The Single Screenwriter

It's A Wonderful Fight Club

2015-12-19T22:49:00.001-08:00

I just wanted to take a moment to say Happy Holidays to my readers. I've neglected this blog for months. I wish it weren't true. And I wish I could promise to do better in the New Year, but, hey, I've got several projects on the go that steal away all my precious blogging time, and besides, we all know New Years resolutions are made to be broken. But I will promise to try.

And as it is the giving season, I've put together a fun little mashup video. My gift you to.

Enjoy.

Your Screenplay Is Not Your Penis

2015-04-07T14:11:00.000-07:00

An article called, "Why Producers WILL NOT READ YOUR SCRIPT – shocking case study from one exec," is making the rounds on the internet, and details an actual exchange between a writer and an exec. In it, we get a front row seat to one very long, brutal act of career suicide.

Like many of you, I could barely get through it, and later had to have my anal sphincter surgically removed from my stomach after it had made the long crawl through my bowels and intestines in an attempt to hide from the mortification witnessed on the page.

It must take a spectacular cocktail of mental disorders for the writer to commit career suicide like this, right?

Wrong.

I've given enough notes to know that this reaction from script writers is all too common. Hell, it can be seen on an almost daily basis on any public scriptwriting board. Any critique, any rejection, large or small, is met with wildly out-of-proportion rage/pleading/denial/crazy-making justifications/psychotic rants/melt downs/{insert anything but a professional thank you here}.

Sure, a solid argument can be made that anyone attempting to get into screenwriting must have some sort of serious mental disorder, but the ones that actually make it, learn to overcome it, or at least get it under tight control.

If you recognize yourself in this post, frequently find yourself lashing out against rejection, feel the entire industry is against you and that nobody knows what they're talking about, and/or haven't yet managed to reel in your personal brand of disorder enough to graciously accept rejection, this post is for you.

Your screenplay is not your penis. Stop reacting to rejection or critique like it is.

Stop it. Right now!

When someone passes on your script or points out its weaknesses, they're not that girl laughing and pointing when your drop your pants.

It's not personal. It's business.

So why would you shove it in somebody's face and insist that they change their mind? Doubt that would work for your penis with the laughing girl... you'd look like a world class jerk, and could possibly get arrested. So why would you think it's okay in business?

We all believe in our scripts. Of course we do. But like your penis, your script won't be everyone's cup of tea. I don't care what kind of tricks it performs or how spectacular it is. Hell, it could have the ability to bring about world peace - doesn't matter. Some people just don't get turned on by what you've got. Deal with it.

I repeat, it's not personal.

I get that you put your all into a script, and rejection is hard. It hurts. Just like your penis, you want everyone you show it to, to love it and beg for it, and ask for more. But it ain't gonna happen.

But unlike your penis, which you're stuck with for life no matter how much you spend on those spam email products that promise to improve it, your script can be reworked, improved, and transformed into something better.

Show some class, folks. Be professional. Use rejection to get better, work your ass off, and one day you might just have the script that makes everyone else whip out their pages and try to measure up against.

*****

And to those of you this post in no way applies to:

You're awesome! Stay classy and keep up the good fight (and feel free to forward this to those jerkwads who need to hear this, 'cause unfortunately, we all know a few of 'em.)

Tired? Frustrated? Ready To Blow Your Screenwriting Brains Out? This Is For You

2014-02-20T14:56:00.000-08:00

For you, baby

Due to the overwhelming popularity of my previous post, it has become painfully clear that screenwriters struggle with motivation, and really appreciate even the smallest crumbs of encouragement. That is so wrong!

We shouldn't have to crave crumb-sized morsels of motivation doled out as occasional recognition for all the hard work we do, we should be showered with buckets of the stuff at every turn. The long hours that stretch into days, weeks, and sometimes months of isolation, the dedication, the struggle, the strength of character, the mental prowess, and the sheer force of will; every last one of these things deserves to be recognized - nay - lavishly celebrated. Your praises deserve to be sung from the highest of mountain tops, damn it!

Some of us are lucky enough to have one or two, maybe three, cheerleaders who get it, but many more are doing this alone, against the odds, with nothing but a bunch of other writers and a dream to keep them going. That is grossly out of proportion to what we actually do. Sure we get the recognition when we make the sale or get the gig, but where are our crowds of cheering fans that keep us going while we do the actual work? Where are the announcers giving a play-by-play of every brilliantly executed reversal, every spectacular line of dialogue, every brutal scene cut? Where are the groupies who faint as we pass them on the long walk from our bed to the laptop? Where is our royal treatment?

We deserve it, damn it.

And it ain't coming any time soon, so this will have to suffice. Enjoy.

(Play full-screen, max volume for full motivational impact, baby!)

Lovingly prepared by

The Single Screenwriter and Trailerworks for screenwriters everywhere

Music: 'Mechanolith', by Kevin MacLeod.

Voice: Mike Elmore

For a full list of credits for the amazing photos used under CC license, click here.

This video is made entirely of still photos with simulated movement using After Effects.

pic by Gueоrgui

Don't Think, Just Do

2014-02-08T13:13:00.000-08:00

Today is one of those days...

The thought of writing exhausts me. The thought of not writing depresses the living shit out of me.

The solution: don't think, just do.

Easier said, than done, right?

Well yeah, it really is. It's a skill that needs to be developed and takes a long time to master, just like any other part of the craft. And some days, just opening up Final Draft seems worthy of a medal.

I mean, really, on a day like this, you might be lucky to claw out one, maybe two pages. And they'll be crap. Why bother?

Well, you know what's worse than bad pages?

No pages.

'Cause all those other writers out there trying to carve out a career? They showed up for their scripts. They pushed through the pain. They pumped out pages. They trained 'til their eyes bled. They got better every single day.

The odds are tough in Hollywood. Writers trying to break in are up against maybe 50 thousand other writers. (In case you need to know the math, I pulled that very generous number right out of my ass, but it's half-educated. I vaguely remember reading that the WGA registers 50 thousand scripts a year. Some would be multiple submissions by the same writers, but other writers would never register, so I'm cancelling those out. So I'm sticking with 50 thousand, but feel free to double or triple it. My upcoming point is still valid.)

Yeah, those are pretty steep odds, even factoring in that a huge bunch of them suck. But think of those crazy kids halfway around the world competing in the Olympics right now. Best of the best. Those kids over in Sochi, they beat out millions.

Unless you grew up in L.A., you were probably the only kid from your school who grew up to be a screenwriter. Compare that to the number of kids you knew who were into organized sports. And every one of them, at some point or another, dreamed of gold. Endless hours of practice, aches, struggles, and heartache, endless gallons of gas burned up by suburban stretchmark covered moms with muffin tops carting them all over hells-half-acre for competitions. And most of those kids never made it out of the small leagues. Hundreds of thousands of wanna-bes in every city everywhere showing up day after day, year after year.

You think you got it tough with your odds? Try making it to the Olympics.

Get out of your head. Stop finding excuses, feeling sorry for yourself, or boohooing your odds. You have to fight for the chance to get good enough to even have a hope-in-hell of making the cut. You have to show up.

It's like Nike says, JUST DO IT.

Yeah, yeah, writing's not a sport. But it takes the same commitment, passion, drive, discipline, blood, sweat, and tears. And bonus; your career isn't over before you're out of puberty!

I'm shocked Nike hasn't designed a line for screenwriters - expandable waistlines, cushioned ass padding, extra pockets for ~~flasks~~ notepads, programmable shoes that automatically deliver you to the fridge and back at regular intervals. It's a goldmine! For all 50 thousand of us... which isn't a big market, and is clearly the only reason they haven't tapped it.

Risking life and limb by speeding down a giant chunk of ice at 200 miles an hour is child's play compared to diving into the razor sharp rock infested landscape of your subconscious. Sure, you may never have your mug on a cereal box with a medal around your neck, but if you show up, you just might see your name on the big screen.

To me, that's worth the fight.

cover photo by Evil Erin
body photo by Teppo TK

Late Night Confessions Of A Story Addict

2014-02-01T15:53:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my office

I was soaking in the tub the other night, letting my mind wander as I worked out a nasty story issue.

Yes, I'm one of those few writers whose personal hygiene actually improves while in the thick of a project, simply because I do my best work submerged in bubbles. You would think that would be a good thing, but six or seven hours a day in the tub is hard on the water bill, and even harder on the love life... unless you're really into giant prunes... but I digress.

So there I was in the tub, praying that the water-heater gods would replenish my paradise with steaming hot goodness, when pieces of the current story puzzle clicked together in a massive brain explosion of epic proportions. Thoughts were coming fast and hard, and like bad spaghetti and too much tequila, they needed to be vomited out. NOW.

I'd long ago learned the hard way that laptops and tubs don't mix. (Don't ask.) But did I claw my way out of the tub, stumble naked and cold down the hallway, risking slippage and neck breaks in the process (don't ask about that either), all in order to catch the massive spew of bullets my synapses were firing at a million rounds a second?

Hell No!

I simply flailed my arm over the side, and grabbed onto one of a number of legal pads close by. Yes, many a scene has been written with my arms dangling over the side of that tub. And although some have occasionally accidentally taken a bath with me (much like many a book), all were salvaged.

I once briefly considered making notes on the iPhone, but my texting skills suck, and besides, I was smart enough to know water and phones probably mix just about as well as water and laptops, and only slightly better than water and cats. (Don't even think about asking about that one.)

So there I was spewing notes, water sloshing everywhere, my hair perched on top of my head like a ratty bird's nest, when I was hit by a rare glimpse of myself from the outside. And it wasn't pretty.

That one glimpse was all I needed to know with certainty that I'm an addict.

My drug of choice isn't booze or pills or hookers or food. It isn't even stupid Facebook games with cutesy names and irritating notifications. (Although I have been known to indulge in a few of the above occasionally.) My drug of choice is story.

It's taken over my life. The evidence is everywhere. Coat pockets full of scraps of notes, pens under the couch cushions where there should be loose change, bedside table spilling over with legal pads onto the floor, purses crammed full of notes written on overdue bills (sometimes in eyeliner), and don't even ask about my car (uhh... but if you need a lift somewhere, I need at least thee days notice and a couple of moving boxes). And that's just the stuff you can see.

It's friggin' ugly.

But can I really call it an addiction?

Let's see... I wake up in the morning thinking about it, I go to bed thinking about it, and everything in-between is organized so I can indulge it.

Does it impair my judgement?

Of course not! Except for, well, that one time, out of desperation and lack of a pen, I wrote notes on my thigh in lipstick while driving in heavy traffic. But only that one time. I swear! Uhhh, okay maybe it does mess with my judgment a little.

Does it interfere with my relationships?

What relationships? I have none, specifically because my addiction makes me a miserable asshole. Unless, of course, you like having some stranger you haven't seen in days wake you up at 4 AM by bouncing on the bed because they just typed 'FADE OUT' and want you to come play with them.

I couldn't give it up if I tried. And I did try once. My world collapsed around me. It wasn't pretty. I wasn't pretty. In fact, I was downright ugly.

And this got me thinking about addictions. Maybe we're all addicts, all slaves to something. For some, it's booze or crack or sex, for others, it's fame or community or the security of a two car garage.

For me, it's story.

Not sure if it's healthy, but the way I see it, addiction doesn't have to be bad. If you get addicted to the right thing, you may just be okay.

Okay, so maybe that's a justification play right out the the addict's handbook, just so I can get my next story fix with a clear conscience.

So what? That's what addicts do.

I'm a story junkie.

I hate it. It makes me miserable. And I wouldn't give it up for anything.

pic by Lotus Carroll

And The Winner Is...

