StoryPros

#StoryTip: Need to increase drama and tension? Cut a third of your dialogue.

While this may seem like a flippant or even nonsensical tip, consider this: most writers write too much dialogue to begin with. 20 words where 10 will do -- 10 where 5 will do, five where a gesture will suffice.

Remember that people are not, as a general rule, talkative. Characters in scripts somehow become very talkative -- overly so -- because writers over-rely on dialogue to move the story along. Dialogue is the least effective way to do this, however.

As you go through your dialogue, you'll find that much of it just isn't necessary. Wherever you can replace a line with a look, gesture or some other non-verbal communication, do it. Or just leave it out. Put it back in if the story just makes no damn sense without it. But it usually will. And there'll be more drama and tension, as a result. Try it and see.


#StoryTip: Every element in your script should relate to every other element in some way, shape or form.

We cannot stress this enough. Every element in your script should be there because it's an integral part of the story, pertaining to theme, character, or plot.

If your protagonist is a process server, then that occupation, and the skills required, must be part of the plot. Period. If your character wears a red hat all the time, then it'd better be explained somewhere down the line...and that explanation had better figure into the story.

When elements are orphaned from other elements, they feel random. And they stick out like sore thumbs. They communicate, to one and all, that something is "off" about the story -- and to those who know story, they will plainly show that this is a script that lacks integration, and thus will probably fall short in other areas as well.

#StoryTip: Don't "direct" in your spec. It's a waste of time and energy. Just write an awesome story.

You have a vision. Yes, you want to communicate that vision. So you figure the best way is with a lot of ANGLE ON, INSERT, and so forth. Alas, you would be mistaken.

Directors like to direct. They get uppity when a writer usurps their prerogative. They figure, and rightly so, that writer should just write. "Leave the directing to us." We, being decent people, shall honor their reasonable request.

But we will be sneaky -- we will write description that flows AS IF we are directing. But we will never call out specific angles, shots, etc. We'll just say, "From overhead, the city looks like a wheel with spokes." And then "People rush about on their errands -- but these are not people. They are sentient WHEELS!" And then, "JOHNNY WHEELS, a whitewall, cruises down the boulevard with three of his friends." There we went from high in the sky, down into the city, and then onto a specific, er, entity. And not a shot was called out. Pretty sneaky, huh?

(And P.S. We know that "we see". We see everything in a movie. So you don't need to say "we see", any more than you need to say "I write". You wouldn't say "I write Scarlett rushes to the door after Rhett"...would you?)

#StoryTip: Beware of over-revising - cutting out necessary logical connectives an audience needs.

You've been writing your script for a long time. Your story is incredibly familiar to you. You've gone through many, many drafts. But you have to lose about 10 pages...so you hack and slash.

You send it out. And the response is...confusion. "What's going on? I couldn't tell why he did that. Or why they wound up going to the stadium. Or why she felt she could trust him after he did that terrible thing earlier."

You've over-revised! You've cut information an audience needs to follow the story logically from one point to another. This usually happens when you've worked intensely with a script and wind up having to cut more pages than you anticipated. You've internalized it so much that you've lost perspective -- you've forgotten that a script is external thing, and has to make sense to a complete stranger.

The only solution: put the script aside for a month or two, then come back to it. This should be done routinely with your scripts. You need to let them age, so that you can regain your perspective, and identify obvious story holes you missed the first time around. Try it...you'll be astonished (and probably a little ill) the first time you see how this works.

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#StoryTip: If you leave questions unanswered for the sequel - there won't be one. Make each spec script stand on its own.

A script is a self-contained unit. An independent unit. Plots are begun, developed, and wrapped up. There may be a thing or two left over that remains unsaid -- but nothing important. All the important questions have been answered.

There will be no cliffhangers. If you're writing for an estabished franchise, you have a bit more latitude. You can get away with a cliffhanger, in the second installment (Han frozen), if there's a reasonable assurance of making the next one.

For spec writers without credits, however -- that first one has to have everything. All story business introduced in the first act will be concluded in the third act. Even if you mean it as a series, you will never end on a cliffhanger -- an unfinished story won't sell. And you won't ever get a chance to make those others in the series.

If the thing becomes a giant hit, then a sequel will be generated, cliffhanger or not. If you've got the next installment, so much the better -- but only then will they want it.

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#StoryTip: Define your desired act breaks, midpoint and ending - then use them as inspiration to figure out what goes in between.

Limits inspire creativity. Necessity is the mother of invention. Consider all the innovation that has occurred when materials were limited. All the great movies. Clerks. Evil Dead. Swingers.

