Breaking up with Superman and comics in general - part 1

With this being a holiday weekend, I'm aware that fewer people will be visiting this blog.  As such, I'm taking this opportunity to talk about some stories that had an effect on me as a child and that probably contributed to making me want to be a writer.

This past week marked the end of a practice I adhered to for over 23 years, ever since the early months of 1989.  This week will see the release of the first Superman comic I have not bought since Superman 28.  Not that the issue was the first Superman comic I'd ever purchased (or more accurately, had purchased for me by my parents.)  For that story, you'd have to reach back to 1983's Superman Special #3, which detailed the Last Son of Krypton's issue-long battle with a power stealing android called Amazo.  I would have been three when that issue was new, though I'm not sure if it was a recent release by the time I saw it.

I honestly can't remember my first encounter with the Man of Steel.  As far as my memory is concerned, Superman has always been there.  I know I was familiar with the character well before my first viewing of the original Christopher Reeve film at the age of five.  I remember impatiently sitting through the first hour of the film on TV, asking my parents when he was going to look like my brother's Super Powers action figure.  (Yes, my BROTHER's action figure.  He got Superman, I got Batman... and oddly enough, I'd never purchase a Superman action figure of my own until I was 25.)

So he was a fairly consistent figure in my childhood.  My library had a few treasury collections of Superman reprints, and I'm sure that many of the first stories I read on my own were illustrated by the great Curt Swan or Wayne Boring.  In 1986, an aunt gave me the then-new MAN OF STEEL miniseries, which rebooted the character's continuity following CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS.  It was like coming in on the ground floor, where everything was new and a bit more sophisticated.  Over the next two years, I'd manage to coax my parents into buying me the odd issue here and there, but I'd not yet made the leap to being a regular buyer.

SUPERMAN #28 changed all of that.  It was the culmination of story threads that had been quietly building for about six months.  Deep guilt over having to execute the evil General Zod and his lieutenants led Superman to develop a violent split-personality.  No longer trusting himself among humans, Superman exiled himself to deep space, intent on never returning home.

Unlike most of the stories I'd read up to that point, there was no resolution at the end of the issue.  In fact, the "next issue" boxes indicated that this wasn't going to be wrapped up in the next issue or the issue after that either.  Of course, I had to know what happened next and though I don't recall specifically, I'm sure I must have pestered my parents to buy the subsequent issues as they came out. 

Over the next six months, Superman confronted his personal demons while also facing the alien dictator Mongul.  Over the course of his journey his powers weakened and he was eventually captured and forced to compete in alien gladiator games, almost unrecognizable behind a beard and his gladiator outfit.  He also met an ancient Cleric, who not only had been to Krypton 200 millenia ago, but also still carried a Kryptonian artifact called the Eradicator.  The Cleric helped him accept that "if you have sinned, it was only in the cause of justice" and helped him reach redemption in his own mind.  Our hero rediscovered who he was and - in a restored uniform - set out for home.

Life. Death.  Morality. Redemption. For a nine year-old, this was heady stuff.

I'm a sucker for a good "Hero Returns" story, and that probably has something to do with why I love the final chapter of this arc.  The first page of the issue shows several panels of deep space.  We move through our solar system, finally zeroing in on Earth.  The final shot shows a blur of a figure streaking towards it.  You can almost hear the first notes of the John Williams "Superman March."

We cut to Earth, and in another nine-panel page, see shots of people on the Metropolis streets taking notice of a speck in the sky.  Naturally one suggests it's a bird.  Another says, no, it must be a plane. And as my mental John Williams sends the theme to its creschedo, the final pedestrian realizes, "No!  It's HIM!  He's come back!"

Splash page - Superman standing atop the Daily Planet globe, with the American flag waving in the background.  It's a gorgeous sequence written by Roger Stern and art by George Perez. I'm sure out of context it could have been cheesy, but coming at the climax to a 13-part saga, that moment was totally earned.  In the years that followed, there were stories that surpassed this, but if not for the quality of this one, perhaps I would not have been so dedicated in my collecting.

Not only that, but it was a vast expansion of the Superman mythology and indeed, the seeds planted here would still be bearing fruit as late as four years later during "The Reign of the Supermen" storyline.  To me, the Superman comics of that era were superhero storytelling at its best.  There were three, and eventually four, regular Superman titles.  Each week brought a new chapter and the editors did a good job of maintaining continuity across all four titles while allowing each title's writer to tell their own stories.  At the time, it felt like there was incredibly tight continuity week-to-week, which each issue leading into the next.  In hindsight, I see how certain subplots remained confined to specific books, and realize that only two or perhaps three times a year did the books unite to tell one larger multi-part story that moved from title to title.

