue book has an entire chapter dedicated to it)

I think you know where this is going. If you don’t have a ton of plot to set up, then you won’t have to write that much exposition.

However, if you have a super complex plot with a ton of moving parts, then the majority of your first act is going to be exposition. Every moment is going to be you introducing information that the reader needs in order to understand the story. That’s Setup Bloat: When your first act is so over-stuffed with exposition that very little entertainment is allowed to breathe through.

Which is exactly what happens in The Miniature Wife. First we set up the unnecessarily complex situation that two people who are already married are deciding to stay married. Then we set up the husband’s miniaturization invention. Then we set up the complex funding requirements for this invention. Then we set up the wife breaking up with her secret boyfriend. But not a boyfriend she physically cheated on her husband with. This was just an emotional affair. We also set up that she used to be a famous author but hasn’t had a best seller in 15 years. Then we set up that her emotional affair boyfriend secretly pretended to be her agent and submitted a short story she wrote without her knowledge to the New Yorker. But what he didn’t know was that she stole that short story from one of her university students. Stole it to secretly keep on her hard drive in order to pretend to herself that it was hers. So now she has to go to that student and convince her to leave the country for six months, isolate, all so that she’ll have no idea that she, the wife, stole her short story when it gets published in the New Yorker.

And that’s just some of the setup!!!!!!

Do you see, now, how Setup Bloat can destroy a script before it even gets going? I don’t think William Goldman in his prime would’ve been able to manage that level of setup in a first act.

To be clear, part of what makes a good screenwriter a good screenwriter is making exposition invisible. It’s finding ways to make scenes entertaining on their own, before covertly slipping the necessary exposition into them. But if you don’t know how to do that, you end up with setups like The Miniature Wife, where it’s not only all exposition, but it’s clunky obvious exposition. It’s clunky setup scene after clunky setup scene.

How do we avoid this? Don’t write a billion threads into your plot. Or, if you do have a lot of plot, space it out. Especially if you’re writing a TV show. You have so much more time to delve into your plotlines in TV writing. You don’t have to stuff all of them into the world’s biggest trash bag and dump it on your reader in the first act of the first episode.

I’m kinda disappointed. I wanted a cool Matthew McFaddyen TV show to watch. But if there’s a silver lining to this, it’s that he’ll be able to look for another job right away after this one gets canceled next week.

I hate when Hollywood promotes terrible films. And today, I’m speaking my truth!

I’m tempted to spend the next 1500 words unloading on the atrocity of a movie that was The Secret Agent. Let me explain why. People were trying to tell me this movie was good. People were hyping this movie up. But all I needed to do was see the poster, see 10 seconds of the trailer, and I was willing to bet my life that this movie would be terrible.

You know how I knew that? Because I’ve seen this song and dance for decades now. An indie distributor picks up a movie specific to another country where the production value is competent enough that you can distribute it in the US and not get laughed at. They then rev their spin machine up, throw out words like, “masterpiece,” “brilliant,” and “auteur director,” and I’m pretty sure the trades are co-opted into this wool-over-the-eyes tomfoolery, resulting in high RT scores, convincing everyone under the sun that this movie is amazing.

What’s The Secret Agent about?

I DON’T KNOW!

I watched 50 minutes of it and I STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT THE MOVIE IS ABOUT.

“You can’t judge a movie if you’ve only seen 50 minutes of it, Carson.”

YES YOU CAN.

IF THE AUDIENCE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT A MOVIE IS ABOUT AFTER 50 MINUTES, THAT MOVIE SUCKS.

One of the truest screenwriting rules there is: SET UP WHAT YOUR MOVIE IS ABOUT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

This is such basic screenwriting advice, it’s on the verge of no longer needing to be taught. Cause people just know. Duh, tell the audience what your movie is about.

The Secret Agent starts off with a decent scene. It’s 1970s Brazil and a man is getting his car filled up at a gas station in the middle of nowhere. There’s a dead body covered up with cardboard off to the side. The gas station attendant says the man was a thief who tried to rob the place a few days ago so they shot him and the police haven’t come to pick up the body yet.

