What was the first script you wrote?

On Go Into The Story yesterday, Scott Myers asked the question, "What was the first script you wrote?"  Though I answered over there, it felt like this was something worth covering on this site as well. I actually re-read that final draft of my first script a couple weeks ago and live-tweeted the experience. It wasn't as wretched as I feared, but it's still not anything I'd want out there as a sample of my writing.

(For the purposes of this post, I'm discussing my first feature script - not any of my shorts or scripts for the TV show I created in college.)

The story was about a disgraced cop who was in exile on a small-town police force after being the Mark Fuhrman-like fallguy for the failure of a high profile case. He's thrown a nuisance case that arrives in the form of a student film showing a murder, with a note saying that this actress has really been killed.

The cop investigates the local film school (I developed the story in college and wrote it my senior year. I was writing what I knew, sue me) and quickly matches the film to its director, who has a lot of holes in his story AND who had been dating the actress. Surprise, surprise, they were having problems. But a couple other twists emerge and red herrings start popping up left and right.

I first came up with the idea during my freshman year and at that point, I was intending it to be a 20-minute short I would make as my final project senior year. Overtime, the story evolved and expanded to the point where I realized my treatment couldn't possibly fit into 20 minutes of screentime.

During my senior year I took a screenwriting class and two of the assignments involved writing a treatment for a feature-length story and then writing the first act (delivered to the class in 15 page increments as we went round-robin rotation.) We had just learned the three-act structure before being given the treatment assignment. I went back to my dorm, looked at my printed treatment and drew three lines between various paragraphs: END OF ACT ONE, MIDPOINT, END OF ACT TWO.

In what surprised me at the time, the story beats that in a perfect world would have matched those turning points, landed EXACTLY where they would have if I had done it on purpose. Basically, I had internalized the pacing and structure of your typical thriller to such a degree that I innately followed the beat sheet without trying.

Before I pat myself on the back too much, I'll note that for all my plotting and structure strengths, the show comes up light on character. I was - and still am - a huge fan of LAW & ORDER and its influence was very apparent in the script's style. There were a lot of short dialogue-driven scenes. Almost everything in the plot is advanced through dialogue. No real set-pieces, just a lot of talking, interviewing, debating and interrogating.

As I said, we wrote the first act as part of the final project for that semester. We then had an option to continue into Advanced Screenwriting, where we would spend the full semester finishing our scripts.  As before, we worked in a rotation. There were nine of us in the class, broken into groups of three.  When our group's turn came up, we were to deliver pages (anywhere from 10-20 pages each) to the rest of the class for reactions and in-class critiques at our next meeting.

However the schedule worked out, by the time it was coming up on my final turn in the rotation, I was just at the start of Act Three.  I knew I was doing something right when a couple students realized that my next turn might not necessarily finish off the story if I stuck to just 15 pages. (During finals week, we were to rewrite and complete our scripts before submitting them to the professor, so the assumption was that those who didn't have a complete draft before then would complete it at that time.)  More than one classmate implored me to finish the story for the next class.  They had to know how the mystery was resolved.

For all the nitpicking and issues they had had with the script up to that point, that was when I knew that in some sense it was working.  It was one of the few scripts in that class that left the audience with a need for the closure.  That desire was far less evident in reactions to scripts where the writers were clearly making it up fifteen pages at a time.

This was the script I brought with me out to LA. My first internship was at a boutique management company. It passed muster with one of the assistants, who compared it favorably to a script they had just sold for $1M. He had a few suggestions before he passed it up, most of which just involved adding another red herring. I made the changes and one of the managers read it. It came out as a gentle pass and some very correct advice that this was a hard sell. I believe his exact words were, "I'm not sure the best possible version of this script could be a spec."

[Note: a really weird quirk of this office was that they would use "spec" only to talk about hot scripts that sold for a lot. Technically, the script already was a "spec" since I didn't write it for a buyer, but in the terminology of the office, he was basically saying he didn't see people paying a lot of money for it.]

I moved on to another internship - a production company responsible for a lot of hit films in the 90s. Coincidentally, their latest film was that $1M dollar spec. It also was their LAST film. Take from that what you will.