It's not like that these days.  The concept of the single issue story is less common, with everything feeling like a chapter in the eventually trade paperback collection.  This isn't always a bad thing, but I appreciate when a title doesn't have to be locked into six or eight months of telling the same story.

 So how did I fall out of love with this habit?  Come back on Monday for the conclusion.

What Contests do I recommend?

So since I covered Fellowships yesterday, what about contests? There are a lot of contests that, frankly, I have a pretty dim view of. They’re virtually worthless to the writers, and often are little more than money-making scams for those running it. However, I don’t like getting sued. So how about instead I highlight a few contests that have the qualities you should be looking for?

Scriptapalooza seems to be pretty on the up-and-up. It only costs $40 to enter and for $75 you can get detailed feedback. The first place winner gets $10,000, but the most significant element is that every script is read by a producer, manager or an agent. They promise they don’t use readers. Their philosophy is to get the script in front of people who can do something with it. You can see a full list of judges and their credentials at the contest’s site. Their success stories include getting writers representation, a few options, and even some produced films among some of the winners.

The Austin Film Festival Screenplay Contest costs $40 to enter in the main category, but there are extra feels for specialized categories. Winners in Comedy and Drama Screenplay categories each get $5,000, while the Teleplay winners get $1,000. The vast majority of success stories are about their winners getting representation. You also get notes if your script made it past the second round.

The Final Draft Big Break contest costs $50 to enter. Judges are industry pros, but they only judge the top five and pick a top three from that pool. Most of their success stories involve getting the writers repped. First place gets $15,000, second - $4,000, and third $2,000. Look them up here.

I’m sure there are other fine contests I’ve overlooked, but hopefully these are a good representation of what a worthwhile contest looks like. It’s your money and your intellectual property. Spend them wisely.

What Fellowships do I recommend?

 I get asked a lot about which contests I recommend. As I’ve said many times, I’m extremely selective about which one’s I endorse. In general, I think that Fellowships are often a better bet than straight-up contests, but I see merits to both. If you win a Fellowship, they essentially pay you to write. It’s like having a real job and in some cases, the Fellowship arranges to get you a job.

Possibly the most famous screenwriting fellowship is the Nicholl Fellowship. They award up to 5 $35,000 Fellowships each year. During that year, the Finalists will be expected to complete one feature screenplay. A few of the Nicholl entry scripts have been produced, including Ehren Kruger’s Arlington Road, Mike Rich’s Finding Forrester. You can find more info at their website.

Another Fellowship worth a look is the Disney/ABC Television Writing Program. Winning writers are paid $50,000 over the course of a year. While in the program, writers work one-on-one with a current programming or development exec preparing spec scripts for shows currently on the air. The intent is to get the writers onto TV staffs and give them exposure to executives, producers and representation. To apply, you need to submit a spec script of a current broadcast or cable show. More information can be found at their site.

The WB Television Writer’s Workshop is similar to this. You’ll also need a spec of a current show in order to apply. Like the Disney/ABC program, it’s geared to getting its participants on staff. There are weekly lectures with entertainment professionals and participants also take part in a simulated writer’s room. At the end of the program, executives work to get those participants who pass the Writer’s Room get staffed on a Warner Bros show. Look it up here.

Another such program is the Nickelodeon Writing Program. It also offers a salaried position for up to one year and hands-on experience writing spec scripts and pitching story ideas in both live action and animation television. Writers work with creators, network execs, and show-runners and are assigned to an Executive in Charge of Production. To enter, you’ll need a spec for a half-hour TV show that’s currently on either broadcast or cable. Check out their site here.

You might also look into the NBC Writers on the Verge program and the CBS Writers Mentoring program. They’re similar to the others I’ve mentioned, though with the objective of increasing diversity. If you’re a minority of any kind, definitely check these out.

Tuesday Talkback: Any luck with contests?

Since I'm talking about contests this week, have any of you had any luck with contests?  Please feel free to share your experiences and if you'd submit to any of them again.

4 questions you NEED to ask about screenplay competitions

I get asked all the time about the best contests to enter. The truth is that I’m not a huge fan of contests. There are some good ones out there, but there are also a lot of them that probably aren’t worth the cost of postage for a hard copy of your script. How can you tell the difference? I’m glad you asked.

Question 1 – “How do I benefit?”    What is this contest going to do for you if you win? Is there a decent-sized cash prize? Is it a fellowship that essentially pays you to write for a year? You also might consider how well-known the contest is and if their name could open doors in the business. The Erie, Pennsylvania Script Rodeo might not be respected enough to open doors for you, but the Nicholl Fellowship is a different story.

