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Getting Started in Screenwriting

Sat, 21 Nov 2009 13:36:24 +0100

from : All Freelance Writing 16th November 2009

by Jennifer Mattem with Xandy Sussan

If you're new to All Freelance Writing it's a site well worth visiting and subcribing to : All Freelance Writing

Today in our "Getting Started" series, screenwriter / television writer Xandy Sussan stops by to talk to us about screenwriting. Whether you’re looking for a way to freelance in fiction or you simply want to pursue a screenplay or teleplay as a creative side project, there are some things you should know before jumping in.

Here’s what Sussan had to say:

On How She Started in Screenwriting / Writing for Television …

"I had a day job working for the story editor / producer on an animated series as his writer’s assistant. As soon as I found out there were freelance slots open, I went in with 10 premises and pitched to him. I sold three in the room, wrote them, and got into the Writer’s Guild. It seems so simple when I read how it happened to me, but those three sentences took 5 years of plugging away, working for pennies on the dollar, skimping and starving to achieve my goal. But, ultimately, I did and when I saw my name up there, when I held my WGA card in my hand, it was all totally worth it. "

On Needing Specialized Education or Experience Before Starting…

"I went to NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts’ Dramatic Writing Program, and I graduated with a dual BFA in Television and Screenwriting. When I first graduated from NYU, it seemed like that was enough. "Oh, she must be great, she went to NYU…" but it turned out that where I went to school was really of little relevance. NYU had me believing that "they" (the producers of the world) were handing out sit-coms at LAX to every New York transplant. That just wasn’t true.

While being an NYU grad helped people recognize I had some worth and an excellent education, the only thing that really mattered, as far as my screenwriting was concerned, was what was on the page. And if my samples weren’t impressive, the door was closed to me.

The only education that really helped me progress was doing. By producing an indie film in 1999, I learned I knew nothing. I didn’t know my ass from my elbow, but when you’re in charge of a 20 person crew and they’re all looking to you for the answers, you learn on the job. Screenwriting is the same. You don’t get to be a better writer by only doing it once. It takes years to develop a voice, a style, a concise and inventive way to tell a story that is both marketable and innovative. That comes with practice."

On How Writers can get Started in Screenwriting & Writing for Television…

"How I started was a total accident and something that couldn’t be repeated again one in a thousand times in a lab. I moved to LA from NYC with $2500, a dog and two suitcases, and didn’t realize that my plan for Hollywood greatness was completely filled with flaws. I had no plan, which was the problem. I had three contacts, some basic street smarts and an NYU Screenwriting BFA. It didn’t occur to me I would need more, not being the progeny of a well-connected picture family. But I did.

I had many weird jobs; I sold shoes, was a phone psychic (I was actually pretty good), and then I got a production job as a receptionist on a television series. I met a writer’s assistant who told me that she temped when things were slow. She gave me the name of her temp lady. The show was cancelled two weeks later and three weeks after that I was temping at Saban Entertainment. I got my first "writing" job there, writing kids’ jokes for a game they were marketing. I was paid $500 for 1000 jokes, that plus my salary. I felt like a millionaire.

I went on to temp for a brief time at Universal in marketing, but they weren’t quite about me. I then went to Warner Bros. TV Animation to fill in because a writer’s assistant had become a writer and they needed someone who could "type under pressure." My one week assignment turned into the start of my career. I got an agent while working at Warner Bros, I got a writing partner, I got many opportunities to pitch and be mentored, and when the time was right, I got my first job. But it was, what I like to call "a confluence of positivity;" a fancy way of saying "right place at the right time."

But if I were to do it over again, I’d probably do it the same. I’m not a good planner. I’m sort of "It’ll work out" kind of gal, a fly by the seat of her pants life adventurer. If you are looking to not live every moment on the edge and want something more stable, then I would think things through. You have to make a living to support your writing habit. It’s going to take a while for you to break in and start making money, if you ever even get to. So, figure out what you can do and do it, all while plugging away to make sure you achieve your dream. Tenacity is the biggest hurdle for the new LA screenwriter. If you can keep going, even through the lean times, and still have to tell stories just to scratch that burning itch to communicate, then you’ll make it."

