Book Review: Notes to Screenwriters

Angela Bourassa recently reviewed our book, Notes to Screenwriters on her site, LA Screenwriter.

Here's an excerpt:

"Writers, producers, and consultants Vicki Peterson and Barbara Nicolosi have a new addition for your shelf of screenwriting books. The book is called Notes to Screenwriters, and we think that it deserves a spot next to Save the Cat and Story.
With so many books on screenwriting, it must be a daunting task for writers to come up with something new to add to the writer’s curriculum. What Vicki and Barbara have done with this book is not try to replace or out-do the classics of screenwriting instruction. Instead, they’ve gathered together handy advice and wisdom from their years on both sides of the table.
Vicki and Barbara build each chapter around sets of related notes that screenwriters commonly receive on scripts – notes like “Not enough conflict” or “The characters weren’t active.” They then provide writers with practical advice for improving their writing and their approach to screenwriting as a business."

Thanks, Angela! Check out the rest of the article here:  http://la-screenwriter.com/2015/06/04/why-you-should-read-notes-to-screenwriters/

Film Courage 'Notes to Screenwriters' Full Video Interview

A couple months ago we sat down with the producers of Film Courage to talk about our book, Notes to Screenwriters. The whole 70 minute interview is here:

Thanks, Film Courage! We enjoyed talking with you.

A Good Visual Image is Worth a Thousand Words

Poetry is the most respectful of art forms.  The whole reason for a poem is the acknowledgment that reality is too complex and mysterious to be reduced to the limits of wordy definitions.  Poetry searches for metaphors to reveal facets of reality by likening them to other things.  In the famous poem “The Blind Men and the Elephant” by John Godfrey Saxe, we laugh to hear that an elephant is alternately like a wall, and then, like a spear, and then like a snake, and a tree, a fan and a rope.  The poem assures us that an elephant isn’t any of those things, but is something like all of them.

Poetry is also eminently respectful of the reader, because it has to have faith in his or her intelligence, sensitivity and imagination – an act of faith basically in the reader’s humanity – to succeed.  The poet is a riddler who crafts a puzzle for the visual imagination and hopes that someone will be enticed to go through the difficult process of unraveling it.  If they do, the labor they have expended will make the solution valuable to them.  You know what I mean if you have ever been driving along on a country road, and then suddenly understood what Emily Dickinson meant when she wrote,

                                     I had been hungry all the years-

My noon had come, to dine-

I, trembling, drew the table near

And touched the curious wine.

Suddenly, as C.S. Lewis said about the purpose of literature, you know you’re not alone.

So what happened to us?  Why is so much contemporary art and literature banal and lacking in meaty metaphors?  Why do our works not only not cause the world to brood, but leave them feeling unsatisfied and even resentful for the time they spent with us?  Along with the general lack of artistic rigor that characterizes so much of contemporary artistic efforts, part of the problem is that so little work today has any powerful lyrical imagery.  All of art is basically metaphor, but the most evocative and resonant art offers metaphors not only in the general, but as the key to the deepest meanings meant to be communicated from artist to audience.By leaving out metaphor, we separate ourselves from storytellers like Homer and Dante and Hawthorne and Poe, all of whom were masters of visual paradox.  My sense is that many contemporary writers couldn’t even say what a lyrical image is or why it is important in a story. 

At it’s basic level, a lyrical image is sacramental in a story, giving the reader something to see in their mind’s eye that points to hidden realities. Imagery should come into play particularly to get an audience to brood over a project’s theme, but also can be very helpful in making a character’s motivations and choices more resonant.

The primary virtue of a metaphor is that it is clearer than the underlying truth you are trying to explicate.  

The second necessary quality of a metaphor is that it applies. As Naval scholar Alfred Thayer Mahan noted in his work of training officers, "A great leader is the one who knows all the principles from history and then knows in the situation before him, that a principle applies when it applies and doesn't apply when it doesn't apply."  It's the same with a great artist.  

The third quality of a metaphor is that it provides the emotional resonance that is harder to access in the simple unaided truth.  Consider the most famous allegory in philosophical literature, Plato's Cave.  

