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/

The Screenwriter's Prequel: Do You Have What It Takes?

The Screenwriter's Prequel deadline is coming up on June 1st, and applications are rolling in. You can learn more about the program here.

Are you trying to determine if the Prequel is the right fit for you? Want to know more about what it takes to be a professional screenwriter? Here are some questions to consider:

Do you feel compelled to write? Notice I didn't ask, Do you love to write? Many writers I know don't love it on a daily basis, including me. As soon as I get settled into my writing time on some days, I'd rather play another round of Candy Crush, right after a good nap. Well, most days. Okay fine, every day. However, there is a small, sometimes not so quiet, voice that urges me to get to it. Writing is on my to-do list every day, and I feel a sense of accomplishment when I check it off the list. If you're already writing, great. You get a sticker. If you love writing all the time, great. You get two stickers and a sideways glance from me wondering if you're a Stepford robot. If you've "always wanted to write" but never been able to get yourself together to actually do it, sorry. We can't help you. We don't carry any magical pixie dust that will automatically force you to sit down at your computer. If you're somewhere in between and just need a boost, a reason, or even just permission to do make writing a greater priority in your life, we can come alongside and offer plenty of motivation.

Do you love having written? So do I. That's why I force myself to do it when I'd rather nap. The reward of having written is what keeps me going when the writing itself feels more like punishment. If you can relate, you are a writer.

Are you willing to learn something new? I went to a holistic doctor recently and she mentioned that one of the most important questions she asks her patients is, "Are you willing to be well?" She says there are many people who are sick simply because some part of them is not willing to participate in the healing process. I think it is the same with screenwriters and coaches. Writers who are open to learning will break through the mental blocks that keep them from growing and achieving success. If you believe you can never be a master of this craft, only a student, then you will go far.

Do you have something to say? Writers are prophetic voices for the masses. An emerging writer may not be able to articulate exactly what it is she wants to say, but she recognizes that it is important, and it has the potential to help others. The bulk of our work mentoring writers is to help them identify and strengthen their voice. However, we can't help you if you think stories shouldn't have something to say.

Do you want to write professionally for the screen? Notice we haven't mentioned any cliches that people typically associate with a Hollywood-based screenwriting program, including how old you need to be, what genres are selling, or how hungry you are to win, win, win. We'd rather you not focus on those things because they tend to become distractions from doing the greater work. That said, the Screenwriter's Prequel faculty are chock-full of wisdom about the need to write content that also succeeds in the marketplace. If you want to make grandiose art that pleases no audience but yourself, knock yourself out- by yourself. If you want to create something of quality intended for a specific audience that has the real possibility of being seen, we can guide you through those steps, and help you lay out a specific plan to get it in front of the right people.

Notes On Adapting a Book Into a Screenplay

The practical and ethical problems of adaptation:

a)     How does form (including genre and convention) influence content and vice versa in the adaptation process?  That is, in changing a story to another storytelling form, what information needs to be lost as no longer deliverable?  What kind of new information can be added because of new possibilities in the adopted form?

b)    How much fidelity does the adapter owe the original text?  More than just meeting the expectations of a project's fan base,  how much adherence does the adapter owe to the original writer's values and intentions?  As the creator of a character, does the original author have any claim on the choices that character can be made to make in future adaptations?  Can the adaptor just do anything with the characters and story?

Any writer setting out to adapt a book to the screen or stage needs to  spend a bit of time brooding over the limits and possibilities of each respective art form as narrative mechanisms.  What conventions are appropriate to a novel but completely impossible on the stage?  How does a screen narrative bring more control of the viewer's focus than is possible on stage?  What does sound and image add to the experience of a story impossible in a book?

Main differences between books and movies:

1)     In a movie, all action is present tense (even flashbacks have to be placed in a present context)

2)    Movie characters' inner lives must mainly be shown through actions.  There is no other convincing access to their thoughts (including their dialogue).

3)    Visual storytelling has budget constraints which is not true of prose narrative – anything is possible in a book.