Then a cop car shows up and very methodically inspects our hero’s car. The scene is tense. It’s suspenseful. I thought, “Maybe I’ll be wrong about this movie. Maybe it will be good.”

Nope. It’s all downhill from here.

We then follow this random dude, our main character, driving this car across Brazil. He shows up at some random collection of apartments and starts staying there. Why? No idea. It takes the writer 20 minutes to, literally, set up arriving at an apartment.

Oh, you know what comes with the apartment? A cat with two heads. I’m not kidding. This is a serious movie by the way. It wants to be taken very very very seriously.

Cat with two heads though! Gotta throw that cat with two heads in there.

Why?

Because that’s the kind of random bullshit hack screenwriters think is good writing. Throw in random nonsense that does nothing for the story.

By the way, quick screenwriting tip. This is the easiest way to judge a creative choice as a screenwriter: Does it do anything for the story? This did nothing. That’s how you know it’s a garbage choice.

Then our hero goes and retrieves his son, who he hasn’t seen in a long time. It’s not explained who’s taking care of his son. Maybe it’s our hero’s parents? This screenwriter has no interest in helping us understand even the basic beats of what’s going on in this story.

Seeing his son again is treated like a really heavy deal.

BUT NOBODY TELLS US WHY!!!

God forbid the writer, Hacky McHackems The Screenwriting Wonderboy, share information that might help us enjoy the story.

Randomly, we cut to another plot about a shark with a human leg in it. No, I’m not kidding. It’s a shark story now. Then we come back and hang with our hero as he lounges around at his apartment complex, carelessly stripping away minutes that could be used for, you know, SETTING UP AN ACTUAL STORY.

Oddly, his son isn’t with him anymore. It’s never explained why. We literally just had this super intense scene where he comes and gets his long lost son back.  But now he’s banging some chick up in Apartment 2C and I guess Little Johnny doesn’t matter anymore.

We’re getting to about the 45 minute mark of the movie and NOTHING HAS HAPPENED! Just complete randomness with no character goals set up or overarching story set up. Atrocious screenwriting on full display.

Then, without any context, we cut to our hero…. WHO NOW WORKS AT A NEWSPAPER! How did this happen? Nobody tells us. Actually, it’s worse than that. We just see him at some work and are expected to know he’s a journalist now and this is a newspaper.

You don’t move a character to a brand new location in life and then just cut to him working. You have to SHOW HIM GET THE JOB, lol. There has to be a progression so that we understand a) what kind of job he wants, b) why does he want that job, c) what are his options, d) how difficult is it to get the job? e) show a freaking interview and the aftermath so we can build suspense around whether he gets the job or not. You know, basic drama.

This just cuts to him working. I didn’t even know this guy was a writer until 50 minutes into the film!

You’re probably wondering, at this point, why I’m so angry.

Here’s why.

Because I spend my life trying to teach people how to be good writers. It consumes most of the minutes in my day.

So when Hollywood unleashes this trash on us and brainwashes young ignorant writers into believing that this is good storytelling, it pisses me off. Because now you have young writers believing that randomly introducing cats with two heads into an extremely serious drama is great writing. And that writer is going to go off and write a bunch of garbage and be confused why nobody likes his screenplays. And he’ll give up because nobody ever taught him the correct way to write.

With that in mind, let’s try and use this failure of a film for good. Let’s at least learn a lesson here. So, here’s the big lesson I want you to take away from this film.

SET UP WHAT YOUR STORY IS ABOUT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE

The more “Hollywood” a film is (by that I mean: a film made by a major studio) the earlier that setup should be. This means that if you’re writing a spec script, you want it to be very clear what your movie is about as soon as possible. This doesn’t mean you have to state the exact plot. But we should have a very good idea of what the movie is about within ten minutes.

We know we’re going to have people on an island full of dinosaurs in Jurassic Park within ten minutes.

You have more leeway with setup time in an indie-type script. But you’d be surprised at how quickly you’ve known what your favorite indie movies were about when you first watched them. It was likely within 15 minutes. And, at the very latest, it would’ve been 25 minutes in, by the end of the first act.