2013-09-21T13:57:00.000-07:00

NOBODY!

YOU ALL SUCK!!!

Actually, you're all very wonderful for having participated in this little experiment, and I thank you all immensely. I wish I could give each and every one of you prizes, but the pickings are slim. I've got a first born, a mentally challenged dog, an overweight cat, and an overweight ex I can offer up to anyone who wants 'em... although the last would be more of a curse than a prize. Regardless, I promise I'll get better sponsors next contest. (I'm thinkin' chocolate or booze...)

The guesses have been all over the board, which suggests that gender is very hard to discern from word choice alone, probably too hard for anyone reading to even bother trying, unless the script is god-awful. This is good news. We can all go back to embracing the hard truth that we may, in fact, suck, rather than wondering if rejection comes as a result of wearing our gender on our word sleeve.

Although this study was just for fun, it would be interesting to see what would happen if all samples were taken from the same genre, and further, what would happen if samples were taken from a genre typically considered male (horror, action) versus a genre seen as female (romantic comedy, drama). Would it make a difference? Who knows.

Without further ado, here are the results of Find The Female. (If you have no idea what Find The Female is, stop reading immediately and go here to test your skills before reading the results below... or don't. See if I care. Cheater.)

FIND THE FEMALE ANSWER SHEET

Sample page (click for full view)

Guesses

Actual Gender

Sample 1

Female 13 Male 5

MALE

Sample 2

Female 11 Male 7

FEMALE

Sample 3

Female 9 Male 9

FEMALE

Sample 4

Female 15 Male 3

FEMALE

Sample 5

Female 4 Male 14

FEMALE

Sample 6

Female 7 Male 11

MALE

See?! All over the place.

Granted, these results are not scientifically valid in any way, shape, or form. The simple fact that you knew this was a gender thing before reading the samples, skewed the results from forever being valid. But screw scientific standards. We're gonna take 'em on face value.

What do these results mean? I could do an detailed analysis of, say, why number five was incorrectly viewed as male most of the time, while number one was incorrectly viewed as female, or perhaps a study of why number three was viewed as gender neutral, but it would all be sheer ~~bullshit~~ speculation on my part. I'd much rather hear from you. Anyone have any theories? And to those who actually offered guesses, anyone care to share their reasoning? Was it word choice? Subject matter? Characters? Description? You talking through your booze soaked ass? Something else?

What I found more intriguing than the results, were the reactions of the writers themselves. The males were almost gleeful when they were mistaken for women, while the women hated being seen as female. I have several thoughts on this, but that's a whole different blog post. (Although perhaps some of the writers might care to weigh in on this.)

Shout-outs to Luis Gonzalez, Loops, and Jen Westcott for getting 5 out of 6 correct. Bravo!

And a special thank you to all the writers who offered up pages. You are all brave and wonderful. Feel free to come forward and claim your page if you so desire.

Funky pic by gioiadeantoniis

Let's Play 'Find The Female'

2013-09-16T10:45:00.000-07:00

Are your words letting your gender show?

Gender inequality in Hollywood? Say it ain't so!
Damn, I wish I could. When it comes to screenwriters getting access to Hollywood, I have been known to regularly spout stuff like, "Don't worry about access. Write a good enough script and it will find its way in." But when it comes to gender inequality, I'm a woman, so it hits a little close to home.

Gender inequality is a hot topic right now. Well, it's always been a hot topic, but until recently, the 'hot topic' label only applied because of the massive explosions it set off in vastly male dominated screenwriting groups everywhere each time some woman dared bring it up. The good news is, that seems to be changing.

I'm not posting to debate the question of gender inequality. There is no debate. Don't believe me? Check this out: Go Into The Story posted stats back in June on spec sales broken down by gender, and it was depressing. For a more in-depth look, check out this Women And Hollywood piece. Then, if you still don't believe that screenwriting sexism exists, feel free to stick your head in a microwave. (Seriously, we can debate the reasons all you want, be there is no denying that it is real.)

Yes, this stuff is depressing, but it's also good. It gets people talking, and discussing, and cursing, and screaming, and denying, and debating, and making jokes, and it's even inspired Mystery Exec on twitter to start a movement aptly named #BeTheChange that encourages writers to create believable female characters with actual depth rather than just boobs and rape trauma. With all this attention, gender inequality is no longer Hollywood's dirty little secret. It's out in the open, and exactly where it needs to be in order for change to occur.

But what exactly needs to change? Is it a 'Boy's Club' thing? Is Hollywood simply a reflection of society? Does it boil down to money and women not wanting, or being able to, write what the market demands? Is it just a feminazi plot to spread lies in order to take over Hollywood? Is it simply that women tend to have integrity and won't write crap to make a sale? I could go on and on, and honestly, it would take a PhD in gender studies and at least five years of research to come up with anything close to a decent answer.

I don't have that kind of time. What I do have, are many opinions, which I, of course, am sure are 100% right, but that's beside the point. I'm not writing to share them, or attempt to sway opinion. The links I offered above are a good start if you want to educate yourself about sexism in the industry, or check out this post over on Alice In Actionland. If you're reading this, I assume you're at least halfway intelligent and can form your own views ~~on this very real, serious, universally damaging issue~~ without help from me. Me, I prefer to deal by keeping my head down and writing kick-ass scripts, still half-under the naive delusion that my work is not cut off at the knees when competing against male written scripts simply because I happen to have ovaries and a vagina.

So why am I writing about gender inequality? It pretty much boils down to the same narcissistic reason everybody puts stuff up on the internet: someone pissed me off. And when I'm pissed off, I do what any modern gal does; I turn to the masses to weigh in and hopefully prove me right... that is, if I can call the handful of people who read my blog a mass.

See, I recently sent a trusted beta-reader a piece of work I was particularly happy with. I've known him forever, and he's the first to see every draft, outline, treatment, logline, grocery list, and death threat I put together. He's heard me pitch the worst crap, as well as the occasional gem. And he's not afraid to tell me which is which. I don't always listen to him, but I do trust his opinion. And it's an educated one. He's a director who's been around the industry block long enough to have seen and given notes on more than his fair share of scripts, so it's not like he's talking out of his ass.

The point is, he's well respected, and when he gives an opinion on all things film related, it's probably wise to listen.

But he's also my brother. Which means I occasionally have to call him out when I think he's full of shit.

Which brings us to the point. He took a look at this recent creation of mine, and he loved it. Thought it was my best work to date, yada yada yada... I should be thrilled with high praise from one who rarely gives it, right? RIGHT?!

But there was hesitation in his voice. This is from a man who doesn't hold back. So I pushed. "Spit it out! Is it the story? The characters? The structure? The pacing? Some little plot point I left hanging? Too much sex? Too little violence? A funny Freudian spelling mistake? What? WHAT?!"

Then he said it.

"You write like a girl."

WTF? Me?!

I get off on guns and fast cars and violence and robots and explosions and loose women and testosterone fueled blockbusters. He should know. He exposed me to all of that stuff by introducing me to the magic that is movies.

When I was done chewing him a new one, he explained that he wasn't talking macro - concepts, characters, plot - he was talking micro - language, word choice, phrasing.

Yes, women use more words than men in conversation, and in writing (as evidenced by the shit-ton of words in this very blog post), but in all things screenwriting, economy is key. I've learned that the hard way (my first script was 125 plus pages - YIKES!). If a word doesn't need to be there, get it the fuck out. My scripts are lean, mean, and slick.

But do I write like a girl? Does the simple choice between 'he zipped down the hallway' versus 'he dashed down the hallway' reveal my gender?

He was very confident that, if he read my work blind, he would be able to tell it was written by a female, and more boldly, that female writers are generally easy to spot by their word choice alone.

Holy shit! If he's right, the implications are HUGE!

I don't buy it. So I'm calling a tentative BULLSHIT.

I wanna know what you think, and I wanna put it to the test.

It's time to play...

I've asked some screenwriters to offer up one sample page to be posted blind. Among the six ~~victims~~ ~~crazy mofos~~ ~~masochists~~ writers are award winners and produced writers, so it's safe to say they've all developed a high level of word choice skills. But does word choice reveal their sex?!

In the samples below, I guarantee that there is at least one male writer and one female writer. Other than that, I'll say nothing. Can you guess which ones are male and which are female? I want to see how accurately people can judge sex with out-of-context random pages based on words alone.

What do you win if you guess correctly? Bragging rights, baby! And maybe a shout-out on Twitter.

And if enough people guess, I'll post the sexes for the world to see (and if the writers want to come forward and claim their page at that point, cool!)

RULES

1) Post your guess in the comments

2) If you know the writer and/or the script, don't ruin it for others by posting identifying info. Keep it to yourself and be smug in the knowledge that you'll get at least one correct.

3) Discussion in the comments is cool, but sexism can be a highly charged topic, and I'm trying to learn something and keep this somewhat entertaining and fun, so please be civil.

Sample 1

Sample 2

Sample 3

Sample 4

Sample 5

Sample 6

Click on the above samples for a full page view

So what do you say? Will you help a girl out and hopefully prove the theory is bullshit?! God help me if it's not. I want to keep believing that any rejection that comes my way is due to the fact that I suck rather than the fact that I have boobs and a vagina and write like a girl.

You Want The Notes?! You Can't Handle The Notes!

2013-08-18T14:52:00.000-07:00

We've all been there.

So you got back some bad notes on your script. I'm not talking slap-dash notes that tell you nothing, or notes that make you wonder if the note-giver even read the script. I'm talking about notes that are absolute shit, delivered with one sole purpose: to rape your spirit, rip out your intestines, and piss on your still-twitching corpse. Notes that make you wanna kill.

You wanna rip the ~~asshole~~ ~~egomaniac~~ note-giver a new one, cut him down a peg, teach him a thing or two. And that's if you go easy on him.

Well lucky for you, I have the perfect response when you're faced with notes like these. I suggest you cut and paste. You'll need to use it often.

Ready?

Dear {insert evil note-giver's name here},

Thank you so much for your notes on {insert your masterpiece of a script title here}. I appreciate the time you took to read and critique it, and I'll give serious consideration to your notes as I tackle the next draft.

If I can ever return the favor, please let me know.

You're awesome.

{insert your name here}

Yeah, yeah. Not what you were hoping for. Too bad. Suck it up.

I don't care how bad you think the notes are, if you're a professional (you are a professional, no?) there is NO OTHER ACCEPTABLE response. Burn them in the privacy of your own home. Buy a sex doll and dress it up as the reader, then beat the crap out of it behind closed doors. I don't care what you do in private, but don't argue, justify, or tell off a note-giver for any reason whatsoever!

Are you always going to get good notes? Hell no! Too bad. Be professional anyway.

There seems to be a plague of bad manners and an unbelievable lack of professionalism going around town that's reaching epidemic proportions. Over and over again I see fellow writers and other industry peeps reeling from backlash over notes they gave. These people aren't bad note givers or assholes out to get innocent little writers. They are professionals who know their shit and took the time to do someone a solid. I would be over-the-moon thrilled to get feedback from any one of them, even if it was, "Holy God! This was so bad, I stopped at page 10 and used the rest to wipe my ass."

And if I received the above note, my first reaction wouldn't be to label the note-giver an asshole. My first reaction would be to take a serious look at my script to figure out why they couldn't get past page ten. Seriously, I sought out their opinion for a reason.

If you're screaming, "BUT THE NOTES I GOT SUCK" at the screen, this post is for you. If you assume all notes that suggest more work needs to be done are bad, you're not ready for notes. Sure, the notes you received may very well be wrong, misguided, terrible, evil, or anything else you want to call them, but that is NEVER an excuse for unprofessional behavior. Suck it up. You'll get good notes and bad notes and everything in between for your entire career. Get used to it.