Anyway, the director of development agreed to read my script one day. Not long after I delivered it to her, I saw her walking through the office, nose buried in a script, reading WHILE WALKING TO THE BATHROOM.

Yes, whatever she was reading, she didn't even want to put it down to pee! About an hour later, she calls me into her office and says, "This is great writing, Bitter! Do you have an agent?"

Don't get too excited for me. She passed it on to an agent and nothing came of it. Later I gave it to a development exec at the first company I actually worked. His takeaway: He could see I had a lot of talent, the story moved well, but he just didn't think it had much of an audience as a feature. I asked him if he thought it would work for me as a writing sample and he bluntly said, "Agents are looking for something they can sell."

So I moved on and wrote another script. I'd learned enough from that first script that the next one was a little better. And then the one after it was stronger still, as was the one that followed that.  In fact, out of six solo feature specs and two feature specs written with partners, I'd really only want the three, perhaps four, most recent features to stand as any kind of representation of my writing.

(My TV samples have a higher hit ratio, but that owes to the fact that I only wrote one early TV spec before focusing on features for several years.  By the time I returned to TV writing, I'd gotten a LOT better at it.)

I read some of those early scripts now and they feel like the work of a different person.  I might not be making all of the rookie mistakes, but I still see a hundred things I would do differently now.  Being a good writer is about more than just not making the most grievous errors - it's about knowing how to tell a story in a compelling way.  The best version of my first script works on the page in some ways, but it would never make a good film.

So if you finish that first script, bask in the accomplishment.  Be proud of what it represents.  Then site down and start writing your next one.

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mind control sex scene and rape culture

Oy. I know I'm wading into a topic here that's likely to provoke some strong reactions, but I think this is a conversation that needs to happen.

I've been watching Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and if I'm being totally honest, I've stuck with it mostly out of potential for what the show could be rather than any significant enjoyment of the stories and characters. As I'd rather not derail this into a "what S.H.I.E.L.D. needs to improve post, I'll merely note that this week's episode largely represented an upswing from the usual quality. It's probably not a coincidence that it's one of the few episodes to make a significant effort to tie into the wider Marvel Universe.

 In a nutshell, an Asgardian named Lorelei escapes to Earth following a jailbreak from Asgard (as shown in Thor: The Dark World.) As Lorelei has the ability to mind-control men, making them enamored with her and willing to do anything for her, Lady Sif (Jamie Alexander, reprising her role from the Thor movies) is sent to bring her back and crosses paths with Agent Coulson's team. You'd think that the men on Coulson's team would be made to sit this one out considering a touch from Lorelei is all that it would take to get them to betray their friends and their country. Oddly this doesn't happen, and predictably, Lorelei ensnares Agent Ward with her mind control.

On its face, it opens up an interesting conflict, as our heroes are faced with the possibility that they'll have to kill Ward in order to stop them. Lorelei is an especially nasty manipulator and it's pretty clear she'd get off on ordering Ward to his death against his comrades, especially for the angst it will cause them. It's pretty standard mind-control stuff. The problem is that during said enchantment, Ward and Lorelei head off to Vegas and spend a passionate night in a suite together.

What unsettled me was that this moment was played as a "hot" scene - not what it really was: a woman forcing sex on a man who is not in a mental state to give consent. Sure, in his mind, Ward has been convinced that this is what he wants, but that's only because he's been given a magic roofie. I don't think it's a stretch to call this a rape scene.

The problem is that the show seems blithely unaware of this subtext. If anything, there's a leering "Awesome, Ward had hot sex with a babe!" feeling floating over the moment in question and then beyond that, there's zero follow-up. He's not even the one who ends up taking down Lorelei.

Pretend for a moment that the genders were reversed. Let's say it was Skye or Simmons who got the mental whammie on her and suddenly she can't get enough of Loki. The two of them get to a suite and she can't tear her clothes off fast enough for some steamy action. (A) Do you think this scene would even make it to screen? (B) If it did make the final cut, how much do you want to bet Loki would be explicitly punished for this, with Skye or Simmons mortified or even traumatized by their own behavior and (C) If so, is there anyway that scene gets made without it being called out as rape?