On Things Prospective Screenwriters & TV Writers Should Know…

"You are you and you’re not anyone else. I know that sounds like "high talk" but it’s serious. Wanting to be a Hollywood screenwriter means that you no longer can measure your life based on someone else’s yardstick. I don’t care about your mother’s friend’s daughter Susie who is a lawyer now, with 2.5 kids, a house with a yard and is making $150 K a year. Susie isn’t a screenwriter. Her life’s achievements are ticked off differently than ours. My parents can’t understand why it’s still so hard for me to get work, when I’ve already been produced. I explain to them, it’s not for lack of effort. I do something everyone in the world wants to do and thinks they can do better. If I had put this much effort into being a NASA scientist, I’d have colonized Mars by now. But there’s only so many shows, and there are so many writers, writers better than me, writers worse than me, writers better connected than me. You’re most likely not always going to get the job. When you get the job it’s great. You need to decide what matters to you, find your own path and get it done. It’s not a lifestyle for everyone, but if it’s for you, then you can’t care what other people think. Just do your best writing every day, strive to improve, never give up and you’ve already succeeded.

Also, I did learn that all the best networking in the world isn’t going to make money come through the door, if your script isn’t spectacular. I feel the work is the most important thing. Do no write checks your ass can’t cash. You can’t talk yourself up as the greatest screenwriting talent in the world and not have a single sample to show someone. You should have a sample in every genre, because people are weird and they might need to see something specific. For example, my portfolio has some multi-purpose specs, but I wrote one for almost every hit show (Entourage, Two and a Half Men, My Name is Earl, Drawn Together, The Office) my first sample was a Mad About You. I found it recently when I moved. I cringed fearing it was terrible, but it was typo free and showed promise! I was pleased. It read like them and that felt good. So, just keep in mind that while you might love Entourage and your Entourage spec, someone needing a sample might hate Entourage, but love Drawn Together, so best to be prepared. Oh, a little tip, a 22-minute adult animated spec can count for two, both a half hour sample and an animation sample. Getting double out of your spec buck, is a good thing. You only get one chance to make a good first impression, do that by actually having a script ready, better yet a library, so whomever you deal with knows you’re serious and have the capacity to churn out the pages. Make sure it’s not only excellent, but it’s polished, professional and as typo free as humanly possible."

On Xandy Sussan…

Xandy Sussan is a professional, produced screenwriter with a 10-year long track record of success. Xandy also runs a full service story analysis company. She provides services for screenwriters and novelists including standard coverage, editing, formatting, development services, ghostwriting, rewriting, novel adaptations, and basic consultations. She has read over 1500 scripts and 750 novels since opening her doors in 1999 and continues to be the most trusted voice in script development with a client list including Warner Bros., Miramax, Handprint Entertainment, and Jennifer Lopez, along with many independent writers who have gone on to win contests and sell their scripts successfully. You can learn more about Xandy at Cover My Script or follow her on Twitter @CoverMyScript.

Make Your Characters More Human

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 11:32:49 +0100

The Essence of Character by Linda Cowgill

Just like real people, characters are defined by their actions more than their words. Linda Seger gives you three rules that will help your characters become more human.

Great movies constantly replay in our imaginations, on the same bill with other memories, fantasies, and dreams. How do they get there? What makes us include them in that highest of personal repertories? Unlike other memories, we haven't directly experienced "the plot" of the movie, only witnessed it. How then do movies stick with us?

Sometimes it may come from the verisimilitude of the production ("That house looked exactly like the one I grew up in!") Sometimes it may be the music, which has its own special key to memory -- those summer pop songs you'll know forever, for instance. Or it may be the overall mood of a movie we recall: the desert island fantasy of Swiss Family Robinson; the inevitable loss of innocence romanticized in Summer of '42 and more painfully recounted in Stand By Me; or the way Jaws exploits the simple, innate fears we all have of what lurks in the bottomless ocean.