I give good notes. I know that. I wouldn't be shocked to find my note-giving prowess and contact info scribbled on bathroom walls. I don't suck. Contrary to the tone of this blog, I am actually quite gentle when giving notes, while being 100% honest. I take the time to identify the strengths and weaknesses of the script with concrete examples, and my one focus is always what the script needs to make it better. (And I've read some pretty god-awful scripts. Hell, I deserve a medal for some of the notes I've given.) Compared to some of the people I would kill to get notes from that I mentioned above, I am pretty much the Mother Teresa of note givers. And even I run into this problem. I'm more than willing to discuss notes I give, and am happy to offer suggestions. but...

If you think I, or anyone who gives you notes, is full of shit? That I have no idea what I'm talking about? Don't recognize your brilliance? That's perfectly fine with me. Just keep it to yourself. Telling me just pisses me off and guarantees that I'll remember your name, and not in a good way. Do you think anyone taking the time to read your script will EVER recommend you for anything, EVER want to work with you, or EVER consider hiring you, if you can't take simple notes with a little bit of class and some grace?

Grow up! If you can't handle notes, don't ask for them.

Note: I've already written about the different kinds of peer notes you can expect to get - the good, the bad, and the downright ugly - and how to take what you need from them and ignore the rest. (If you want to read that gem, it can be found here.) Clearly the last bit about how to respond needed to be said again.

Appropriate pic by Evil Erin

Script Shock AKA WTF Did I Just Read?!

2012-11-11T21:16:00.004-08:00

Typical Hollywood Reader

You've nailed your characters. Your concept is off-the-charts mind-blowing awesome sauce. Your pages read like butter.

None of this means a rat's ass in hell if you don't know your story.

If you haven't yet guessed, this ~~rant~~ post is about story, or lack thereof. But more importantly, it's about the power of story, and the enormous potential for pain and suffering it holds over every reader's head.

You think I'm speaking metaphorically. I'm not.

It's called script shock. It is a very real, but as of yet, medically unclassified, life threatening condition. (The Medical Association really needs to get on that.)

When someone goes into shock, it means one of two things:

1) a psychological condition arising in response to a terrifying or traumatic event

OR

2) a life-threatening medical condition that occurs due to inadequate substrate for aerobic cellular respiration. (Try saying that fast three times. Yikes.)

One has nothing to do with the other (unless you're having a really bad night), but what is interesting, is how the two provoke very similar physical responses. Stuff like the ability to communicate, comprehend, respond, or even feel pain, are all deemed to be unnecessary by our bodies in a last ditch effort to either keep us alive or keep us sane.

Someone in shock may appear to understand words, and may even be able to repeat them back, but trust me, it's nothing more than a couple of random synapses shooting off a Pavlovian response in much the same way you respond to your significant other when they ask if they look fat in those new jeans.

You shut down. Your body or brain is so traumatized and overloaded that nothing gets in or out. And that's the good part.

Way too many scripts inflict this same level of trauma. They shut down the reader faster than a screwdriver can take out an eye socket, and judging by the insane number of really bad scripts out there, the odds are, your script might very well be one of them.

It ain't bad formatting that gives readers brain bleeds. The problem isn't crappy characters. It's not dull concepts, or questionable genre choices. All those things suck to read, and may push even the sanest of readers to commit random acts of perverse violence that they really shouldn't be held accountable for in a court of law. Really. These screenwriting acts are terrible, yes, but they don't kill. They don't plow the reader down like road kill then stop to suck the soul out of the lifeless remains by unleashing an unrelenting, seemingly endless lack of story that never really goes anywhere and never seems to end and barely makes sense and when will this hell end, please God, mercy... (Okay, so I've read one too many bad scripts this week, most of which weren't my own. Sympathy cards and bottles of single malt scotch will be willingly accepted from those wishing to express condolences.)

Where was I? Oh yeah.

Script shock. It's the number one workplace killer among script readers of all ages. And the only known cause?

No story.

So, do you know your story?

I bet you're a little more hesitant to answer yes now that you know lives are on the line. Never fear, the Single Screenwriter has designed a handy-dandy checklist. If you relate to any of the following, your script may be putting lives at risk.

Signs You Don't Know Your Story

You get all pasty, and your mouth works like a fish on dry land when asked what your script is about. (It should be an easy answer, people.)
You find that the average person is too stupid to grasp your complex story. (Psst. Stop letting your personality disorder do the driving down Rationalization Highway and wake the hell up, jackass.)
You need a flowchart and a 45 minute presentation every time someone asks you what your script is about. (If you can't give it to somebody in under two minutes, don't bother giving it at all.)
You hide behind the term 'character driven'.

Okay, so your script's not some high concept plot driven crap that can be summed up in a line or two. Bullshit. A Boy and His Goldfish could be an excellent character driven script, but no one will ever read it if you meander on about the deeper meaning and symbolism when confronted with the inevitable question, "What's your script about?" All that does is forewarn the reader that you don't have a clue about your story.
You have no idea what story is.

a) A western is not your story.
b) Same goes for a one-legged call girl.

For the totally clueless, a) is a genre, b) is a character. Genres, characters, themes, settings, cool shit - none of this is story. Seriously, if I had a dime for every time I had to tell somebody that a futuristic dystopian society reflecting modern realities on the genetically modified Angus cow as seen through the eyes of a blind call girl might be very fucking cool and might very well be the one thing that makes your script great, but never, for a second, mistake that for your story, I'd be rich.

Sigh. There seems to be some confusion as to what exactly story is, so let's clear that up, shall we?

What Exactly Is Story?

Shit happens to characters. That's your story. If all they do is eat pizza while shitting symbolism out of their asses, then that's your story. It's not a good story, but it's story. Own it.

I won't get into what makes a good story, because that's a whole other post, and this one's already meandering around aimlessly much like most scripts I've read this week.

My only point here is please, save ~~my sanity~~ readers endless amounts of pain and suffering by making damn sure you know your story, and that it's actually on the page before sending it out into the world.

And if you, or anyone you know, show signs of script shock, seek treatment immediately. Repeated viewings of Die Hard with liberal doses of popcorn and tequila is the only known cure.

great pic by dimitridf

Can You Suck Just A Little Bit More, Please?

2012-10-23T13:52:00.000-07:00

I've been busy vomiting out a draft of my latest project, so my poor little blog has gone neglected. In spite of this, it's still received a steady flow of traffic. Regular readers checking for new posts, I get. People following links shared through various social network platforms, I get. What I don't get is the Google search traffic.

It never ceases to amaze me how many people find my little blog by googling the following search terms:

- Can I Write
- How To Fix A Bad Script
- How To Tell If Your Script Sucks

And my all time favorite:

- Does My Script Suck?

Yes. It does.

You suck. I suck. We all suck. Get over it.

People, I've been over this many times before. Asking the Google Gods if your script sucks will not make it suck any less. It's pathetic.

But I'll take pity on you because I've been there. (Not the googling part, because I reserve that for porn and buying tacky crocheted Buffy and BSG fan art off of Etsy. I'm talking about the sucking part.)   I'm going to let you in on a little secret that will save you years of grief, massive therapy bills, and an endless string of bad choices in sex partners. (Okay, that last one might just be me.)

The secret? You're supposed to suck.

Did you catch that?

YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO SUCK.

Fear of sucking is what drives us. It is the single biggest force behind our need to produce better scripts.

Your scripts are always going to suck. No matter how good you get. You'll write one. It will suck. You'll write another. It will suck. You'll write a few more and they'll still suck. But guess what? You'll go back to the first one... and it will still suck. But because you have time and experience at sucking, you'll be able to see exactly why it sucks and fix it. Then it will still suck, but at a much higher level. That's how it works. You could be pulling in seven figure deals and you'll still suck. But it will be worth seven figures.

When you stop thinking you suck, that's when you start writing garbage.

The danger is using your fear of sucking as an excuse to not write, or worse, getting trapped in the vicious cycle of suckage. I'm sure you've seen the cycle at work - those writers who rewrite the same single script over and over for years and decades, never moving on, never writing another script, never getting any better in an attempt to make their one and only suck less. It won't. You're not learning anything. You're just reworking the same pile of shit over and over.

Get out there and suck on something new. Revel in sucking. Pump out as many scripts that suck as you can. Accept that you're always going to suck and do it anyway. Do it 'til your fingers bleed and people are lining up to pay you to suck.

Just, for God sake, stop asking if you suck. Pros know they do, and own it. They use it as fuel to further their career. Stop wondering if you suck and just suck already. Don't waste valuable time asking Google for answers when you could be writing, 'cause while you do, those pros pump out ten Act Two pages and still have time left over to take a leisurely dump.

I'm going back to rework my vomit draft now, and hopefully I'm going to suck huge monkey balls.

But let me ask you, how often and how well, do you suck?

funky pic by lazurite

Are Producers And Reps Spawns Of Satan?

2012-09-07T18:03:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Hollywood

I swear in this post. A lot. I'm in that kind of mood.

You have been warned.

********

Producers 'n managers 'n agents. Oh my!

Who are these mystery men of Hollywood? Well according to popular myth, producers are the money-men who constantly get in the way of artistic vision, agents are the sleazy used car salesmen of the film industry, and managers?! As far as anyone can tell, they suck off the teat of artists, but no one's really 100% sure exactly what they do. And collectively, they all screw screenwriters. (They screw actors and directors too, but mostly screenwriters.)

These are the stereotypes, and they're bullshit.

Did you catch that?!

Bullshit.

Great producers, managers and agents aren't just the behind-the-scenes movers and shakers. They are true artists, no less valuable than great actors, directors, and screenwriters - and just as hard to actually find.

I may get some flack for calling them artists, but I stand by it. Can you put a project together, secure financing, recognize and bring in the precise elements necessary to bring it to life, juggle dozens or hundreds of cast, crew, deadlines, and tasks that all make solving world peace look easy in comparison... and actually pull it off against ridiculously bad odds?

Art, baby.

Do you have the balls to stake your entire career on a hunch that the one script you found, out of a sea of thousands, is not only the quality that studios want, but also timely, marketable, and irresistible? Are you that in tune with what strikes a chord with audiences?

Fucking art.

Is your eye so finely tuned that you can identify a mighty oak from a seed buried under six feet of shit, and have the balls to commit a good chunk of your heart and soul to nurturing it?

Fucking Picasso.

Seeing good reps and producers do their magic is a rare thing of beauty. But these professions are portrayed as the enemy, Satan's bastard children, a necessary evil. They're anti-artist, whose sole purpose is to throw monkey wrenches into the creative process, screwing everything up, and generally causing conflict.

D'uh. Of course there are conflicts. If there are no conflicts, people aren't passionate enough about the project.

Passion. The cornerstone of art. Never for a second think that reps and producers aren't as passionate as you are about a project. And with good people, conflicts push a project forward to a place where it's far better than it started out to be. And that's how it should be. A collaboration of artists where everyone just wants to make a fucking awesome movie.

These guys don't get enough credit for what they do. Sure, they might get a film credit, or a public thank you, or a nice bottle of hooch from the talent, and yeah, they get a paycheck, but really, they get the short end of the stick. Nobody outside of Hollywood gets to the end of a movie and says, "That was beautifully produced, or, "Man, whoever set that up was a genius!," or, "That career has been handled so well..."

These guys aren't grunt workers babysitting artists. They're an essential part of the artistic magic, without which, nothing would ever get made.

So why so much hate for these all but invisible behind-the-scenes artists? How can these wonderful, gifted people, be labeled as spawns of Satan?

It's simple. A truly great screenwriter is one in a million. So too is it for truly great producers, agents and managers.