(If such a scene with Skye or Simmons DID make it to air in a fashion as tone-deaf as the Ward scene, I have no doubt there'd already be a couple dozen blog posts and "think-pieces" about how abbhorant S.H.I.E.L.D. was to do that and how it plays into rape culture. And the writers of such scenes would be right to call it out for that.)

If a woman was the victim here, I have little doubt that the non-consensual sex would been treated as wrong. It probably would have been portrayed in a similar tone to another mind-control near-rape done on an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer called "Dead Things." In that episode, the Nerd Trio finally invents a mind control device to get the hot sex slave they always wanted. When the subject is first raised, it's through the lens of the juvenile teenage boy who thinks it would be pretty cool to have a hot chick at his whim. Unfortunately for them, their intended victim comes to her senses and calls it out for what it is - rape.

There's no similar lamp-shading of what was done to Ward. When I raised the issue on Twitter, Emily Blake correctly drew an analogy to how we as a society perceive cases of teacher-student sex. If a teenage girl has sex with her older male teacher, then he's a pervert and the worst kind of sex offender. She's a victim who was taken advantage of. When a teenage boy has sex with his hot teacher, he's lionized and practically given a high five. He's not a victim, he's a "lucky dog."

I think that does a great disservice to the young men who are victims of non-consensual sex. The message they're given in society is that they're supposed to want it, that they should feel excited whenever they get it, that if their victimizer is "hot" then there's no reason to get upset. And maybe I'm making too much of a few minutes of a TV show. Had they treated this moment maturely, it still probably wouldn't change anything in society. But it sure as hell reflects society and it's not doing anything to make someone question the wrongness of this message.

Think of how many 80s movies feel kinda "rapey" now, viewed through today's mores. I ran across an article that is an excellent examination of that culture, including a good take on 16 CANDLES:

16 Candles is not only rife with cheap racism, it’s cavalier about sexual assault. Worse, Jake Ryan - the beau hunk himself - is the one who orchestrates it. In exchange for information about Sam, he offers The Geek the opportunity to drive his girlfriend Caroline home and basically gives him permission to do whatever he likes as long as he doesn’t leave her abandoned in a parking lot somewhere. (This is after he tells The Geek that if he were interested in her anymore, he could go into his bedroom where she’s passed out cold and ‘violate her ten different ways’. ‘What are you waiting for?’ The Geek splutters.) But worst of all is when The Geek and Caroline wake up in the car the next morning. Despite neither of them really remembering the previous night’s ‘activities’, The Geek asks Caroline if she enjoyed herself. ‘You know,’ she replies, ‘I have this weird feeling I did!’ 

80s movies. Encouraging hilariously rapey ‘sexcapades’ enjoyed by beta males, and making it an extra triumph for them because the girl really enjoyed it. (See also: Revenge of the Nerds.) 


One day, the Ward/Lorelei hotel romp is going to be just as repugnant to more progressive eyes. Trust me.

Don't let that happen to your writing. Be aware of what you're putting into the culture and what your scene is really saying.

Future Filmmaker: An interview with Eliza McNitt

Some of you might remember that two summers ago I attended Campus MovieFest's Hollywood awards ceremony. CMF is a wonderful program that goes to college campuses throughout the year and provides students with Apple laptops and Panasonic HD cameras to make short film within one week. Each school then has their own finale to select the best of the best, which then move on to the Grand Finale in Hollywood.

I was so taken with the quality of the films shown there that I spotlit a number of them in a segment I called Future Filmmaker Friday.  I was able to run interviews with all of the filmmakers I wanted to showcase, save for one: Eliza McNitt, who directed a short called VIOLET.



Recently, Eliza reached out to me to tell me about her latest short, Without Fire. Without Fire is the story of a Navajo girl who has to figure out a way to heat her home without electricity or fire in order to save her asthma-stricken mother from a bitter winter storm.

The film was the recipient of a $25,000 Alfred P. Sloan Foundation Grant and just screened at NYU's Fusion Film Festival and received the top awards for Best Cinematography and Best Film.  It will also be appearing at the Sun Valley Film Festival, and the Atlanta Film Festival. You can find it's website here.  