Setting your plot points in stone at the outset is a way of defining creative limits for yourself. Most writers know the feeing of having great plot points in mind -- only to have them melt away like sandcastles, leaving only mush. Perhaps you just couldn't figure out a way from A to B, so you settled for a less awesome B. And so on. And so on.

Set those plot points in concrete. And figure out any way, even if it's somewhat ridiculous or implausible, to fill in the gaps. If the plot points are good, then you will probably find the implausible forgivable...especially if the story that results is entertaining.

#StoryTip: When done with your 1st draft, ask yourself "What's my script ABOUT?" The answer is your theme...which guides your 2nd draft.

This bit of advice mirrors something Stephen King discusses in his book ON WRITING. How he writes a first draft, not caring about much more than broad strokes, general consistency, etc. -- the goal being just to FINISH. That alone is a thing screenwriters (who work in a much more intricate medium, much less tolerant of noodling, diversions and editorializing) should take to heart.

But after that draft, go through and try to pick up on what the story's really about. The message, if you will. It's not a thing you plan beforehand -- for most writers, doing that results in stiff writing and a mediocre execution. When you pick it up after the first draft, though, you're finding something that's already in there. And it's in there because it's a part of you.

As a screenwriter, you should do you best to write about things that matter to you. And if you're honest and brave with your writing, you'll find that certain themes crop up in your work. When you spot this, identify this, you can and should bring it out. Use the theme you've found to help unify your work, and give your script a point. This makes it a much stronger property all around.

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#StoryTip: Use narration. Afterward, take it out & see if it still works. Call this the "Blade Runner Director's Cut technique".

After Ridley Scott finished Blade Runner, the studio couldn't figure out what was going on. They felt it would work better if Deckard provided narration throughout. And this is the version you saw on movie screens. In 1992 Ridley released a director's cut with the narration -- which even Harrison Ford hated -- removed.

These days, most screenwriting teachers loathe narration and tell you never to use it (Robert McKee, famously). Writers who use it often rely on it as a crutch in the early going, using it for exposition, and neglecting sometimes vital story development which would render it unnecessary.

There's no hard and fast rule here. The number one film on IMDB's top #250 is THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION. Full of narration. #12, FIGHT CLUB. #16, GOODFELLAS. #33, SUNSET BOULEVARD. Classic films, and it's debatable they would have been improved by eliminating it. If you feel the need, then go ahead. Then, in your next draft, try taking it out -- was it a crutch? Does the story still work? Could it be simplified to make it more straightforward, so that it would work without narration?

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#StoryTip: Stick to simple descriptions of people, places & things.

So important. So, so important. Brevity and conciseness in description is powerful. And makes a script a joy to read. Readers will love you for it. And you will prosper.

A lot of the detail writers put into their scripts will simply get lost, by the time it's made into a film. If it ever gets to that point. So details on costumes, location details, lighting, sounds, all manner of over-description -- shouldn't be in there in the first place.

In a good screenplay, people, places and things are pretty generic. All is revealed in the action. "INT. THE BEVERLY HILTON HOTEL - TRADER VIC'S - BATHROOM" is "BATHROOM". "Joe, 44, a weary, yet sturdy man, confident, wearing a stained duster over a denim vest and chambray shirt, ornate silver belt buckle, dungarees over leather boots with spurs..." is "Joe, 44, tired but confident, dressed like a cowboy just off the trail..." Less is more. And you can go ape if it serves the story, by all means -- but if it doesn't, then stick to being a human and keep it simple!

#StoryTip: The reluctant protagonist - a drama classic, from Hamlet on down. Only action heroes are always proactive.

You get this drilled into you when you start learning about how to write a screenplay: you must have an active protagonist! It's a mantra, a refrain. If your hero isn’t in everything and moving everything forward himself, then you'll get that note.

But like most rules in Hollywood, it's more of a guideline. Because many classics, from Hamlet, to the Godfather, to Unforgiven, to Bridesmaids (hey, grossed nearly 300 million worldwide) center on reluctant characters who take forever to act.

Common wisdom suggests that at the very least, your protagonist should initiate the action of the movie and set the story in motion. But these heroes don't even do that. They are wholly reactive, trapped in a world they never made. They react to their situations, and that reaction becomes the movie.

So consider these classics (and the others you are likely to notice) when you construct your next story. And remember these classics when it comes time to defend your choice to those note-givers!


#StoryTip: Use less words.

As my niece pointed out, that should be "use fewer words". But I ain't need no fixin my grammars.

Readers want a script with a lot of whitespace. Simple, almost telegraphic description. It shows a confidence on the part of the writer...a power, a restraint. Using fewer words tends to focus one's attention on the words actually used. They really count.

