Every writer has tools and practices idiosyncratic to his or her work. For those of us who write, or aspire to write, these particularities are fun to talk about in an extremely nerdy way - much like page count or formatting issues. Recently, I've been expanding my toolbox, and I think you might find some of these instruments helpful to your process, as well.
Last week, I talked a lot about the environmental toll that my writing is beginning to take. Draft after draft after draft, I feel compelled to print out a script so that I can scribble all over it when going through the rewrite process. I find it incredibly hard to sit down in front of Final Draft (a new toy for me, as it has replaced Movie Magic as my current writing software), pass Go, and collect my $200 when doing edits. I need to have a physical script in front of me that I can labor and sweat over, a page that I can leaden with ink and scratch marks, where I can triple strike out words and scenes that need to go and scrawl thoughts, dialogue, and proposed revisions in the margins. I can't do any of that to my liking on the computer, and so I felt compelled to print out 120 pages (or more) with each subsequent draft. I thought that the most ecologically sound option I had was to do that on recycled paper, printing on the clean side of used sheets.
I discovered I had been remiss in my green detective work. There are a number of apps out there specifically made for annotating pdfs on iPads (mini and regular), Kindles, and other tablets. (Apologies in advance if this post seems more marketing driven than any of my others; I'm not supported by any of the below vendors. I just happen to really like the programs and services they provide, which make my writing easier.) Beyond saving paper, using the app to annotate a pdf of my script is also just less unwieldy than working with over a hundred sheets of loose-leaf.
I started off with the PDF Master app for my iPad mini. Initially, I love it. You can highlight text, strike out, insert notes and/or text, free draw, and change the opacity and color of all of the above. There are also features that allow the user to add stamps and signatures, but I used neither of those. After I sung the app's praises to a couple writer friends and League members, I was confronted with the program's limitations. For one, there's a three-document limit, which I discovered when trying to import my producer's marked up pdf. I had to delete the app's instruction document in order to work around that. More seriously, though, the app seems to have some saving issues. Like, major saving issues. Thankfully, I emailed the document to myself the second night I used it (always email your work to yourself, friends), because it neglected to save about 30 pages of progress I made. I had to re-import from the email in order to continue where I left off. Then, on the last day, it just stopped saving after a certain point. I would mark up one page, scroll to the next, and then notice that none of my previous annotations were saved. Then, they began to disappear from the page I was working on at that time, immediately after I made them. Very concerning.
To fix that, I took my father's suggestion (he's a bit of a tech guy and uses similar tools at work) and switched to the Adobe Reader App. I wound up completing my annotations in the ironically named PDF Master, but Adobe's product offers the same features, plus you can type in a specific page you want to access, rather than scroll through the entire document, which Master required, coupled with what I assume will be more product stability. Adobe's not small time in the PDF world, so I can only hope that their product will be more stable.
As I made my annotations, it became apparent that a finger, even one as narrow and pointy as mine, isn't as precise as annotating a PDF document on a tablet requires. Perhaps that's intrinsic to working with the faulty PDF Master (half the time I struck out the wrong text and had to hit undo), but I wanted more precision. So, I started looking into stylus pens. There are a number of them out there, but the reviews I read (and I read a lot of them), indicated that the amPen was the best. I haven't used it yet - I'll have it Friday - but it sounds as if the rubber tip with a conductor layer makes for the most seamless, efficient tracking on the tablet screen. Plus, the pen will give the added feature of feeling more like marking up a paper script, which might make the transition to digital editing smoother.
If all goes as I hope, then I won't have to do much script printing going forward. Except, maybe, for the final version, because sometimes there's nothing more rewarding than seeing and holding the fruits of your months or years of labor.
Somewhere out there is the finish line for my sci-fi spec. I can almost see it. Maybe not quite on the horizon, but not wildly far beyond it.
Last week, my writing partner and I had two days of phone calls to go over the page notes our producer gave us. There was a lot to cover, but in a strange way, the repetition of some of her points was a comfort. She hit a few big notes time and again, stressing what (we agreed) was missing from the script, and where the characters were falling short of being fully developed. Yes, the result was a lot of mark-up, but the fact that her observations can be boiled down to about a half-dozen issues was encouraging. We were on the same page by and large with most of her thoughts, and the fact that they kept coming up throughout the script was an indicator of what the screenplay needs to really come to life. No matter how much proverbial red ink one might scribble on your script, having someone who knows the industry and - more importantly - know story weigh in on your screenplay is a giant blessing.