Eliza found time to answer a few questions, so I took the opportunity to get the interview I wasn't able to complete before:

So tell us a little about yourself. How did you get interested in film? Where are you in your school career? 

I found film through science. I was researching the role of the pesticide Imidacloprid on Colony Collapse Disorder - the disappearance of honeybees around the world - when my friend Charlie Greene told me about a documentary contest for C-Span. The prompt was to “inform Obama of the nation’s most important issue” so I immediately thought of Colony Collapse Disorder. A world without bees is difficult to imagine considering one out of every three bites of food we eat is a crop pollinated by honeybees.

I won first place at the Intel Science Fair for my research, but the audience I was able to reach out to was limited to scientists and environmentalists – I thought this documentary competition would be a good opportunity to transform my research into a film. I traveled to Florida and Pennsylvania to interview leading scientists and beekeepers. And there was a moment when I was in a bee suit holding my little HD camera in a swarm of bees when I realized I was fascinated by this. Not the sweaty suit, but the process of making a film. There was a real adventure involved in the creation of a film and the stories you discovered along the way.

Our documentary Requiem for the Honeybee won first place in C-Span’s competition and was broadcast internationally. As a competitor in science fairs I told a narrative about my research – my hypothesis, the materials I used, how I came across my conclusion – and I realized what interested me all along was the process of storytelling.

I just graduated in May from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts in Film and TV and I am pursuing a career as a writer and director.

I was really impressed with VIOLET when I saw it at CMFHollywood in 2012. Can you tell us a bit about how it came together? 

Thank you! Violet is the story of a frightened teen who channels her dislike for the color purple into an inventive plea for help.

I wanted to tell a story about hair. It’s a simple thing you can run your fingers through or get tangled up, but it is also your identity. I’ve always had long hair. But one time I cut it a little too short, and felt like I didn’t recognize myself. I wanted to tell a challenging narrative about the meaning of something you love, that you have to learn to hate.

My cinematographer Hunter Baker lives in Monmouth Beach County, which became the backdrop for Violet. I admire how Alexander Payne casts authentic people and places that sculpt the world of his films. In that style I wanted the locations where we filmed to bring their own sense of character.

We found this unbelievable hair salon called “Chop Chop Bang Bang” with a purple car parked out front. I even ended up casting one of the hairstylists who worked there. She wasn’t an actor and in many ways was just playing herself. When I met her she had pink hair, and the day we filmed it was green. That was the kind of personality the character would have. And what made her perfect for the role.

I really admire my versatile actress Amanda Yarosh, who brings a real complexity to her characters. I was also really fortunate to collaborate with my cinematographer Hunter Baker. Together we developed a subdued visual tone to make the images feel still and let the performances play out on screen.

It’s a short film, so we put everything into making this possible. I funded Violet using my prize winnings from the Intel Science Fair and the Baker’s were kind enough to let the cast and crew stay at their home. Violet was made for Campus MovieFest, where you have a week to create a film - so we shot and edited the whole thing in seven days. I missed a lot of class. What - in your opinion - makes for a good short film? A short film is about a moment. And story is the driving force behind that. I think a lot of shorts get lost trying to squeeze a feature length plot into a couple of minutes. The simpler you are, there is a greater opportunity to dig deeper.

What have you taken from the CMF experience? Can you tell us how CMF played a part in the genesis of your new short film WITHOUT FIRE? 

CMF is a true test of your survival skills as a filmmaker. Here’s a camera and a computer and seven days, go make a movie. That sounds crazy. But it’s possible (with little sleep and great determination). I was fortunate to be a finalist two years in a row at CMF and participated in the festival that culminates in Los Angeles. Through CMF I met talented filmmakers from schools all over the country. When I decided I would be filming my NYU thesis film Without Fire in Arizona, I immediately called up friends I had made through CMF who lived out there.

How did you come up with the idea for WITHOUT FIRE?

