The Writing Week (Vol. 4) part 183 - What is Your Writing Process?

Some writers are incredibly picky when it comes to their process. They have to be in a certain seat at a certain desk, facing a specific direction at a specific time of day. They can only use their typewriter (or computer, or notepad) and can only write in two hour uninterrupted intervals. Music must be playing continuously, and the phone must be off. Others are complete free-for-alls in their approach - they will write when the mood strikes, wherever that may be, and will use whatever writing tool is handy.


For the most part, I land somewhere in between. I put in an hour a day (at least). Anything less, and I feel like it's been a waste or a sham - unless, perhaps, I was overly productive for 40 or 50 minutes. I generally write to music (soundtracks) and have a few go-to staples, along with a mix of some of my all-ime favorite soundtrack bytes. I write from home for the most part, though if I'm going out late after work but don't have time to return to Queens first, I'll bring my laptop to the office and get work done there after business hours. The time of day doesn't matter too much; I'm not really a morning person, so it tends to be in the evening. 


This week, though (when I got writing done), I worked wherever I could. I'm revising my Medieval spec still - just about wrapping up Act Two; however, I left a major sequence at the midpoint blank because I'm still not sure how I want it to unfold. Sometimes, when I'm doing a page-one rewrite, I'll literally start with a blank document. This time, I saved the script as a new document and and gradually working my way from page one back to the end, cutting, adding, and changing as I go along. Even if some of the scenes and characters get cut, I like bits of the description and lines involving them, so those parts are staying. It's also easier - I find - to move forward, even changing directions in the script, if I can continuously work off of what was there to begin with. Perhaps a strange approach, but I'm finding it effective, especially because I am not changing the pacing too much. 


At any rate, writing time was making itself pretty scarce, so I had to be flexible. I wrote on a bus down to DC for the 4th, which was a first. Then, yesterday, I spent two hours writing while on a plane en route to San Francisco (another first). It's amazing how much a set of headphones and the right volume levels can help one zone into the work and zone out everything else. And with little other time to write, those few travel hours were integral to furthering the script.


What's your approach - do you have any nonnegotiable essentials to your writing process?

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 141 - Positive Response from Agents and A New Approach to Writing

Three weeks ago, my post-Apocalyptic spec went out to a handful of agents at some of the largest agencies. Two weeks ago, all I knew was that one had passed. My manager didn't expect to hear much until after Labor Day, as most people were out of town for the end of the summer then. Last week, as expected, we got word from the other two we went out to initially.

I was thrilled to hear that both responses were quite positive. While I can't say who or where (though obviously I know both), I can say that these are agents at companies that any emerging writer would love to wind up at. If anything, they could be considered too big - in the sense that they would have other clients earning more and therefore more "important" right now - but that doesn't seem to be a concern in either case. The agents have teams working with them, and it's likely that there would be a few people handling the material. Of the two, we're still waiting to hear from one who liked the script, but recently signed a client writing similar work (which could be a conflict of interest). Either way, two people interested in the work and a few others we're hoping to hear from this week - some of which have La and NYC offices, which could be really nice. 

As the post-Apocalyptic spec slowly moves along, I've been getting further into the firefighter one, as well. It's been an interesting writing process for me, unique in many ways. I almost immediately cast my outline aside. Sure, I still open it each day and work by it - loosely - but it's definitely not guiding my daily writing. Rather, each day I sit down to the computer (which regrettably was not every day this week), I find myself carefully crafting the day's scene(s), unsure exactly what will come up in the action or dialogue. It's a much more painstaking process than I'm used to. Normally, I can produce 4 to 5 pages per hour-long writing session; with this script, my average has dropped to somewhere around 3. I'm not complaining by any means. At the same time, though, I can't say if that change in pace and approach is affecting me positively or negatively or differently at all. Nor am I sure quite where the change from. 

Last Thursday, I reviewed Richard Walter's Essentials of Screenwriting. Perhaps the lessons emphasized in that book are governing the new writing tactics. Maybe I'm subconsciously working from a place where I'm reminded of all the re-writes I had to do on the post-Apocalyptic spec and am trying to preempt them by being more careful in my first draft. Maybe it's a combination of both. Maybe it's neither. Either way, I'm eager to see how the draft turns out. It feels much more like I'm crafting a story now, fitting the puzzle together while at the same time allowing it to evolve as it needs to, as it organically should. I like it. I'm slower now, but hopefully, even if this draft isn't solid, this new method will prove to be.

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 136 - Take a Weekend Trip

This seems to be a summer of repeating patterns for me. I get a draft turned in. A week later, notes come back. I spend the next two weeks working on them - implementing the changes and then getting the draft to my producer so that she can look everything over. Then, just before I head out of town for the weekend - usually (this summer) to go back to Arlington, VA - I send the revised version of the script to the production company we're working with. This past week was no exception.

In mid-July, we went back to the production company we're working with (in a hand shake development deal) with what we were hoping would be the final draft of the script I've been working on since January 2008. Of course, that 2008 date doesn't represent unbroken work. I worked on it on and off since then, with the real big push beginning again in June of 2009, when an independent producer and family friend optioned it. In October, we made the above deal with a production company in LA headed up by an incredibly well-respected, multi-time Oscar nominated producer-hyphenate. Since then, I've been doing pretty consistent and intense re-writes. 