Inexperienced writers tend to use words in blizzards. Either to cover up their nervousness, or to show the world that they know how to write. But in a script, all those extra words just waste time. And display inxperience.

Have the confidence to tell a story simply and sparsely. Make every word count.


#StoryTip: A character's actions betray their true emotions - or their angst makes them act out. This is "unintentional subtext" - use it!

In Apollo 13, as they waited for the ship to emerge from the reentry blackout, Kathleen Quinlan's son says, "Mommy, you're squishing me!" In that moment we know that, no matter what she is saying (nothing), and what she is showing (a stiff upper lip), this woman is scared to death.

That's "unintentional subtext". When a character's actions reveal their concealed state of mind. This is a potent tool and readers love to see it. It's one of the many details that show mastery and distinguish your script from others.

Use little tells like this to show how your characters really feel -- and avoid them actually coming out and SAYING IT. No character should ever say what they feel in any movie, period. Give the audience something to discover. Reveal emotions with actions -- they speak louder than words, after all.

An excellent and economical film course: watch Casablanca over and over.

As a screenwriter, you should know Casablanca inside and out. Among the other great lessons you get from repeated watching — tips on characterization, scene construction and flow, pacing — you'll learn all about subtext.

The censors were powerful back then, and they worked their magic here. As a result, many interchanges were soft-pedaled to the point where you might not even realize what's going on. Unless, of course, you watch it over and over.

The censors were imposing subtext on Casablanca, as they imposed subtext on many movies of the past (more so than the present) — by forcing the filmmakers into euphemism and allusion. And this is the very definition of subtext.

If you don't understand subtext, or how to work it, euphemisms are the place to start.

Imagine your film is being heavily censored. You can't use all that salty language we love so much nowadays, nor refer to various perverted acts. What would you do?

You want to preserve the storyline, of course, and the language and perversions are part and parcel of the plot. You need to come up with other ways to say what you mean.

That's subtext: saying what you mean without saying what you mean.

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The beauty of this approach is how it positions the film for the public. It makes it more accessible to a wider audience.

You can take kids to it —- they just won't get the dirty parts. They'll wait for more interesting stuff to happen. You can take grandma to it — she'll smile, wistfully, remembering her gadabout years. You can take bible-thumping Uncle Silas to it — he'll sneer at the immorality while secretly admiring the elegance of the presentation.
 
For subtext is, above all, elegance. Even if it's mandated by the censors — it's a limitation that forces a creative solution, and that solution usually becomes an elegant treatment of the subject matter.
 
We often tell our writers to think of limitations as collaborators — they'll force you to consider dramatic possibilities you wouldn't ordinarily consider.

Limitations spur creativity, which is probably why they exist in the world at all. But here, the point is they inspire an elegance to the dialogue that makes a movie both widely accessible and timeless.
 
These days, the hard R is the thing, and it's all very fun, but it does limit the movie's appeal. Far better to be filthy without being explicit.

In Casablanca, we come to realize that Renault screws these girls in order to allow them and their husbands to leave Casablanca. That's reprehensible. But it's treated with delicacy, so it makes it much more palatable. And accessible.

If we saw him rogering some sweet innocent creature, we'd be instantly turned off. But we see him just alluding to his own immorality, so we have a more finely nuanced reaction — we can actually enjoy his devilishness (especially since he redeems himself in the end) and not feel like we're bad people.
 
This approach gives the writer more dramatic choices. All movies with questionable characters use concealment to hide their most egregious sins from us — which allows them to be more accessible to us. "He did this to her," says the psychiatrist, showing a photo to Clarice. We don't see the photo, just her reaction. It must've been horrible, we think, but then the moment passes, and we're not prejudiced against Hannibal by having seen the horrible thing.
 
Concealment. Subtext is all about concealment. And if the censor makes you conceal, then he also limits your creativity in a way that forces you to be more elegant, more nuanced, and can make your film more accessible.


So the next time you want to work in some subtext, pretend there's a censor over your shoulder, forbidding your characters to say the truth about anything — forbidding them to say what's really on their minds — how will you then sneak the scene, with all its meaning and function, past this censor?

(In this series, a cranky script reader shares some of his pet peeves...)

PEEVE: Scripts where the protagonist is infallible
(See also “scripts that function thinly-veiled autobiography.”)

It’s natural that the writer should be a little in love with his or her protagonist: if you don’t care about your main character, why should the audience?

It’s even more natural if the protagonist functions as a kind of proxy for the writer and the script functions as a more dramatic version of the writer’s life story. Who (aside from Woody Allen, the Emperor of self-deprecation) likes to think of him or herself as profoundly flawed and fallible?