Without Fire is the story of a young Navajo girl who must find a way to heat her home without electricity or fire in order to save her asthma-stricken mother from a bitter winter storm. The story is inspired by a friend of mine who I met through my experiences at the Intel Science and Engineering Fair. Using soda cans he created a functional solar and water heater that could warm a room and heat water up to 200 degrees. I wanted to explore the journey of a young person’s unconventional use of science and technology. But like many of the themes in Violet, Without Fire also explores a tumultuous mother-daughter relationship.

You actually got a grant to shoot the film. Can you walk us through the process of getting that kind of funding? 

I was the recipient of a $25,000 production grant from the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation for Without Fire. After writing the script I was fortunate to discover the Sloan grant, which supports projects about science and technology.

Once I was selected as a finalist the process involved months of rewrites and a great deal of patience. I was assigned a writing and science advisor. In order to ensure the accuracy of the science in my script I had the opportunity to consult Tyler Volk, the Director of Environmental Studies at NYU. My story mentor, veteran screenwriter John Warren also helped me develop and structure my idea. I was up against several other filmmakers and there was no guarantee I would receive the funding, but I was driven to make the film with or without the grant. It’s a great honor to have received the support of the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation throughout the production of Without Fire.

What were the challenges in making WITHOUT FIRE beyond getting the funding? What was the production like? 

Without Fire was filmed on a sheep camp on the Navajo Reservation with a crew from New York and Arizona. I was very fortunate to be granted permission to film on the Reservation thanks to the support of Ryan Begay and the Community of Pinon.

Casting was one of the biggest challenges and I was lucky to find two powerful lead actresses, Magdalena Begay and Misty Upham. I first saw Magdalena in a film online where she was building a time travel machine. She’s a ten-year-old Navajo girl who carries herself with great maturity and experience. It was an honor to have Magdalena and her father be a part of the project.

I really admired Misty Upham’s work in Frozen River – and I kept telling our casting director Angelique Midthunder, I want someone like Misty to play the lead role – and finally Angelique said "why don’t we just reach out to Misty?" She had just completed production on Jimmy P and August: Osage County with Meryl Streep. I was thrilled when she read the script and accepted the role. She brought forth a truly powerful performance and was such a professional actress to work with.

Shooting in Arizona presented many of its own challenges. I had to go to the hospital one day when I became severely dehydrated halfway through the shoot. I asked the doctor if he’d let me bring the IV to set so we wouldn’t fall behind schedule. He probably thought I was joking.

What do you think are the most valuable ways a filmmaker can make a short film work for them and what is your game plan for WITHOUT FIRE as you start to work the festival circuit?

Making short films has given me an opportunity to experiment with different visual styles and methods of storytelling. In both Violet and Without Fire I have pushed myself to use images to tell a story instead of just words. A short film is a chance to work creatively within limitation.

I want to take advantage of every opportunity to screen Without Fire. It’s currently on the festival circuit and has been accepted to NYU’s Fusion Film Festival, the Sun Valley Film Festival, and the Atlanta Film Festival. We will also be screening at the Northwest Film Forum in Seattle before Arnaud Desplechin’s film Jimmy P: Psychotherapy of a Plains Indian. Once Without Fire completes its festival run – it will be showcased on the website for the Museum of the Moving Image.

Do you have any ambition to direct a feature and what sort of movies would you like to make? 

I’m currently developing a feature version of Without Fire. The feature focuses on the experiences of my friend leaving the Navajo Reservation to participate in science fairs and the obstacles he encounters along his journey. But first I’m going to make another short, this one is going to be about my true passion – honeybees. I want to tell stories about compelling characters that challenge contemporary views of science and technology.

"Stealing the burrito" - the inverse of "save the cat."

I've actually been meaning to write a post about this for a while.  This falls into the category of "Things that once I might have blogged about but got out of my system via Twitter and failed to revisit."  This has been happening more and more frequently, but I'll try to be more diligent about gathering these musings here too.

Most of you are probably familiar with the principle of "save the cat," coined by screenwriter Blake Snyder. The idea is that in order to get the audience on the side of your protagonist, you need to show them committing some sort of heroic or selfless act.  Usually, "save the cat" is a metaphorical phrase, but INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS took it rather literally.  A less literal example might be an early moment in ALADDIN, when the hero gives half of his stolen bread to some starving orphans.