That’s because if you push the setup of your movie past the first act, it’s the equivalent of a drunk guy telling you a story at a party and they never get to the point. They’re telling you about all these little things (a shark with a leg in it, a cat with two heads, and then I was at this gas station and there was this dead body in front of my car covered up by cardboard) but you don’t know what it is they’re trying to say. This movie, The Secret Agent, is the cinematic equivalent of the drunk babbling party guy.

Now for those of you who will inevitably tell me that if I just kept watching, I would’ve gotten to the “good part.” Try telling a producer that the next time you don’t reveal the point of your story until page 50. “Well, Mr. Producer, if you just would’ve kept reading, you would’ve gotten to the good part!”

Yeah, tell me how that goes. Cause I don’t think it’s going to go like this: “Ohhhhhhh! You mean the good part came after the first hour!!?? Why didn’t tell me! If I would’ve known that, I would’ve kept reading!”

My final message to use is this: Don’t let Hollywood brainwash you. They try to tell you that every movie is great. They’re lying the majority of the time. And it’s up to you to use your own discernment to evaluate these movies. Don’t listen to other people. Pay attention to how the story is affecting you. Pay attention to if it’s propulsive or if it’s wandering. Pay attention to how the main character makes you feel and if you care about their journey. If it’s providing good feelings in those areas, it’s a good movie. If not, it’s probably bad, like The Secret Agent.

BLOOD & INK DEADLINE HAS BEEN EXTENDED ONE MONTH!!!

Very important news for all you Blood & Ink Contest writers. I knew a lot of you would take that script right up to the last second, changing scenes, adding subplots, erasing characters, all with just days to go. When you do that, your script is usually bad. So, now you have an extra month to smooth all those last second changes out. If you’ve already sent me your draft, you have the option of sending in a newer draft by the new deadline date. So, here we are…

I need: Your Blood & Ink screenplay
When: Sunday April 5th Now Tuesday May 5th (Cinco De Mayo!!!)
E-mail me at: carsonreeves3@gmail.com
Include: Title, Genre, Logline, and a PDF of the screenplay
Subject Line Should Read: Blood & Ink Final Entry

Now on to our regularly scheduled programming.

I’m so insanely thrilled to see Project Hail Mary doing well. It’s important that when Hollywood makes a movie the right way and it’s good, that it be celebrated. Because as many mistakes as Hollywood makes, the one thing you can count on them to do is emulate their successes. So, with this movie doing so well, a lot of people in the industry are studying why that is and hopefully learning a few lessons.

I have a theory that’s a little ‘out there’ about how Project Hail Mary was able to separate itself, quality-wise, from, literally, the last 500 movies the studios have released. The theory? Hollywood has learned how to game the Rotten Tomatoes system.

Here’s what I mean by that. Hollywood knows that they just have to get an 80% RT score to give themselves a shot at the box office. They also know that to get a positive critic score from any one reviewer, you just have to make something that they like more than they dislike. So, a C+ movie. If you get 80% of critics giving you a C+, that’s still an 80% RT score.

So they’ve basically learned how to make the perfect C+ movie. Likable hero. A certain number of set pieces. A story that has some energy behind it.

The problem with that is, the formula taps out at C+. If you want to make an A+ movie, you have to put a lot more work into the script (be willing to try something risky, fail, and start over, be willing to write more drafts to strengthen weaknesses, etc). You gotta take some chances. You have to be willing to risk being terrible to be great. I mean, if they would’ve botched the Rocky character – which was, by no means, a slam dunk – this movie would’ve fallen apart.

I believe that the reason Project Hail Mary was awesome was that, unlike all the other movies in Hollywood right now, the creators weren’t interested in an RT proof C+ movie. They wanted to make a great movie.

You know how I know this movie’s doing well? This week, half a dozen random people I talked to brought up Project Hail Mary. “Hey, have you seen Project Hail Mary? What’d you think?” In this day and age, that’s shocking. Cause movies are no longer at the top of the pop culture food chain. Yet something about this film is breaking through. And now that we see its amazing hold through its second weekend, we know that it’s officially that word-of-mouth hit.