Plato could have simply said that the movement from double ignorance to wisdom necessitates many bracing shocks along the way as one is wrenched out of one's comfort zone, stripped of illusion and slowly is able to encounter reality.  But that statement washes over most hearers without any urgency and makes no connection to the life of most heaers.  But tell people that they are prisoners in a cave chained and deceived.  Tell them that they experience terror when the light first strikes their darkened eyes and that they have to be dragged forcibly out of the place in which hey feel safe.  Tell them that that moving from blindness to sight is a slow process but that finally the presence and light of the sun will become their dearest and most cherished gift.  There is energy and passion and fascination and attraction in the metaphor that the simple truth lacks.

In her story Good Country People, the great one, Flannery O’Connor, created a character who was a PhD with a wooden leg. O'Connor wrote about the device to highlight an important aspect of utilizing metaphor in narrative writing.

“She (the character, Hulga) believes in nothing but her own belief in nothing, and we perceive that there is a wooden part of her soul that corresponds to her wooden leg. Now of course this is never stated. The fiction writer states as little as possible. The reader makes this connection from things he is shown. He may not even know that he makes the connection, but the connection is there nevertheless and it has its effect on him.” (Flannery O’Connor, Mystery and Manners)

The truth is, it is easier to tell people what you think, then to entice them to think on something, which is what a good visual image does.  Coming up with a good visual image for a story requires a double portion of the intelligence, sensitivity and imagination that a reader will need to unravel it. 

Kindness and Corsets: The Spectacle of Cinderella

My seven year old daughter loves princesses, and I was inevitably one of the contributors to Mr. Mouse's $70 million box office haul last weekend. There's a lot to like about this adaptation. It's a solid story, supported by gorgeous production design, and absolutely stunning costumes. Oh dear Lord, the costumes. Amazing. They are currently on display at the El Capitan Theater in Hollywood, and they are even more impressive in person up close. It's worth the second mortgage to see this show at the El Capitan, by the way. Especially if you take a seven year old in a princess dress.

The spectacle in Cinderella is, well, spectacular. It is truly a feast for the eyes. However, the reason the spectacle works so well is because it has a solid story to hang on.

It has been said that every story is either The Odyssey or Cinderella, so it's not surprising that the audience has certain expectations for the plot. We know what happens. The way it happens in this adaptation is so satisfying, you might find yourself sporting a perma-grin while sitting in a dark theater staring at the screen. Disney's animated Cinderella is more famous than the original fairy tale it was based on by Charles Perrault. It is a tall order to offer a new, fresh take on the world's most well-known fairy tale and also improve upon it. But they did. For starters, they made Cinderella a more active character. Instead of passively letting her step family take advantage of her, Cinderella makes an active choice and compelling reason to stay in spite of her challenges. She is not a victim. She takes ownership of her values, kindness and courage, which cause her to make decisions that are difficult and heroic. Kindness is Cinderella's superpower. Because of her values, she brings nobility and honor to her suffering.

Granted, the message of the story, "Have courage and be kind," is hammered into the audience and repeated about seventeen times too many, but I almost never find this sort of thing to be the fault of the writer. It was probably some studio note to make it so obvious that everyone over the age of five wants to yell at the screen, "Come on! I get it already!" Even so, it's forgivable, because it works. Guess what message my daughter walked away with. Kindness wins. As a parent and as a storyteller, this message is a welcome and refreshing change from most kid stories, which usually amount to something cliche and banal, like, "Just be yourself," or, "Just try." I don't need my kid to go to the movies to learn to just be herself. I want my kid to aspire to be someone slightly better than herself. I want her to choose to stick to her values in the face of adversity.

In addition to being integral to the theme, kindness is also the spectacle of the story. In a plot that offers almost no surprises, kindness is the lynchpin which causes the reactions, moves the story forward, and creates the moments which become so visually powerful. In our book, Notes to Screenwriters, we describe spectacle as being the servant to all the other elements of story: plot, character, theme, dialogue and tone. The reason Cinderella works is because it's not just about pretty dresses. It works because it offers a complete story.

So you think you have an idea for a movie?