4)  Books can pleasantly meander.  Movies need to come in under two hours.

5)  Book story structure is very much free form.  Movies generally need to be structured in three acts.

6)  Movie storytelling involves utilizing sound, intercutting and composition.

An adaptation can take...

A)    A good book and turn it into a lousy film   (Wise Blood, Lovely Bones, Scarlet Letter, Brothers Karamazov, Simon Birch, Brideshead Revisited)

B)    A lousy book and turn it into a great film  (Dr. Zhivago, Giant, The Godfather, Jaws)

C)    A good book and turn it into a good film  (GWTW, Color Purple, Precious, One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest, Diary of a Country Priest)

What makes the difference is the commitment of the adaptor to the cinematic project.  The needs of the project AS A MOVIE must be paramount in the adaptor's conscioussness.

Optioning Source Material

Don't start working on any adaptation until you have completely secured the rights to the material. The first task is to figure out who is the holder of the screen rights (generally the publisher or original author).  If the material is seventy-five years or older, chances are it is in the public domain.  But you should still check.  

The next step is obtaining what is called "an option." An option gives you the exclusive right to adapt and seek to produce a screen story based on the previously published work.  Options can be for any length of time, but we recommend at least a year. Basically, with an option you can get your script written, and look for production partners or financing, or try and sell the screenplay, without having to worry about someone else taking it out from underneath you or simply working on it alongside of your efforts.  The option also prevents you from being sued for copyright violations.  There are lots of things to consider before entering into an option agreement.  Check out this book for more specifics.

Stages of Adapting a Book to the Screen

1)    Get the rights.

2)    Master the book.  Make a list of the most memorable A) Moments; B)  Lines of Dialogue; C)  Arenas; D) Other distinctive details

3)     Identify the sweep of the story and why it works – or why it doesn’t

4)     Be able to articulate the book’s several themes

5)     Choose a structure and point of view which may or may not be the same as the ones used in the source material.

Random thoughts about adaptation....

-  If you are adapting a novel or memoir that is reliant on a first person point of view, the  internal monologue of the narrator's voice is the first thing to go. Movies are not as intimate or introspective as books. You can try to preserve the first person perspective through a limited voice over, but it is going to recede to be mainly for subtext.  The story needs to play out visually in a movie.

- A great adaptation should fix problems in the original source material.  The writer needs to be reconciled to that.

- One technique is to read the book, set it for a bit, and then write an outline of the main beats that have left a residual impression.  Your task is to recreate the most memorable parts of the novel, and what you remember best could be a good indicator of those key aspects.  Generally, everything off the main through−line or not essential to the major sub−plot has to go.

- The biggest difference between a movie and the book on which it is based comes down to sheer quantity.  A movie can be thought of as nine to twelve, ten minute sequences.  A book can have scores of scenes and sequences.  The screenwriter has to choose the most cinematic scenes and the key beats.  The experience of a movie is never going to feel satisfying to a diehard fan of the book.  It is probably easier if the screenwriter ISN'T a diehard fan of the book because the necessary omissions will be easier.

You can't say the same thing with a moving picture as you can with a 
book, any more than you can express with paint what you can with 
plaster. - William Faulkner

“The great mystery of adaptation is that true fidelity can only be achieved through lavish promiscuity”—David Hare

Interview by Lisa England

We met recently with Lisa England, an accomplished writer and former mentee, who interviewed us about Notes to Screenwriters for her blog.

Read the interview here: 

Thanks for the interview, Lisa! You inspire us, too.

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.

Seven Reasons Why You Need A Writers Retreat

1. You're a writer.

2. You need space to create.

3. Beauty awakens creativity.

4. Rest awakens creativity.

5. Travel awakens creativity.

6.  The company of other writers sharpens you.

7. Your writing will thank you.

Looking for a retreat? Check out our Notes to Screenwriters Cruise to Alaska! We sail May 18th.

The Screenwriter's Prequel

If writing for the screen is what you want to do, this is where you need to be this August 1st.