After this last draft went to the prod co, two other people in the creative department there read the script to make sure it held together for first time readers. For the most part, it did. They just had a couple questions - independent of each other - that because we received from two readers, we wanted to address before going to anyone else (i.e. people who have the authority to greenlight a project). So, last week was my time to put the final fixes (hopefully) into the script - remember, micro-surgery? - before moving forward. And, true to the trend, I wound up going out of town the following day for the weekend, which helped to get the script off my mind. In fact, I think I would encourage writers to take a weekend trip after submitting a script for a producer or agent's weekend read pile. 

At this point, we're waiting to see what effect the revisions have had. Ideally, they'll seem to work as effectively as we think they do. In submitting, I've gotten to the point where it's best that I submit two drafts - one clean, and one with revision tracking so that the production exec can find them quickly and better track them. I know that a lot of screenwriting teachers also instruct writers to never put dates on their drafts (so that agents/producers don't suspect they're getting a draft their peers passed on). Again, my drafts are going out dated, so that the producer and production exec I'm working with know immediately which is the most recent draft. When we go out from here, though, we might remove the date. Maybe not. Who knows?

Either way, it's a good time to resume lining up my ducks for next projects, as well as getting more info on the mechanics of a sale. The more I can go into this stage knowing, the better off I think I'll be.  

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 135 - Micro-surgery

Re-writes come in all shapes an sizes. They're reflected in new drafts that start on page one and overhaul the entire script. They can be the addition of some scenes, removal (or combination) of characters, or smaller edits to streamline action and dialogue. Re-writes can be everything between all of the above. They can also be, as my producer says, "micro-surgery."

Ideally, most writers get to the micro-surgery stage. Here, they're not implementing major changes - not to characters, the story, or the structure. Rather, they're focusing their attention on a handful of notes intended to improve the story by beefing up certain elements that might not be playing as successfully as they could or should. Perhaps a character is pining for his long lost high school girlfriend, but their relationship isn't as strong as it can be. A few well-placed, tactical extra details could add meat to their history and really connect the audience to the fact that this guy is still in love with Debbie Sue. A glance at a girl who looks similar. Accidentally calling someone by her name. A photo stuffed in his wallet that's caught only with a perceptive momentary glance. While readers might know that he likes her, sticking a few small, organic details like those in could really lock the audience in, emotionally. 

Same thing if your protagonist really wants to open a pizza shop, for example. Stock his home pantry with pizza sauces - or better yet, have him stirring a pot of his own when his friend comes by for their evening poker night. The small details that can hone the important elements of the script can up the stakes, remind the audience of why the characters are doing what they're doing, and drive the emotional resonance home. The way to implement these isn't through "band-aid solutions" (another of my producer's sayings). It's not the goal to just stick something on, to which the reader will think, "oh, this is an obvious flashback of Debbie Sue because we're supposed to care that they broke up against our protagonist's wishes." A sloppy fix will appear to be just that - a sloppy fix that's convenient, false, and unnatural in the script. Rather, the goal is to do micro-surgery; figure out ways and places to up the stakes and the impact of certain beats, and - most importantly - how to do so in ways that seem entirely organic to the story.

That is what I've been doing all week. Micro-surgery. For the most part, I think I managed to be pretty successful, too. When I went through the full script, looking for areas where a detail would fit naturally, distinguishing the right places from the wrong ones became pretty easy. Not only easy, actually; it became obvious. Of course there would be no thought of his beloved dog here - there's nothing to bring the memory into place, and he's dealing with something much more immediate at the moment. Here, however, it's almost hard to believe I didn't have an empty dog food bowl sitting in the corner. How obvious (and organic) an addition.

Now, I just have to hope that the micro-surgery was a success. Fingers crossed that there's little need to go back to the operating room for a while...

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 134 - Avoid the Band-Aid Solution

Last week at this time, I was hoping to hear back from the executive at the production company we're working with regarding a read-through of my post-Apocalyptic spec that two of her colleagues were doing. For the most part, they were looking to make sure that all the logic held up and that there weren't any major oversights on our part. By Thursday morning, I still hadn't heard anything (though, reading and compiling notes can always take longer than expected), so I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. That afternoon, though, I spoke to my producer and manager and got the scoop.

The good news was that there was nothing glaring structurally - no serious plot hole or omission that made part of the script problematic. In fact, there were not many notes at all - all things considered - and those that came back were for the most part readily doable. All in all, the production company came back with five notes. For one, they wanted the protagonist's motivation to carry out his journey to be bigger, stronger. The same went for why he is the only person who can do what he's doing. These are both things that we thought we had answered, but both readers who did cold reads came back with questions/thoughts, so it seemed the job was not yet done. I have to keep in mind that major studio pictures require sometimes obvious answers to be more so, or subtle answers to become blatant. The trick is to interweave them so they don't come off as too on-the-nose or expositional.

Another note had to do with the feel of the picture - indie versus studio, and not walking the line too finely. I've found that when writing for a budget, the writer has to be careful. Too big a set piece, on too many an action scene, and you can enter territory beyond the scope of your picture. However, too few moments like that, and you can enter into questionable size. I hadn't ever considered the latter alternative, but it's good to know about. There were a couple other notes, but to avoid getting into specifics about my script and alienating the general guide these posts are hopefully offering, I'll spare you them. Suffice it to say that, after a call with the exec today, I'm sure I can do them. We have another call tentatively set up for the end of the week to discuss specifics. I have until then to determine the best ways and places to implement them all without, as my producer says, just applying a band-aid solution. I want these notes to feel organic and fully ingrained, as opposed to just tacked on with the hopes of answering the final few questions and rushing the script sloppily out the door. 