      I got another one last night. A person who heard me give a speech sent me a message asking me to evaluate his life story as a good spine for a movie. We folks in the movie business get this kind of message a lot. As a rule, people have absolutely no idea how big and developed an idea needs to be to become fodder for the entertainment industry to start tossing it around. Below is a two-pager I worked up for my undergrads, basically as a guideline for their final project for me in my Story and Character class. From now on, when somebody writes me that they have a "good idea for a movie" I am going to ask them to complete this sheet - which I am estimating will come in at between 8-12 pages.

Movie Proposal Format

PROPOSED PROJECT TITLE:  How does this title give a sense of your theme, genre and character?

LOGLINE:  One sentence that sums up what this movie is about.

SHORT PITCH:  In one paragraph, sell this story to me.  The following information should be included in a breezy, well-written style.

-  What is the genre of this piece? How would you classify its style and tone?

-  Where does it take place and in what time period?

-  What is the scope of the movie (ie.  Epic studio movie?  Quirky indie film? Etc.) and who will be its primary audience?

-  What will make people want to see this movie?  How will it be fun/entertaining for the audience?  (Think something to learn, something to feel, something to dream about.  Think universal truth and spectacle.)

MOVIE THEME:  State in one artfully-written, arguable sentence the main theme of this project.  You can also include lesser themes in other sentences.

ARENA:  Describe the unique and visual world through which we will travel in this movie.  What will this movie look like on the screen?  How will the visuals help set the tone and the theme?  If it is a standard location (ie. courtroom, bar, restaurant, living room, office), describe how we will see this standard location in a new way in the movie.

MAIN CHARACTER PROFILES:  This section should be at least three pages.  It should include everything about your main two or three characters that Aristotle and McKee - and um, me - says  goes into a good character (not necessarily in this order), including:

-  Characterization (how old?  How smart/educated/articulate?  How rich or poor?Where she lives?  How he looks – his personal style and quirks.  Give me a thorough sense of the way this character is going to look and handle herself on screen.)

-  Character (What is his genius?  Her charm? Why will audiences be drawn to him?  What are his values and how did he find them?  What would she say she needs most?  What stands in his way?)

-  What are the main conflicts in her life?  What are some of the deep paradoxes in her life?

-  Who or what is his support system?

-  What is her transformational arc in the movie?  What leads up to his moment of grace and does he accept it or not?  How is she irrevocably changed at the end of the movie?  How is his ending a new beginning?

SUPPORTING CHARACTER PROFILES:  Write at least a paragraph for each of the other principal characters in the piece.  Give details of their character and characterizations and indicate what transformational arc they will travel in the story.

STORY SYNOPSIS:  Divide the main action of the story into acts.  This section should be at least five pages. 

                  ACT ONE:  Take us through the main action of the first half hour of this movie.  Include the way the main character is introduced. Include how you are going to introduce your theme and any visual imagery you will be using.  Hook us by indicating the entertaining spectacle that the audience will enjoy in the story.  Then, take us through the inciting incident that draws the character into launching the journey of the story by making a choice.  Describe the various kinds of conflict that stand in the character’s way.Introduce supporting characters and subplots.  End with a high stakes, visual action/choice that puts the character in a new dilemma.

                 ACT TWO:  Take us through the next hour of the film.  How does the character’s situation become more complicated?  What actions does the character take which drive the story?  What changes do we start to see in the arena?  Where is the character and his personal relationships in Act Three? What is it that heightens the stakes and suspense?  What will continue to make this entertaining for the audience?  What is the main reversal that comes at the mid-point?  At the end of Act Two, how is the character’s situation as bad as it can be?  What is the test that you have set up for the third act?

                ACT THREE:  Take us through the main action of the third act.  What does the character do in the third act?  What are the remaining sources of conflict and how does the character engage them?  Where is the character in his relationship in Act Three?  How does the character’s genius come into play in getting to the resolution of the story?  How does the character “die” so as to live?  How is the arena changed at the end of the story?  What is the new beginning at the end?