We all like to regard ourselves as heroes of our own story and to perceive other people as the primary source of our woes. But it’s dramatically unsatisfying if your protagonist is invariably in the right.

Make your protagonist flawed.

In fact, don’t be afraid to make your protagonist a bit of a jerk!

If you take the audience close to him or her, if your protagonist is a fascinating character, if you develop the kind of plot where the audience can’t help but become emotionally invested in his or her plight, then even the most despicable protagonist will be compelling (see: Fritz Lang’s M for a case in point.)

No more infallible protagonists! Even if you were writing a movie about the Pope. Flaws and failings give us a point of entry and identification -- there can be no true drama without them.

#StoryTip: Consider visuals your primary channel of communication - dialogue, secondary.

 

This cannot be stressed enough. Beginning writers throw a blizzard of dialogue at every problem, hoping to bowl over the audience with essential information. Problem is, they don't always know what's essential and what isn't, and eventually the audience will just tune out all that babble. No good.

 

Some years back at the Austin Film Festival, William Broyles gave a talk on this very subject. His view was that anytime you can eliminate a line in favor of a non-visual cue of some sort, so much the better. And he oughta know, he wrote Castaway — the perfect demonstration of the power of the visual over the spoken.

 

Study that film for ideas you can use in your own writing. Yes, dialogue is a big part of any movie — eventually one needs a Wilson so you can deliver some patter — but a watch, a box with angel wings, a rope hanging from a high branch... not only can visuals say many things better and more succinctly than dialogue, with much more impact, they can say things your character wouldn't say to anybody, much less admit to themselves.

 

#StoryTip: Open up your protagonist. We must know what they're made of, what drives them. How else can we understand & identify with them?

 

Even in the most slam-bang rollicking action movie, we have to know what drives your characters. Otherwise, we'll never be able to like them or hate them (either one is okay) — the most important thing is that we understand them. Then we can identify with them, and that;s what allows us to cheer them on, to get personally involved in their struggle.

 

Even in, say, a Western, you must allow your taciturn character to reveal himself to the audience. That cowboy will use that unspoken stuff we were just talking about — a look of pain, act of mercy, a eagerness for or reluctance to engage in some activity — to reveal something of what's going on within himself.

 

Screenwriters often feel they can leave that to the actor — but it'll never get to an actor unless you put it in your script! It doesn't take much. As long as you know what's going on behind those icy blue eyes, you can think of character-appropriate moments of revelation which will help us understand them. And we absolutely have to, if we're gonna spend a couple hours watching them do their thing.

 

#StoryTip: Your script has a theme, whether you realize it or not - find it, and let it be your guide!

 

Theme is inherent in any screenplay ever written. It's part of the premise — it waits inside your premise — and when premise is hitched to character and plot, a theme bubbles up naturally. It's in everything you write. Seriously.

 

Theme can be spotted in any screenplay of any length. It will be indicated by a character's goals and choices. It will be implicit in the rules of the storyworld, in the coincidences and twists of fate that befall a character. And it will likely be most noticeable when it comes to the end result of all the action.

 

The beauty of finding theme is that it then becomes a guide for revision. You wind up with a point, and your writing from that moment on becomes a shaping rather than a groping. You're saying something, now, big or small, important or trivial — but something is better than nothing. And a screenplay about something is much more interesting than a screenplay about nothing. (Though that can be good for certain TV shows.)

 

We've heard "moment of inspiration" anecdotes all our lives. "I began thinking, 'what if'..."
 
We get told about the power of "what if", and encouraged to believe that it's something magical.
 
But the ideas that occur to one person can occur to anyone. Just because that one person managed to turn that idea into a thing that became a thing that a million or more people loved, we tend to think there's something special about the moment of inspiration that writer experienced.

Is that true?

Bob Gale, of BACK TO THE FUTURE FAME, says this (at http://www.ugo.com/movies/back-to-the-future-blu-ray-script-changes):

The inspiration for making the movie, for coming up with the story is that I was visiting my parents in the summer of 1980, from St. Louis Missouri, and I found my father’s high-school yearbook in the basement. I’m thumbing through it and I find out that my father was the president of his graduating class, which I was completely unaware of. So there’s a picture of my dad, 18-years-old, and I’m thinking about the president of my graduating class, who was someone I would have had nothing to do with. He was one of these “Ra-Ra” political guys, he was probably Al Gore or something. Captain of the debate team, all this stuff. So the question came up in my head, ‘gee, if I had gone to school with my dad would I have been friends with him?’ That was where the light bulb went off.

There's more to that interview that talks about how the idea developed -- it wasn't soup yet until a long way into the process, and not even until the final script was it anywhere near what we know today as an awesome movie.