And, like screenwriters, there are some truly bad producers and reps lurking around out there too. It's these bad seeds that fuel the negative stereotypes. Bad ones, screw you out of deals, don't negotiate in your best interest and can burn entire projects to the ground. They prey on naive screenwriters hoping to break in. They are nothing more than talentless hacks looking for easy money conning inexperienced wanna-bes with promises of fame and glory.

The Bitter Script Reader has a few good posts about this nasty breed here, and here. Read them. He is much wiser than I.

And there are some pretty basic red flags you can watch out for too.

1) Pros don't charge for reads. (They make their money from getting your script made, not raping your pockets.)

2) Pros don't require you to use services as a condition for getting read, or getting priority reads.

3) Pros avoid conflicts of interest. (ie: If he's repping you AND negotiating your deal?)

4) Pros don't charge for a chance to be considered for production.

5) Pros don't make your skin crawl or seem to have no clue about what they're doing.

If you come across any of these, or even the hint of any of these... Well, I'm not saying they're scum-sucking bottom feeders, but do yourself a favor and do your research.

No deal is better than a bad deal. And you owe it to yourself and your scripts to find the best pros possible to bring your work to life. If something seems too good to be true? It probably is.

Now back to the producer, agent and manager love. Next time you're blown away by a film, thank one of these guys. They deserve it. (And if they're cute, single, and look like Clive Owen, give em my number.)

Fab pic by Sweet Peas Photography

Premature Word Ejaculation

2012-09-02T13:45:00.000-07:00

Don't act like this is your first rodeo

For many, screenwriting is nothing more than a series of premature word ejaculations. You're hit by a brilliant idea, and in a fever inspired state, you race to get it into treatment form.
Boom. Wad blown.

You rush to bang out a first draft of the sucker. Boom. Another wad.

Rewrite. Boom. Scramble to get feedback. Boom. Another rewrite and polish. Boom. Then off to market. SPLAT!

Stop. Doing. That.

The point is, by the time your script is in the bag, you've prematurely spewed your creative load several times over. Your script is like a lady, and she deserves way better than that. Think about it. If your hot script got together with all the other hot scripts, those other hot scripts would tell your smoking hot script to dump your sorry ass 'cause you're treating her like a two dollar hooker turning tricks behind the garbage container.

Your script deserves a writer who takes the time to do things right and will get her where she needs to be, a writer with discipline and patience mixed in with that insatiable passion. When you spew all over her in a rush to satisfy your adrenaline fueled story desires, she ain't getting what she needs, and it sure as hell ain't your best. It's your creative spooge. And do you really want your reputation and career built on spooge? Do you really want everybody to think your wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am is the best you can do?

Nobody wants that.

Premature word ejaculation is the number one screenwriting sin. We're all guilty of it at some point. Some of us do it a lot. Some of us build entire careers on it. But it's still spooge. And the very worst sin of the premature word ejaculation kind, is the very first you'll be tempted to commit to a script.

The idea spooge.

The idea. That little thing that's not even a half-formed concept. It's just a spark. A scene, a scenario, a flash of images, a bizarre pairing, a single line of dialogue... something. Not quite tangible, like a trace of perfume in the air, or a glimpse of an inner thigh as legs cross. Some tiny magical thing that explodes in your brain as insatiable NEED.

A seasoned ~~lover~~ writer doesn't jump all over that need and bang the crap out of it then roll over and fall asleep. That's how you end up ~~a bad joke on a bathroom wall~~ in the slush pile. A pro knows that no matter how brilliant the idea may very well be, It's worth taking the time to explore and discover and build on. It's not going anywhere. There's no need to rush.

Sure, it's new and exciting, and the urge to throw yourself head over heels into it is over-bleeping-whelming, but now is the time to use every ounce of willpower you have. If the idea is truly brilliant as is, you may very well end up with a fantastic script even if you rush into it now, but... If the idea really is truly brilliant, isn't it worth taking the time to do it right?

Spooging locks you in and cuts you off from possibility. Don't blow your load just to get it down. Take the time to just be with your idea, get to know it, buy it dinner, try new and different things, experiment, explore. Invest at this early stage, and you may discover entire dimensions of possibilities you never even dreamed were possible, things that will elevate the concept to mind-blowing proportions. Things that you would miss if you spooged.

And by elevating things at this stage, you elevate the final product. And by elevating the final product (which, of course, was going to be brilliant as-is), you've made brilliance even more brilliant. And how can that be bad?

Seriously. Take time with your idea. Let it grow and form and build. If you do that, then by the time you're ready to nail the concept, it will be mind-blowing-eye-crossing awesome instead of just a boring moment of brilliant spooge.

So think baseball. Have a cold shower. Hold back for God or the Queen, or whatever it takes to get you to slow down. Like I said, the idea isn't going anywhere. It's not attached to a time bomb that will make it go poof if you don't spooge it out and get onto the next stage. Take your time. The life and death stakes should be in your story, not in your head forcing you to barrel through the process like a teen boy seeing boob for the first time. Your script has needs too. Take your time to meet them. It will make your script better. And it won't make the baby Jesus cry.

hot pic by Zawezome

Why You Will Never Make It As A Screenwriter

2012-07-31T10:39:00.000-07:00

You asked why...

You're too young.  You're over the hill.
You aren't committed enough.
The industry is in turmoil.
You don't write for the market.
You sell out for marketability.
Nobody is buying.
You're not a lesbian.
You're a woman.
You're a white male.
No one is interested in minority pieces.

You are void of talent. You don't know what you're doing. You're hard to work with. You don't stand up for your vision. You don't take risks. Your shit is too crazy. You don't follow the rules. Your scripts read like a screenwriting manual. You're cursed. You don't deserve a break. You don't have what it takes. You don't have an agent. You don't have a manager. You don't have a lawyer. You don't have any connections. You haven't won any competitions. All you've done is win competitions. Your stuff's too indie. You're not stable enough. You're boring. You have no standards. Hollywood is designed to keep you out. You have no balls. You don't live in L.A. It's all luck and you have none. You don't try hard enough. You try too hard. You suck.

Amazing pic by Corrie

WTF Is Voice? ...And Why You Should Stop Obsessing About It.

2012-07-24T14:24:00.000-07:00

MAKE THEM STOP!

Voice - Do you have it?
Every new writer struggles with this question. But before they can even begin to find answers, let alone develop their own, they have to ask...

Voice, WTF is it?

Simple answer - nobody knows.

You think I kid, but the industry joke answer is, "I have no idea, but I know a good one when I see it."

New writers know that voice matters, so they scramble to figure it out. Any and all pondering on voice inevitably leads writers to Shane Black as the shining example, so new writers litter their scripts with Shane Black-isms and hope like hell that passes for good voice. It really doesn't. You know those YouTube videos of tone-deaf teens covering their to-die-for-fave pop star flavor-of-the-week hit? The ones that get two hundred thousand hits because they are JUST THAT BAD? Your Shane Black imitation is worse.

So what is voice?

It's easier to define what it isn't. People think of voice as style, cadence, melody, attitude, and a whole bucket load of other stuff that it really isn't. Sure, this stuff can be used to describe a particular voice, but man, don't think of voice that way 'cause it's wrong and your script will read like a brain damaged monkey wrote it.

Voice is simply the thing that separates good scripts from great. It's the thing that makes a script read like butter. It's the way the writer chooses words and strings them together, the way they read, they sound, they taste, they evoke...

Blah, blah, blah...

I'll shut up already. None of this tells you what voice is or how to develop it, and it's enough bull crap to make a writer want to blow their brains out.

Don't do that. Please. There are bigger things worthy of mental breakdowns, like concept, character motivation, or what the hell to have for dinner. Concerns about voice should take up exactly zero percent of your obsession allotment.

Why?

Because it doesn't matter. Not that voice doesn't matter, because it really does, but obsessing over the development of your voice is an exercise in ~~stupidity~~ futility.

WHY?!

Because you already have one. And not just any one. A good one!

People can't teach you voice, or even define it, because voice is as individual as you are. Voice is the one piece of the screenwriting puzzle that can't be taught (unless someone somewhere is offering classes on how to be you, in which case, sign up immediately!). Voice is what makes a script uniquely you, and it's reflected in every word, every phrase, every script choice you make. It's already there, so stop worrying about it.

If it's not yet good enough, not yet to the point where people can pick up a script and right from page one KNOW you wrote it, and KNOW they need to read every last luscious word of that sucker, don't sweat it. Even when ~~assholes~~ very nice people say you have no real voice yet, there's no need to rush out and read every last thing written on voice and take a two thousand dollar voice development class. It won't get you voice any faster.

And please, for the love of God and all that is holy, ignore people who tell you to 'find' your voice. It's not lost, damn it. It's just camouflaged behind a bunch of crap that you've got to clear away.

Voice isn't developed. What's developed is everything around it. Write 'til your fingers bleed. Then write some more. Develop your craft. Nail that, and your voice shines through.

And don't even start with about with shit like, "Well different genres need to have different voices." No. They really don't. Do you act the same when you're on a pub-crawl as you do when you're at a funeral? God, I hope not. But guess what? They're both you. You're not one dimensional, and neither is your voice. So surf genres. Your style's gonna change (at least I hope, if you're doing what's best for the story), but it's still your voice.

There are so many elements behind a great script worthy of time, development, hard work, obsession, and a good dose of alcohol, but voice isn't one of them. Trust that it's there, and that it's good. It's the one element you don't have to worry about.

Like the day you woke up, looked at your life and thought, "Holy f*ck, I'm an adult! How the hell did that happen?" Same goes for voice. One day you'll look at your work and go, "Damn, that's good. How the hell did that happen?"

Until then, just write.

Cool pic by whatmegsaid

Does Your Script Really Need Another Damn Rewrite?

2012-07-15T15:45:00.001-07:00

Crayon pic by TheGiantVermin

It's arts and crafts day here at The Single Screenwriter. (I needed something low key as I recover from International Sleep With A Screenwriter Week.)

I was going to talk about rewrites. Not the actual process, which I covered in my post A Realistic Guide to Rewrites, but how to determine when enough is enough. Today's original post was huge and rambling and all-over-the-place confusing. At times, I didn't even know what the hell I was trying to say. It was ugly.

So to spare you the hours of pain trying to sort through ~~a crappy post~~ a difficult and confusing topic, I figured I'd ~~screw around on Photoshop all day~~ simplify the process by making you a handy dandy flowchart.

You're welcome.

Click this sucker for full sized glory

What Steve Said

2012-06-28T15:07:00.000-07:00

Not an actual pic of Steve

Today I'm going to treat you to some words of wisdom offered up by Steve Barr, a Hollywood veteran with 16 plus years under his belt. It's good. And it's important. And he said I could post it. And I'm too lazy busy trying to score writing to come up with brilliance of my own. So read his.

There aren't different rules for new writers than there are for professional writers. The way you become a professional is to write as well (and with as much voice) as a professional. If you try to write according to the rules that apply to newbies, your screenplays will read like a newbie's screenplays.

Here's the standard learning curve for new writers:

1- There are rules?
2- Fuck the rules!
3- I guess I'd better learn the rules.
4- I understand the rules.
5- The rules aren't helpful to me anymore.
6- Fuck the rules!
7- C'mere kid, let me teach you the rules.

Lots of writers think they're at stage 6 when they're really only at stage 2. But you don't start working at a professional level of craft until you've learned all the rules and internalized what they are and why they exist ... and then can break them with clear intention rather than out of ignorance.

If you want to read amateur screenplays, go to zoetrope.com or amazonstudios.com and start reviewing. That's also a good way to get feedback from other amateurs.