Chances are, however, that a movie's characters have a lot to do with what sticks in the cerebral craw. In the best films, of course, characters become the story; it's impossible to separate the two. When Paul Newman takes a bet and downs scores of hardboiled eggs in Cool Hand Luke, is that a plot point or a character moment? Obviously it's both. Character and plot work together, and the more inexorable the interaction appears, the more memorable the scene.

But how do great movie characters result from screenplays, a mere recipe for the final movie meal? How do actors meld a character so completely with story? We can't imagine someone other than Humphrey Bogart as Casablanca's Rick, Dustin Hoffman as Midnight Cowboy's Ratso Rizzo, Ellen Burstyn as Alice in Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore. These actors became the characters. But all great roles begin with words on paper -- words that create the emotions, thoughts, and actions that actors can embody and play. Yes, an actor has to "find" the character an author has written, but he can only do that after the words have pointed the way. So how does a writer construct a strong, believable character that can be molded into a memorable role by an actor and director?

Screenwriters face no bigger challenge in an original work than inventing compelling, authentic characters. A writer might research her characters' lives, draw up character biographies, and work on details down to the color of her characters' socks, yet still not be able to bring these personalities to life. How do successful screenwriters know what brings their characters to life? Is there a trick that creates characters on the page that command the attention of readers, and producers, and actors?

What good writers understand is that characters are not defined in description by the writer or in dialogue (which is description by the characters of themselves or others). Characters, just as real people, are defined by their actions, by what they do and what they don't do. This is the secret that great writers know and understand.

Rule #1 : Any important character quality or trait must be worked into the action of the story in order for it to have any meaning for the audience

The essence of character is action.

Writers often want to take short cuts and tell us a character's qualities or backstory through description, eschewing the more challenging task of showing us who our protagonist is. If we never see a demonstration of his or her important qualities in the story, how do we know they're true? In the recent film The Clearing, Robert Redford plays Wayne Hayes, the kidnapper's victim. We are told he's a "great man" time and again, ostensibly because he's rich, a self-made man, and his kids love him. But does Wayne ever demonstrate his greatness anywhere in the film? He cheated on his wife, was caught, then resumed the affair again, lying to her about it. This more negative information we learn, interestingly, through action. While his kids love him, he seems disconnected to his children, especially his daughter. Yes, he had a successful business but its success seems more the result of fortunate timing than business acumen. Furthermore, his second big business effort, a consulting firm, went bust. What was so great about this guy? The only real action demonstrating his kindness is some affection he shows the family dog. Later on, Wayne has a chance to kill his abductor and flee to safety. But he can't deliver the coup de grace and must face an unfortunate fate. Even this action spells weakness, or equivocation, or a subtle death wish, or something other than greatness. Even the argument that Wayne is a nice guy because he engages his kidnapper on a human level doesn't make sense. We've known at least since the development of the Stockholm Syndrome that hostages naturally bond with their tormentors.

If a character is kind and this is important to the story, then he needs to demonstrate kindness in the plot action. If a character has a hot temper, we need to see the short fuse ignite and watch her deal with the consequences. If a character is supposed to be great and admirable, we have to see the significant action that shows us. Otherwise these assertions are meaningless, and, if unproved in the case of a central character, will lead to unsatisfying drama.

But a character's "plot action" is not about merely showing a character doing something. Character isn't revealed by seeing Jane helping an old lady across the street when the light is green and Jane has nothing better to do.

Rule #2 : Conflict strips away our masks and defenses

The essence of character is revealed in action, under stress. The only way a character shows us who she really is, what her character is made of, is how she deals with conflict.

Sixty years ago, Lajos Egri wrote in The Art of Dramatic Writing that only in conflict do we reveal our true selves. "Even an illiterate knows that politeness and smart talk are not signs of sincerity or friendship. But sacrifice is."

Conflict, stress, and pressure strip us down to our core. (Vince Lombardi said, "Fatigue makes cowards of us all.") How we react to trouble tells us about our essential selves. Do we fall apart in the face of misfortune or buckle down and work harder? Do we sweep our problems under the rug or chin up and face them? When trouble comes calling, do we run for fear we'll be hurt or stand up and fight for what's right? Is our perspective "What will happen to me?" or "What can I get done?"