Speaking of good movies, a couple of weeks ago, I reviewed the unmade screenplay for Commando 2. Arnold Schwarzenegger is coming back to some of his older franchises so reviewing it felt right. I thought it was an odd screenplay but a good one. And it got me thinking about the original film and how much I loved it. I hadn’t seen it in 30+ years so when the thought of revisiting it came up, I figured the older more sophisticated version of myself today would think it sucked. And my positive memory of the film would be ruined forever.

But curiosity got the best of me and I finally rented it.

I can now say that THAT MOVIE IS EFFING AWESOME.

It’s awesome.

It really is.

And what shocked me the most was the screenwriting. They wrote scripts different back then, specifically action scripts. I don’t know what the hell they’re doing with action scripts these days but these modern-day action writers would be doing themselves a big favor to go back to movies like Commando to reacquaint themselves with the basics.

One screenwriting tip stood out more than any other for this movie and I would argue it’s the second biggest reason (behind Arnold of course) this movie was so awesome.

What’s the tip?

SAY ‘NO’ TO YOUR HERO AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE

It took me 15 years in the screenwriting world to learn this lesson. But it’s a powerful one. The word “yes” is your enemy as a screenwriter. The word “no” is your biggest ally. Every time someone says ‘yes’ to your hero, you make things easy for them. Every time someone says ‘no’ to your hero, you make them have to work harder.

Let’s say that we’re following a “Superbad” group of teens. There’s a huge party tonight where the hero’s dream girl is going to be and they’ve been told that, to get in, they have to bring a case of beer. So they come up with a plan, go through the elaborate process of securing a fake ID, head to the liquor store, the oldest one goes in to buy the case, puts the beer on the counter, and takes out the cash to pay for it.

As the writer, you now have a choice. The checker can either accept the money and let him buy the beer or he can say, “No.” If he says yes, the plot moves steadily along and you can get them closer to the party.

But if he says “no,” things get WAY MORE INTERESTING. “No, sorry. You’re not old enough,” and he snatches the fake ID away. “Now, get out of here.” Well, now what does the group do? More importantly, what do we feel as the reader? We’re thrown into disarray. We’re unsettled. How the hell are they going to get into the party now??? That uncertainty is like crack to a reader and has them way more engaged than if the checker simply allowed him to buy the beer.

The reason Commando is so awesome is because the entire screenplay is one “No” after another.

The plot of the movie is actually more clever than I remembered. Bad guys kidnap former special ops commander John Matrix’s (Arnold’s) daughter. They tell him that they’ll kill her unless he goes to this South American country and assassinates a president there that they need dead.

They put Matrix on this commercial flight with one of their guys accompanying him but Matrix, in an amazing scene that still holds up today, has Matrix killing the bad guy, then escaping from the plane, jumping out at the last second. Matrix knows that the second that plane lands in South America, it will be relayed to the bad guys that Matrix isn’t there and they will kill his daughter. The plane lands in 11 hours so that’s how much time Matrix has to find and save his daughter.

GSU before GSU was en vogue!

Matrix forces his way into an off-duty flight attendant’s (Cindy) car and she ends up staying with him during this whole revenge plan.

There’s a great example of “The No Rule” in the scene following Matrix’s escape from the plane. Matrix kidnaps Cindy and her car, and they secretly follow another bad guy, Sully, who’d been tasked with making sure Matrix left on the plane. Cindy is kicking and screaming the whole time, with Matrix trying to calm her down.

They follow Sully to a mall, where he’s meeting someone, and Matrix realizes the place is too high profile to confront Sully face to face. So he tells Cindy that she needs to go to Sully, put the moves on him, and try to get him to a quiet place, where Matrix can confront him.

One thing you have to understand about “The No Rule” is that the word ‘no’ isn’t just a word characters can say. It’s a word YOU CAN SAY to your characters.