So, for me, the re-write process began yet again last week. I'll admit, it's been a bit more of a laborious few days than I'm used to; I've not been making a ton of progress (or really much at all to speak of some days), but I think I've identified why that is. The environmentalist in me hates printing scripts out again and again for each round of revisions. However, the writer in me is increasingly incapable of delving into rewrites without a hard copy of the script in front of him that he can mark-up and cross out and insert new hand-written dialogue into.
What to do? Print out another 120 pages? Or sit inertly before the flashing cursor in Final Draft, making minimal progress each day?
Before I set it all to print again, I'm trying two things. First, there are large chunks of the script that necessitate edits, but which didn't change too much at all since last I printed the thing. My first step is going to be to see how much I can edit from there. Alternatively, there are a couple PDF annotation apps available for iPad, so Google tells me, which I am going to check out tonight. If those work, I'll get all the benefit of a hard copy script to scribble on, without any of the tree killing that comes with it.
Of course, at the end of the day, completing the script is the priority, so if the above two fail (and I'll admit with you that the recycled script option is less than ideal), I'll print the thing. I guess I'll just have to do extra scribbling on it to make up for it.
Two weeks ago, my writing partner, W.A., and I sent a draft of our sci-fi project to our producer for the first time. We had a call with her a week ago Monday to get her overarching notes, and then sent her the Final Draft file of the script, so that she could mark it up in revision tracking mode and give us more specific page notes. Concurrently, I sent the script to the rest of the League for their feedback, having first prepped them that I was only really interested in larger, gut-reaction notes, rather than having them get mired in the minutia of the scrip. Before I told them what our producer thought, I wanted to hear their feedback. I was really curious to see how my writers group's notes compared with those of a development executive.
I was very pleased with the results. So, I am sure, were the Leaguers.
By and large, the notes stacked up pretty perfectly. My producer had notes about where certain bits of act one are set, vis-a-vis where the bulk of Act Two takes place; the League brought up the same issue. The producer touched a lot on the protagonist and his somewhat cold vibe toward the other characters; the League thought he was a bit arrogant and callous. Our producer questioned some of the science in the script and how it relates to the characters' goals; my group members focused pretty intently on the science and where it either didn't track or was way too heady.
All in all, they were pretty much on track with the producer's. Couple that with the fact that W.A.'s manager had very similar notes, and two things become very apparent to me. One) with so many people hitting the same notes, it's quite clear where the script needs to be retooled or bolstered. And two) the quality of feedback that the League presents one another is very strong, on par with the kind of observations coming from industry people. Revelation two is obviously less about this particular script than it is about the strength of the group. And I can't be more happy about that.
Especially for those of us writers who don't have many (or any) industry contacts and have yet to land our first sales, we have to rely on other writers to help us refine our material and get our screenplays industry-ready. Sure, you can have non-writer friends and family read your scripts, but unless all you want is praise, you should try to set up a group of other writers that you can meet with and be very frank with. Had the League just jumped for joy over the script and not delivered any criticism, then - given the other sets of notes we were getting - I would have to think twice on the caliber of feedback they've given on every project and debate the merit of showing future work to them. But that wasn't the case, which means that I know I can turn to them for help and hard-hitting thoughts on the script. (Of course, I knew this already, having been writing with these guys and gals for a decade now, but I'm quite glad the mini-experiment reinforced what I already knew.)
If you're without other writers that you know, I suggest using the web and social media - Facebook, MeetUp.com, or even CraigsList - to get a group of writers that you feel comfortable sharing work with. They will be one of the best resources you have in honing your writing.
There are myriad screenwriting programs to choose from. The big industry leaders are Final Draft and Movie Magic Screenwriter. Of course, if you don't want to shell out a couple hundred bucks for writing software, there are various cheap or even free online alternatives. Celtx seems to be the biggest offering, though apparently Adobe has a program, as do Scripped (they claim it's free for members) and ScriptBuddy. I'm sure a quick Google search will turn up manifold others. (Full disclosure - I haven't used any of the web-based options, so I have no idea how well they work or how standard their formatting is.)