Character, the kind that excites readers, actors, and audiences, is not the list of qualities and traits, a biography of where they grew up and whether mommy loved them or not. This is the psychology of the character. (Don't get me wrong, all this is important to know as the writer, but little of it is important to the audience if they "get" what the character is about on an emotional level.) Character, in the dramatic sense, is shown in the strengths and weaknesses of the personality that we see dramatized in action on stage or screen.

This is what the really good screenwriters know: stories aren't about a situation or a series of actions; they're about characters caught in conflict reacting to the situations in ways that the audience finds compelling, identifiable, and understandable. A character has a (back) story but he is not that (back) story. Indeed, we could argue that the purpose of drama is to demonstrate how (heroic) people take action that is outside the realm of their personality. We show how people change or alter their basic psychology when they realize their usual patterns of behavior will get them killed. (Comedy, of course, or wistful drama like Forrest Gump, or fantasies like the 007 series, are often built around the premise that a "hero" will change his circumstances despite never having to undergo change himself.)

What do we know of Lester Burnham, Kevin Spacey's character in American Beauty? He's a frustrated, middle-aged man who hates his life. We don't get a life history that tells us why he's this way; we see it demonstrated in his actions and through the conflict with his wife, daughter, and the external world. He's so sexually frustrated he obsesses on his daughter's friend Angela (Mena Suvari) and this raises the stakes of the story. Yet how and why do we connect with him?

Even as we squirm while Lester makes a fool of himself with Angela and things worse with his daughter, we admire his courage for confronting the job he hates and turning the bad situation to his advantage. We see in his emotional reactions regret over angry words he exchanges with his daughter. We feel his longing and frustration with his wife (Annette Bening) when she can't give an inch. And in the end, as he recognizes Angela's vulnerability, we see in his actions his core humanity of putting someone else's needs above his own desires. And this is why Lester is a great character and an Oscar-worthy role.

Rule #3: A character is defined by his choices

The essence of character is revealed in (moral) choices made under stress.

This is perhaps the most important dramatic concept surrounding character and story, and the least understood by new writers. Great stories capture characters in situations where they are called on to make difficult choices. Spider-Man, Lester Burnham, Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann (Pirates of the Caribbean), Jerry Maguire and Dorothy Boyd, are all characters faced with hard choices. We know what's in their heart from exposition or ancillary action. But we learn the extent to which they will make a moral choice, even if it breaks their heart, by the action they undertake. (For example, Spidey refuses love to protect Mary Jane from potential harm from his enemies.)

The really great writers understand that making a choice is a dramatic action and they use it. They dramatize the situations that place the character at the blazing crossroads of choice, then rake them through the coals to turn their actions into significant moments of the plot. A dramatically effective choice offers characters radically different outcomes arising from autonomous decisions. (It's too easy if Superman has no choice but to save the school; but if he has to choose between the lives of many children and the life of Lois Lane, things get tougher.) The best way to frame these choices is in moral terms, but not in terms of moral absolutes.

New writers often offer characters choices between something positive and something negative. But this isn't really a choice. It doesn't lead to sacrifice. Unless it's Luke Skywalker choosing between the good on the side of the rebels or standing with his father with the evil Empire, it is dramatically ineffective because the negative doesn't represent something the character truly wants. Consider the choice Roy Neary makes in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Leaving his wife and family seems like the only sane thing to do because she is such a shrew, and the call of the unknown is so powerful. This lessens the impact of his decision because we're rooting for him to go and couldn't care less if he stays. What if, however, the Dreyfus character had a sick child? And the choice was to stay and help the family, or fulfill his destiny and follow the flying saucers? Then the stakes are higher, his choice becomes less automatic, more moral (whatever his decision) and his need (to see other worlds) is more vividly demonstrated.