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 132 - One Last Round and Working with Another Artist

This has the potential to be a big week. With the final round of edits mostly over - just waiting on notes on one new scene - we're about ready to send the script back to the production company we're working with. My manager has informed me that this will be the final draft for this phase of development; from here, the script goes to the whole creative team at the production company for their decision as to whether or not to pursue.

Before I finally click send tonight, I'm going to do one final thing, which all writers are encouraged to do. I'm going to proof it again. While rewrites can greatly improve the script, they also run the risk of knocking something out of place or causing an incomplete tweak. If you've changed a character's name or eliminated him/her completely, you want to make sure you've done so everywhere in the script. The last thing you want is a sloppy mistake at that point in the game. So do yourself a favor and give it a final read-through. Just make sure that everything you meant to put in is there, and everything you wanted out is gone. If anything jumps out as not quite working now, this is the time to find it. 

This current draft has the great fortune of coming in at my favorite page length - 105. To me, 105 pages is the perfect length for a (action or horror) script. It's concise but with plenty of room for a good story. It's not a daunting read. And, most importantly, it can convey not only a writer's ability and skill with the craft, but also his or her knack for saying a lot with a little. At 105, chances are the descriptions are pretty tight, the dialogue snappy, and the script a solid, trim work with little fat. I usually aim for 105 (and for some perspective, various drafts of this spec have come in at 106, 122, 117, 112, and 108, to name a few). 

Finally, this week marked a bit of a first for me, a branching out of sorts. I had seen a play a year ago at the NYC Fringe Festival, which I thought was just one of the most creative things I'd ever seen. A few months ago, I was taking a general meeting, and while chit-chatting, I mentioned the play to the exec I was talking to. Yesterday, after seeing the play twice again this weekend, I met with the performer/writer, and he's working on developing the piece for film, having met with the exec that I talked to about the play. It's very cool to know that I put them in touch and - if anything happens down the line - could have helped bring a new film about. 

Part of the reason that the League was created was to help other artists benefit from our experiences (and just help other artists). To that effect, we've done some coverage, recommended books and other writing tools, offered advice, and extended our hands when possible. This marks the first time I've actively tried to get the wheels turning on a potential film. Gotta say, it's a pretty damn good feeling.

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 131 - A Writing-Heavy Week

We're nearing the end of the tunnel - the light's getting brighter, and we're getting closer to being done. A week ago today, I launched myself into what should, for all intents and purposes, be the last real round of re-writes for the post-Apocalyptic spec (at least for this phase of the project's development, that is). Two minutes before midnight on Friday, I sent the script off to my producer to get her take on the revisions. In the five days last week, I devoted almost all of my free time to working on the script.

Since this weekend was the 4th of July - Happy Birthday, USA - I knew that it would offer a perfect opportunity for my producer and I to go over the script one more time without the pressure of work days ticking away. So I set an informal but concrete deadline for myself that I would have the script to my producer by Saturday morning. I averaged probably about 2.5 hours a night (or more) that week working on the script, often staying up until about 2am to make sure certain things were ironed out. Then, of course, after I pulled myself away and climbed into bed, I would spend another half hour or so just thinking about the script and jotting notes down while trying to fall asleep.

All in all, I'm still very pleased with the product. It is undeniably and intensely different from the first draft I churned out. Improvements in my writing aside, the story is completely different than what I first set out to do. However, the fundamentals - characters, setting, and underlying goals - have remained constant throughout, which means the project is still mine and, more importantly, still feels like mine. And, as often happens, the larger, more immediately daunting notes didn't seem so bad once I actually implemented them this week. They work in the context of the script, and I think they continue to elevate the work. 

The next step - after I get a few notes back from my producer - involves a tiny bit more waiting. But it's something quite possibly worth waiting for. Once my producer and manager OK the script, it goes back to the production company for (hopefully) the final time, and from there, it goes to the whole team for a read. Then, it's just a matter of finding out if they want it or not. Hopefully I'll have some answers in a few weeks.

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 130 - Overlapping Projects

I managed to accomplish a few things last week, even while on vacation. For one, I discovered just how out of shape I've grown living an idle life in New York. More encouraging, though, was the fact that I got a rough, three page outline of my next project idea (the firefighter script) to my manager by the end of the week. Sometimes, I guess knowing how to sit sedentary for a few hours at a time can in fact pay off. 

After last week's post about trying to work with pen and paper more, I had to make the transition over to typing up my ideas in Word. Over the course of the week, I got all my original notes transferred over, and then built upon them, ultimately generating the outline. I guess it's a little strange, but my process generally involves creating an initial document that has both notes and the majority of my outline. When holes appear in the outline or I discover questions that need to be answered before I can move on, I open a new document and paste a copy of the outline into there. Then, I continue to work on filling in the plot holes in the more note-filled first document, ultimately collecting the full unadulterated outline in the second. Something about having a scrap document for notes and questions and problem solving helps (and replaces the earlier pad of paper).

Right around the time I was getting the outline prepped to send off to my manager, I got a call from him. The executive that we've been working with on the post-Apocalyptic spec had another round of notes - the final round, I'm told. She essentially had five points that she wants us to take a closer look at. At first, one of them seemed to really jump out as not a minor change. I called my producer and manager pretty quickly, and they both talked me down, making me see that it's really just a question of adding a beat or two to one part of the script, and removing a couple from a later one, to shift some of the focus around. Not too bad.

