When you read a ton of scripts, patterns start emerging. Little things occur here and there – red flags if you will – that indicate you’re dealing with an amateur. This article is not meant to attack these mistakes, but rather highlight them so that anyone writing a script can try and avoid them. I never give up on a script if I encounter a couple of these red flags, but when they start piling up, especially early on, I know I’m in for a long read. Here are ten common things that tell me I’m dealing with an amateur, and therefore ten things you should avoid!

MISSPELLINGS/MIS-USED WORDS (ESPECIALLY IN THE FIRST 10 PAGES) – Of the hundreds of scripts I’ve read with rampant misspellings, there have been maybe two that turned out to be good. The thing is, misspellings and misused words speak to a larger issue — that the writer isn’t putting enough effort into his/her script. All it takes is sending your script off to a friend for a spell check, or combing through the script religiously yourself, to fix the problem. People who don’t put a lot of effort into spelling most likely aren’t putting a lot of effort into bigger issues like plot construction, character development and rewriting. Keep in mind, professionals take a lot of pride in their work. When they finish a script, they want to present it to you in the best light possible, so they make sure everything is perfect. Therefore when everything *isn’t* perfect, it’s natural for a reader to assume they’re not dealing with a pro.

BLOCKY CHUNKS OF TEXT – I get that some scripts are going to require more description than others, but when I’m repeatedly seeing blocks of text 5-6 lines long (or longer) I know I’m dealing with an amateur. Blocks of text need to be lean in order for your script to be easy to read. Pros know this. They know that taxing the reader’s eyes is going to result in a less enjoyable reading experience. So they keep descriptions lean, and when they do have to go into detail, they break those chunks up into multiple paragraphs so they’re easier to digest. Some genres get a little more leeway in this department. For example, I’m okay with paragraphs *occasionally* getting 5-6 lines deep in a period piece. But if I’m reading a comedy, you better have a damn good reason to go over 3 lines consistently.

NO CHARACTER DESCRIPTION – This one kills me, however I acknowledge that some pros are guilty of this as well, so it’s not always a guarantee that you’re dealing with an amateur. Here’s how I look at it. Your characters are your everything. They’re the lifeblood of your movie. If we don’t know what they look like, how are we supposed to connect with them? Here’s a description for you: “Gene, 40, takes in the world behind a pair of steely gray eyes. He always looks at you for a little too long, as if he’s sizing you up for some later experiment.” Here’s another: “Gene, 40, short and stocky.” Try and convince me that the reader doesn’t get more out of the first description. Obviously, you’re going to give shorter descriptions for less important players, but an attempt should always be made to bring characters to life when they’re first described.

TOO MANY CHARACTERS – Amateur writers love introducing new characters. 20-30 characters counts are normal to them. Pro writers not only understand that too many characters become hard for a reader to remember, but that by combining characters and/or focusing on less characters, it allows them to develop those characters more, therefore making them more interesting. Keep your character count down. Only introduce characters if they’re absolutely necessary to the story.

TOO MUCH “MOVIE LOGIC” – When I’m reading a script, one of the things that separates the pros from the amateurs is how they treat logic. In professional scripts, whether it be fantasy or drama or comedy, things always happen for a reason, and that reason makes sense. In amateur scripts, choices are made more because the writer *wants* them to happen. They don’t really care if they make sense or not, as long as they solve the immediate story problem. For example, is your female lead agreeing to go out with your male lead because he’s done something to impress her, or is she simply going out with him because you need them to get together? Is your babysitter going to check out that noise in the dark dangerous basement because it makes sense or because you need to kill her off? Why is your hero, who you’ve established as afraid to fly, flying his date off to Vegas for the weekend? This may seem obvious, but I read so many scripts where characters do illogical things because the writer isn’t putting themselves in the character’s position and asking if they’d really do those things or not.

SHIFTING TONE/GENRES – One second your script is a crime caper. The next it’s a romantic comedy. Once we hit the second act, it’s a thriller! I’ve actually spoken to writers about this. Sometimes, they’re not aware of it. But other times they try and tell me that they don’t want to make a “Hollywood movie,” and are instead trying to create something original, different, and cutting edge. Well, okay, you can do that. But unless you understand intricately the genres that you’re working in and have a logical and original plan as to how to jump back and forth between genres, your script is not going to come off as profound. It’s going to come off as hackneyed. There’s only one Quentin Tarantino.

PREDICTABLE – I excavated this out of some notes that I gave because I think it’s the perfect way to describe this issue. You don’t want your plot to be too predictable! Readers being able to predict every plot turn is death for a writer. It means you’re not doing your job, which is to tell a story that we’ve never quite seen told this way before. You want to use our assumptions against us. You want to think, “Okay, they think we’re going to do *this*, so instead we’re going to do *this*.” This is a great way to think while writing in general, because it challenges you to go against the obvious choice, a surefire way to make your screenplay more original.