Writers must understand that in drama characters reveal themselves through action; they prove themselves in times of crisis or they come up short. And this is our final, yet most important point: the moral decision must have consequences. When the mildly maladjusted Elliot realizes he must let his one good friend, ET, go home, he's made a difficult moral choice, a sacrifice. It's hard, but it's then easy to see how hard Elliot will marshal forces to keep ET from the government's clutches. Jaws' Police Chief Martin Brody gives in to mayoral requests to keep the beach open, and a swimmer dies as a result. Brody chose wrong -- siding with the mayor and against the scientist -- and the guilt over this choice will (with a desire to avenge the deaths of swimmers by killing the shark) motivate him for the rest of the story. There's a child's blood on his hands now, the hands of a lawman, a family man, and a man who never really liked the water -- the place where his adversary lies. But Brody's going after the fish; he must act. He's doing so under extreme pressure with a real moral imperative (to protect innocent life), against a literally cold-blooded, amoral antagonist. Who's going to stop reading or watching him now?

TwelvePoint.com

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 07:32:33 +0100

"TwelvePoint.com" describes itself as "Insider knowledge and networking for screenwriters" and it delivers exactly what it says on the box.

I recommend any aspiring screenwriter to join this community - and to subscribe to the online magazine if possible. After exploring the site with a view to writing this blog post and adding TwelvePoint.com to the links page, I spent some time exploring the site and was excited and impressed by what I saw there - I am now a member.

TwelvePoint.com can speak best for itself - the following brief description and mission statement are taken directly from the site :

TwelvePoint.com evolved from ScriptWriter magazine, Europe’s leading journal on writing for the screen.

In July 2008 the magazine moved from print to an online format. This provided the opportunity to include features that weren’t possible in a periodical published six times a year, such as news, a searchable database of articles and members’ profiles. We also wanted to make it easier and more cost-effective for a wider audience of writers and all involved in making films to access the information.

Since its launch, TwelvePoint.com has built up a fantastic community of members from all over the world. In an average week we are visited by writers and filmmakers from more than 40 countries.

The same editorial team remains in charge and maintaining the same high quality of content is still their number one priority.

TwelvePoint.com have an exciting mission for writers

There are few resources available for writers that combine high-quality analysis and discussion of the writer’s craft with expert business advice. And there is no facility that delivers rich content in a community where members can network with their peers and learn from a wide range of industry professionals.

TwelvePoint.com does all of these things. Based on the highly-praised ScriptWriter magazine, our mission is to provide writers and those who work with them with a valuable knowledge base and their own professional and social network. The aims of TwelvePoint.com are:

to become the world’s leading, industry-recognised and supported resource for those who are serious about a career in writing;
to kick-start the process of changing the way in which writers are perceived and the way in which they perceive themselves, encouraging them to see writing as a business involving creativity rather than as just a creative activity;
to give writers a professional advantage by providing expert, responsive advice on the craft and business of writing;
to offer writers an environment in which they can develop the knowledge, skills, motivation and contacts that will support them at every stage in their careers.

TwelvePoint.com is friendly, supportive, expert, honest, professional, interactive, innovative and enlightening. How well it works for you will depend not just on the TwelvePoint.com team delivering high-quality content but on how much you interact with fellow members and contributors. Please write to editor@TwelvePoint.com and tell us what you think about the site and what you need to assist you in your professional career.

The TwelvePoint.com team :

Julian Friedman a literary agent representing book and script writers at Blake Friedmann

Jonquil Florentin is Managing Editor of ScriptWriter Magazine and TwelvePoint.com

Caroline Ferguson is a published writer and optioned screenwriter

Alex Kelleher is a serial internet entrepreneur, founder and CEO of Favy and Alex Kelleher

Daniel Pérez Vidal is a Spanish TV screenwriter now based in London where he works as a film/TV production lecturer and does freelance work for independent films and Twelvepoint.com.

Monica Solon a novel writer and a scriptwriter, and helps with the website, research and marketing at TwelvePoint

Check out the site now - TwelvePoint.com

The Reel Truth by Reed Martin

Thu, 20 Aug 2009 12:55:27 +0100

The Reel Truth: Everything You Didn't Know You Need to Know About Making an Independent Film

Website : The Reel Truth

Twitter : Reed Martin (The Reel Truth)

Facebook : The Reel Truth - become a fan - I am ....