Practice Safe Storytelling

The truth is, the tragic note that should be given about many scripts that are on the floors, desks, chairs and trunks in Hollywood is, “This script should never have been written.” Scripts get written that shouldn’t, in the same way unplanned pregnancies happen. People who may or may not be writers have a one night stand with a cheap idea and then, a few weeks or months later, push out a draft. What should have happened is a hard conversation between the person and their story idea before they jumped into Final Draft together. “Are you really the one for me?” “Are you going to be able to support a whole screenplay?” “Is there any theme underneath your spectacle?” “Is it really you I love, or is it because you remind me of somebody else?” “Is this going to be something we both get sick of in a few months?” The only good news is, you never really get naked with a bad story, but you are rarely better for having let yourself get seduced by a sexy pitch.

Once the script exists, very few people have the obnoxiousness and intestinal fortitude to say to the hapless and half-had creator, “You made a big mistake in starting this.” I wish I had the courage to say it more often, because, if you don’t say it, then you end up spending a tremendous amount of time doing what I think of as, “Tweaking Crap Around the Edges.” It always reminds me of when I was a little girl and how I hated eating liver. My cousin told me to cut it up in really really small pieces and get it down that way. But I remember trying the experiment and concluding at about age six, that you could cut up and cover up crap, but it’s still gonna taste like crap.

Not long ago, I gave notes on a script that is, for reasons known only to the movie gods – whom I’m convinced more and more are dark, dark spirits – going ahead at a production company. Basically the company knows the project is in trouble but they have already spent too much money on it to abandon it so they are going to plunge ahead hoping against all probability that a wonder of a movie will come out of a script of chopped liver.

Still, it’s an ill wind that doesn’t blow some good, and so I thought I could share some of the reasons why the project is failing for folks out there struggling with their own difficult screenplay relationships. Here are notes to help you not get used.

A) First Note: This Script Was Not Written By a Writer 
Writing is a talent. Talent means you are naturally, weirdly good at something that other people can not do. You know you have writing talent if your writing elicits an emotional response from people. You know you have talent if you know what you write is good. You KNOW it.

And then, even natural born writers need some degree of training. You can no more sit down and spew out a screenplay without having studied the craft, than a brain surgeon could just crack open a skull and start scalping. Training gives a writer appreciation for the complexity of good writing. As Thomas Mann so wonderfully noted, “A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.”

This is the kind of note that gets written on scripts that are not written by people with writing talent or training (examples are all from real scripts):

– The language in this script is clunky and the word choices awkward. (i.e. “Mary straddled a phone on her shoulder.”
– The scenes are over-written (ie. John stands nervously looking at his face in the bathroom mirror over the sink near the shower two feet from the window.”).
– There doesn’t seem to be any theme or subtext underlying this piece. The writer doesn’t seem to have any burning thing she wants to say. She has done a job, but never taken ownership.
– There is no charm here. No fun. No magic. Nothing that feels fresh or creative.
– There is nothing to learn here. The writer has nothing to teach or share.

B) Second Note: Not a Story but Lots of Chit-Chat in Different Places
Aristotle says that human beings are driven to story by two powerful instincts: for imitation and for beauty. It’s the imitation thing we are interested in here. The kind of imitation that we are driven to stare at in stories is what Aristotle calls, “Men in action.” Movement. Choices. Change. And real change that can’t just be reversed or taken back. We say “Show don’t tell,” when we are working with writers but, it’s amazing how so few people can apply this when it comes to their own work. So, I’m not going to just tell you, show don’t tell. Here’s me showing you the notes you get when a story is all talky no chantey.

– Time and time again, the writers fail dramatically in that they have characters say who they are, what they want, what the problems are and what the point of everything is, instead of showing it through visual, high stakes choices.
– Because so much of this comes down to conversations, most of the story feels unmotivated. It lacks the compelling quality that comes from “seeing is believing.”
– No one is building anything in this script. No one is climbing a mountain or slaying a dragon or doing anything enviable or, frankly, anything filmic.
– Apparently, the writer wants us to believe that these characters resolved their huge problems offscreen and without losing any limbs or jobs or jobs or even just a smashed brandy glass.