Basically, if we see a guy do something nice, we'll realize he's worthy of our support and be on his side for the rest of the script.  It's simple manipulation.

BATTLESHIP has a classic example of the inverse of this, and it led me to coin the term "Stealing the Burrito."  This is when your protagonist does something so mind-blowingly stupid or awful that no power on Earth could ever get an audience to root for them again.

In an early scene, Taylor Kitsch is trying to pick up swimsuit model Brooklyn Decker in a bar.  She's hungry for a chicken burrito, but the kitchen is closed.  In an effort to impress her, he says he can do it and she gives him five minutes to make it happen.  He runs across the street to a 7-11, but it's his bad luck the place is closed. So he does what any reasonable man trying to sleep with Brooklyn Decker would do - he breaks in to steal a chicken burrito.

The scene is played for attempted screwball comedy, but it succcess only in making Kitsch's character look ridiculously foolish as he ends up making a total mess of the place as he breaks in, heats the burrito and tries to get out.  Ceiling tiles are over-turned, items on shelves are smashed... it's a total mess. By the time he's arrested, he fully deserves the taser he gets. But don't take MY word for it...




(Sidebar: I don't think any man is above committing a misdemeanor or even a minor felony on the off-chance that said infraction would offer even the possibility of sexual congress with Brooklyn Decker.  That said, I'd be more likely to respect a guy who is at least smart about his law-breaking.

Also - just because I accept a guy's libido would make him stupid enough to do this, it doesn't mean I'd respect any woman who was actually wooed by this behavior.   By extension, I question any audience member who looks at this and says, "I'm SO pulling for this guy."

No, this is a scene that makes me shake my head and say, "No, I REFUSE to accept this as our hero."

I can see the argument that starting this low gives the hero an opportunity for a redemptive moment later on.  It would be more persuasive if the action didn't require him to be so unbalanced in the first place.  This is also what undercuts the "selfless" act of him offering the burrito to Brooklyn.  Stealing food for a starving kid is one thing.  Stealing food as a down payment on some possible groping and sweaty action? That's less laudible.

So the next time you see a movie screw up its efforts to become a cheerleader for their characters, you know you can call that a "stealing the burrito" moment.

Two opportunities offered by The Black List and one from theOffice

Yesterday, the Black List announced yet another opportunity open to their users, coming on the heels of their recent partnership with TNT and TBS.

Black List is pleased to announce a partnership with the Walt Disney Studios to identify writers with diverse perspectives who have not made more than $250K for their screenwriting work in the last ten years for Disney's Feature Writers Program. This is the second such partnership between the Black List and a major Hollywood studio. 

The Walt Disney Studios' Feature Writers Program is a paid one year residency housed in Disney's live-action production group that provides up-and-coming feature writers with development and mentorship opportunities. 

"There are countless stories to be told and we're always looking for new perspectives at every stage of filmmaking, especially during the creation of a script," said Walt Disney Pictures President of Production Sean Bailey. "Disney is thrilled to partner with the Black List to uncover the next generation of creative and talented writers who will create the classic stories of tomorrow." 

Beginning today, writers with screenplays hosted on the Black List website can opt into consideration. On May 5, 2014, the Black List will select a short list of between five and ten writers based on the data gathered about each script during its time hosted on the website. Each finalist will then provide a professional resume and one page personal statement, which will be reviewed along with their selected screenplay by executives in the Walt Disney Studios live-action production group. 

To be considered, simply opt in during the script upload process or on your My Scripts page. 
For additional information, click here. 
For additional submission requirements, click here. 
For the Walt Disney Studios submission agreement and release, click here. 

It should be noted that one of those requirements is that the script be hosted on The Black List site for at least one week during the submission period.  So if you had a script up there and let it expire, you're going to need to reactivate hosting to qualify.  Looking over the forms, there don't seem to be any usual terms or conditions.

Also, late last night, Deadline reported that Jon Avnet and Rodrigo Garcia’s digital company WIGS has partnered with The Black List for their own search to name a writer to develop a YouTube series. According to Deadline, the digital studio specializes in scripted female dramas.  The Black List will come up with a short list of five writers to submit.  You may apply until May 6.