Still, though, the prospect of more notes to address - even though I think they'll only take me a week - was not so hot. At this point, we've been working on the script with this particular production company since October. My manager assure me that, barring any glaring problems that we've all managed to overlook by being too close to the material, the fixes I do now will be the last one before the script goes out to the rest of the team at the production company (including the head producer). One last round of tweaks, and then it goes out, out of our hands and into all of theirs. From there, it's only a matter of a couple weeks before we should know whether they'll be moving forward with the project or not. And in the meantime, I'll be working on the firefighter spec, getting ready to answer the question we all hope to hear one day: "so what's next for you?"

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 127 - Give Yourself A Deadline

Right now, I'm in (what we're all hoping is) the home stretch of my script. On Friday, I got six pages of notes from the executive we're working with. Fortunately, most of them were things I had already addressed. I was hoping for a rainy weekend - as predicted - so that I could lock myself away distraction-free and write all weekend. As all you New Yorkers know, the rain never really came. Still, I cracked down for three hours a day and made some major progress. Of the six pages, I only have a few more notes to address.

Being in this stage of the re-writing process is kind of odd. It took me a while to push aside my insecurities about the caliber of work I was doing - prior to this draft, all of the notes had been more major, involving much greater changes. Due to the smaller-scale of the edits (finally, we could call most of them "tweaks"), I was worried that I wasn't achieving what I needed to. I felt like my wheels were spinning in mud and I wasn't going anywhere. When I cracked that delusion in half, I got down to business. 

A few weeks ago, my manager voiced a desire to get the script out this week. So, to try to make that goal, I gave myself a (somewhat informal) deadline of yesterday to have the script done. Six hours of work didn't accomplish everything that it had to, and by the end of the night Sunday, I was starting to stall again. That's ok, though. I emailed my producer to let her know to expect pages on Wednesday. The addition of two nights to complete the work that has to do will make me crack down hard and finish everything.


The work doesn't end once I submit the script, though. It's time to decide what my follow-up projects will be (yes, if this sounds familiar, it's because the past few weeks have been devoted to finishing the script and choosing a next project). My manager and I are narrowing it down to two ideas. Once the script is in the hands of the production company executive again, I'll have to develop the two ideas further, and then maybe focus in on one.

First thing's first, though - finish this script!

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 126 - (Hopefully) Nearing the End

The week kicked off with a conference call between my producer, the executive at the production company we're working with, and myself. It was time for another round of notes, this time dealing with the most recent draft that I submitted just before going on vacation. To be honest, I more or less knew what to expect from the call, as the exec called me while I was on vacation to give me the short version. This call was just time for some more specifics.

All in all, the notes were pretty small. That's not to say that there are no changes to be made - in fact, there are some key scenes that I have to re-address. As I was taking notes during the call, I started to feel as though I was being sent back into another long period of rewrites. However, as I reread my scribbles later in the week, the scale diminished quickly. In fact, I had to call my producer at one point to get her take on the notes again; it was becoming fairly apparent to me that the structure, dialogue, and events would remain pretty much the same. The printed final script wouldn't look much different than the current version. My producer agreed, concluding that the re-writes would be more akin to tweaks (with the exception of one scene), and that we should be nearing the end. For the first time, I'd be making revisions and tracking them all with an * on the right-side margin, rather than presenting a whole new draft.

As encouraging as that was, for me, one of the highlights of the conference call was a discussion on what would likely happen next with the script. Since we're working with an exec at the production company, but not the head producer, there was always a chance in my mind that we could do all this work, only to have the head producer decide he wasn't on board. Of course, that's still a reality. However, the exec informed us that she does not want to spur on another huge round of development once the company head gets it. He can and might have notes, but she hopes that development - as far as its concerned before any studios get on board, at least - will more or less be done when I turn in the next draft. 

My manager wants to get the script back out in about a week and a half or so. Deep breaths, Cake Man. Now go write.

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 123 - Fears Abated

Last week, I was nervous as hell about having sent the most recent draft of my script to my producer. Sure, I'd hashed out an outline that everyone gave the thumbs up to before I sat down to write any pages. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with it. On Wednesday, I decided that it was time to get another set of eyes on the pages, and off it went.

On Friday, I got a call from my manager. He was checking in, seeing how the pages were coming and what my time line was. I let him know that the pages were off to the producer. We started talking about ideas for other scripts I could work on in the meantime, when we were interrupted by an incoming call he was getting from the production company we've been working with.

He popped off the phone for a few minutes to let the exec at the prod. co know that the draft should be in to them in a couple weeks. When my manager called me back, I let him know that I'll be going out of town come this Friday, and will be essentially MIA until the following Friday. With this new timetable, we decided to make an effort to get the script out by this Friday (the 14th). In the meantime, I would begin hashing out some notes for my follow-up project.

Not 45 minutes later, I was on the phone with the producer. She'd just finished reading the draft, and much to my pleasure, was incredibly pleased with the results. Of course, she had a few notes, I was expecting this. She sent them to me that night. Most of what I was concerned about was working for her. On the other hand, she brought up some logic points that hadn't even crossed my mind - mostly small things, mind you, but important points nonetheless.

With the new timetable (i.e. aiming to get "finished" pages out in a month), my plans to begin work on a new idea went out the window. Saturday and Sunday were spent laboring over the re-writes to the post-Apocalyptic spec (I wound up being quite surprised by the note that I got hung up on the most, something I hadn't anticipated at all). In fact, there was one smallish part that I was having so much trouble on, I actually submitted two versions of the sequence to my producer. They're marginally different, but each addresses a logic issue in a unique way.