C) Third Note: Not Cross-Genre, Really Just a Mess
When I talk about genre with my students, it always turns into a discussion of their First Amendment freedoms. Many wannabe writers feel constrained by the idea of genre as if it is something outside being imposed on them. But genre isn’t something that you fit your story into. Genre is the essence that flows out of your stuff. It’s the soul in your project that pushes it to fulfillment the way Aristotle says the soul of a zebra pushes it to have black and white stripes and so that the zebra never wakes up one day with the mane of a lion. Signs you are unclear in the soul of your story are notes like this:

– What kind of movie is this? Is it a family film? Is it a comedy? A romantic comedy? A drama? A drama with romantic comedy elements? A murder mystery? This script is trying to be all things to all but isn’t attaining to any of them.
– The story never really gets us to tears, and it never really gets us to laughs. It never gets us to fear and suspense, and it never gets us to inspiration.
– This script feels like two different movies. It started feeling like “The Insider,” but then devolved into “Hang Over.”
– The writer seems to be going for black comedy here. But the thing about comedy is, it’s funny. Even when it’s black.
– This movie has a twelve year old protagonist, but then there are scenes full of R-rated language. Who is the audience for this piece?

Getting the Most Out of Script Consultations

  The bulk of the business we do at Catharsis, besides writing and being generally fabulous, is script consulting. Or rather, writer consulting. We groom writers to become the people they need to be to execute their masterpieces and enjoy a meaningful career. We've seen our share of starry-eyed hopefuls, rough and tumble go-getters, anxious self-doubters, over-confident newbies, and more. We wrote our book, Notes to Screenwriters, from the many years of giving notes to our students and clients, and also from receiving notes as writers ourselves.

One of the most disheartening things we see in our line of work is that newbie writers will squander hundreds of dollars on script consultations because they didn't properly prepare for them. It's for this reason we do preliminary evaluations on scripts to deem if they are ready for extensive feedback. We aren't interested in wasting time (yours or ours) if a script is not ready.

Here are the top ten ways to make the most of your next script consultation:

1. Learn the craft. Before dropping several hundred bucks on a script consultation, make sure you've first invested in some training, instruction, and materials. It's surprising how many writers don't do this. If you wanted to be a surgeon, would you want someone to evaluate your first surgical procedure before you've attended med school? We don't think so. At the very, very least, read some books on screenwriting. (Like ours.) There's a ton of basic how-to classes out there. Take some seminars. (Ours are great.) Watch great movies. Read the top screenplays. If you're just starting out, consider signing up for a mentorship with us instead of a consultation. We'll tailor it toward specific areas in which you need to grow.

2. Proofread your script before you send it to a consultant. Please. Pretty please. If you know you're bad at proofreading, ask a friend to help you.

3. Make sure you're sending your very best work. Never send a script to anyone- not even your writers group- that isn't a good representation of what you can do. Write to the very best of your ability and knowledge. Most emerging writers see a gap between their abilities and where they want their writing to be. Take note of this gap, and ask your consultant questions based on where you perceive your own deficit.

4. When you get written feedback, read for clarity. Us poor writers are creatures of ego. When we get feedback, what we really want to know- from the depths of our beings- is whether our work is truly and deeply loved by another. In most cases, especially with drafts in progress, that answer is no. So get over it. Be objective. Be professional. Strive to understand the feedback your consultant gives you, whether you agree with it or not.

5. Ask thoughtful, specific questions. When you meet with your consultant, come prepared with a list of several specific questions you have about your work. The more specific you are, the more satisfying answers you'll get. Move away from asking generalizations, like, "So did you like it? Do you think it can sell?" Instead, ask questions like, "On page 24, I wanted to create a visual metaphor for the hero's descent into hell, so that's why everything is orange. Did you pick up on that?"

6. Resist taking offense or defending your work. See #4. Script consultations are often the first experiences new writers have with getting professional quality feedback, and it can be intimidating for some. Trust us, we're the kind ones. If you stick with it, there will be plenty of uncaring, snarky, and inconsiderate note-givers in your future. It's best to grow some thicker skin now. If you find yourself getting defensive, take a step back and remember that consultants are deeply invested in helping you grow.

7. Say, "Thank you." These magic words open more doors in Hollywood than any other, and your professionalism as a screenwriter starts here.