This joins the Black List's previous partnerships with TBS and TNT, the Sundance Institute Workshop, the Cassian Elwes Independent Screenwriting Fellowship,  and the blind deal offered via Warner Bros, as the newest of the opportunities it's made available to users.  The site's twitter account is also teasing that more announcements are yet to come.

I also was told about a new opportunity from theOffice:

If you're looking for the perfect place in LA to leave the distractions of life behind and finish that screenplay/novel/short story/what-have-you, enter now to win a FREE 6 month Premium Membership to theOffice.

theOffice is a quiet, communal workspace on 26th (across from the Brentwood Country Mart). There are 26 ergonomic workstations in the room equipped with Aeron chairs, wifi, a reference library and all the coffee you can handle.

Charter and current members include JJ Abrams, Mark Cullen, Matthew Carnahan, Sam Harris, Susannah Grant, Gigi Levangie Grazer, Gary Glasberg and many more. It's where serious writers go to GET IT DONE.

The contest is free to enter. All of the details are on the theOfficeOnlineBlog.com.

Deadline to apply is March 15th.
Send Submissions to: theOfficeFellowship@gmail.com

Reader questions: casting and descriptions

More reader mail...

Sand Man writes:


I find it beneficial to have an actor in mind when I write or read a screenplay. Would someone like yourself find it beneficial to have the writer suggest an actor they feel fits the characters they've created..?

First off, as a writer, I think it can definitely help to have a certain type in mind when writing.  If it crystallizes the character for you, that's not a bad thing.  I don't often do this myself, however on one of my recent scripts, my wife instantly came up with a casting choice after reading the script.   The funny thing is, I wasn't thinking of this actor and probably wouldn't have come up with the name on my own, but as soon as it was pointed out to me I could really see it!  Now when I picture the eventual film, that's the actor I envision.

However I decided not to go back and insert a reference to that actor in the description.  I realize that putting it in could help a reader picture exactly what I want them to.  But what if they hate that actor?  What if that actor's latest movie has terrible buzz? Or worse, what if this exec has seen an early cut of that actor's next film and knows he or she can't act their way out of a paper bag?

I also worry about boxing their imagination in too much.  Maybe they don't think this particular actor is marketable and limiting their imagination to that specific type, I've closed them off from coming up with other possibilities they might have actually worked with.  These are things I worry about, but at the end of the day, it's all a judgment call.

I have no doubt that there are some professional and produced writers who would totally endorse naming actors in your script.  It's a perfectly acceptable shorthand, especially if you're dealing with readers who have limited imagination.  Also, it's a much easier trick to use if you're naming an actor with a lot of mega-successes under his belt.  (In other words, using "Robert Downey Jr." probably isn't going to be as much of a knock against you as "Chris O'Donnell.")

So is there really a right answer here? I'm not sure, but there's probably a right answer for you.


Ian writes:

I've read plenty of screenwriting books and plenty of scripts. I think I'm pretty competent when it comes to putting a story together, and anyone who reads my work says my dialogue is strong. But it's action and description that I still can't figure out. I'm never sure how much to describe a setting or a character's expression, and when to keep the description to the bare minimum, and I think it's affecting my work negatively since, obviously, a lot of the writing in screenplays is action and description. 

So I was wondering if you could weigh in on this? Should I keep the level of description consistent throughout, or should it change from scene to scene? Do I just keep things simple on the page, and let directors, cinematographers and actors fill in the description for me? Anything tips you could give me would be greatly appreciated.

If by consistent, you mean that every scene should have the exact same level of description, I rather disagree with that.  It's going to vary depending on the specificity of the environment.  For example, if your main character is walking into an unremarkable office or a grocery store, there's a good chance you'll do less describing than if they wander into an alien spaceship or something totally foreign.

Also if you're returning to the same environments several times over, you won't need to write nearly as much on subsequent visits as you will the first time.

In terms of how complex you get, I don't think you need to delineate every single piece of blocking in the scene.  If it's important that a character cross a room in a particular way, then certainly go crazy.  If you get carried away and try to spell out every movement in the script, you're going to over-complicate the read and that can hurt you.