MELODRAMATIC – New writers aren’t yet aware how much is enough when it comes to evoking emotion, and usually way overdo it as a result. Someone dies. A couple of scenes later someone gets cancer. A couple of scenes later there’s a car crash and someone goes to the hospital. It feels to the writer like they’re creating captivating drama, but the overindulgence of it all actually creates the opposite effect, making it feel ridiculous and unrealistic. Pick and choose your spots where your script gets heavy. And don’t cram too many intense dramatic moments together.

BORING ON-THE-NOSE DIALOGUE – This is probably the biggest clue that you’re dealing with an amateur. The dialogue is really straightforward and boring. Characters say exactly what they mean: “You make me so angry!’ Characters get way more specific than people in real life would: “I’m going to head over to get a cheeseburger at Portillo’s and then call my mom.” (instead of “I need a chili dog before my stomach starts eating itself.”) There’s no nuance or slang. People talk like robots. There’s no subtext or conflict. Characters aren’t hiding anything from one another (which always makes for interesting dialogue). You need to understand all of these things in order to get that dialogue to pro level.

And there you go. Those are the things that scream “amateur” to me, but if you’re a fan of this site, then you’ve read your share of screenplays as well. What are the things that clue *you* in that you’re reading an amateur as opposed to a pro?

Genre: Comedy
Premise: After agreeing to groomsman duties at his sister’s wedding, Noah Palmer realizes he may have made the mistake of his life after finding out that the woman who broke his heart is also part of the bridal party.
About: Your Bridesmaid is a Bitch landed in the middle of this year’s Black List. Duffield must have worked on his craft for a long time before breaking through with “Bridesmaid,” because this is some of the best writing I’ve ever seen from a newcomer.
Writer: Brian Duffield
Details: 94 pages – undated (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).

My sense of humor hasn’t always gelled with the readers of this site so whenever I add a comedy to my Top 25, there’s usually an outcry plus at least a couple of suggestions that I might be mentally handicapped. Several people usually declare they’re never coming back, but luckily only 13% of those keep their promise.

I loved this script. I thought it was great. I would go so far as to say it’s the best comedy I’ve ever read tackling heartbreak. And this, to me, is what separates the pro comedies from the amateur ones, scripts where the emotions and backstory and depth of the main character are just as important as making the audience laugh. I’m happy to say it’s been a long time since I got my heart broken, but this script took me right back to those days and made me feel like I was there again.

Almost-30 Noah Palmer is failing at life. He lives in Hollywood. He doesn’t have a job. He’s still getting over his nine year girlfriend, Anna, who left him a few years ago (after he proposed to her!) for some French Fucker named Felix Trezeguet. So basically he’s miserable.

All Noah wants to do – all he cares about – is creating enough distance between himself and that relationship so he can get on with his life. But it’s unclear when that magical moment is going to arrive because no matter how Noah spins it, he can’t stop thinking about Anna.

When Noah’s sister, Molly (who also happens to be Anna’s best friend) calls to inform him that Anna will be the bridesmaid at her wedding, and “is that okay?” Noah has to suck it up and do the impossible: spend an entire weekend around the girl who destroyed his life. Check that. Spend an entire weekend around the girl who destroyed his life AND her French Fucker boyfriend who stole her from him.

It doesn’t look like Noah’s going to be able to pull it off but he loves his sister more than anything and decides to suck it up.

The genius of this script starts early on. A common mistake with beginner writers is to put two characters in a room with no tension, no external conflict, and no subtext surrounding them – then just have them talk. The dialogue is ALWAYS boring when you do this. There’s simply nothing going on in it. Here, Noah shows up at his sister’s house with 10,000 wedding guests milling about, and is spotted by the cool but slightly clueless husband-to-be, who pulls Noah over to the couch and starts asking him about Los Angeles.

The groom is completely oblivious, of course, to the fact that Anna and the French Fucker are a mere 2 feet away, and can hear everything that Noah says. Because of this, the dialogue is a thousand times more interesting because Noah’s not just answering a simple question, he’s answering questions knowing the girl he’s still madly in love with AND HER BOYFRIEND can hear him. So he of course has to lie, which he’s not very good at. And this gloriously awkward sequence becomes a harbringer for things to come

Anna is the worst kind of ex-girlfriend. No, I don’t mean she’s a bitch. She’s the opposite. She cares about Noah. She’s oblivious to how much she’s destroyed his life. A part of her even still likes him, even though she’d never leave the French Fucker for him. As you probably know if you’ve ever had your heart broken, this is the worst kind of dynamic possible, because it leaves open hope. It keeps the possibility open that someday, somehow, you might just get back together again.  And man does that fuck with your mind.