There are plenty of bad screenplays out there, and they can teach valuable lessons on what not to do. But you should be trying to write like the professionals if that's what you want to be.

You can find Steve on Twitter under his secret name @BarrSteve

'Nuff said.

great pic by Adam Rassalhague

Write What You Know... And Other Stupid Advice

2012-06-24T11:24:00.000-07:00

Future Screenwriter

Writing is done in isolation. It drives you batty sometimes. Like anything that bleeds, you leave a writer alone for long enough and they'll snap.

And snapping gets in the way of the writing, no matter what form the meltdown takes - deviant binges, forced stays in a luxury padded cell, swat team take-downs - so writers naturally seek out others to guide them through the madness and to give them solid advice.

But sometimes, good advice can do more damage than a mob of hormonal teens with no adult supervision and a supply of booze. Always take advice with a grain of salt. Hell, if the advice isn't working for you, dump an entire shaker of salt on the sucker and watch it writhe like a slug.

Here are the four worst offenders disguised as well meaning advice:

Stupid Advice Number 1. Write what you know

STFU with that. People as a general rule are boring as hell. And that includes you.

I know a whole heck of a lot about bone china, but my goal is to connect with the audience, not bore them to death. Sure, a china shop could be a good setting, and the knowledge could make for some quirky character bits, but please, unless you work for NASA, or have some awesome kick-ass job ~~in the sex industry~~ (which you don't 'cause you're a writer) please don't write what you know.

People don't go to movies to watch other boring lives. They want space aliens, or cool undiscovered viruses. Not lawn mowers and laundry. Sure, there was that one time back in school where you and your friends did that awesome thing that you bring up every time you get together and get drunk, but... It probably isn't that awesome to everyone else in the room, even with a good deal of embellishment. And besides, you've already used variations of it in three previous scripts. If writers stuck to what they knew, no one would go to movies. There would be no space cowboys, no secret agents, no world leaders, no sex goddesses with seven breasts. (Yes, some of these do exist, but do you think sex goddesses and secret agents have any time to write scripts?!)

Write what you don't know. It's much more interesting. And guess what? You already know everything you need to know about all the stuff you don't know, but you just don't know it yet.

Huh?

Listen, what makes a good movie isn't specific expertise in stuff like nanotechnology or world politics. That's just window dressing. It's called research. Any monkey with Google can do it.

What makes a movie worth watching is the universality of the human condition. And if you're human, you're qualified. Find the human element of the story and you can do whatever you want with it.

You're a single dad with a mundane job who hasn't had a date in five years? You, sir, are the guy to write that script about being trapped with a mutant kid on that distant alien outpost.

Spend your day in a cubicle wishing the girl three cubicles over and one down to the left knew you existed? You know way more than enough to write that superhero with the power of invisibility flick. Who gives a crap if you have no clue about the science that would go into designing an invisibility cloak. You don't need a degree in bio-nuclear mechanical electromagnetic particle physics to give yourself permission to write it.

And if you turn tricks to pay the rent? Ummm, I won't touch that one, but trust me, you're more than qualified to write one hell of a kick-ass script or several.

The point is, don't get hung up on what you don't know.

Go ahead. Write whatever the hell you wanna write about. Just remember to channel good ole' Joe Campbell and find the universal human element in whatever crazy twisted story you run with, then you'll be onto something good.

Stupid Advice Number 2. You can fix it in the rewrite

STFU. Yeah, of course you can fix it in the rewrite. Rewrites are for fixing!

But if these words are going through your brain in the middle of a first draft, it's usually a sign that something's really not working and hasn't been well thought out at all. For real. You can either figure out the big problem and fix it now - be it story, character, pacing, whatever - or take the easy way out and leave it 'til the rewrite to do the heavy lifting.

Do it now. Trust me.

Yeah, first drafts are usually crap and the magic happens in the rewrite, but man, give yourself a leg up and start with a solid foundation. You'll save yourself days, weeks, sometimes months, and cut way down on the number of rewrites if you fix it now. Otherwise, you'll waste so much time wandering aimlessly around making more problems as you try to fix crap you have no idea why you wrote in the first place, rather than using the rewrite for its real purpose - elevating and clarifying an already solid story.

On a similar note:

Stupid Advice Number 3. Just get it down

Again, STFU (see above). Yeah, sometimes this is good advice, but sometimes getting it down is exactly the wrong thing to do. Some concepts need to percolate. Build. Become more than they are. Sometimes you have to take the time to explore every avenue before just getting it down, because just getting it down solidifies a direction (not necessarily the best), and cuts off alternate pathways that could lead to brilliance. Sometimes just getting it down is settling for okay instead of pushing for great. Sometimes this advice is just plain wrong.

Okay, if you've been percolating for 5 and a half years, you're not doing it right. You may think your wonderful percolating brilliance will pop out of your writer womb fully formed and be able to walk on water, but really, you're just using the percolation thing as an excuse to procrastinate. And procrastination is just one of many forms of writer's block.

The above is usually followed quickly by this gem of advice:

Stupid Advice Number 4. There's no such thing as writer's block

Well, technically, there's not. But that doesn't stop millions of wanna-be writers from suffering from this phantom disease. In fact, there's a 50/50 chance that you found this post because you Googled looking for a cure.

But the thing about writer's block is, it's only a symptom of something else.

Fear.

Fear of success. Fear of failure. Fear of frog feet. Whatever. Something outside of your writing is scaring you, and messing with the pathway between your brain and the page.

And the thing about fear is, there's only one way to get over it. Face it. And by face it I mean slay the living crap out of it 'til it's nothing but a pile of blood and bones and intestines 'n shit. If you don't, you won't write. Simple as that.

It goes back to write what you know. (No, I'm not talking about that sweet collection of boogers you keep in a matchbox under your bed. I'm talking about what you know about the universal human condition 'n shit.) You may know jack all about medicine, but give your medical thriller a lead character facing a similar fear to your own, and voila! You'll force yourself to face your fear AND tap into the universal human crap that sells movies. Two birds. One stone.

(You're welcome. Expect my very over-priced bill for this therapy session in the mail.)

My advice when it comes to all this stupid advice? Simple. Embrace the fact that we're all totally messed up and human. Write what you want, how you want. Use the rewrites wisely to save yourself a page one rewrite or twelve. And forget about writer's block.

Or don't. Doesn't matter to me. Do what works for you.

Adorable pic by Brittany Randolph

When You Wanna Shoot Rejection In The Face

2012-06-17T10:42:00.002-07:00

Do you really wanna go down there?

If you've been feeding scripts into the Hollywood machine for any length of time at all, you are more than familiar with the vomit-inducing bitch that goes by the name of rejection. Hell, she's done things to you that would be considered illegal in at least seven states.

But you keep coming back for more.

You keep right on writing, perfecting your craft, honing your marketing skills, knowing that all it takes is getting the right script into the right hands at the right time. But all that rejection?! It still sucks nasty donkey butt.

I've been hard on you guys.

"Suck it up. You suck. Why did you think this would be easier for you?!"

There's a reason for that. And it's not to tear you down or to demoralize you, or to make fun of you for my own perverse pleasure (no matter how much that last bit rings true). I do it to give you insight into what you've actually stepped into, so you'll be fully prepared for the road ahead. (Not that I, in any way, have a clear view of the road ahead. Hell, if you're following me, I hope your life insurance is up to date, you own a chainsaw, and you buy tetanus shots in bulk.)

But back to the road. It's not a nice afternoon drive in the country with big easy-to-read road signs, clean bathrooms along the way, and a good supply of guaranteed-zero-nutritional-value road-trip food. It's not even a hard road that will tear the crap out of the underside of your SUV if you're stupid enough to drive on it. It's not a road at all.

It's a labyrinth from hell and rejection is your tour guide. It's a place where the rules constantly change, and every inch is rigged with deadly booby traps and torture devices that make Hellraiser look like a fun family film.

If it were just a matter of getting through the labyrinth, rejection wouldn't be so bad. There would be light at the end of the tunnel where, on the other side, everything would be flowers and puppy dogs once you fight your way through the demons and outsmart all of the tests. Only it's not a test. And there ain't no light. And rejection's still there.

Rejection doesn't settle for merely hanging out with beginners waiting to cull the herd with her razor sharp stilettos. She's in it for the long haul. She's in it for life. She doesn't go away when you land your first rep, or you have a script optioned, or you make a sale, or your script goes into production, or you win an award. She sticks around because she knows what you're only just now about to discover -- survive the labyrinth, go into the light, and BAM!, you find yourself in yet another labyrinth. It's harder, uglier, like a bad video game that never ends.

Sure, the scenery changes, and you think everything is hunky dory for a while, but rejection is still there every step of the way. You can't ditch her. And on some level you gotta like what she does to you. Really like it in a sick way. Or be able to flip it on its head and use it to fuel you on.

Rejection isn't just a challenge to be overcome in Level One. She's the Big Bad in a rigged game where she always wins.

She's easy to take at first because you're new and you expect her to show up. But after a script or twelve, you get to a point where you know what you're doing and you know you've got some talent. It's around this time you start getting read requests and you think things are going to get easier. COOL! You're going to be famous! Not so fast. Roll over and look who's lying in bed beside you. That's right. It's rejection. This is the point where you hear those words from bigger players, "What else you got?" You check your email three times a minute and convince yourself that your phone is on the fritz. And you wait. And you wait. Some contacts you'll never hear back from, others will politely decline with perhaps an invitation to submit in the future. And rejection scores yet again. And it's harder to take now because you've actually sweat blood and tears and various other bodily fluids.

Then suddenly you break through the secret wall you've been searching for --

"We love it! We want it! But --

And land right into the next labyrinth.

Producer notes, director notes, actor notes, notes from the kid in the mail room, notes from some guy you're not even sure is associated in any way with the production, rewrites, meetings, bending yourself into a pretzel to please everyone, maybe a paycheck, maybe not - all telling you it's not good enough and, oh by the way, YOU SUCK!

But, like we tell gay teens struggling to survive the hell that is high school -

IT GETS BETTER

Unlike what we tell gay teens, when it comes to screenwriting, the above encouragement is a total fabrication.

Next labyrinth - You get something made. You get a paycheck. Maybe it does well, wins an award, and you only have to take how much you suck from critics, losers, your wife, your kids, and half the people with an assh*le on the net who all think they could have done it better than you (the other half are too busy kissing yours.) Or it bombs, and you're only as good as your last picture and by the way, you SUCK!

Sure, the view is better when you get here, and having some coin makes it easier to distract yourself from the negativity. But is it really better?! Instead of a handful of YOU SUCKS, you now hear and see it everywhere from millions of voices. And if you're like every other screenwriter alive, you are always second-guessing yourself to the point where you'll be sitting at the red carpet premiere of your film still rewriting the damn Second Act in your head because you think YOU SUCK and could do better.

But writers have a secret weapon in the never-ending battle against rejection. It's called passion. We're gonna do it anyway no matter what rejection throws at us because... it's what we do. But it's hard sometimes. Like writing in a war-zone of soul scraping misery. Some days we should get a metal for just getting out of bed.

If you're having a day or year like that, pat yourself on the back for still being in the game rather than beat yourself up. Rejection is more than willing to do that for you, so why give her extra help?!

*****

Phew! I hope that long winded rant cleared up the fact that rejection NEVER STOPS no matter how good you are, how many sales you've made, how many produced credits you have -- It never ends. You're always hustling, working, trying to pull the next miracle out of your ass, and it's always going to be an uphill battle.

And that's a good thing. It makes you fight for it. It makes you want it more. It will eventually make you great.

BUT

(You knew there was a but, right...?)