So what's next? My producer's doing a final read. She'll edit some of the descriptions and look for any gratuitous scenes or beats, then send her markup to me. I'll go through and sign off and actually implement any and all changes. Hopefully, that will all be done come Thursday. Then, as I board a bus for DC (and then later a plane to Florida), the script - ideally - goes out to the production company. I'm on vacation for a week, and will hope to come home to word on where we go from there and any notes the exec has for us. 

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 122 – Editing for Content and Page Count

At the top of last week, I’d just printed out my 122 page draft with the hopes of cutting 6 to 10 pages out and targeting beats that were either redundant or needed to be included. I accomplished one of those two things.

To say that I went into my edits with a hint of trepidation would be an understatement. I was convinced that the draft I had printed was rife with plot holes, redundancies, inconsistent character actions and voices, and a number of other structural deficiencies. It was a pleasant surprise, then, when I re-read it (over the course of four days – I spent a lot of my free time preparing to move, which I did this weekend) and discovered that there were not nearly as many missing elements as I feared. Sure, there were definitely beats – there still are- that need some work. For the most part, though, I was much more comfortable with the pages than I expected to be, and that’s always rewarding.

The edits for page count, however, were a little less gratifying. My estimate at having cut an average of two lines per page was way past the mark. Out of a total 122 pages, I only managed to bring the edited version down to 118. Not great, although not too terrible. Modeled much more after films like CHINATOWN or MINORITY REPORT now than something like THE ROAD, the script has a bit more room to grow than the average action spec. Still, 118 is a bit long in today’s market, and I’d ideally like to bring it in at 116, if not closer to 110. To that end, I employed another trick today: the mighty pdf.

By converting the script to a pdf, I could pull it up on my screen and look at each page as a whole. Which – if any – have lines comprised of one single, short word hanging by itself? These sentences should be reworked to nix that roll-over word and bump an entire line out of the script. Going further, which pages seem to end with an extra chunk of white space at the bottom of the page? Movie Magic (which I use) will often keep a sizable chunk of page blank to save from breaking up an extended piece of dialogue or chopping up a new scene oddly. But those unused lines at the bottom of the page are valuable real estate, and a few tweaks to the text above them can bring in a whole piece of text that was held over to the next page. A few edits in this direction can also eliminate a page or two from the final draft. (It’s still amazing to me how using all 57 lines allotted to each page in Movie Magic can make a difference of up to 5 pages over the course of an entire script.)

So, tonight’s goal (besides continuing to unpack my new apartment), is to target the scenes that are still troubling me – it’s no surprise that they occur between pages 60 and 90, the common problem children of any script – and knock a few more pages out, if possible. Either way, I’m hoping of getting this draft off to my producer this week. I am definitely ready for a new set of eyes to look at it (and tell me everything that’s wrong with it).

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 121 – Why It’s Better to Proof on Paper, Not on the Computer

Last night, as was my goal for the weekend, I “finished” the… sixth? seventh? draft of my post-Apocalyptic spec. This is a draft that came out of talks with an executive at a production company that’s been developing the script with me since October. No money’s passed hands yet, but the hope is that, once they’re on board, they’ll take it to the studio that they have a first-look agreement with. At the beginning of April, I met with the executive to go over an outline that I’d written for the script (after devoting two months to a massive re-write that she wasn’t totally on board with, we agreed that I wouldn’t put any more words to the page before cementing an outline everyone was pleased with). She approved the outline, and I’ve been writing semi-steadily since.

In last week’s post, I wrote about how I wasn’t exactly feeling the pages I was writing. I’m sort of still there, though I’m a bit more positive. Obviously, having a full (if not a bit long at 122 pages) draft is a good thing, even if it warrants a lot of edits. My main concern is that there are disjointed segments, holes in the information that I think I’ve conveyed – or needed to convey but didn’t fully set up – or redundancies that stem from the fact that I haven’t trusted myself enough that the clues are already in there.

At times like these – or really, any time I’m going to submit a draft – I hold firmly to the conviction that a script needs to be read in hard copy, not on the computer screen. It’s way too easy to overlook things while reading on the computer. The screen makes skipping ahead or skimming that much easier. On paper, though, you can really see the impact of every word, how one scene relates to another, and where formatting errors and inconsistencies make the finished product look sloppy. Printed scripts are also best for edits – both grammar and copy-editing – and for determining the cohesiveness of a story.

Tonight, I’m going home with my freshly printed (on recycled paper) script. I know I have to cut about 10 pages, so I’ll be looking for obvious and not as obvious trims. Some of the earlier scenes in act two are probably unnecessarily long, because I wasn’t sure how much filler I’d need, and therefore overwrote a lot at first. Mostly, however, I’m going to be looking for the key bits of pivotal information that I’m worried aren’t yet in there. Are the disparate parties involved fleshed out enough? Are the protagonist’s character and voice consistent throughout, even in the face of some major reveals? Are all of the reveals earned? Where are there plot holes and redundancies? I’ll be looking for all of this and more, and I know I wouldn’t have as great a chance at finding any of it if I opted to just read it on my computer.

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 120 – That Feeling that Things Just Aren’t Working

Every writer gets that feeling. You know the one. It’s unpleasant. It makes writing sessions seem unproductive, no matter how man pages you bang out during them. I’m talking about the feeling that you’re just not writing scenes that work, that the work you’re doing is going to have to be undone and redone soon.