So, we watch Cindy head across the mall to the restaurant that Sully has entered. Now, I want you to see this moment through the eyes of a screenwriter writing the scene. If Cindy does what Matrix says and convinces Sully she’s into him and gets Sully into, say, a bathroom, where Matrix confronts him, THAT’S THE ‘YES’ VERSION OF THIS SCENE.

The ‘NO’ version is what we get instead. The second Cindy walks in the restaurant, she sees a cop and hurries over to him and says, “There’s a man out there who kidnapped me. Please stop him.” Notice how our heart sinks in this moment. Matrix just got the ‘NO’ as opposed to the ‘YES.’

And notice what happens after. The cop calls the other cops in the mall, tells them to close in on Matrix, a dozen cops move in on Matrix from every side and HOLY FRICKING COW we now have a scene that’s A THOUSAND TIMES more interesting than had Cindy done exactly what Matrix asked. I don’t even have to tell you what happens next in this scene and I can hear from inside of my computer how much you want to know.

So, why do writers write ‘yes’ so much then?

Because ‘yes’ is always easier on the writer. If you write ‘yes,’ you don’t have to write this big elaborate complex scene of John Matrix having to escape 12 cops in the middle of a giant mall in the middle of the day. So, your inclination is always to write ‘yes.’ Cause that inner writer wants to take the easiest route.

If you’re at all an action guy, rent this movie tonight. It’s really good. More importantly, study how many times the writer says ‘no’ to the main character. Even the subtle times. There’s this moment right after the mall chaos where Matrix is chasing Sully in the parking lot and gets in front of his car. And we’re thinking, “He can jump in this car and grab Sully now.” But then Sully bowls him over with the car, sending Matrix reeling off to the side. That’s a ‘no’ moment. Cause you could’ve said ‘yes’ and got him in the car where he would’ve been able to take down Sully. But by saying ‘no,’ the sequence becomes a lot more interesting.

Go through your current script right now, see where you’re saying ‘yes’ and, in a key moment, say ‘no’ instead. Watch that scene come alive.

My relationship with AI continues to evolve.

One day I think it’s amazing that I can theoretically create a movie in a computer without ever having to step outside and shoot a frame of video. The next day I think AI movies are soulless, evil, and antithetical to the actual purpose of storytelling, which boils down to evoking emotion from an audience.

With that said, AI is becoming a really good partner in the writing process. And today, I want you guys to share your experiences with AI writing so far. I want this to be a shame-free safe space. I know some of you are passionate in your hatred of AI as it pertains to writing. But let’s try and keep the conversation around this tool positive only because there are parts of AI that could really help some writers out which they may not know about. So, I was hoping that if we all shared what we use AI for in the writing space, it could help others who never would’ve thought to use AI in that way.

I’ll give you an example. I know this ESL writer whose dialogue, as a result of English being his second language, is really on-the-nose. I’m talking like some of the most on-the-nose dialogue you’ve ever read. And I’ve been trying to get him to make the dialogue less on-the-nose. Even if it’s just by 10%. But he continues to struggle with it.

Finally, I said, “Look. Run one of your dialogue scenes through AI. Claude or ChatGPT. And tell it to make the dialogue sound more like real-world conversation. Do not use the dialogue it gives you. But use the dialogue it gives you TO HELP YOU UNDERSTAND HOW TO MAKE YOUR DIALOGUE LESS ON-THE-NOSE AND MORE LIKE REAL LIFE CONVERSATION.” Then use that dialogue as a reference point to rewrite the dialogue in that scene.

He did this and the dialogue got better! Not a ton better. But definitely improved.

I find that to be one of AI’s biggest strengths. If you have a weakness and you know it’s a weakness, you can have AI write up something for you to help you see, in general, how the “correct” way to write it is.

Another thing that AI is really good at is working through scenes with you. And I’ve used it sporadically for working out scenes in my novel. One of my big writing philosophies is that your script isn’t ready until every scene is at least a 7 out of 10. And preferably, you want to get as many of those scenes into the 8 out of 10 category, or higher, as possible.

I had this scene that just wasn’t working.  It was a 4 out of 10 at best.  You guys know what I’m talking about. There are those scenes in your script that you just can’t figure out for the life of you. And so I put it through a couple of AI sites and I laid out, very specifically, why I thought the scene was slow and what I thought needed to get better.