Luckily, Noah meets the beautiful and Mila Kunis-in-Forgetting-Sarah-Marshall-type-cool Kelli, who’s sympathetic to Noah’s plight and gives him a shoulder to cry on. Their sexually charged weekend friendship is held back only by the fact that Noah is still hopelessly in love with Anna and unless he can talk to her and have some kind of closure, there’s a good chance he will never get over her and never be able to live a normal life again. Everything comes down to how this ends with her (stakes!)

I’ll be the first to admit that the situation here is familiar but holy hell does Duffield nail the execution. I mean this guy is a really good writer. Not only is the structure here flawless, but the dialogue is really great and he’s just a really fun writer to read.

I’m not the biggest fan of “aside” writers – writers that write little asides in their scripts – because I think it’s cheesy. It took this script for me to realize that I only didn’t like it because the writers weren’t good at it. All of Duffield’s little asides were funny. Like this one when Noah is renting a car: “Noah waits in the rent-a-car-wait-for-fucking-ever-eventhough-it’s-Harrisburg-and-you-pre-ordered-line.” Or this to set up a montage: “BEFORE-NOAH-WAS-A-WHINY-BITCH MONTAGE.”

Just the way he described characters told me he was a writer with a real voice. Here he is describing Noah’s blind date in the first act: “She looks like a girl that was homeschooled, then lost her fucking mind during college, and now is a mix of the two. She wears a church-friendly sleeveless dress. Braided hair. Very cute.” I’ve never read a description like that before.

Or when Noah and Anna would talk around other people, they would converse in this annoying morse code tapping. It was completely original but more importantly, it suggested a real relationship. It suggested that these two had really been together and weren’t just two paper-thin character names thought up by a writer. You could feel the history here.

But the main reason this worked for me was that I felt Noah’s pain. This might be one of the best scripts I’ve ever read at getting inside the mind of a heartbroken man. I was just talking about this with a wonderful young writer who’s pissed at me for saying he still has some work to do. You haven’t mastered writing until you make the reader feel what your main character is feeling. That takes time. That takes a lot of practice. And when you read Bridesmaid, you *will* feel Noah’s pain. I promise you that.

And that’s why I related to this so much. That’s why I cared whether Noah found peace at the end.

The only reason this script doesn’t finish higher on the Top 25 is that sometimes it thinks it’s more hip than it is. After the huge big final talk (mini-spoiler) between Anna and Noah…they fist bump? I don’t know. That’s a little too trendy “trying to be hip’ish” to me. There were a few moments scattered about like this that briefly took me out of the story.

But man, I didn’t even get into half the stuff that worked here. This is a really really well-written script, easily one of the best comedies I’ve read in awhile, and it achieves that honor because it’s about character first. Of course, that probably means you’re all going to hate it, which of course makes you all dead wrong. :)

Top 25’er!

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive (TOP 25!)
[ ] genius

What I learned: When you’re writing a comedy, don’t try and manufacture comedy out of thin air. In other words, don’t hang your characters out in random locations that have little to do with the movie and try to think up funny things for them to say. Put your main character in the toughest situation possible and watch them try to get out of it. That’s where you’re going to find a lot of your comedy. So in the example I used above, Noah is put in a situation where he has to talk about his loser life to a guy who only wants to hear about how awesome living in Los Angeles is, with his ex-girlfriend within earshot. Meet The Parents (the original) was the king of this. Ben Stiller was constantly put in tough situations that he would have to dig himself out of.

Genre: Comedy
Premise: When the wealthy owner of a fast food chicken franchise learns that his bitchy wife wants a divorce and is therefore entitled to half his money, he decides to spend it all so that she doesn’t get a dime.
About: Here was Kevin’s e-mail to me: “The main reason I want you to read and review this script is because if I’m not having people read my shit then it is really just a bunch of data taking up prime storage space for my illegally downloaded music and naughty videos. Naughty is a funny word. The other reason I want you to review this script is that I really like this concept and I think others will like it as well. Divorce is an enormous elephant in our society that really has become as common as birth and death. I find it absolutely absurd that just about half of marriages end in divorce. Don’t you think I should be able to ask for the return of the Crate and Barrel punch bowl I gave as a wedding gift to my best friend’s wife before she decided to leave her husband and move in with the neighbor? Why should they get to keep all the gifts, they certainly didn’t earn it, bunch of thieves if you ask me, especially since getting married outside a Ramada can’t really be described as a “wedding affair”. Besides, who couldn’t use an extra punch bowl for Superbowl Sunday? On a side note, I’m not the product of a divorce and have been happily married for eight years, or is it nine? The point being is that I’m not a misogynist, I didn’t write this screenplay to get back at anyone, and I certainly don’t hate women, you can even ask my cunt wife about that. Half of Nothing is a just comedy about a depressing subject.” — Every Friday, I review a script from the readers of the site. If you’re interested in submitting your script for an Amateur Review, send it in PDF form, along with your title, genre, logline, and why I should read your script to Carsonreeves3@gmail.com. Keep in mind your script will be posted.
Writer: Kevin Restler
Details: 103 pages