How the hell do you deal with all this lousy cut-my-heart-out-and-violate-my-still-warm-corpse-while-also-putting-it-to-my-mother rejection?! How does anybody without going insane?!

No wonder there are so many whiny-bitch public meltdowns on writing forums. We're all friggin' walking time bombs. Try to avoid this ugly route. Please.

But in private? Breakdowns are totally cool and necessary. I'd go as far as saying if you don't have a good half a dozen a year, you're not working hard enough.

Family and friend support is great, but if they're not in the industry, they really can't relate.

Nurturing a vice sometimes helps. It won't get you anywhere, and may actually hurt you, but it will ease the pain (unless kinky pain is the vice you cultivate, in which case, carry on.) But eventually vices lose their pain-muting power, and melting down with only your vice for company only ends up eventually getting you committed for 72 hours. So what's the long term solution for a case of long term YOU SUCK?

You need a private (stress the private) support group or three full of writers. They get your pain. They've been bent over by rejection too. (She gets around. Bitch.)

Scream, cry, freak-out about how you have no clue how you're going to pay last month's rent (let alone feed yourself). Wail at the powers that be. Curse. Throw a pity party. Why not? You've worked hard and have taken the same YOU SUCK crap over and over, and smiled and liked it and asked for more. You deserve a safe space to work through the pain and frustration. And it's much cheaper than therapy.

And on the flip side, it's also a great place to celebrate and cheer on the small victories which are sometimes few and far between, but are big and should be celebrated, damn it!

Don't belittle your successes, and don't let rejection use nasty Jedi mind tricks on your spirit. Team up with fellow writers and take the bitch down (at least for a little while).

We don't write because we like it. We write because we were made to.

Screw rejection. She's a mean bitch, but she can't stop you.

Stunning pic by Luca Rossato

Screenwriting: Can You Break The Rules?

2012-06-12T15:07:00.001-07:00

Ascend to greatness or burn in hell?

So you want to try something a little unconventional with your script. I get that. Good for you.

But that little metal ball covered with three-inch razor-sharp spikes growing inside your intestines? That ball is telling you that maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you're not supposed to do whatever it is you're thinking of doing. Some vague memory of some rule written by some guru you read somewhere along your screenwriting journey is screaming that you're nuts to try whatever it is you're toying with.

Whatever it is, it's WRONG.

So you do what every other nimrod hooked up to the net does when faced with uncertainty. You Google.

Bad move. Bad on an epic scale. Just like when Google convinced you that your vague aches and pains were actually a mutated cancerous flesh-eating sexually-transmitted bacteria that left you with only 72 hours to live, so too will Google mess with the direction your script wants to take.

Maybe what you're toying with is a small thing like using WE SEE or CUT TO or (CON'T). Or perhaps it's something like using cover art, or starting with a quote, or channeling Shane Black in your description. Can you kill the family dog on screen in a G-rated film? Can you have more than one inciting incident? Are FLASHBACKS a no-no? VOICE OVERS? SUPER-MEGA-EXTREME-SMASH-CUT-TO-CLOSE-UPS?

And just like you'll get two million opinions claiming to answer what-the-hell that strange thing growing on your big toe is, you'll also get two million friggin' opinions on whatever the hell it is you're considering doing with your script. You'll lose days, weeks, maybe months combing through them looking for the definitive answer. Then you'll go ahead and do whatever it is you're thinking about doing anyway 'cause your gut says so. Or you won't and you'll always wonder if you could have pulled it off.

Don't give up on your idea, and don't waste your time sorting through the Google pile-o-crap answers. 'Cause when it comes to screenwriting, everyone has an opinion and all of them are wrong.

A simple thing like the use of WE SEE has robbed thousands of hours of precious writing time, both from the those beginners and pros weighing in on the issue, and from the poor schmucks reading endless pages of drivel looking for absolute be-all-and-end-all answers. This is time that will never be reclaimed. Time that should have been used for ~~surfing porn~~ writing. It's not worth it people!

Screw Internet predators. When your mom warned you about the dangers of the Internet, THIS is what she was talking about.

Your gut is telling you to try something outside of the basic screenwriting conventions comfort zone. YOUR GUT. Not the gut of some newbie quoting gurus, or the gut of some pro intent on shaping the writers of tomorrow with a sledge hammer for their own good, or even the gut of some sicko troll stalking screenwriting forums. Your gut (or your intuition, or instinct, or muse, or whatever you wanna call that hard-as-nails bitch who drives you crazy and is responsible for getting you into this business in the first place). It is telling you to go somewhere. Loud.

THIS is the reason you write. THIS is your raison d'être.

Why the hell would you give the opinion of some stranger on the Internet more weight than this?! (Trust me, if you do, your muse will never let you live it down and will chain you up and beat you senseless... and not in the fun way.)

But the gurus all say...! But the pros warn against...!

Sure! Listen to the gurus and pros you trust and have chosen wisely. They probably know what the hell they're talking about (unless they're preaching anonymously on public forums - Then you're an idiot and most likely screwed.)

But when it comes to your gut? Who cares what the gurus and pros all have to say. Your gut is telling you to go down a new path so you bloody well go. End of story. Your gut could very easily be wrong, and your experiment may end up being a colossal pile of stinky epic failure, but your gut is telling you to go there, so you gotta go. Maybe your gut just wants you to learn a crap-load of good stuff while going down the wrong rabbit hole, but you'll still learn a crap-load of good stuff. Much more than you would reading twenty-four pages of endless contradictory opinions on whatever it is you're contemplating. So what if you're not supposed to. So what if it's impossible, or wrong, or will make you look like an idiot. Maybe you're the one made to pull off the impossible, turn the rules on their head, and set the standards for the next wave of new writers.

Asking Google for permission to follow your screenwriting bliss is akin to taping a KICK ME 'TIL I BLEED sign on your ass for the whole screenwriting community to see. You have a wild and crazy idea that flies in the face of everything you know and/or suspect to be screenwriting law? Do it!

Worst-case scenario, you gotta rewrite and rework whatever disaster you created. But best case -- mind blowing awesomeness.

I could quote rules 'til your eyes bleed. And most of them would be solid and right for most scripts.

But the thing about screenwriting is, there really is only one rule.

DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO MAKE YOUR SCRIPT AWESOME.

Great pic by h.koppdelaney

Dance Like No One Is Watching (Even Though They Are, And They're Secretly Judging You)

2012-06-04T20:05:00.000-07:00

Is this you?

I was recently asked if, and under what circumstances, it was okay to tell a fellow writer that they didn't have the writing chops necessary to make it in the industry. My opinion at the time was uncharacteristically wishy-washy. Who am I to be a dream killer?

I'm not talking about bending your script over and critiquing the crap out of your work. I'm always down for that. I'm talking about crossing that fine line and growing a pair big enough to tell an actual person to their face that they should abandon their dream. "Sorry buddy. It ain't never gonna happen. You're just never going to be good enough."

I didn't think I had it in me. And I've seen some pretty bad writing samples.

Never fear. I've exorcized the wishy-washy demon, and am now fully prepared to pull a Simon Cowell on the next screenwriter who dares to ask if I think they stand a chance.

What brought about this massive change of heart?! What could possibly have convinced me to accept my destiny as Dream Killer?

Tutus. Yes, tutus.

I recently spent three and a half hours attending ~~the little known 10th ring of hell~~ the yearly right of passage that goes on in suburbs everywhere called the local dance school recital. I apologize to those of you who have witnessed one because right now your genitals are crawling up into your intestines out of empathy for my suffering. But for those of you who have never had the pleasure, I'll explain.

Every dance school puts on an end-of-year show where all of their students from beginner to advanced get to ~~torture~~ perform for their families, friends, and anyone else stupid enough to agree to go. Trust me, if your cousin's kid wants you to attend one of these events, run like hell. Yes, you'll simply love and adore the few minutes your cousin's brat is on stage, but for the rest of ~~eternity~~ the evening, you'll wish you'd stayed home playing with that do-it-yourself lobotomy kit.

So there I was, ~~ready to kill myself~~ enjoying the performances, when it hit me. Everyone on that stage dreams of making it big just like every screenwriter dreams of seeing their script on screen. Now I know next to nothing about dance, but after three and a half hours in that ~~endless hell~~ auditorium, I am damn sure I could pick out those few dancers who stood any chance in hell of making it with 110% accuracy. Did I mention it was three and a half hours?

Typical monkey brain sucking cuteness

Okay, that's not quite fair. The preschoolers need to be taken out of the mix, because they're just too young. They could rip off monkey heads with their teeth and suck the bleeding brains out of the neck cavity and still be adorable, so it's impossible to rate their talent (except that one kid who saw the audience and ran off stage screaming - You kid, made my night, and have one hell of a future ahead of you).

Once you eliminate the cute 'n cuddlies, you're left with the older kids, teens, and young adults. And at that point, it's a no brainer. Even a blind man could see that only a small handful of performers stood out - some as exceptionally good, and unfortunately others as painfully bad. (I mean really, if your kid wears tights ten sizes bigger than the rest of their class even though they dance 20 hours a week, you might want to encourage another dream or stop feeding them donuts dipped in bacon grease.) The rest of the pack are just plain mediocre. (Except for the one kid I was there to see. That kid was so brilliant that I'm shocked the performance wasn't mistaken for the second coming of Christ!)

Now the stand-out good ones?! They all have a shot. Clearly they have the talent and the passion, and if they can avoid burn-out, one or two might actually make it.

And the stand-out baddies? God, I hope they have a back-up plan.

It is very easy to spot talent (or the lack thereof). Same too with scripts. And I actually know something about scriptwriting, so why would I hold back?! I would never crush a kid's dreams (although it does sound kinda fun), but a screenwriter?! You're old enough to hear the truth.

Sorry. After three and a half hours, the nice Single Screenwriter has left the building for good.

I can hear you screaming at your screen now. "But... but... but the mediocre ones! Is it not possible that one could be a late bloomer and one day grow wings?" Sure it's possible, in writing and in dance, but look at the kids for about three and a half hours. Some of these kids have been dancing hard for 10 or 15 years, and are in very advanced classes. I know writers like that. If you're still mediocre after all that time? It's doubtful you've found your calling. And those good kids who have been good all along, now make your mediocrity look downright ugly next to them. Sure you can try, but you might wanna hang onto those sparkly costumes and fluffy tutus because they'll come in handy when you're turning tricks for food.

See, the thing is, talent is easy to spot, even in a beginner. But all the technique in the world won't raise you out of mediocrity if you don't have it.

And talent combined with technique?! That's effing magical.

If you're new to screenwriting, your script will most likely be very weak, but if you've got talent, people will see it. It will blind them enough to block out the kid with three left feet next to you with his hand down his pants. Shaky or not, I'd never tell you to get out of the game.

But if you've cut your teeth on many a script, you better have talent to back up the technique, 'cause after my three and a half lost hours, I'm more than ready to tell you to toss in the towel.

If you don't want to risk knowing that I think you should pack up your toys and go home, don't ask. (You'd be shocked at how many actually ask.) I have embraced my inner Dream Killer. Beware.***

***That being said, most people who actually have the discipline to finish a script, have some level of talent. So go ahead and ask. I won't bite. Unless you're wearing a tutu and giving me flashbacks. If worse comes to worse, you can always trade in your laptop for a nice pair of tights. I happen to know where you can get several pairs -- cheap.

Top Five Reasons Your Fledgling Career Is In The Crapper AKA Quit Your Whiny-Ass Bitching

2012-06-03T13:34:00.002-07:00

Don't be this guy

This is a hard industry. It chews people up and mangles them beyond recognition. So why the hell did you think it would be miraculously different for you?!

Yeah, yeah, your talent and mad skills should have separated you from the pack of wannabes by now, and landed you in a pool of glory and riches.