The question-behind-the-question here is really about figuring out what's essential to tell the story.  I can't give you a one-size-fits-all answer.  That's one of those things you discover yourself through trial and error.

Reader questions on selling unmarketable ideas and foreign submissions

I've gotten very lazy about answering the old mailbag, so I'm going to try to make some headway this week.

Joel writes:


I've written two screenplays so far and am working on a third. I am increasingly cynical about Hollywood, as there seems to be more people making money off exploiting aspiring artists, than people who are making money off of art. It's kind of like a modern day gold rush, you're far better off selling whiskey to the prospectors than actually panning for gold. 

My screenplays are more about the telling than the actual tale, and are more or less unpitchable, in the traditional sense of the word "pitch." For example, Ripple, my first screenplay uses multiple inter-connecting storylines to track a highly contagious bad mood through a community, until all the small altercations culminate in an event that affects everyone involved. Not pitchable. 

As a film enthusiast, I prefer soft concept movies. It's seems that most production companies only want high concept screenplays, and in a few years there will be no such thing as a drama. As a reader, what is your advice? At the moment selling this screenplay, which everyone that's read it has loved, seems impossible. Should I keep plugging or should I attempt to shoot it myself with absolutely no budget? Or go to screenwriting seminars and sell cocaine to all my fellow failures? 

Okay, a lot to unpack here and also a lot that probably deserves more in-depth discussion than I can give.  So let's start with the soft concept discussion. You're right about how soft concept scripts are hard sells.  Part of that is that high concept stories are a lot more exciting to pitch and seem more marketable.

The other part of that is that this town is swimming with soft concept scripts. In my years reading professionally, I read a ton of low-key dramas.  Clearly SOME of these writers were getting repped or at least had enough connections to get their work passed around.  But there's also supply and demand.  When there's a massive surplus of those stories floating around, the bar is going to be raised for the really good ones to stand out.  So statistically, your odds of selling such a script go down and they're probably likely to sell for less.

(Your specific pitch actually sounds more high-concept than low-concept.  I could see the concept cutting both ways.  On one hand, it could lend itself to one of those "Valentine's Day" ensemble-type films with a dozen famous faces.  On the other hand, the "how do we market this?" question looms large if you don't pack it full of famous faces.)

I think it's good that you recognize how the market perceives your work.  That sort of insight helps you direct your energies to the strategies most likely to pay off for you.  Personally, I like the idea of trying to shoot it yourself.  If it can be done on a low budget, it seems like the sort of idea that could brand you as a director (if that's what you're after).  There's certainly a history of directors with original ideas finding a way to shoot their films themselves and get noticed that way.

If you're running into a situation where a lot of people love it, but can't do anything with it, you're choices are: (1) keep trying to find the right buyer or (2) shoot it yourself.  It's possible that "right buyer" exists somewhere out there and the great thing is that if the script really is good, that buyer won't be able to keep their hands off it.

But if your ideal buyer is an extremely rare breed, then I say shoot it yourself. We're in an era where it's gotten drastically cheaper to make a film.  The challenge then is to make a GOOD film and to find a way to market it so it can become your calling card.

If nothing else, see if it's at all feasible to produce it yourself.  If it's way out of your reach, then maybe change your strategy of who you're going after.  Or write something that IS producible.


Borja writes:


In a few months I'm finishing my studies, and a question started buzzing in my mind: Could an Spanish writer send scripts to Hollywood? I know maybe I'm aiming too high, but Spanish Film Industry is dead (or at least deadly wounded). That's why I'd like to know if you have ever red any script sent from Spain.

Just speaking for myself here, I didn't read too many submissions from foreign countries that didn't come through agents. So if you're looking to get your script to someone like me, you need to chase after agents first.

The foreign submissions I did read frequently had issues with language/translation.  Occasionally, you'd stumble onto some awkwardly written descriptions, but the place where this was most noticeable was in the dialogue.  Unless the writer was totally fluent in English, when they translated the dialogue from their native language to English, it would often take on a stilted, formal quality.

So before you start submitting to American companies, find Americans to read the script and be brutal with you about the quality of your English.  It will pay off in the long run, I promise.