Last week, I complained a bit about not having accomplished as much as I had wanted to. I’d set a goal of 60 pages by the weekend, but only came in at page 50. Immediately after, though, I cruised ahead to 64. Then, I crept to a halt again, dragging myself painfully through another 3 pages that I just knew were not going to be in the final draft. The dialogue was feeling forced and going nowhere. The characters’ motivations were unclear and unnatural. As a whole, the scene was just not working. And I knew this.

The big question, though, was whether to push through it (did I say it was painful?), make myself sit in front of the computer for an hour a day, and just see what happens, or was it best to turn away for a few days and let things settle? Luckily, I didn’t really have much of a choice. In a weird twist of coital timing, my sister and I share a birthday, though we’re four years apart. So, the whole family went down to where my sister’s in school for the weekend. My laptop stayed up here in NYC, which meant that I wouldn’t be doing much writing at all for three days.

The break proved to be what I needed. (Full disclosure: I write this now without having returned to the script yet, but I feel less cluttered.) Sometimes, knowing that progress won’t come makes it difficult for me to even just sit in front of the screen for an hour. Many writers will tell you that it’s better to at least commit the time to sitting, even if you don’t produce a single word. This process helps you to get used to a writing schedule, if nothing else. And typically, I’d agree with this. Perhaps the fact that I had a trip coming up is why I allowed myself to step away for a few days. Had I stayed in town, I surely would have spent a few potentially unproductive hours in front of my computer this weekend. Right now, though, I’m grateful that I had an imposed break, time away from the script to get my mind in other places and reduce the stress level I’ll feel coming into tonight’s writing session. Just as stepping away from a script can be incredibly helpful after you complete a draft, stepping away from one (ideally to some other project) can be equally soothing for a few days if you’re feeling particularly stuck.

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 119 - Writing a Character Backstory Helped Me with My Re-Writes

My goal for this weekend was to hit page 60 of my script. Granted, I’m primarily re-writing from page 40 on, so the task didn’t seem that challenging (I started writing around this time last week). However, when I sat down to write Tuesday and essentially got nowhere, I realized that I couldn’t just plow on ahead like I normally do. I was being held back by something, something very important; I had changed the nature of my protagonist fairly dramatically, setting up a very dark past for him, and I was having trouble advancing before fully fleshing that out and reconciling it with the existing pages.

To see that typed now, the problem seems obvious. Of course I couldn’t write 50 new pages with a drastically different protagonist before addressing Act One and the first part of Act Two. What’s the saying? “If you’re having Act Two and Act Three problems, the solution probably lies in Act One.” Sometimes, you just have to re-learn the old lessons through trial and error.

I thought I could achieve what I needed to before doing too much digging into my protagonist’s past. A tweak here and there to Act One – his past catches up to him in Act Two, but remains largely hidden until then – and I would be good to go. But something was still nagging at me, something telling me that what I had was… incomplete. In fact, the first scene that I sat down to write involved a flashback to one of the darkest memories from my protagonist’s past. There was no way I was going to b.s. my way through it, so I did the only thing that I knew would help me move forward – I wrote a character backstory.

Normally, I don’t tend to put too much about my characters down on paper. I did it in the outlining stage of another project I was working on, and I did a tiny bit in a general outline for this one, but I avoided specifics. I thought that the “gist” would suffice. Obviously, it didn’t, because when I was staring at that FLASHBACK transition, I had no idea what to write next. I set aside the script for a night, opened Word, and pumped out a page and a half about my protagonist’s previous life, detailing who he was and what he tries to hide from his life ten years ago. And once that was done, I felt like I’d made the breakthrough I needed. It was the most elegant piece of writing, and it probably won’t all make it into the script, but it was essential to my work. And, now that I’ve done it, I can move forward with him further into the script.

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 117 - Completed A New Outline

A few weeks ago, I learned that I'd be diving back into more re-writes on my post-Apocalyptic spec after working for a couple months on a draft that we had turned into the Production Company we're working with. Of course, I was disappointed that my time and effort went without the reward of a sale - or at least a big move forward - and that was no surprise to my manager, producer, and the exec at the production company. In order to ward off any other undesired pages, we all agreed that I wouldn't write another page until I produced an outline that we were all in agreement on. 

Last Thursday, I sent that outline off to my manager for his approval after working on it with my producer for some time. I am pretty happy with how it turned out, in no small part because I think it's much closer to what the production company executive wanted. Still, I have no idea whether this will be the final outline that they greenlight for me to write a script off of or not. In fact, I would put money on having to make at least some small changes (I would do this for no other reason than that I've learned to be at best cautiously optimistic about everything; were I not, I'd have gone completely mad by now). 

I know that writers sometimes debate the merits of outlining. When I was still in school - and thought that a sale would instantly follow the completion of a script - I tried to convince myself and my professors that I didn't outline, because I didn't need to. It wasn't my "process." I liked to find out where the story went and allow it to take me along for the ride. As I got older, I realized that's a bit crap. Sure, I don't always outline. However, I do not universally brush off the merits of it. Outlining can be a great process and (had I shared the outline with the production company back in December) a time-saving one. at least with this go-around, I know that the structure will be agreed upon before I set out to put one more word down on paper, and then I can just focus on producing pages as quickly as possible.