That e-mail really resonated with me. My best friend married this girl and I bought them a $400 dollar painting specifically because she liked it. 8 months later she’s banging some doofus at work, leaves my best friend, AND kept the painting. And I’ll tell you what. I was furious. It’s one thing to steal things from the husband you left cause you cheated on him. But to steal from his friend??? That’s just low. This goes to show you, sometimes a query is simply making a connection with the person you sent it to. Not to mention I laughed a few times during the letter, which at least assured me that Kevin was funny. The question was, would he be able to handle everything else that goes into a script? Well, let’s find out.

Harold Zebulon has managed to turn his chicken franchise, Zebulon’s Big Ass Chicken, into a cash…err…chicken. In fact, so successful is his franchise that Saturday 3 a.m. Venice/Overland Carson Reeves mainstay (Jack In The Box) wants to buy him out. Harold’s not only rolling in the dough. He’s smothered in it.

The only downside to Harold’s life – which he fails to see as a downside – is that he’s married to Vanessa, the single biggest bitch on the planet. Take every bitchy ‘most popular’ girl at every high school across America, combine them, multiply them by 52, and you get Vanessa’s left pinky. Spend three minutes with this witch and you’ll feel smaller than that ant you just stepped on.

When Vanessa gets an audition for Alec Baldwin’s new reality producing gig, “L.A. Bitches,” she fucks him the night after and feels empowered enough to leave her husband (plus the only role left on the show is the “bitch divorcee” – and you can’t play the bitch divorcee unless you’re, you know, divorced). So she lets Harold know that it is Ov-Ah and she’s going to be taking half of everything he’s got.

After being consoled by his longtime cook and best friend Quentin, Harold gets a wild idea. He’s got 10 million bucks, of which he’ll have to pay half to that succubus. But if he had nothing, then he wouldn’t have to give her a penny! So what if he spent it all!? Quentin tells him it’s a horrible idea but the image of Alec Baldwin’s fleshy sweaty hairy body diving into his wife’s mystery area is enough for him to commit to the act.

So he hires Josilyn, the philanthropic director of his last TV commercial, to document this wild experience, and starts off by giving his nanny and all of her friends a mall shopping spree, where they can buy every and anything they want. This is followed by paying hundreds of thousands of dollars to his alma mater, USC, so he can be Tommy Trojan for a day. He gets his dream foursome together: Bill Murray, John Daley, Quentin and himself, to play a round of golf. And he pays a series of since grown-up childhood stars to make sex videos with him.

During this time, Josilyn becomes more and more upset that Harold is wasting his money, and tells him he should use it for more useful purposes, like actually helping people. After awhile he listens, and starts giving money to charities and churches and orphanages.

But just as he’s about to run out of money and complete his plan, Vanessa realizes that he’s actually worth more to her as a husband than an ex-husband, so she changes her mind and decides to STAY with Harold, which of course totally sucks because by this time, Harold has started to fall for Josilyn. Whatever will Harold do? Will he find a way to divorce Vanessa and be with Josilyn? Or is he stuck in this miserable matrimony forever?

Half of Nothing is an interesting screenplay. I definitely think there’s a movie here – a modern day nod to Brewster’s Millions. But for me personally, I had a hard time with the comedy. Those who read the site regularly know, I’m not a “cruel” humor guy. And the humor here is pretty cruel – sometimes relentlessly so. Vanessa isn’t just a bitch. She’s the most evil awful vile human being who’s ever walked the earth. All she cares about is being a super-bitch, and I don’t think it works.

I have this theory that you want to make your bad guy bad, but you don’t want to make them so bad that they’re beyond the realm of believability. Once you do that, they’re no longer a real person – just a writer’s combination of the most evil things they can think of. People aren’t mean to be mean. People are mean because they have issues going on in their lives that bring out that anger. If we don’t see some of that, even in a comedy, it’s hard to believe that the character is real.

This also leads to the question, why would Harold be with Vanessa in the first place? I mean being with someone who’s bossy and selfish is one thing (Ed Helms in The Hangover). Being with the Evil Empire is another thing entirely. You have to explain why your supposedly smart savvy protagonist would choose to subject himself to a life of torture.