CURRICULUM: 

• What are the basic skill sets of screenwriting?  How do your skills rate?
• What is your writing process?  How can it be more productive?
• What are the essential elements of a story?  What makes a story cinematic?
• What makes a story matter?  What makes it unforgettable?
• Do you have a feature idea? A short? A teleplay? A web series?
• How do you make a character better than the real?
• How can you make the audience care about your character?
• How is formatting a screenplay an art and a science?
• What is the right structure to support your plot? To highlight your theme?
• How do you find and work with writing partners, producers, investors?
• (Extra for writing teachers) How do you develop a syllabus for an effective screenwriting program?

Each writer will have the opportunity for an introductory and exit interview in which we tailor particular help according to their career hopes and plans. We will help each draft a “What Comes Next?” plan for after the program.

Post-Workshop Mentoring: Writers who complete the eight-day workshop will have the opportunity to contract with Catharsis at a special rate to continue a mentoring phase on a project or projects for the next ten months. Mentoring will consist of monthly page number targets for the writer and feedback from Catharsis on the student’s work. Writers will complete two projects during their mentoring period: either a short film and a feature or two TV projects; We will also consider proposals for web series.

The One Thing You Need To Be A Screenwriter

There is really only one thing that you need to be a successful screenwriter. Drive.

I don't mean the cheesy, Hollywood-stereotyped, cocaine-laced, Alpha-person, short-fused, high burnout, megalomaniac version of Drive. That's the mask of ego that can only be worn so long before a person self-destructs. The Drive you need is a slow, steady burn. Drive is what keeps you writing long after the fickle Muse leaves you for someone else. Drive is the still, quiet voice in your soul that whispers, in spite of all circumstances, "Keep going."

Lots of people start screenwriting projects, but very few finish them. Many screenwriters loathe and fear the inevitable rejection that comes with the territory of being a writer, but in fact, it's not the rejection of others that stall out most screenwriting careers. Most screenwriters don't even make it far enough to send work out to be rejected. The greatest threat to a screenwriter's career is abandoning one's own project. Many writers simply give up. Many writers lack Drive.

Drive means that if you have an opportunity to learn or grow in your craft, you do it. You don't wait. You don't second guess it. You don't hope that some profound ability will manifest via osmosis or magic without training and practice. If you have Drive, you know that you must constantly invest in your education.

Drive means you write. You write when you don't feel like writing. You write when you know it's not working. You write when you don't have time to write.

Drive means you are in motion. You take steps (like writing) every day to further your goals. As the metaphor goes, you may not see far down the path, but so long as you put one foot in front of the other, you will go somewhere.

Drive means that you take charge of your own life. You don't blame circumstances for getting in the way of your goals. Drive means you work with the challenges you have. You find a way to make it work in addition to your other life responsibilities.

All writers have productive days and not-so productive days. Even the best succumb to what Steven Pressfield describes in his book, The War of Art, "The Resistance." The difference for writers who have Drive is they know that one unproductive day is just one lost battle. Drive means they are still winning the war. Drive is an accumulation of grace. So keep going. And when you're tired, keep going. And when you doubt you can go any farther, keep going. And when you feel like quitting, keep going. Just keep going.

Write What YOUR SOUL Knows

What does it mean, “Write what you know”? I come from an Italian-French family. I worked in a fish market in RI for a Mormon minister fisherman. I lived in the servants quarters of the Marble House in Newport. I have worked in Hollywood for twenty years. I have a family member who is an alcoholic. Does that oft-used exhortation to writers mean that I can only write characters whose lives dovetail with mine?  Wouldn't it be like saying that a doctor can only cure cancer if he first had cancer?

The expression, "Write what you know," first means, DO YOUR HOMEWORK. "Write What You Know" refers to the part of the writer's task that precedes the actual writing. On this level, editors and producers have a right to bemoan those writers who literally aren't filling their place at the table. The writer’s job is to do the research. It is to fill out a new world, or to add fresh details to a world we thought we knew so that we now see it in depth. 