Editorial Reviews :

From Publishers Weekly

Film marketer and business professor Martin has created a step-by-step guide on how to make an indie film and includes stories from and about such industry insiders as producer Christine Vachon and directors Doug Liman and Kimberly Peirce. Martin covers everything from raising money to distribution, while including invaluable details such as the average cost of a soundtrack song (about $15,000, but $500,000 if it's the Rolling Stones) or the price of renting a New York City theater for a one-week run ($10,000–$50,000). Using current examples like the trial and tribulations of Sideways director Alexander Payne or the financing behind Swingers, Martin dispenses practical advice culled from real-life indie hits and misses that is both inspiring and cautionary. For certain technical information (sample budget breakdowns and representation contracts), Martin includes a solid appendix in what is ultimately an informative and very entertaining account of the indie film for would-be independent filmmakers and producers. (Jan.)

Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

Reviews :

“A brilliant how-to manual for tackling and mastering the industry.” — Anthony Bregman, producer of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

“This book is indispensable.” —Tom Bernard, Copresident, Sony Pictures Classics

“The path to the premiere and beyond of any feature film is a minefield. With The Reel Truth, Reed Martin has given new filmmakers the battalion of bomb detectors necessary for survival.” —Ted Hope, producer of The Ice Storm

“Reed Martin has created a smart, engaging read that is also one of the most comprehensive and cutting-edge looks at the changing face of independent-film production and distribution today. This is the one book I would call essential for anyone who really wants to make a career out of filmmaking.” —Drew McWeeny, aka Moriarty, Ain’t It Cool News

"Packed with practical advice and anecdotes from successful indie icons, Reed has written a guidebook essential for any aspiring filmmaker." —Tom Ortenberg, President of Theatrical Films, The Weinstein Company

“The most up-to-date guide readers could want…No one who embarks on a feature of his or her own after reading The Reel Truth can say he or she has not been warned—and, more important, not been prepared.” —Jim Hemphill, American Cinematographer Magazine

“A must-have manual of knowledge and entertainment for beginning and experienced filmmakers...To not have this information is like scuba diving by yourself, skydiving without packing your own parachute...why risk it?” —Chris Eyre, director of Smoke Signals

“What's great about The Reel Truth isn't simply its usefulness, but its thoroughness...Martin's invaluable book will help you navigate the treacherous terrain of the modern independent film scene.” —Chris Bolton Powells.com

“An invaluable resource for those striking out on their own…From production, post-production, marketing and distribution, the book also covers such areas as dealing with music licensing, investors, script theft and securing legal help. However, it is Martin's personal interviews with leading directors, writers, producers and studio executives that offers “The Reel Truth” an extra layer of validity and insight to make it a true “insider's guide.” —Jorge Carreon, Examiner.com

“Making a movie, be it a five-minute short or a two-hour feature, takes more than vision. In his witty and addictively readable book The Reel Truth, author Reed Martin provides 500 pages of how-to advice for would-be De Palmas – everything from financing to casting, scoring to marketing – and backs it up with cautionary anecdotes and tips from famous directors.” ––Rene Rodriguez, The Miami Herald

“Reed Martin interviews some of the brightest minds in independent cinema, including Danny Boyle (“Slumdog Millionaire”) and Christopher Nolan (“Memento”), for riveting first-person accounts of their own success stories as well as the moments when their careers could have ended right then and there if they opted to give up …More importantly, Martin offers practical lessons for those still dedicated enough to want to make a film.” ––Christian Toto, Examiner.com

Product Description

Did you know that most of the biggest indie filmmakers, screenwriters, and producers working today each made the same avoidable mistakes early on in their careers?

The Reel Truth details the pitfalls, snares, and roadblocks that aspiring filmmakers encounter. Reed Martin interviewed more than one hundred luminaries from the independent film world to discuss the near misses that almost derailed their first and second films and identify the close shaves that could have cut their careers short. Other books may tell you the best way to make your independent film or online short, but no other book describes so candidly how to spot and avoid such issues and obstacles as equipment problems, shooting-day snafus, postproduction myths, theatrical distribution deal breakers, and dozens of other commonly made missteps, including the top fifty mistakes every filmmaker makes.