I’m also going to make my plea one more time to comedy writers. One out of every two comedies I read nowadays has a celebrity showing up in them. It’s just a way overused joke. And even if this weren’t a common trend, is it really a good idea? It seems like anybody can write, “Sam Jackson comes in and steals Joe’s coffee.” The joke is too easy – too obvious .  I’m not saying nobody else will like it. The right celebrity in the right scene could be hilarious. I’m just warning you. I see it way too often.

I think the script also gets lost in places. For example, Half of Nothing is about a man willing to sacrifice all his wealth to spite his wife. Then halfway through the script, it becomes about giving to charity and helping people out. What does that have to do with the concept of getting back at your wife? It just feels like a random choice, which results in an unclear vision. This is a place where a solid theme might have helped, so you could make sure everything in the script revolved around that theme.

I thought Josilyn needed work too. I was just discussing this with someone during a script consultation. When you have a romantic subplot, you have to nail two things. First, you have to give us some backstory on the love interest (in this case Josilyn). We have to feel like she’s a real person. That she’s got her own unique life. The only thing we know about Josilyn is that she’s a director and likes to give to others.

Next, you gotta give your two leads “moments” with each other. Something unique and interesting that we see them share together. Make fun of Titanic all you want. But those characters had memorable moments at the front of the boat, drinking below deck, drawing naked pictures of each other, running through the boiler room, having sex in a Model T Ford. Those moments ensured that when you needed to believe they were in love later, you believed it. Cause you experienced all those moments with them.

Now I know Half of Nothing is a simple comedy. But you still need those moments, and you need that backstory for Josilyn. Otherwise the character feels thin and by association the love story feels thin.

Like I said, the idea here is a good one, but the execution isn’t there yet. When rewriting this, I’d start by not making Vanessa so cruel. I’d make her more conniving, a gold digger who married him with the express intent of divorcing him a year later for half his money. No emotions involved. It’s pure business to her. This is what ignites his ire and convinces him he needs to prevent her from getting a penny.

I’d also find a better way to bring Josilyn into the story. Looking for someone to document his antics is kinda thin. Maybe he hires a lawyer to make sure that everything he does cannot be recouped or reclaimed by Vanessa, and that lawyer is Josilyn. That would make more sense. Then, drop the whole Josilyn wants to help the world thing. It feels out of place and forced. Focus more on her displeasure with her own joy-sucking job – being a divorce lawyer (her job has made it so she doesn’t believe in love). Maybe Harold is able to open her up and she starts believing again. That’s off the top of my head but you get the idea.

Anyway, this wasn’t for me but I think it has potential!

Script link: Half of Nothing

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

What I learned: When you introduce a potential love interest, it’s a good idea to describe them as attractive, even if it’s just a quick adjective (pretty, cute, hot, sexy, beautiful, gorgeous, attractive). That simple description clues us in that we should be thinking of this person as a love interest. I know it sounds silly but I’ve found when you don’t do that (here, Josilyn is described only as “smart & L.A. savvy”), it can be hard for the reader to mentally move her over into “love interest” territory.

When you decide to jump into this unpredictable chaotic world of screenwriting, the first thing you’ll want to do is write some scripts. Bust out that copy of Final Draft and write whatever story pops into that dysfunctional little noggin of yours. Doesn’t matter if it’s not commercial. Doesn’t matter if the idea gives your Grandma gas. Doesn’t matter if it’s a 90 minute action film about parking your car. New writers are blessed with a wonderful gift. They’re not going to show their scripts to anybody. Not yet anyway. That comes after a few test laps around the track.

However, once you’re ready for the race, it’s time to start thinking about which avenue gives you the best chance of breaking in. Everybody has their own path. Everybody “makes it” their own way. But what I’ve found is that there are a lot of talented writers out there who aren’t making it because they keep banging their heads up against the wrong door. When you’re jonesing for some ice cream, you don’t head over to the nearest Pizza Hut, do you?

The most common way into the business is still a good writing sample that gets you heat from low level agents, managers and producers, which gets you into meetings, which allows you to pitch other projects and interview for assignments, which allows you to start working, which – voila – makes you a working writer. However, let’s face it, that path is the least fun to walk. And it takes so damn long. So let’s discuss four quicker ways into the business and see if your style matches up with that avenue. If it doesn’t, you may need to reevaluate if the direction you’re taking is the right direction for you.