8. Don't expect a script consultant to act as an agent. The role of a consultant is to give you the notes you need to make your script really great. Don't ask them to slip your script to Spielberg. Just don't.

9. Expect a lot more work ahead.  Many scripts we consult on are several drafts away from professional quality work, mainly because the writer didn't consider several of the points above. Professional quality writing takes years of commitment and practice.

10. The more you learn, you'll learn that you have more to learn. The wisest among us make this a lifelong habit. The most prolific writers are constantly growing in their craft, taking seminars, reading, and attending retreats, like this one.  

We should also say, as former development executives, that many of these same rules apply to sending your script to a production company. DON'T DO IT unless you're given the green light from professionals (like us) who agree that it's ready.
Learn more about Catharsis script consulting here!

Why Pixar's 'Inside Out' Premise is Brilliant

Pixar released the extended trailer yesterday for its upcoming feature, Inside Out:

The premise is that characters who each represent an emotion live in the control center (get it?) of a human's brain and tries to "help". Of course, we can assume these emotions get in each others' way and muddle things up as much as possible.

The premise might at first seem like a risky move for Pixar. For one thing, it's unlike anything we've seen before. For risk-averse Hollywood, cranking out another Cars sequel might seem like a better financial move. Pixar, known and respected for creating delightfully original content, has been playing it safe lately, so this is a welcome and hopeful nod to their strong storytelling roots.

In spite of theoretical risk, Inside Out, from a story perspective, is a brilliant idea. Why? The premise taps into the very reason people go see movies: to feel something.

In our chapter on story in Notes to Screenwriters, we discuss why a story has to matter. A story is something to learn. The primary lesson that people want to learn in story has to do with a better way to live. A story is also something to dream. The societal point for story is for audience members to watch the trials and tribulations of a made up character and then import those lessons into their real lives. And finally, a story is something to feel.

"Stories are meant to provide a variety of human experience. Especially emotional experience. Our psyches are programmed for a wide spectrum of emotional sensations, ranging from sidesplitting laughter to gut-wrenching sobs, from the thrill of wonder to goose bumps and shrieks of terror. When we feel intense emotions, they can act as a cathartic release or purge."

Also in Notes to Screenwriters, we break down the various emotions and their corresponding genres. People go to dramas to experience pathos and sympathy. they go to comedies to experience surprise and the absurd. They see horror films to experience the limits of their own courage.

It's safe to assume that Inside Out will deliver all of these emotions and more. Perhaps this is the new meta-genre. Pixar is the best at establishing ultimate mass appeal, and this film suggests that whatever you want to feel at the movies, Inside Out will have it.

Of course, this premise is so "high concept" it could backfire by trying to accomplish too much and thereby please no one, but if anyone can pull something off like this, it's Pixar. We won't know for another three months if they deliver on the premise, but we hope they do! 

Four Great Reasons to Love Kimmy Schmidt

Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, now streaming on Netflix, is a new comedy by Tina Fey and Robert Carlock in which a woman escapes a doomsday cult and starts life over again in New York City. In the pilot, Kimmy (Ellie Kemper) delightful, effervescent, and determined to not let fifteen years of horrific abuse get her down, takes charge of her new circumstances to find a job and an apartment with world's most contagious smile on her face.

Not everyone can say they know what it's like to live in a post-apocalyptic bunker for fifteen years, so what makes Kimmy so darn likeable and relatable? 

In our book, Notes to Screenwriters, we break down the four qualities of a relatable character as described by Aristotle in Poetics. Here are just a few things Kimmy does to model these qualities:

1. Goodness
Kimmy's goodness in the face of adversity is what makes her so refreshing and delightful. She is not just basically good, she is almost wholly good. She made the most of a horrific situation and she is determined not to be labeled a victim. And just when her brightness and positivity might be brushed off as innocence or denial, she springs into action to defend herself and others. Her flaws are sympathetic, too. Her occasional post-traumatic flashbacks set her off in surprising ways. She blurts out details from the bunker that she otherwise would bury.