Research is always doable. It helps me to set a script in Newport, RI because I have already done the research by my life experience. But part of the crafting of a screenplay is to enter into new worlds through research and make them tangible for the reader/viewer. Don’t set a script in a scuba diving school near the Great Barrier Reef unless you have done your research in the kind of people who become divers, intricacies of scuba gear, diving education approaches, ways divers die, how cool the underwater thing is, Australians, and the Great Barrier Reef. So, the first sense of "Write what you know" is WRITE WHAT YOU HAVE COME TO KNOW ABOUT.

But editors and producers and readers mean more than this too. "Write what you know" is an appeal for you to basically write what your soul knows. I was tempted to say “heart” here, particularly because it sounds warmer and fuzzier to say, “Write What Your Heart Knows,” but I mean more than just your emotions. Animals have emotions. Your soul, in the classical sense, is where your intellect, will and desires reside. Your soul is the place where your essential humanity is. Write from that place. It is where you brood from – as opposed to just reason. It’s where you dream from. It’s where you suffer from. It’s where you feel remorse from. It is where you choose from. It is where you love from. It is where you pray from. If you write from that place, then you are speaking soul to soul with your reader. And hence, what you produce will transcend mere demographics.  

A great writer doen't write to “young adults” but to “young souls.” Not to aging Boomers, but to weathered souls.  Not to children but to “baby human souls.” Speak to their fundamental condition not to their particular situation. What is it they yearn for? If you write to kids as if they are yearning mainly for the newest skinny jeans, or the latest iPod, you are dehumanizing them and they will disdain you. Rightly so. These are not truly the things for which a human soul yearns.  They are the manifestation of that deeper yearning.

You speak to human souls through beauty. Using words to achieve wholeness, harmony and radiance is the primary task of the writer. We have to remind ourselves over and over, with Dostoevsky, that it is beauty that will save the world. Not cleverness. Not cuteness. Not the mere witness to social justice. 

The philosopher Etienne Gilson says that beauty is in more than just wholeness, harmony and radiance. He says there is also style, originality and universality. Style has to do with talent. Originality has to do with a new thought. Universality has to do with the fact that it speaks to thoughtful people beyond their time or culture. Don’t write a jealous character until you have something unique to say about jealousy. Or at least, a fresh way of showing us how it looks when it is asking for the salt shaker at dinner. Don’t write about the power of art. Write about the way the purple paint feels on the fingers of the three year old as she smears it with wonder across the new white carpet in the living room. Don’t write about heartbreak until you have something profound to say about heartbreak. Or at least, how it looks on Joe’s seven year old face the first time his best friend, Mike, opts to throw the ball to Matt the fourth grader instead of Joe.

If there is anything that is clear, it’s that writing is more than any other art form, an attempt to communicate in an articulate way. The sole color on the pallet of the writer is words. Great writing moves immediately from being a rambling monologue, and becomes a dialogue with the reader’s heart and mind. The pictures you create with your words get matched to the reader’s memory and imagination, and he or she begins to edit and highlight and fill-out what you offer from his or her own experience. This happens more or less according to whatever level of history the reader brings to your work. When your experience connects with the viewer's experience they feel a wave of delight - part of which is the sudden comfort of knowing they aren't alone. But this can't happen unless you are really recreating what your sol has learned first.

Great writing is basically just great communication, great communication means you are speaking to the receiver’s humanity, not to their particular moment. Flannery O’Connor was great because she mastered the art of writing from the inside of her readers. She was very conscious of human psychology and the dynamic process that a reader goes on in a story. She wasn’t thinking about writing for Southerners, or for academics, or even for Christians or unbelievers. She was writing to any one who was engaged in the activity of dodging moments of grace. Basically all of us.  Write about the way you dodge your moments of grace.  That will have an authority that will speak to the reader soul to soul and make your work fascinating and healing for them.

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.