I’ve read a lot of Black List scripts and there are two common traits that permeate through the ones that end up on the coveted list: quirkiness and cleverness. The people voting on these scripts are used to reading the poor man’s versions of all those stinkers you see in the cineplex. That’s like trying to find refreshment in those generic supermarket colas (“Premium Cola!”) as opposed to drinking real coke. And you wonder why readers have a reputation for being bitter. Because of this, Black List readers like to be caught off guard. They like to be surprised with something as far away from the Hollywood groupthink as possible. A small-town butter-carving competition? They’re in. A depressed man who speaks through a British-accented Beaver puppet he’s found in the garbage? Touchdown. A serial killer flick about a guy who talks to his pets…and they talk back? Oh yeah. This is the place for all the future Charlie Kaufmans, the disciples of Michael Gondry, the guys who build “best of” Spike Jonez Youtube compilations. There are other ways to make this list for sure, but if you’re quirky and clever, if those are the kind of scripts that emerge from your hard drive, then the Black List is your destination.

There’s a little crossover between the Nicholl and The Black List, but the Nicholl, more than any other screenwriting avenue, gravitates towards depth. They want their scripts cerebral. Period pieces about the human condition, a recent politically charged event, a dark exploration of characters facing death…this is what these readers like. Theme is also a huge component of a Nicholl-winning script. If you aren’t trying to say something with your story, if there isn’t a moral or a statement about humanity, then chances are your script isn’t going to do well here. And that’s great for writers of slower character-driven screenplays. Because if it wasn’t for the Nicholl, there’d be no place where these writers could find acceptance. So stop sending that script about an 1875 Scottish wake to Michael Bay. Save yourself the trouble and enter it into Nicholl.

Selling a script for a million bucks is getting harder and harder to do these days, and usually only happens via high-profile agents who can use past sale prices from their top-level clients to negotiate that elusive seven figure sum. But does that mean we’re just going to give up? Hell no! Big price tags have notoriously come from four genres: Thrillers, Comedies, Sci-Fi and Action (and sometimes Horror). Why? Because these genres are the most receptive to the high-concept, and high-concept is still the most important component to making that big sale. If you don’t have a big idea, drop your dreaming ways and enter the Nicholl instead. High concept has been debated to death but basically, you know you have a high concept if you can put it on a billboard and people everywhere will get excited to see your movie. A bachelor party where they lose the groom told as a mystery the day after? High concept. A CIA spy who doesn’t know that they’re a double-agent (Salt). High concept! Someone keeps reliving the same time loop over and over again (Groundhog Day, All You Need Is Kill, Source Code)? High concept. If you’re hoping to sell your script for a lot of money and you’re not working with a big idea, you’re proverbially banging your head up against the wall, keeping your career in check!

What if I told you you could write a script that was guaranteed not to net you a single penny? Do I have your attention? Probably not. But trust me, you’ll wanna keep reading anyway. There’s a secret way into this screenwriting business and it’s through the back door. I’m talking about the “viral” script. Viral scripts have been around a lot longer than “viral” became a media buzz word. You might remember Blockhead about the Peanuts gang all grown up in New York, smoking pot and fucking each other like nobody’s business. Or Passengers, where the writer decides to tell the story in the first person. Or Van Damme Vs. Seagal, about the two once-famous action stars warring with each other in modern day L.A. The common thread here is that none of these scripts can be made into movies, one because of copyright issues, one because the actors would never agree to it, and one because the main reason it’s such a good read (that it’s in the first person) doesn’t translate to the screen. But each of these scripts received a ton of buzz, and really what it comes down to is getting your name out there so you can start getting into rooms and pitch your backlog of projects. This avenue is for the craziest of the crazy, the weirdest of the weird. If you’re a little bit nuts or notoriously think outside of the box, this is definitely a direction you’ll want to consider. A word of advice though. Make sure you have a couple of “real” scripts already written and ready to go when you write your viral script (they should preferably be in the same genre). There’s no use going through all that effort to get some meetings if you don’t have any product to sell.

I run into a lot of writers who don’t have a plan – who fall in love with their well-written but ultimately unmarketable script and haven’t yet figured out which avenue is their way in. As a result, they cling to scripts that don’t have a lot going on in them. I call these: “nothing happens” scripts. The most common “nothing happens” genre is the “coming-of-age” story. We all write them, particularly early on, but this genre is notorious for creating scenarios that are completely devoid of drama and conflict. Characters sit around and philosophize about life (“Death is like so…complicated”). 25 year olds are bitching about how difficult their life is (They’re 25!). There are no character goals, no point to the story, no forward momentum, no interesting situations. It’s just talking heads. Talking head talking heads talking heads talking about…whatever the writer thinks is interesting. And yet we write them. Why? Because that’s generally how our 20s go. If you want to write a character piece, that’s fine, but make sure there’s a hook to it. Everything Must Go is essentially a coming-of-age story, but it’s one with a clever hook – a guy is kicked out of his house so he starts living on his front lawn. I think the lesson here is, try to be exploring some unique angle in your screenplay – whether it’s the style, the hook, a character, a subject matter, the point of view, how you treat time – some aspect, no matter how tiny, that gives your script a uniqueness that sets it apart. Nobody wants to linger in obscurity but if you’re clinging to that idea where a bunch of people in their 20s are just trying to “make it in life,” there’s a reason no one’s responding to those query letters.