Sorry buddy. It doesn't work that way. I know too many talented people with mad skills exploding out of their over-ripe zits who still struggle every day in this business to believe in fairy tales.

There's no nice way to say it. It sucks to be a fledgling screenwriter. The trick is to channel that frustration back into your work to make it better, stronger, harder, faster...

Right there...

Don't stop...

Err, ah, sorry... Was channeling last night. Where was I? Right, turning that frustration into determination.

It's hard to do. But the successful writers do it. Less successful writers throw a pity party (usually on public forums) where they bemoan the industry and come up with very creative excuses as to why they haven't made it.    Don't do that. You look like an idiot.

Seriously, don't do that. I'm embarrassed for you.

You know who you are. You're easy to spot. All someone has to do is visit any public screenwriting forum and within 30 seconds, your endless whiny rants will be spotted. Not because they're so well written, but because they're everywhere.

Without further ado, here are the top five excuses people use to explain why they haven't caught a break. If you find yourself spouting any one of these, do us all a favor and get a friend to beat the crap out of you.

1) It's all luck.

Shut up already. I get it. You're feeling hard done by. Your work has been passed over and it's easier to blame the damn Luck Fairy for skipping over your house than it is to look at the possibility that your baby may not be good enough.

Successful writers make their own luck. It's called hard work and determination and more hard work. Writing, networking, getting their stuff out there. Drink. Shower. Repeat.

Chalking your failure up to bad luck may feed the endless hunger of your pity party, but it's insulting to any pro reading it who had to work damn hard to get where they are. And do you really want to insult people who could help you somewhere down the line?

2) I don't have the time/money/support of friends/family/goldfish to devote to my writing that these successful people do.

Boohoo. Whatever you're lacking - time, money, love, sex - get it, or accept that success will take longer for you. There is always someone out there working harder than you, under much worse circumstances. You wanna make it in this industry while supporting five kids by turning tricks as you watch the love of your life die? Then do it. Or do something else. But don't use it as an excuse. The person worse off than you didn't. And they just made a sale. No one is going to give you a break because of your circumstances. All they care about is what is on the page. So if your sob story is that good? Use it in your scripts and make a fortune, but don't whine about it.

3) I'm too old/young/far away/no connections/wrong sex to get people to take me seriously.

Is ageism/racism/sexism/nepotism/locationism/{insert excuse 'ism' here} rampant in Hollywood? Most likely. A good argument can be made for any of the above. But you know what breaks through the barriers? One effing awesome script. If you can write it, the rest won't matter. I don't care if you're a 72-year-old Asian from Antarctica with two vaginas. If your script is that good, people will pay attention.

But using who you are as an excuse? Not cool. Are you broken? Wrong? Do any of these things limit your ability to be brilliant? Of course not. So be brilliant. You're not going to change whatever you think is wrong with Hollywood until you're actually in there, so concentrate on being brilliant and getting in. Then you can take on all the wrongs of the industry from a position of power. It's a much better use of your frustration than pointing fingers that are sure to piss people off.

And if your complaint is that you're too young?! Go get laid. Live a little. And write some more. (Jesus, to have such problems....!)

4) People in the industry just don't recognize my genius.

Okay genius. Maybe you're 100% right and you need to dumb down your brilliance in order to have a career. Try it. Let me know how that works for you.

Or if you're very brave, and actually want to have a career before you piss off everybody even remotely associated with the film biz, maybe it's time to consider the possibility that your concept/execution/characters/plot/opening friggin' sentence isn't as brilliant as you think.

Oh, don't get me wrong. You very well may be genius and I should bow down before you and beg for your blessing, but if people ain't seeing it, the responsibility rests solely on your shoulders. Instead of telling your sad tale of brilliance ignored to anyone willing to listen to your drivel, perhaps it's time to devote your overabundance of brain matter to writing something us mere mortals can recognize as quality.

5) Hollywood isn't buying the stuff I write. My genre is wrong, it's not fair that some guy sold a crap 300 word story to Hollywood for millions, and that other guy wrote three words on a soiled napkin that went for 7 figures, and I can't even get reads on my completed script.

Market trends. Fads. Poison genres.

Again, boo-friggin-hoo.

You know how market trends change?! Some guy writes a phenomenal script outside of the current fads and BOOM, suddenly everybody and their grandmother wants the next found-footage-western-scifi-bromance.

Don't write for the market, and please don't whine about it when it bites you in the ass. Write a damn good script that people NEED to see on screen. Set the next trend and stop bitching about the current one.

******

This business is all about rejection. It's normal to feel any or all of the above in response to it. It's part of the grieving process, and something to be worked through. But please do it in private, or with a trusted circle of friends, and not out in public. Especially if you're stuck in the 'poor me' cycle for months or years. Your reputation in this industry is made long before your first sale. And do you really think someone is going to want to invest millions of dollars into someone who rants endlessly about the size and quality of their screenwriting dick?

Yes, these public rants are hella entertaining to read in the way a devastating car accident is fun for the whole family, but God, it's the same crap over and over again. Shut up already and get over yourself. Get drunk. Get laid. Do whatever you need to do to get over it. Then go write a better script.

fab pic by Jo Christian Oterhals

How to Polish Without Growing Hair On Your Palms

2012-06-01T10:13:00.000-07:00

So you've come to terms with the fact that your script sucks rotting dog carcasses. You've rewritten the crap out of it, funded your therapist's kids post-secondary education, allowed your poor personal hygiene to drive away everyone who might ever possibly love you, and maybe - just maybe - you've now come out the other side with pages that suck a little less.

So now what?!

You, my struggling screenwriter friend, are in for a treat.

Baby, it's time to polish that sucker!!

Mmmmmm... The polishing stage where you finally get to spring a mammoth hard on for your story all over again. It's been a long time - worse than most of your bad relationships multiplied by oozing STD's - so enjoy it. You deserve it.

And here's the kicker - a gem of little known wisdom that most people would rather you not know:

Polishing amounts to maybe a 2% change in your pages, but it can elevate your script to mind blowing heights.

And on top of that, it's hot and sexy and exciting and FUN! It's the orgasm you've been working so hard to reach. YEAH!

It may seem a little wrong at this point to spring some wood for your script. After all, you've taken her steel-toed boot to your balls so many times through the rewrite process, but don't let that stop you! Now is the time to nail her good and make damn sure she remembers you.

However, the only thing worse than an impotent screenwriter is one who blows his wad prematurely, so if you're not sure you're quite at the polish stage, go back to my rewriting post and go through the process all over again.

We're assuming here that you're coming into the polishing stage with a solid script. If you're not, all bets are off. You can dress up a donkey in fine lingerie, but it's still going to be a smelly ass. In other words, if the story, structure, characters, dialogue, pacing, subtext, and that partridge in a pear tree aren't solid, it's still gonna stink like cologne covered bad B.O.

You're still here? Okay, let's look at what exactly goes into a polish.

1. Word Choice.

First off, don't be afraid to be a word killer. The red pen is your friend.

Next, you've already taken great pains to make your writing visual. But is it the exact right visual? Is there a better word? (Note: There is always a better word.) Don't just think of word choice as the word with the most accurate meaning. Also consider how the word sounds and feels on your tongue, both alone, and with the other words around it. Does it mean the right thing? Does it sound right? Does it taste right? Reading your script should be like listening to good music, not the cat skinning sounds of your neighbor's kid and his doped up friends playing Rock Band.

And don't forget dialogue here. Each voice should be distinct, even when read out loud by the same reader to someone who can't understand a word of English. Is your dialogue that strong?

Word choice is where most solid scripts go horribly wrong. It's easy to pretend that word choice doesn't really matter because, hell, a script is just a blueprint for a movie. As long as the reader gets your point, language isn't THAT important.

Give me a break. Would you wear a Speedo to a business meeting or expect to get laid after spoiling your date with a Big Mac and fries?

Burnout after rewrites make this tempting, or maybe it's stupidity. Whatever your reason - Don't do it.

This is the fun part, and it deserves more time and energy than most people actually give it. After a ~~few drinks~~ while, word choice will become second nature and the process will be quick, but if you're fairly new to screenwriting, it's worth taking the time to do it right.

There is a danger here though. Because this is more play than work, ~~most of your blood is rushing to your privates~~ you're accessing a different part of your brain, and this is usually when you get hit by wild inspiration. You know, the kind that usually requires a page one rewrite to make work, and a shitload of hours, but will make your script kick major ass. It's very tempting to ignore these flashes of inspiration, mostly because you're so close to being done and you just wanna get it the hell over with and roll over and go to sleep already.

When you hit this point, ask yourself this - Is your script worth it? You've already invested more hours into it than all your real life relationships combined, so are you really going to treat your script like a cheap hooker now? If you do, you may get off but the reader sure won't.

Hitting this point sucks, especially if you have a looming deadline, but it always come down to one thing: ~~It sucks to be you~~ Is the script the best it can be? If you answer no, you have to go back.

Once you've orgasmed onto the page a few times, and taken the mess through the rewriting process, it's time to move onto the next polishing steps.

2. Spelling.

Spellcheckers don't work! Tattoo this to your forehead. They don't pick up silly typos like 'had' instead of 'bad', and if you rely on them, you deserve to look like an idiot for homophone screw-ups. If you have a 'too carrot' diamond ring in your script, you don't deserve to be taken seriously.

3. Formatting.

If you have no idea what correct industry formatting is, you're not at the polishing stage. Hell, you're not even at the first draft stage. But assuming you do, what you need to do in a polish is to make sure that you don't have any funky format stuff happening at page breaks. If you have a slug line at the bottom of the page, force it to the top of the next. Same goes for a dialogue header. Apply common sense.

4 - Final Read.

This usually translates to three or four final reads as you pick up stuff you missed the other times through.

That's it.

You're done. Congrats. Time to light up that stogie, get fall down drunk, whack off to thoughts of your 80 year old neighbor, or whatever it is you do to celebrate. But hurry up. There are more scripts to be written.

awesome image by Bronx
Originally published March 3, 2010

Procrastination Done Right

2012-05-30T12:36:00.000-07:00

Great pic by Rennet Stowe

It's Wednesday, and I'm feeling the overwhelming need to procrastinate. Fortunately for you, my OCD insists that I do something productive, so here I am blogging away for your enjoyment.

However, coming up with a decent blog topic that doesn't involve a midget, two buffalo, and a hand grenade, is too taxing on my brain. And after being flooded with read requests after my previous blog post, I'm reluctant to delve into all topics screenwriting. (It was a rant, people, not an invitation to face my one man firing squad, so stop throwing scripts at me like I don't already have enough to read and will gladly give up my apparently ample and worthless time for some stranger.) What was I saying? Oh yes. My feeble attempt at procrastination.

Today we're going to shake things up at Casa Single Screenwriter. Seeing as I'm too lazy to come up with something brilliant, I'm going to ~~mooch off of~~ shine the spotlight on the brilliance of others and give you some cool stuff to check out, just in case you too feel the need to procrastinate. I am officially dubbing today Kudo Wednesday, where I offer shout-outs to some writing peeps with recent (and not-so-recent -- I'm a bad friend) successes.

First up, Nancy Bilyeau, friend, author and fellow ~~sociopath~~ screenwriter, whose debut novel The Crown was released back in January. It's a historical thriller set in the Tudor era with graphic beheadings and lots of sexual tension (not at the same time, thank goodness!). If you've read it, you already know how good it is, and if you haven't yet, what the hell are you waiting for?

I'm too lazy to write up a blurb about it. That would be work. But I've managed to find the strength to grab the Amazon link. If you want to find out more about THE CROWN check it out here. And while you're there, buy it. It's that good.