Another benefit might be coverage or story notes. Getting an outside opinion can be useful, and professional coverage usually starts at $100-$150 – somewhat more than the cost of most entry fees.

Question 2 – “Who are the judges?” This is a subset of the first question. Are the final judges people with strong credentials in the entertainment industry? Or are they rubes fresh off the bus from Wisconsin? A competition like Scriptapalooza promises that every entry is read by a producer, manager and agent. Those are the people who you’re looking to impress in the business, so it’s best to find a competition where the people making the cuts actually know what they’re talking about. Well, at least as much as an agent knows what they’re talking about.

There are some competitions that list some impressive names as their final judges – but often those big names you recognize only read the top ten finalists and choose the winners from there. Look out for this bait and switch.

I don’t want to get in too much trouble here but the pay for contest reading is often extremely low. Add to that the fact that most contest submissions are rather weak, and you’ll quickly have an impatient reader who’s looking for a reason to pass on a script quickly so they can move on to the next script in the pile. This is especially common in the smaller contests – which is why I suggest not entering some of those.

 If you enter a contest where all submissions are read by mangers, producers, agents and development executives. They might make note of you and contact you even if the judges in the later rounds pass on it. It’s a sneaky way to get your work in front of the people who can buy, sell or produce it.

Question 3 – “What claim, if any, do they have on your work?” Don’t be a schmuck. Make sure you’re not giving away ownership of your script.

Question 4 – “Do they have any success stories?” The competition website should trumpet any successes, whether it’s prior finalists being signed to an agent, selling a script, or producing a movie. If they don’t list such things – that means there aren’t any. Steer clear.

So remember those four questions. With the internet at your disposal, there’s no good reason you shouldn’t be able to research in depth.

Reader questions - Using big words in your script, scene headings

Cody sent in a question somewhat related to Tuesday's post:

Your post today somewhat coincides with my question. Last week during my screenwriting group in LA, one of our members (always highly critical, yet never brings their own pages) chastised me for using words that he said "a reader might not understand." The words were both used in description, they were "kitschy" and "eponymous." He said readers are looking for any reason to toss your script aside and too big of words might cause them to do that. I read you blog, Amanda's and countless others and have never heard this. Thoughts?

I don't think those two words are too obscure, so I can't say I'd figure you have anything to fear from them.  So long as they work in context, words like that shouldn't be a problem.

Your friends might have a point, though.  If - IF - you're using a few too many "thesaurus" words, that might result in a scenario like the ones your friends posit.  There's nothing wrong with some word variety, but if you're so focused on using "intelligent" words that EVERY word sounds like it belongs on a vocabulary test, then you might have a problem.

There's a scene from Friends that is a good demonstration of what I'm talking about.  Joey has to write a letter of recommendation and he's worried about sounding stupid, so Ross convinces him to use the thesaurus to dress it up a bit. Joey runs the entire letter through the thesaurus word-by-word and picks the smartest sounding word for each one.  This results in a letter that... well... just click here.

I'm not saying that's your problem, or even if that's what your friends are reacting to, but keep it in mind.

Michael writes in with a formatting question:

What is the hard and fast rule when it comes to reading a Scene Heading at the end of page? Should it always be avoided, as Trottier says, or are there exceptions? 

I found my script has many pages ending by starting a new scene but the character speaking doesn't show up until the next page. If I push all my scene headings down to start the next page, I end up with an additional page added to the script count and several pages where there's a heavier block of white space at the bottom of the page. 

What is more acceptable to the reader? Seeing bigger gaps at the bottom of the page or seeing a Scene Heading and maybe one or 2 lines of description, but nothing else. 

This one's an easy one - put the scene heading at the top of the next page.  Final Draft should do this automatically, in fact.  I'm a big believer in making your script look as professional as possible, so that's the direction I'd go in.

Beyond that, it's a little confusing to turn the page and be launched into the description.  A scene heading at the bottom of the page might get skipped, forcing the reader to turn back.  It's a minor detail, but another point that falls under the "don't break the flow of the read" rules.

Hope this helps!

12-Step Screenwriting: Week 12 - Table Read

It's time for another episode of the Bitter Script Reader YouTube series!

This is the final chapter of a 12-part series designed to guide and motivate a writer to complete a screenplay within three months.  Recognizing that I had an opportunity to reach a new audience via YouTube, I decided to start with the basics.

This week's video discusses how you can benefit from staging a table read.



As always, it really helps me out to see some engagement with these videos, so please click through to the YouTube page, subscribe and leave a few comments there.  Feel free to embed these on your blogs, and if you find the tips useful, tweet about them or put the videos on your Facebook page.

That's it for this series.  We're going to take a few weeks off, but the Bitter Puppet will return soon with more videos!