One of the things that has become increasingly jaw-dropping to me is how different the script has become in the two and a half years of its existence. I'd always heard stories about how drastically a project can change during development (and had joked accordingly that some studio head would one day try to make my post-Apocalyptic thriller a romantic comedy), but this is the first time I've experienced that for myself. Of course, this is the first time I've actually gotten some major interest in a project. Without a doubt, this is at least the fourth major incarnation of the draft (by that, I mean different characters, plot, and story structure). I've been happy - in varying degrees - with each version, and I enjoy this one just as well. Still, it's undeniable that this script would not make the same movie as my first draft (or second, or third). The project has evolved, not always for the best. I just really want to cement the draft that we shop around and try to make some bigger waves with it soon.

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 116 – Used Index Cards to Help Outline

There are a lot of tools, tips, and tricks that writers use every day while crafting their stories. People write extensive character back stories – even if none of that info ever makes it onto the screen or into the script – so that they know who they’re writing about. They draw character arcs, maps, and family trees on their wall to help maintain visual on everyone in their script. They outline extensively. Sometimes, writers will even sketch out certain locations of buildings if their architecture plays a key role, and use this to help describe the scenes on the page.

I’ve done all of the above. Once thing I hadn’t done until last week, however, was use index cards to help outline my story. I knew that there were a few key beats that I had to include, some that I wanted to include, and a number of pieces to the puzzle that were necessary, but I had no idea where they fit in. Staring at a blinking cursor wasn’t getting me very far, as there’s only so much visualizing I can do while looking at eight pages of text. So, I decided to try index cards and put the plot together like a puzzle in need of assembly. I found this to be amazingly helpful.

The first thing I did was to decide how I needed to break up the information on my index cards, to determine the elements that I was working with. (As a committed recycler – particularly of paper – and, some would say, a bit frugal, I decided to use the backs of my old Far Side day calendar pages, rather than buy a pack of new index cards for this experiment.) I decided that I was essentially dealing with three major types of information. First, there were the locations and big action beats. I wrote these in big red letters. This way, I could lay out the major beats by what happens in them (never getting too specific) and be able to rearrange the plot through them. For example, at one point, my character goes to Washington D.C., so that card just reads, “Michael gets to DC.” Another would be, “Michael is chased through the trees.” Simple things that to other people might not mean a ton, but to me, carried a lot more implied information. I think I had about 10 or 12 of these.

I lined up the red beats vertically on my bed, rearranging and leaving blanks between them so that I could get a quick overview of the story structure so far and sense where I was missing something. Immediately to the right of the red cards were the blue ones. Blue was for the reveals that come with each scene. For example, if the beat was “Michael arrives in DC,” then the corresponding blue might be “His ex-wife is no longer living there.” The blue represented bits of information that were organically (and often immediately) apparent once the protagonist arrived there. He arrive in X (red) and sees that Y (blue) is the case.

Finally, to the right of all the blue cards were the ones with black text. These were the ones that were trickiest to work into the script and most important to spread out effectively and intelligently. The black notes were the bits of information that the protagonist puts together along the way, the puzzle pieces that are revealed to him through his actions and interactions with other people. For example, “He arrives at a volcano” (red), “The volcano is about to blow” (blue), “Someone is causing the eruption” (black).

Any information that did not immediately fit into the line up, I placed chronologically by color off to the side. If I knew that the five black notes that I hadn’t fit into the script yet had to be revealed in a certain way, I ordered them vertically accordingly, and was then able to see which red beats they corresponded best with. If there weren’t any scenes that naturally would reveal that information or there were scenes that didn’t organically follow one another, then I knew that I had to add another beat.

The visual of lining all of this information out on my bed and seeing what was missing/irrelevant/not yet incorporated was incredibly helpful. I don’t know why I put off this approach for so long. Just seeing everything like that helped me pinpoint what was working and what wasn’t, and – perhaps most importantly – where I was duplicating scenes because I thought that I hadn’t revealed something that was actually already there. If you’re ever stuck outlining, I would suggest using index cards (or some variation thereof) to help you break through. It certainly worked for me.

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 115 - Talk it Out

Writing is often viewed as a solitary pursuit, something that people do in the quiet of their apartment, office, or in the hubbub of a coffee shop. Story lines, character arcs, structure, plot, back stories, and all related elements that go into a script are devised by the scribe alone, with no outside help. At the League, we all believe that to be far from the case. And when I was incredibly stuck on the new outline for my post-Apocalyptic spec, I new I needed help in the form of someone that I could talk it out with (because sometimes, instead of writing, I actually make more progress when working my story out verbally).

On Tuesday night, Onyx and I met up after work at what is fast becoming one of our regular (maybe even weekly) haunts. We went to a restaurant just off Broadway down by Houston Street, saddled up to the bar, pulled out our notebooks, and each ordered one on the night's special $2 pints. That night, we had an agenda, so we didn't spend too much time on unrelated chit-chat. There were three things we wanted to discuss.

First, we talked a bit about a collaboration idea Onyx came up with that we've been talking about working on. He'd sent me an email with some basic thoughts on character, theme, and premise over the weekend, and Tuesday was our first chance to talk about it in person. I'm glad that we began the night with this idea, as I was hoping that beginning some very preliminary talks about one project would help get the wheels turning quickly by the time we moved onto my script. We discussed some of the main characters, tentative relationships they might have with one another, and the general idea of what the script would be. We didn't try to outline anything, nail down any concrete scenes, or even cement who our protagonist would be. Rather, this was a much more basic, building from the ground up type of meeting. I think we made some good progress, too, agreeing on the basics and what our next step would be (some character work and settling on a loose direction based on that).