Here’s the funny thing. Just by thinking so deeply about why the scene wasn’t working, I actually figured out the solution to making it better before AI responded. But the point is, whenever I do this, AI lays out why it believes the scene isn’t working and gives you some alternative ideas.

Which leads to another funny reality. It’s actually never come up with a scene that I’ve liked. But just reading through the logic of all of its alternative ideas, helps me see the scene in ways I haven’t thought about before and THAT usually gives me an idea on how to fix the scene.

So it’s like virtual brainstorm buddy. And I think it’s great for that. I believe all writers should be using that aspect of it.

Another thing that AI is absolutely stellar at is describing locations that you know nothing about. Like if a scene of yours takes place in a 1930s factory in Germany, and you need to describe what it’s like in there – what it looks like, feels like, smells like – AI is amazing at that. You say, “Describe the setting in three paragraphs” (for a novel) and it will give you a very detailed description of the place, that you can then use as a reference point for writing your version of that location.

It’s a game-changer because one of the easiest ways for me to spot newbie writers is they’ll set a scene, a sequence, or even an entire script, in a world they barely understand. And you can tell they don’t understand it from how sparsely they’ve described it. This eliminates that issue. Don’t know anything about hospitals? With AI by your side, you can create the most realistic fictional hospital series ever.

But let’s get to the ultimate question. Which is: Can AI actually write? As in, all by itself? Can you tell it to write a scene for you? And the answer is, it can. I test it at least once a week to see where it’s at. It turns out, it has two gigantic weaknesses that keep it from being able to write.

The first is that it’s not good at anything that deals with emotion. It can describe a room for you as well as some of the best writers in the world. But the second you want it to convey the complicated relationship between the mother and the daughter in that room, and how the two interact with each other, it starts breaking down. It just doesn’t understand what that looks like or feels like.

Which makes sense. A big part of making writing authentic is being able to place yourself inside each character’s head and understand what it is they’re going through and using that filter to build a mechanism for them to interact with the rest of the world.

For example, Bender, from The Breakfast Club, grew up in a violent household with a stepfather who always beat him. So, the way that he interacted with the world was to challenge it, to berate it, to displace that energy off of him and onto others. And once you understand that, you know how to write that character.

AI just can’t get there. It mimics what other characters like this have done in the past. But, again, as every good writer knows, each character, like each human being, is its own unique individual. The second you copy and paste someone into a new script, something feels off. I would go so far as to say that one of the ways you become a good writer is to understand that. Because those little unique things that separate your bully character from the last bully character in a movie are what make them stand out. I just don’t see AI ever figuring that out.

The second big weakness is that AI is not you. One of the most common things I’ve heard in Hollywood over the last 25 years is that people are looking for someone with a voice that’s unique. They write in a unique way. Their sense of humor is different. Their story choices aren’t like other writers’ story choices. They tell stories in a way that feels unique. And just the way their writing moves through your head as you’re reading it has its own unique rhythm and cadence.

When I have AI rewrite a scene of mine to see how it does, sometimes it writes something that’s better. But when I go through the actual text, I’m constantly saying to myself, “That doesn’t sound like me.” “I would never use that word.” “That sentence feels off for some reason.” I have a distinct style and way that I write and once I give that job to AI, I lose the very thing that makes my writing me.

And if the writing doesn’t sound like you, that means it sounds like someone else. In this case, since it’s AI writing it, it sounds like whatever AI has decided is the “proper” voice to tell this story in. And since AI’s very existence is built on top of it pulling millions of writing styles in, it’s literally writing in that middle generic space that doesn’t evoke any sort of point of view at all.

What this tells me is that AI is a writing tool. A valuable one. One you should definitely be experimenting with. But it can’t write things for you. It can assist you. It can inspire you. But everyone here who has a voice they consider unique should stand proud knowing that as long as you’re loyal to that voice every time you write, you will always be an asset in this industry. It is only once you give AI all the power in your writing that you are no longer of value as a writer. Never forget that.