As any writer knows, in his or her heart of hearts, there's strong narrative potential in anything. If you plug in the right characters, you can turn any concept into a workable movie.

For Bob, the moment of inspiration was really only noteworthy in retrospect. If the movie had tanked then we wouldn't be hearing about it. It just so happens that this idea of his wound up being something, and by the way, had an assist from the prodigious talent of a Bob Zemeckis -- and so, now we have a totally satisfying and entertaining movie.

While some are inspired by them, "moment of inspiration" anecdotes make other writers despair. We either have none of them or we have them all the time -- and nothing ever comes of it. That's because moments of inspiration are meaningless without the many years of work which follow.

What's important is not a moment, but a continuing process of inspiration that keeps you running, keeps you working, keeps you focused on the end result. It's the continuing process of inspiration that's important. Inspiration is, really, as common as grass, as leaves, as clouds, especially if you're attuned to it.

Recognizing inspiration, and following it up with the million additional inspirations that are required to turn anything into a finished product, a finished piece of cultural mastery, a finished cultural artifact -- that's the important part.
 
Maintaining access to inspiration, on a daily basis, as a lifestyle, that's the key — and letting that inspiration motivate you to continue working on your dreams, that's the secret.

All that to say this:

There is no "moment" of inspiration. Inspiration is an ongoing process.

All too often, we see writers struggle to come up with a logline after they have written (and sometimes after they have even filmed) their screenplays.

You got it backwards! we scream in our minds, whilst tearing out our hair.

It's understandable — you've written, changed, modified, riffed...and you want to maximize your logline for marketing purposes.

But the thing you want to do is have the logline perfected before you start writing.

As we discussed in one of our recent articles, your premise is the seed which grows the mighty oak of your script. A fanciful cliché, certainly, but think about it — within any seed are the components to create the entire plant the seed will become. They are perhaps in microscopic form, and surely the seed relies on additional elements like water and soil nutrients... but the analogy holds. The seed contains all the plant needs to become a potato, a flower, a giant spreading tree.

The key is to hold off on beginning until you have a premise that actually forms a logline — to develop your premise, the simple idea which gets you going, until it is a logline.

Some screenwriting gurus suggest that a logline only gives you about two or three good scenes, and that may be true. But the elements of a well-written logline will contain, latent within them, the power to create many more scenes, not just the obvious ones.

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The best logline is a single sentence that explains what your script is about, what happens in it, and supplies a clue as to what the conflict will be — and indicates what's awesome about the script.

A son's birthday wish renders a smarmy lawyer unable to lie for 24 hours.

The most often quoted high-concept idea, turned into a good logline. Anybody will be able to imagine what this story is about from this — and imagine what hijinx will ensue.

A newly-minted FBI agent must team up with a creepy but brilliant serial killer to solve a series of horrific crimes.

A logline should not contain too many modifiers, unless they are important to one's understanding of the story. The fact that the FBI agent is newly-minted suggests an immediate conflict. "Creepy" is a judgment call above, but "brilliant" alone doesn't adequately convey his essential creepiness.

There's also, in the above example, an element of mystery. Two of them, actually. If you didn't know what was going to happen, you might think that maybe she just teams up with him somewhere in the world. Or that he's out doing crimes and she's receiving help from him. That's one mystery. The other is, of course, the "horrific" crimes. Another modifier, but justified, in this case.

The complexity of a logline, in the story planning phase, helps you anticipate the potential complexity of your story. You want to engineer as simple a logline as you can so that your story will be, even if complex, easy to understand.

A young hacker discovers he's living in a computer-generated dreamworld — the real world is a hellish dystopia where humans fight for their freedom against ingenious and nearly invincible machines.

Longish. Hey, it's a somewhat complex movie. But in one sentence — with the all-important dash to keep it to one sentence — the essential gist of the movie can be easily expressed.

A thief able to infiltrate dreams embarks on an impossible mission — the "inception" of a false memory in the mind of a billionaire industrialist — while trying to avoid losing himself and his whole team in Limbo

Even longerish! But, you want to get it all in! That's an example of the dreaded two-dash logline. But it is all one sentence, isn't it? And, though complex, it tells you all you need to know about the players, the conflict, and even the stakes.

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There's lots more that can be said about loglines, but like the loglines themselves, we'll keep it brief.

The beauty of creating the right logline in advance means you can have it there before you, to help guide the story as you write it. If the story changes, then change the logline. Then, when it's time to market the completed script, you have your logline ready already — and by then it will have been honed and honed and honed until it's diamond sharp!

Prudes, read no further!

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