And that’s it folks. Now that you know which kind of scripts do best in which scenarios, you can start targeting that specific avenue. For example, if you’ve decided you’re a Black List writer, go back through all the old Black Lists and write down every agent and manger in the Top 30 and send them a query. And one more thing, which should be obvious but it’s worth mentioning. The caveat for all these scripts achieving their goal is that they’re well-written. They have to have structure, conflict, character development, sharp dialogue, story density. And they have to be good from page 1 to 100, not just in spots. So there you are. I’ve given you the blueprint for your success. What are you waiting for?

Genre: Drama
Premise: (actual logline from author) At the height of the 1970’s Bigfoot craze, an obsessed, lonely 9 year old boy living in the heart of Sasquatch country becomes entangled in a hoax which threatens to shatter his family, new friendships, and his innocent belief in the mythic creature.
About: Well if there’s any good to come out of this huge snafu, it’s that Amateur Friday may start living up to its name and become a weekly feature. So, if you’re interested in submitting your script for an Amateur review, send it in PDF form along with your title, genre, logline, and why I should read your script to Carsonreeves3@gmail.com. Keep in mind your script will be posted on the site.
Writer: Robert Ducey
Details: 104 pages – undated (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).

A few reasons why I went with this today. The first is that this is a logline that actually made it into my top 100 loglines from the Logline/Script Contest a year ago. I also liked the drama angle. Most Bigfoot-related stories are comedies so I knew I’d be reading something different. But what put me over the edge was the writer’s attitude. He just missed the Quarterfinals at Nicholl and wanted to know why his script didn’t stack up. What was it he was missing? He genuinely wanted to improve. On a personal level, I also wanted to find out if my instincts were right for not advancing this after reading the first ten pages (in the contest, after qualifying for the top 100 loglines, I read the first 10 pages of all 100 of those scripts, of which 25 advanced – Bigfoot did not). In other words, can a script recover if it doesn’t blow you out of the water with the first 10 pages?

Ben Whitcomb is a pale skinny 9 year old boy who lives in the heavily forested region of Portland. The only thing that gets Ben through the day is his obsession with Bigfoot. He religiously studies the famous creature, and has all the stories and books and articles ever recorded about the beast.

None of this is probably healthy, as Ben’s Blazers-obsessed alcoholic father points out, but his mom is a bit of an enabler, constantly encouraging Ben to do the impossible – find the mythical beast and become world famous – which propels Ben into his daily search for Bigfoot.

On one of these forays into the woods, Ben runs into Alex, an older boy with an attitude, and Tuan, who’s Ben’s age and from Vietnam. The two invite Ben into their game and soon Ben is telling them all about Bigfoot. The boys like what they hear enough to join the search, and soon Ben has himself a Bigfoot Team.

Eventually the three run into a scruffy smooth-talker named Reggie. Turns out Reggie’s father is the man who shot that famous Bigfoot tape, and Reggie believes with all the recent activity in the area, that he can find Bigfoot once again. Picking up on Ben’s excessive knowledge of the creature, Reggie asks the boys if they want to help him.

However Reggie has some weird tactics he employs to lure in Bigfoot, including creating huge footprints in the forest via large fake feet as sort of a mating call to the monster. Right away Ben’s suspicious of this activity, but he goes along with it anyway. Reggie’s later able to secure a camera from a local news station and shows the boys how to use it. Almost magically, the next day, when left alone with the camera, Bigfoot appears, and the boys hurry up to tape the creature.

But when Ben goes chasing after the creature, he’s shocked and horrified to see it jump into Reggie’s van and drive away.

 
Reggie submits the footage to the news and quickly he and the boys become local sensations and national stars. But Ben is plagued with the knowledge that it’s all a lie, that this isn’t the real Bigfoot. And for Ben, that’s what matters the most. He doesn’t want money or fame. He just wants to know – needs to know – that Bigfoot is really out there, that he’s real.

So when the story starts falling apart and the backlash threatens to ruin the reputation of everyone involved, including Ben’s family, Ben makes a last ditch dash to find the creature, and prove once and for all that Bigfoot lives.

All right. This is a tough one. It’s actually the toughest kind of script to analyze because the writing is really good. The characters are all interesting (especially Ben). There’s a strong goal. There’s ticking time bombs, real stakes, villains, twists, turns, a theme – everything that a good movie is supposed to have. And yet I still understand why this didn’t make the Quarterfinals. There’s something missing here.