What do you guys use AI for these days? Be as specific as possible. And try to be supportive of people here. In some meetings I’ve had, I notice a lot of writers hiding the fact that they use AI cause it’s stigmatized. We’re not going to stigmatize you here. We want to share the strengths of this tool with everyone so we can all get better as writers. :)

Genre: Comedy
Premise: Alex O’Hara is struggling through a divorce when everyone in Los Angeles County starts receiving emergency alerts on their phones, revealing the details of Alex’s depressing life. Unable to stop the alerts from coming, Alex decides to lean in and try to use the newfound accountability to turn his life around.
About: This script was bought by Sony! All hail! The comedy spec…… is back????
Writer: Donald Diego
Details: 99 pages

I’ll start off with this.

Fun idea!

I’ve seen just about every idea under the sun so it’s always nice when one pops up that feels fresh. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t remind me of those late 90s early 00s high concept comedy spec sales.

I’d also be lying if I said it’d be nice to have those days back! Especially comedy specs. I don’t know what happened with comedies. Actually, I do. But whatever the reasoning for why comedy movies went out of style, I’d be shocked if a Hangover-level premise didn’t bring in plenty of buckaroos for a studio.

Buy some comedy specs, guys!

I guess that’s exactly what Sony did. Let’s see if they did it well.

Alex O’Hara has been married to Dana for 20 years and has an 18 year old daughter named Sloane who’s heading off to college. On the eve of her leaving, Sloane confesses to Alex that she overheard mom and Aunt Cara talking and that mom plans to leave Alex as soon as Sloane leaves for college.

That turns out to be true and when Alex is faced with living in a giant house all alone, he breaks down and starts crying. But that isn’t the worst moment of his day. The worst moment is when an alert goes out all over Los Angeles that says this: “Alex O’Hara, a grown man and resident of La Cañada Flintridge is currently in the fetal position, crying his eyes out next to his kitchen island because his wife just left him.”

More alerts start shooting out, all of which appear to be motivated by emotion. So, whenever Alex feels something very powerfully, an alert goes out. “Alex O’Hara, a grown man and resident of La Cañada Flintridge has just furiously masturbated to a picture of his ex-wife in a red bikini.” Alex races over to city hall to ask what’s going on but they don’t have any idea. In the meantime, he’ll just have to get used to these alerts going out.

What follows is Alex living a life of misery. He hates his car dealership job. He hates living home alone. He hates that his wife has a new boyfriend. But something funny happens. Alex becomes a sort of mini-celebrity and people start rooting for him. With the warm embrace of the masses behind him, Alex takes a hard look at his life and realizes everything he did wrong that led to his divorce.

Alex then decides that he wants his wife back. But in order to get her back, he has to change. So he starts going to the gym again. He quits the job he hates. He develops new friendships with people he’d otherwise overlook. He starts taking initiative for the first time in his life. And because these are all emotional highs, they go out as text alerts, letting not just all of LA know what’s up, but Dana as well. And slowly, but surely, she becomes intrigued by her ex-husband again.

That is until Alex sees an IG post about Dana’s new boyfriend. He gets so mad about it that his thoughts go out as an alert, and the next day, masses of people who are rooting for Alex destroy the boyfriend’s house. Dana is furious and says that’s it, that Alex needs to give up on rekindling their marriage because she’s done with him.

Soon after that, LA discovers the reason for the errant text alerts (which is shockingly believable) and is able to shut them down. Which means that Alex is just a regular guy again. In spite of this, he still wants to get his wife back. So he decides to do one final grand gesture in the hopes of convincing her. It’s a long shot. But maybe, just maybe, it will work.

Alex Alert is a script that falls on its face in the first half and, much like Alex does at the end of the movie, somehow redeems itself when it’s all said and done. It is not an accident that this happened. There is a very specific script-related moment that took this screenplay from forgettable to charming. And I’ll tell you what that is in a second.

First, I want to talk about mining your premise. Because when you have a big flashy premise like this, you need to mine it for every script possibility it can provide for you. Most writers never get past the 70% mark of mining a big premise. And a ton don’t even get that much out of their scripts.