Next on the list, Ryan Jackson (THE badass of badass writers highlighted in a post a few months back). Mr. Badass has signed with H2F (if you don't know who they are, you have no business being here), and is currently working on an uber-secret assignment. Okay, so it's not uber-secret, but it sounds so cool to say that. It's actually a kick ass werewolf movie called 12 MIDNIGHT For ARO Entertainment. Actually, that sounds way cooler than uber-secret.

Next on the list, Nancy Bilyeau (again). The Crime Writers Association has short listed THE CROWN for the 2012 Ellis Peters Historical Dagger Award. This Nancy chick is on fire!

Then there's Jules Howe. She won the Austin Film Festival Screenwriting Competition for Comedy back in 2010 with her fab script Jasper Milliken (I admit that I peed my pants a little when I heard the news). But that's not why she listed. She's taken that AFF winning script and set it up with Experience Media Studios, slated for production in Spring 2013. KUDOS!

Doug Solter, former Nicholl semi-finalist turned novelist, recently released his YA novel SKID about a teen girl racecar driver. The tagline is, "720 horses, 52 laps, 24 cars, 1 girl." You got a teen kid, you need SKID! Damn, I've got some talented friends. And bonus! If you go to his site, you can download the first five chapters free. (Warning: This his how they hook you. They offer you a taste for free. Next thing you know, you're hooked. You can't sleep without reading. You read everywhere. On the toilet. On the bus. Your life is no longer your own.)

Wow, this procrastination thing is starting to feel like actual work. Where was I? Oh yeah.

Next up, Nancy Bilyeau. Again. (She must be trying to make the rest of us look bad, or something). Rumor has it, a second book is in the works that promises even more violence, mystery and tension than the first... and can I dare hope... sex...?

And if that isn't enough, Nancy has one hell of a kick-ass historical epic mind-blowing action-packed script floating around town. Back off people. I get to say I knew her when first.

Then there's Mark Leslie. His novel I, Death (Atomic Fez) is slated for release this fall, but not to be outdone by Nancy, he also has his mitts involved in two other books: Haunted Hamilton (non-fiction - Dundurn Press - August), and Tesseracts 16: Parnassus Unbound (anthology, editor - Edge Publishing - October). And he's also on the cutting edge of all sorts of cool bookseller related stuff, so if you're into that, he's totally worth following on Twitter.

Next, Scott Mullen. He's one of the early success stories out of Amazon Studios with his film Touching Blue now in development with producer Denise Di Novi (Crazy, Stupid, Love., The Nightmare Before Christmas) attached. And as if he doesn't have enough on his plate, he also gives excellent script notes for very little cost, and looks much hotter than his blogger profile picture.

We can't forget to mention Matt Altman simply because he is one hell of a sexy beast (and he writes good words too). Did I mention sexy beast? You can follow his adventures in L.A. on Twitter @MattAltman2

BRAKE was released in theaters back in March, written by the very cool Timothy Mannion. He doesn't blog, so no link action for him (unless he does blog and he's simply blocked me, which is quite likely). Damn, I shoulda blogged about its release months ago. Action, terrorists, torture. What more could you ask for in a film?

Kudos to Mike Le whose reality show K-Town is launching in July! It follows a group of colorful characters from karaoke bars to night clubs as they discover themselves and what it means to be Asian American growing up in the 21st century. Check this the eff out!

And like the series Facebook page while you're at it.

Big news! HansCastorp has managed to exceed all of our expectations by keeping his hands out of places they don't belong (in public anyway). This means I may rethink that restraining order. Good job Hans! Keep it up! Gold star for you!! You rock!

Next, Joshua Staman's 'It Gets Bigger' campaign was a massive success (pun fully intended).

Crap. I'm forgetting people. I know I am. Damn, this procrastination thing isn't all I dreamed it would be. I'd rather be ~~drinking~~ writing. Someone remind me I never want to do this again, so I should get off my ass and give shout outs regularly rather than doing them all in one dump every few years! And if I forget, shoot me.

If I've forgotten you, I fully admit that I suck. It doesn't mean that I don't love you. (It might, but not necessarily.) It means that I'm tired. And crabby. And that I had absolutely no idea what I was getting into when I started what was supposed to be a fun little blog post. Feel free to beat me senseless, or drop me a message and I'll stick you up here with the other reprobates.

In the meantime, kudos to everyone! You're fantastically awesome. (And I'm not even saying that to get laid.)

Now screw off. I'm done with this procrastination crap. Leave me alone so I can write.

Fifty Shades of Screenwriting

2012-05-22T13:42:00.000-07:00

The Fifty Shades phenomena. Soft-core mommy porn. It's made a fortune, and will soon be coming to a theater near you!

I have less than no desire to read it. None. Nada. Zip. And what's interesting, is that the screenwriters I know, have no interest either. What's with that?!

We like sex. We're good at it. (Who is kidding who - we're great at it!) So why the lack of love?

At first I thought the reasons must be something practical like the piss-poor prose or the pathetic plot, or maybe something altruistic like not wanting to support the not-so-subtle message that no means 'dominate and conquer me with that big penis of yours' that fuels the rape culture in today's society.

As much as I'd like to believe that the lack of screenwriter love for Fifty Shades is based on something practical or noble, I've finally figured out that the truth behind it is much more sick and twisted.

Simply put, it does nothing for us because we live a hard core 'illegal in seven states you sick mofo' existence 24/7. And we like it. Fifty Shades is like a stale unsalted cracker.

You think you know sick and twisted? You ain't seen nothing yet.

Without further ado, I present:

Fifty Shades Of Screenwriting

It starts.

I find you.

You could be anywhere. On a bus. In the grocery story. Taking a crap. Twisting yourself into a pretzel as you attempt to pop that annoying lower back zit.

Suddenly I'm there. Nothing more than an idea. But you've tasted me now. You want more.

You know I'm big. You know I'm huge. You know I'll demand every ounce of energy you have and push you beyond the breaking point 'til you're nothing but a dried up useless shell. You don't want to go there. You're afraid. So you ignore me. Pretend I'm not there.

But you can't get away from me. I know your every move. There is no escape.

I follow you everywhere and see you when you think you're alone and it's safe to pick your nose. I know you better than you know yourself.

But still you'll flee. There is nowhere to run.

When you least expect it, I'll pin you up against a wall and demand your full attention. I'll push you down into your computer chair and chain you to your desk, where I'll force you to explore me fully.

You'll start, tentative, but knowing you must. There is no way out. You are resigned to your
fate as my keyboard bitch slave.

Your mental fingers explore my surface and wander upon... Could it be? Yes. It's an inciting incident. And it's hot.

You feel flush as my mere presence commands you to explore further, and characters begin to grow and my plot line gets hard.

But something's not right. The tension needs to build. Things need to move faster! Faster. Please, God, faster!

You beg. You plead. You bargain away your mother's soul, but I don't give in. I make you work for it. Work for it like the dog you are.

(Must pause here to ask, "Do people actually read serious shit like this for fun without first sustaining brain damage?!" My rant is done. Where were we...)

You fall to the floor, dragging your portable keyboard behind you, because you can't let it go. You know if you dare I will not be pleased.

Casually, befitting the insignificant piece of dog crap that is you, I give into your demands and reward you with what you right now most desire: an Act One turning point. YES! Spasms of ecstasy and agony course through your body, but it is not over. No. We are only beginning.

It is now that I reward you by showing you my massive ginormously epic Act Two.

"It's too big," you protest. "It's too much." But I make you work it. I make you worship every inch of it. You want it. You want me to give it to you bad. You want to know it, and own it, and posses it. But it will never be yours. You are not worthy!

But maybe... Maybe, if you're very good, I'll let you have it. Maybe.

So you work it. You try to be good. You try and try, until exhausted, you succumb to sleep, a thin line of drool pooling on the floor beneath your mouth.

I slap you awake. How dare you sleep when I have needs! You must be punished.

You have no concept of time now. It has ceased to have meaning for you. You want that midpoint so bad, but I deny it to you. I force you to go over and over the tip of my Act Two, circling and circling until nothing in the world exists for you beyond your need.

And when you think you can go on not one moment more, I plunge all of my massive Act Two into your quivering half dead body. And you scream out and beg for more.

You want my climax. You want it bad! But I don't give it you. No. You're not ready for it. You can't take it. Things need to build, build, and build to a fevered pace. Then I'll violate you in a new and unexpected way, and build some more.

And at the precise moment the neighbors bang on the walls to tell you to shut the hell up, I give you the full force of my climax, and the world as you know it l explodes.

You crawl away like half-dead roadkill, reach up and hit print. Then you collapse into unconsciousness, but before your head hits the grown, I'm gone.

It's over.

(At least until Fifty Shades of Rewrites)

Hope you enjoyed that folks. Go have a cigarette. Then do some sick twisted stuff with your script, the likes of which I couldn't even print here.

And please remember kiddies - sick, abusive relationships with your scripts are something I fully support and encourage. But if you ever meet a real life human being who treats you this way? Run, don't walk, away from it. Call the cops. Carry a bat. Do whatever the hell it takes to end it before it begins.

Will Suck For Cash

2012-05-20T13:47:00.000-07:00

Are you as good as this guy?

Last night I found myself out ~~on a day pass~~ on the town. (Yes, they do let writers roam about free occasionally. Perhaps even in your neighborhood. You conservative types may want to organize a protest against that once you've grown bored of the whole gay marriage thing... but I digress.) The point is, I found myself having YET another conversation with YET another writer who was totally and utterly blocked.

And I found myself yet again spewing the same advice I always spew -- Give yourself permission to suck.

We've all heard various versions of this theme: good writing is rewriting, it takes a million words to get good, nothing comes out perfect the first time, yada, yada, yada.

But people want to believe they're better than that. The rules don't apply to them. They should be crapping out brilliance. So they get themselves all tied up in knots and mentally constipated to the point where pulling out their own teeth through their rectum is an easier task than getting a handful of words down on paper.

Get over yourselves already! YOU SUCK! I SUCK! WE ALL SUCK GREAT MONKEY BALLS!

Sucking has a really bad rep. Like it's something evil to be avoided at all costs. I say, to hell with that!

Here's the thing; we've all heard that a successful screenwriter is the guy who ~~put out~~ didn't give up, and there's something to that. But the real secret to being a great screenwriter is simply embracing the suck.

Don't just settle for mediocre suckage. Go all out and suck with everything you've got. If you're worried about sucking, you'll never do anything but... But if you run with it, if you accept that everything you put down on paper will stink to high heaven, if you truly let go and don't give a flying f*ck, that constipated mass taking up all the creative room in your brain will come spewing out along with that pearl of brilliance you didn't even know was there.

You needed to suck to release that pearl, and you'll need to suck more to find the next one. And as you get more experienced, you won't suck any less. In fact, you'll suck more. But you'll do it. And you'll like it. 'Cause those pearls get bigger and more valuable with each massive load of suckage. If you don't need hip waders and a nose plug to do your rewrite, you're not doing it right.

If you're first draft pages don't make you laugh, cry, and soil your pants all at once, you haven't given yourself permission to suck.

But how do you give yourself permission to suck when it goes against everything every human being has ever been taught - potty training, a teacher's red pen, a lover's rejection, or a ruler to the knuckle (I'm looking at you, Sister Kelly from 8th grade...)?

Easy. Like masturbation, no one EVER has to know about it. It can be your dirty little secret. Hand out copies of your rewrites to people on the street corner, but that raw first draft of suckdom belongs to you alone. Let everyone think that you spew nothing but rare gems out of every orifice, but suck away in private. Suck your way to brilliance.

Appropriate pic by Kaptain Kobold