From personal experience and his years as a freelance reporter covering independent film for USA Today and Filmmaker magazine, Martin uncovers the truth about the risks and potential rewards that go with chasing celluloid glory. Whether you’re writing a screenplay, looking for financing, about to start shooting, or thinking about investing time and money (or someone else’s money) in an independent film, The Reel Truth is a must-read.

About the Author

Reed Martin has taught film finance and marketing at a variety of institutions, including NYU's Stern School of Business and Columbia Business School, and is the former director of marketing at Cary Woods’s Independent Pictures.

Screenplay Writing Tips

Thu, 13 Aug 2009 13:18:28 +0100

These tips can also be found on Script Angel and are based on excerpts from John Yorke in for his excellent 'Advanced Story Course'

Story

Get your hooks in early – the first 10 pages are the most important. If the person reading the script is bored, so will an audience be watching it and they’ll switch channels!
Have a narrative thread running right through, it doesn’t need to be continually taught but it mustn’t break or the audience will drift away. Create a sense of forward momentum and build.
Whose story is it? Most stories have only one or two main protagonists.
What is the inciting incident and how is it paid off?
If you show a gun in act one, you must fire it in act three. In other words, if you set something up, then make sure you pay it off.
Get in late, get out early - in every scene.
Scenes should be about the characters in that scene.
Defer gratification and create anticipation.
Subvert expectations.
Useful books on Story Structure: ‘Story’ by Robert McKee, ‘Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting’ by Syd Field

Characters

Make your characters active, not passive, in their own story. Character is action - characters are defined by what they do, how they choose to overcome (or not) an obstacle or complete a task.
Give your characters a journey.
What do your characters need and want? These are not the same thing – they may want to marry someone rich but to be happy they need to fall in love (probably with someone poor!).
Characters should pursue their want (although not necessarily their need). It must be established early.
Show the turning points on your characters’ journey– they must be dramatised and they must be believable.
What is at stake if your characters don’t achieve their objective? (In a crime thriller this might be their life, in a romantic comedy it may be their happiness).
What do your characters learn? How do they change?
Give your characters obstacles.
Why should we care? We must have empathy for your characters – that doesn’t mean they have to be nice but we have to understand them.
Would all your characters react differently to the same incident? If not you need to do more work on differentiating them.
Make your characters real, not just serving a plot point.
Love your characters. If you don’t, neither will your audience and they’ll switch off.

Conflict

Internal conflict (within a character) and external conflict (between characters) is essential for all good drama and comedy.

Dialogue

Dialogue should sound naturalistic.
Use subtext and avoid writing on the nose. Characters shouldn’t be telling us what they really think and feel (unless of course it’s something they’ve been trying to articulate right through the story, in which case when they finally reveal it, it’s dramatic).
Avoid characters telling us information the audience already knows.
Every word counts – if it doesn’t move the story forward or reveal something new about a character, you should probably cut it (unless it’s funny!).
Characters should have individual voices. If you covered over the character names, could you tell whose speech it is just from what they’ve said and how they’ve said it?

Action

Film and television are visual media so the golden rule is ‘Show, don’t tell’.
Keep action descriptions succinct.

Formatting

Your script will look more professional if it’s laid out in a script format. There are examples of script layout at the BBC Writersroom Archive
If you don’t have professional scriptwriting software, like Final Draft, you can write your script in Word using a template like Script Smart

Review and Revise

Before you send your script anywhere, read it with a critical eye. Make it the best you possibly can.
Proof read your script for obvious mistakes. Sloppy scripts full of mistakes suggests that this is something you’ve dashed off not lovingly slaved over.

The Rules…

...are there to be broken. Just be aware of the rules and make sure you have a really good reason for breaking them.