Why My Screenplay Was In Desperate Need Of Notes

I don't know how you typically feel after writing those blessed words, "Fade Out" at the end of a first draft, but I fluctuate somewhere between a fat cat in a patch of sunlight and a dog with his head out the window of the family Buick. Basically euphoric. The happy dance ensues, the champagne flows, and my inner child sings, "I wrote a screenplay! Nanny, nanny, nanny!" It's beautiful. For the rest of the week, I give my laptop a breather and bask in my accomplishment. "I would love to brunch with you! No need to write today, you see." "Why not go shopping? I'll be rich when they see my screenplay!" "This movie is so horribly written. I could have done much better, as evidenced by the future award winner living in my laptop's hard drive." 

Then I read the thing.

"WHAT IS THIS CRAP?" Suddenly clouds cover the sun and the Buick breaks down on the side of the road. "What happened to the life changing piece of art I finished writing only a week ago? Why is everything so boring? I completely forgot about this character! How did I miss this GIGANTIC plot hole? Wow, I suck." 

At that point I often fall into one of three traps:

1) Convince myself it really is wonderful and that I simply need to make a couple minor grammar tweaks; make those tweaks and call the thing done(ish). After all, I loved it for a reason, right? It must be mostly brilliant. I'm probably being too hard on myself.

2) Scrap the whole darn thing. Accept the fact that I ruined the project and it is beyond saving.

3) Rewrite, and rewrite, and rewrite, and rewrite, and rewrite, and rewrite, and rewrite, and rewrite, and rewrite, et. until it no longer resembles anything close to the initial pitch and still has the same structural, thematic, or character problems the first draft had.

I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in this. At least I hope I'm not. If you've ever been in the same place as me, perhaps these words will give you some confidence.

First drafts will never be brilliant. They're first drafts. They should, however, show the potential for brilliance. More than likely, I totally nailed at least one thing I was going for. (You probably did too!) The truth of the matter is rewrites are completely, 100% necessary to the screenwriting process but (and here's the kicker) I will never be far enough removed from my work to rewrite with purpose. And purpose is the main thing a rewrite needs to have.

How do you find a purpose for your rewrite? Notes, my friend. Get notes.

Notes [from the right person] will...

Identify what works well.

Remember how stoked you were when you finished the draft? There must be at lease the potential for brilliance in there. A note-giver can read your story without the bitterness of falling short and highlight the moments of brilliance you can expand in the rewrite.

Pinpoint exactly what isn't working.

When you've been with this story for weeks or months on end, it's easy to make allowances. You answer questions subconsciously to which your audience won't have access. A note-giver can help you find those plot holes and figure out how to fill them.

Your note-giver also won't have any loyalties. If a scene, line, or character isn't working, your note-giver is free to admit it without feeling like he or she is betraying a friend or killing a darling. The story is king. Your note-giver can keep to that rule much more naturally than you can.

Help you figure out exactly what your story is about.

Often I've found that my story theme changes midway through the first draft. I don't even realize it's about something new until the second time I've read it all the way through. Your note-giver can help you determine which theme is stronger and how you can make the whole thing consistent.

This is also true with the whole feel of a piece. Asking your note-giver how he or she felt about characters, moments, and themes will help you figure out if you're succeeding with the feel you were aiming for. Then you can decide if it's still the feel you'd like to have or if you'd like to change it in the rewrites.

Catch all the little grammatical and formatting mistakes you missed.

Cut yourself some slack, you were probably staring at that screen for a while. That said, it is never acceptable to submit a script with grammar or formatting errors to contests or executives. 

Get you pumped.

Let's face it. No one writes a screenplay just to have it. We write a screenplay so it will become a movie so people will see it. Having someone else read your work feels sort of like a baby version of that. It's step one. Yes, it's scary. Yes, it's taking a chance. Yes, they might hate it. But they're reading it. And that means they can probably help you make it better. So get pumped!

Now go out there and get notes from someone. Give your rewrite a purpose! I know I will!

Need help deciphering the notes you've received?

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!