That’s where I’d put Alex Alert. This is a 70% mining of the premise. It could do so much more. And I’ll tell you exactly where you mine those extra percentage points. You find them in rewrites. With big concepts, every rewrite is an opportunity for you to figure out even more regarding the uniqueness of your premise, and then utilizing that by building story developments and character advancements around it.

Back to the Future is a great example of this. As I’ve stated before, the time machine was originally a refrigerator. It was only through rewrites that it became a car. And once it became a car, the multitudes of awesomeness the script improved by were unquantifiable.

Where did Alex Alert fall short? I loved this idea that people started to become Alex fans. And it made perfect sense, too. This guy was struggling in his life and every struggle was being shared with everyone. It only makes sense that people would feel sympathy for him and start rooting for him. Almost like a character in a movie. There’s a version of this screenplay where that becomes a much bigger part of the story. These people coming to him and supporting him and pushing him to become better. We get a little of that here and there. But the writer could’ve gone much further with it.

Then there were small things. For example, one stage of the script is Alex utilizing the alerts to let his wife know that he’s changing for the better. And she’s taking notice. Then that alert happens that gets her new boyfriend’s house destroyed and she’s done with Alex. Then, AFTER THAT, LA stops the alerts.

What would’ve been better is if LA stopped the alerts WHILE ALEX WAS IMPRESSING HIS WIFE. Cause, as a dramatist, that’s when you want to hit your character – when they’re on a high and they’re getting closer to achieving their goal (get my wife back). It’s way less interesting if they stop after he’s already failed at his goal.

Okay, so getting back to how this script saved itself. It’s pretty “Screenwriting 101.” The mistake that was made here was there was no goal in the story. The first half of the script was objective-less. Sure, it was kind of fun to see Alex’s life fall apart and all the alerts go out. But 40 pages of that without any story direction? That’s storytelling suicide. I was bored out of my mind.

The script saved itself at the midpoint by simply adding a goal with high stakes attached to it: GET WIFE BACK. As soon as the story did that, it gained purpose. It gained momentum. It gained A POINT. And pretty much everything after that was good. Not game-changing. But good.

So, writers? Add a goal. It does wonders to your screenplay.

Now, if this writer were debating this choice with me, I assume he’d say that he first had to establish the gravity of losing his wife in order to introduce a storyline where he tried to get her back.

To that I say… dude? This is screenwriting. Tons of screenwriting is about doing as much as possible inside as little space as possible. It’s the nature of the beast. If you’re efficient, you can have your hero introduce the goal of trying to get his wife back at the beginning of the second act. Worst case scenario, you can get it in at the 3/8ths mark (around page 40 for a 100-page script). To wait all the way to the midpoint before the story has a point? That’s too risky.

But as I always say here, it’s better to have the bad part of your script be the first half than the second half. Cause that means we finish the script happy. And that’s what happened here.

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

What I learned: Jerry Seinfeld talks about this a lot – the idea that there are funnier words out there for you to use when you make a joke. It’s why he made that Pop-Tart movie. He thinks the word “Pop-Tart” is an inherently funny word. It’s more funny, for example, than “bread.” So, you always want to look for the funniest word or expression, especially at the climax of the joke. There’s this moment where an alert goes out after Alex leases his ’divorced guy’ apartment, talking about how sad and lame it is that he’s done this. Alex is in public at the time, and tries to defend himself to the people around him who just read the alert. “Okay, just so everyone knows, the apartment I just leased isn’t crappy. It’s totally nice! It’s conveniently located next to the grocery store I like. There’s a pool that I have access to everyday until 10. None of that is in the alert, but it should be!” “10” isn’t funny. It’s too bland. “9:30” is funnier. It’s funnier because it takes longer to say, it sounds goofier, and it’s more specific. These are small things in a comedy. But if you’re writing comedy, these are exactly the kinds of details you should be obsessing over. Comedy lives and dies in tiny choices like this. If you’re not constantly hunting for the funniest possible word, you’re leaving laughs on the table.