I use Movie Magic, because when I bought it a decade ago, I was told that there was no industry preference between that and Final Draft. Apparently, I was led astray.
After over a year working with my writing partner, W.A., on our sci-fi spec, we finally got it to our producer last week. She read it really quickly, and we scheduled (and had - see next installment) a call this past Monday about the script. In preparation for the conversation, though, she asked for the script in Final Draft. W.A. replied to her that, nope, Zach writes in Movie Magic, so no dice. As if that wasn't embarrassing, the same thing had happened when W.A. asked me for the script in Final Draft format. Both he and the producer like to make their notes directly in the script - this is quite common in the developmental stages of a screenplay. Hell, even I scribble all over the page when editing. Without the file in front of them, they would either have to write over a pdf, then scan and email it out, or write all their notes in a word document and then hope they sync up with the script.
Either way, the effort to markup a script is not ideal. And when something isn't technologically ideal, it's an inconvenience. Luckily for me, both W.A. and our producer are quite accommodating and understanding; W.A. even said, to paraphrase, "Don't worry about it, Final Draft just managed to pull ahead in the past few years." The rival programs are supposed to be able to convert screenplays from one format to the other, but the fact is that neither does. To convert a Movie Magic screenplay into a Final Draft one, you first need to save it as an rtf file, which both programs can do and can import. Then, as W.A. did last night, Final Draft can import it practically seamlessly.
Facility with the workaround solution aside, I can't ignore the fact that of the two industry professionals I'm working with on this project, neither is using Movie Magic, and both assumed I was on Final Draft. Ultimately, though we were able to convert the script to Final Draft easily, the software question left me a bit red faced and feeling more a rookie than I think I am at this point.
A word in Movie Magic's defense, though - I love the software. For ten years now, I've written screenplays (and a few plays) on it with little hassle or trouble. The version I have, 4.5.3 (they are now on 6), doesn't allow all title page features, for some reason, so I have a bare-bones formatting template to work with there. Otherwise, I really don't have any complaints about it, and using the program has become second nature to me. I haven't used Final Draft, so I'm not sure what the differences are, but I can't imagine they're too great in terms of general functionality or appearance. If you're weighing your options and looking to acquire some screenwriting software, know that I believe you will be quite happy with the user interface and functionality of Movie Magic Screenwriter, especially, I assume, the latest version. However, it's important to know that it seems the tug of war has crossed the line in Final Draft's favor, and that is nothing to overlook.
Conducting a page-by-page review of a 109 page screenplay is not as taxing as you might initially assume. Or, it's way more so. Depends on your impression of how long that would take. Either way, it's how my collaborator, W.A. and I spent the hours between noon and 3pm last Thursday.
I took the train just outside the city to Westchester, where there's a bit of an industry glob. W.A. took me to a cafe, where immediately I overheard the diners next to us discussing production tiers and projects of varying budget sizes. I grabbed us a couple coffees, as W.A. replied to a few quick emails about SXSW, which he flew down for this year.
We started with a couple big notes on the script overall - that pesky scene in early Act One that I described in previous posts still wasn't where it needed to be, though it was close, so we focused on that a while. There were a couple other beats here and there, but before too long, we were able to jump into the nitty-gritty.
Starting on page one... actually, scratch that; we started on the title page, deciding credit placement for the draft. Then, we went through and checked our edits against one another's. "They would say this word, not this for the science." Or, "I don't think we need that description, but should use a super instead." Page by page by page. Some changes would inform others, but for the most part, the edits were localized enough to treat autonomously.
Things got a bit more involved in the second half of Act Two. Any of us who has written a screenplay knows that it's the quarter of the story that follows the midpoint that can be hardest to structure. You have to keep the pace going, while also giving the characters a breather from whatever just ruined their plans or made their day on page 60. More so, you have to make sure that they audience continues to receive new information. Your characters can't just sit around talking about what happened. They have to do something about it. Or at least figure out what they want to do about it later. Most importantly, you can't duplicate scenes or information - this rule goes for the entire screenplay, but is especially true for this portion of the script, wherein a lot of the earlier dots are starting to connect.