With the creative juices flowing, we moved on, focusing on my project. As you might recall, I've been asked to attack the second act of my script again. I'd spent the past few days writing a lot of notes down on paper (not something I normally do - I typically make my notes on the computer, since I've found it easier to adhere to my writing schedule when I'm staring at a blinking cursor). Despite all of my notes, some of which were helpful, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was scratching at the surface of the breakthrough I needed to make big strides, but that I wasn't really getting anywhere. There were a few pieces falling into place, but I was feeling far too reluctant to get rid of existing elements from the story without having a really solid reason to do so. There was one character in particular who I was finding difficult to keep in - despite her somewhat large role - but I needed a reason to get rid of her.

While talking with Onyx, he helped me work out the issues I was meeting. Whether he meant to or not, he helped me see a way to take the script in a new direction, one that would make that carry-over character irrelevant. More importantly, though, he helped me ground my character in his setting. My protagonist spends most of the film trying to track somebody down in an unfamiliar land. The problem was, though, he had nowhere to turn when the clues he got led to a dead end. After all, it was unfamiliar land. by talking with Onyx and working on the script out loud, I realized that this lack of familiarity with the setting was one of the big problems I'd been facing, and I figured out how to address it.

With the taste of a big breakthrough in my mouth (and another $2 beer to compliment it), we finally talked a bit about something that Onyx was working on. We threw around a couple more ideas, further proving just how useful it can be to have someone to talk to your scripts about, someone who has read that material and knows what you're trying to do with it. For days, I had been staring at a blank page or blinking cursor, getting nowhere. An evening at a bar after work with someone from the writers group who has been following the project closely proved more valuable than the past few days combined. Granted, those few days of seemingly little progress were integral to me starting to see what I had to lose (or had to prepare to lose) from the old drafts. But that night out talking about the script was the eureka moment I needed to push forward with my work.

Even if you only have one other person to talk to about your writing, I'd highly suggest that any aspiring writer find someone to share every draft of their script with and be able to talk about the project with out loud. It can be such a more productive use of time than watching the seconds tick past as that page in front of you remains untouched.

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 114 - Oscar Inspiration

Whether you love the Academy Awards or you hate them, I think it's hard to deny that there's something to be said for getting Hollywood's best together for a night celebrating achievements in filmmaking. Of course, I don't mean to imply that I think that all of the films nominated achieved something notable. (Did anyone else get a sense of unintended irony when the 10 Best Picture nominees were stacked next to the 10 Best from 1943 when CASABLANCA won? Many of the "best pictures' these days pale in comparison to truly great films from cinema's past.)

For me, the Oscars - like any award ceremony really - inspire me (at least momentarily) to create something wonderful. I don't mean that in a "I can do better" way. Award ceremonies honoring great work in film (or stage) always give me impetus to write something that could, one day, be similarly revered. How great it would be to hear my name called after someone reads, "And the Oscar goes to..." Certainly, this is a dream many of us share.

 However, I don't think that the hope of someday winning is the only inspiration for the (too often fleeting) creative surge I feel. It might be simpler and less grand than that. Watching people and films get rewarded for their accomplishments is as great a reminder as any that I won't even get a script produced if I don't dedicate myself to working hard and writing daily. Seeing people win often helps pull my head out of the clouds, plant me on my feet, and remind me to stop dreaming and start working.

This weekend, the creative juices weren't flowing, too freely. Perhaps I'm over-complicating what I need to do in my re-writes. Perhaps I just need a few more days away from the project. And as of writing this, I had a 9+ hour day at work and haven't touched my script yet today. I'm hoping that last night's telecast will light the fire under me that I need to re-write my script yet again. 

The Writing Week (Vol. 3) part 113 - Another Round of Rewrites

Patience is a virtue. Or at least a necessity. 

Last week, I had another conference call - this one regarding the most recent draft of my script that was delivered to the production company we're working with. Of course, I was hoping that the call would be to inform me I could quit my job and should fly out to LA instantly to ink a deal and begin taking other meetings. Needless to say, that wasn't the case. 

Unfortunately, after about 2 months of rewrites, I was sent back to the drawing board again. The exec at the production company liked a lot of what I'd done, but wanted to see a tonal shift. After relative flops like THE ROAD and BOOK OF ELI (in a year seemingly inundated with post-Apocalyptic movies), studios are weary and wary of more of the same. The production company we're working with is no different. They like the concept and what I'm trying to achieve, but in order to be more certain that the script will sell, they feel it needs to be more different, less bleak, and stand out from the crowd. No more ash covered forests. No more rusted cars slowly decomposing in the desert. No more mass hysteria causing people to flip out.

I've been asked to set my script apart from all the rest, which is not a bad thing. I don't think it will be the heart-pounding, loud explosion, chaotic adventure I initially set out to write, and that is also not necessarily a bad thing. Truth be told, I'm having a hard time remembering what it is I set out to write in the beginning (apart from a script that takes place in the world I'm still using). Therefore, the changes are not as frustratingly off-goal as they might be in other scenarios. If anything, the script could get better - i.e. smarter, stronger, more intriguing, and more classic. The intrigue and mystery might overshadow the violence and action, which is rare these days. 

Whatever the transformation might be, the fact is that the exec at the production company is still interested and excited, and that's what matters. It's not like we have a ton of other options or interested parties at the moment anyway, so as long as the working relationship is strong, we'll sally forth.