2. Propriety
In the pilot, Kimmy catches a boy stealing candy (twice) and chases after him. This action inadvertently leads her to her new employer, Jacqueline Vorhees (Jane Krakowski) whom she quasi-mistakes as a woman trapped in an oppressive relationship needing help. Kimmy is a hero who stands up for justice. But she is also quirky and upbeat while doing so. Aristotle says that a relatable character should be quirky and strange, but not grotesque or scary. Juxtaposed with her captor, the bearded megalomaniac by day and party DJ by night, she is by far a more sympathetic character.

3. Consistency
Kimmy makes consistent choices which support her motivation to defend the weak and free the oppressed. As positive as she is, she is no shrinking violet. She stands up to bullies, including Vorhee's rotten step-daughter Xanthippe (Dylan Gelula) who try to tear her down. She is steadfast in her quest to improve her life, make a living, get an education, and protect the innocent.

4. Truth 
Kimmy and her fellow "mole women" were fed horrible lies about the apocalypse for fifteen years. They were told that they were dumb and bad. They were forced to worship a lunatic. It is precisely because of this back story that Kimmy stands for truth. Interestingly enough, the four mole women react differently to their experience after they are freed. One cashes in on her "victim" status and accepts plenty of pity perks, including a boyfriend who doesn't love her. Another starts a "Mole" business- that is, the Mexican sauce, mole (get it?). The third continues to dress in plain clothes and sympathize with her oppressor. Kimmy is the only one who clings to what is good, noble, and true.

Film Courage Interview: Everything Screenwriters Need to Know About Script Notes

Complex Structure: A Storyteller's Enigma

There is a lot to like in one of this year's Best Picture nominees The Imitation Game.  As a beautifully recreated period piece with a quirky, brilliant protagonist and high stakes internal and extrernal stories, it's the kind of movie that will always do well with movie fans and critics alike.  So, why didn't it really catch fire? Why did it play, in the end, as basically enjoyable, but not something we would ever need to see again?  Possibly because of the risks the storytellers took in structure.  Risks that proved too much for the story. 

The structure in The Imitation Game was very problematic. Weaving in and out of three stories spread over forty years is always going to emotionally distance the audience from the characters. The story of Turing falling in love as a young boy offered the main pathos of the movie and was the filmmakers' attempt to make us forgive Turing for his ill-treatment of others as an adult.  But it didn't add much if anything to the main story of breaking Enigma, nor really even of explaining his social disorders. Just because somebody has their heart broken when they are twelve does't excuse that person treating all other people badly forever. What was gained from the boyhood story could have gotten done in one short scene, we didn't need to spend twenty minutes of the movie going back there. 

Flashing ahead to the investigation of Turing by the police also added little to the main story.  The whole episiode was contrived to get to the historical fact that Turing was prosecuted for indecency.  It would have had more power to the audience it if had been left as a title card at the very end.  What was lost in audience engagement by the periodic flashing forward to watch the police figure out something the audience already knew, ended up as an insurmountable obstacle to the storytelling.

Every time The Imitation Game jolted back into the distant past or ahead into the future the audience was lifted out of the movie and distanced from the illusion of the story as being their story.  Flashbacks and flash forwards are very, very tricky. They belong on the shelf of tools on the cinematic workshop which has the sign, "Just because we can doesn't mean we should."  

Stories That Matter

Thirty-three. According to Movie Insider that's how many movies are opening just this month. It seems pretty safe to say there is no shortage of movies being made. There might however, be a shortage of good movies being made.

I suppose it all comes down to what you believe the purpose of storytelling is. Is it to offer an escape from the daily grind? To connect your audience by a common experience? To cause your audience to re-examine their own lives and better understand how to live?

I have no doubt that this month's thirty-three films could be sprinkled throughout every one of those categories. But I'd like to present the possibility that, just maybe, a truly good story accomplishes all of those goals. That's where Catharsis comes in.

Catharsis founders, Barbara Nicolosi and Vicki Peterson help writers tell stories that are not only good enough in the eyes of the industry to get made, but also good enough for an audience to truly enjoy seeing it and be better off after having done so.

As a writer myself, I've found their instruction to be instrumental in my own projects. But don't just take my word for it! This is the first video interview in a series Barbara and Vicki did with Film Courage. Give it a watch to hear what they have to say. You won't be disappointed. Then get out there and write good stories. We're here for you!