And I’m going to be honest. I don’t know exactly what it is. But here’s where I think the problem lies. Sometimes you finish a script and you say, “That was pretty good.” But that’s all you say. You don’t have any intention of telling other people about it. It didn’t hit you hard enough to inspire you to do so. It’s like a comfort food. You wouldn’t travel into the city to get it. But if it’s there, you eat it and it makes you feel good.

We’ll start with the first ten pages. The goal with any first ten pages is to hook your reader. When your script makes it up the ladder and finally into the hands of the big players (big producers, directors, stars), the guys who can really make a movie happen, their time is short, so they’re likely only giving you a little rope at a time. They say, “I’ll read 5-10 pages. If I like it, I’ll keep reading.” And they’ll continue to do that throughout the script, extending another 5 pages here or 10 pages there, like those old arcade racing games where you received extended time every time you hit a checkpoint.

So you have to rope them in over and over. You have to keep things moving. And right away with We Found Bigfoot, I sensed that Ducey was unnecessarily drawing moments out. In the opening pages, Ben is watching a Bigfoot special. He and his mom talk. Then his drunk father comes home and wants to watch the Blazers, kicking Ben off the TV. This whole sequence takes 6 pages when it shouldn’t have taken more than two.

Here’s all you have to do.

Show Ben watching the Bigfoot show (establishing his love of Bigfoot). Show Dad come home and change the channel without saying anything (establishing he’s an asshole and doesn’t care about his son’s interests). Have Mom point out that Ben was watching something (establishing his mom’s support) and show Dad ignore her (establishing that he doesn’t respect his wife either). That can all be done in a single page and we know everything we need to know about this family.

Now that’s not to say you can’t get into a little more detail, but you have to be careful not to get into TOO much detail this early on because like I point out, you’re on someone’s leash. If you want more leeway, you gotta prove you deserve it.

Another thing that slows down this opening is the friendship situation. Before we can start the Bigfoot story (what we came here for) Ben has to first meet his new friends, get to know their situation, ask them to join his cause, and that takes a good 10-15 pages to establish.

Here’s what I always say. Establish relationships before the story starts if you can afford to so you don’t have to waste precious screenplay real estate doing so. In other words, why can’t Ben, Alex, and Taun already be friends? I understand that Ben is a loner, but you can establish a character as kooky/weird/an outcast and still have him have friends. That way we can jump right into them looking for Bigfoot together and not have 3-4 scenes where they have to build up that trust before doing so (and the reality is, even with all those pages, we still don’t have a good feel for Alex and the mysterious Taun).

Imagine Goonies if all those boys had to become friends first before they went on their adventure. Or imagine how much longer Avatar would’ve been if there hadn’t been previous diplomacy attempts between the humans and the Na’Vi before Jake Sulley got there (You’d have to create a whole additional sequence, for example, where Jake Sulley taught the Na’Vi English).

If the story is ABOUT the relationship (When Harry Met Sally), then yes, you want to wait until your story to explore it. But if it’s just one piece of the story, consider establishing it before the movie starts.

A couple other things that bothered me were first, forgetting to tell us what year it was. I only knew the time period (the 70s) because it was mentioned in the logline, but there’s no guarantee a reader will read your logline before they read your script. And this script reads WAY differently if you think it’s happening in the modern day than in the 70s. This is one of those beginner mistakes you never want to make because if a reader realizes you forgot something this obvious, they’ll know you’re an amateur, lose all confidence in you, and start skimming through the rest of the script to get through their coverage.

I also thought the dad was way over the top here. I liked that he had a clear specific identity (in his basketball obsession) but he’s so relentlessly cruel that he almost becomes a cartoon.

On the plus side, I really loved Ben as a character and I thought the theme of losing one’s innocence was well handled. This script is strongest when it’s focusing on Ben’s struggle, specifically when he knows his footage is fake and can’t decide what to do about it. Unfortunately this comes into the story too late. I would’ve liked that conflict introduced earlier and to have seen Ben struggle with it longer. Again, this is the strength of the script, so let’s milk it.

Developed with the right producer, We Found Bigfoot could become one of those PG family films with a moral that does well in the family demo. I just wish I had a better idea of why this was an “almost” screenplay and not a “have to recommend it” screenplay. So I guess I’ll turn it over to you guys. Maybe you can help Robert. What’s missing here? Ideas?

Script link: We Found Bigfoot

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read (very torn on this one so I’ll cheat)
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: I find that when you’re creating asshole characters – particularly fathers – that throwing in a positive trait to balance things out, or giving us some insight into why they’ve become the way they are – goes a long way towards the character feeling realistic. “All asshole all the time” never works.