W.A. had some great suggestions for collapsing two scenes into one, or otherwise moving information around so that the story continues to build without slowing, but that we got to keep the larger emotional beats. I went home feeling really jazzed about the changes (and had falsely lured myself into believing that they would only take an hour or two to implement). I wound up dedicating much of the weekend to revising everything, and the hard work seemed to pay off. I'm still not sure whether all of the science adds up, or if the protagonist's and antagonist's plans track throughout the entire script, but that's why we're showing the script to our producer. She gives great notes, and if she says she's confused or something doesn't add up, then we'll know right away it needs work.
Until I hear back from her, I'll have a little time to work on other ideas, which have been simmering for the past year, since I got on board with this one.
Almost one year ago to the day (give or take a week), I had my first meeting with my now writing partner, writer/director/actor, W.A. Since then, I've churned out eight versions of outlines, two major revisions of the script, and five smaller edited versions of the screenplay. Throughout it all, W.A. has been right there beside me - not literally, with the exception of a few times, but via email, phone, and text. It's been a pretty great process.
For nearly two months now, we've been really close with the script to where we think it needs to be. Before we send it to our producer for her review and notes, though, we want to make sure that every potential question or red flag has been addressed. W.A. has been really adamant that we not send it out until everything has been ironed out, and while part of me has gotten impatient at times, I can't deny that he's right in this inclination. Our protagonist's character was close, but not 100% clear or solid yet; W.A. knows that our producer - who has an eagle eye for structure and character - will immediately point out those shortcomings. Why waste her time, or ours, by giving her something that still has a few wrinkles in it?
Two more weeks, then, spent on addressing our protagonist and his desires, fears, and motivations. When I went into that round of revisions, I thought the chore ahead of me was a relatively minor one, due to how solid the structure of the script it. And I was right - to a degree. The structure didn't change, but almost every single subsequent scene (I was addressing something in early act one) did. Dialogue changed. Actions changed. Expressions and desires changed. Oddly, those adjustments imbued the script with a lot of organic foreshadowing, which I personally believe to be a good thing. His actions began to carry more and more weight, certain lines naturally developed subtext, and the unspoken lines became that much more weighted.
Whether or not W.A. agrees (or if it tracks as well as I thought it did when I read and sent it to him on Sunday), we'll see on Thursday. He and I have blocked out a four hour chunk of time in the middle of the day to sit down and go through the script page by page, making sure everything reads as it should, makes sense, and carries from page one through 110. It should be yet another step in what has thus far been a very informative and engaging collaborative process.
It all comes down to one scene. The big reveal. The climax. The inciting incident. The heart-wrenching death of the protagonist's love. We've all written, giddy for the scene we know will sell our scripts and win us our Oscars. Anything can happen in a scene, and any scene has the potential to make - or break - a movie.
Any scene can be a bull to write.
For me, that scene this week has come within the first 15 pages of the script and is charged with no small feat: it has to establish the protagonist, his goals, and his fears. In short, it has to prep him (and therefore, us) for his entire story arc. I know it might seem silly to boil such an important task down to one scene, but the anatomy of the first act of this new script is a little atypical. Many sci-fi scripts start off with a normal world, before the foreign/unknown/extraterrestrial/fictional invades Earth and kicks things into drive. That's no different with the collaboration I'm working on. However, this script also opens with a five-page prologue. The inciting incident still has to happen around page ten and is shortly followed by the aforementioned invasion, which turns normal on its head. In the script, that happens around page 13.
Page thirteen. With the first five pages setting future events up in a way that offer very little introduction of the protagonist. So, I'm down to eight pages to establish my protagonist, his world, his friends, and the current "normal" before all goes awry on page thirteen. It's a Sisyphean feat, especially when you consider that, in this particular scene, his character is being established mainly through dialogue with a confidante. Dialogue, as I'm sure you've experienced, can be a lot of fun or incredibly sticky. You don't want to be too on the nose. My protagonist isn't going to say, "this is my opinion of myself, and these are all the skeletons in my closet that are going to hold me back, which I need to overcome to grow as a person over the coming experience." But, of course, that's exactly what the subtext has to be, and it has to be subtle enough that it sounds natural, but not so esoteric that audiences won't follow it.
The dialogue has to be crisp, revealing, and deep. And right now, I have a three pages scene set up in which I can make it happen. The whole rest of the script will follow from there - and we have it, ready for this scene to be slotted in and the following dialogue tweaked to match - but the script can't go to our producer or representatives until this one scene is reworked. One little scene. What a bear.