Same Old Story - problems of originality

Thu, 13 Aug 2009 13:03:59 +0100

This article appeared in the June 2009 print edition of The Irish Times

by Paul Shrader, screenplay writer : "Mishima", "Taxi Driver", "Cat People", "Affliction"

Movies, television shows, cartoons, streaming video, YouTube clips. We’re swimming in storylines, suffering from ‘narrative exhaustion’. Can traditional cinema keep up ?

SCREENWRITERS love to complain. They are disrespected by producers, deemed dispensable by directors, not duly credited by critics, treated like employees by actors – although few complain about being historically and chronically overpaid. Another thing they don’t complain about is “the exhaustion of narrative”, though it weighs very much on their minds. For screenwriters to complain about the paucity of original ideas would be like a salesman complaining about a lack of inventory. It’s not good for business.

Writers have always known there are a limited number of storylines. Christopher Booker’s Seven Basic Plots popularised the number seven, but others have argued for three, 20 and 36 basic plots – Rudyard Kipling said 69. That’s not new. We do tell variations of the same stories over and over. That’s not what I mean by the “exhaustion of narrative”. What is new is the omnipresence and ubiquity of plot created by media proliferation. We are inundated by narrative. We are swimming in storylines.

Let’s crunch some hypothetical numbers. Take a media-aware person of, say, 30 years of age. Call him Ollie Overwhelmed. When Ollie’s great-grandfather was 30 he had perhaps seen 2,500 hours of audio-visual narrative (plot). His grandfather, age 30, had seen about 10,000 hours. His father had seen 20,000 hours. Ollie in 2009, age 30, has seen approximately 35,000 hours of audio-visual narrative. These are not hard numbers. I’ve read no polling to this effect. But this seems about right.

That’s 35,000 hours of plot. Movies, television shows, cartoons, streaming video, YouTube clips. Storylines long and short: teen comedies, soap operas, love stories, crime shows, historical dramas, special-effects extravaganzas, horror, porn, highbrow, lowbrow, hour after hour, day after day, year after year. That’s a lot of narrative. It’s exhausting.

What does it mean? For a storyteller, it means that’s it is increasingly difficult to get out in front of a viewer’s expectations. Almost every possible subject has not only been covered but covered exhaustively. How many hours of serial killer plot has the average viewer seen? Fifty? A hundred? He’s seen the basic plots, the permutations of those plotlines, the imitations of the permutations of those plotlines and the permutations of the imitations. How does a writer capture the imagination of a viewer seeped in serial killer plot? Make it even gorier? Done that. More perverse? Seen that. Serial killer with humour? Been there. As parody? Yawn. The example of the serial killer subgenre is a bit facile, but what’s true for serial killer stories is true of all film subjects. Police families? Gay couples? Corrupt politicians? Charming misfits? Yawn, yawn, yawn.

This becomes painfully clear to any writer who attempts to orally tell his story (screenwriting is closer to the oral tradition than it is to literature). You start to tell a story, try to catch the listener’s attention, then watch as Ollie Overwhelmed packages your story and places it in a box. He has seen so much storyline that he has the boxes already prepared. Just drop quote marks around the premise and file it: oh, that’s the “two couples on a road trip” movie or the “six men in a lifeboat” film. I know that film. Ollie’s mind operates like that of story editor. “And then he goes to her place,” you the screenwriter say, “and he finds her hanging naked from a hook in the bathroom,” Ollie the listener thinks: I know that film.

ORIGINALITY HAS always been in short supply. Does the proliferation of media mean that it is harder to be original today than it was 50 years ago? Well, yes. Today’s viewers live in a biosphere of narrative. Twenty-four-seven, multimedia, all the time. When a storyteller competes for a viewer’s attention, he not only competes with simultaneously occurring narratives, he competes with the variations of his own narrative. That’s real competition. The bar of originality has been raised. The media marketplace puts a premium on anything “new” or “fresh” and, at the same time, inundates its viewers with continual and competing narratives.

Critics and commentators love to say things like “I love an old-fashioned love story”, or a “good old-fashioned murder mystery”. But what is their response when they are presented with just that? Adjectives such as “tired”, “hackneyed”, “unoriginal”, “dated” and “prosaic”. What’s a writer to do? Work increasingly outside the confines of traditional storytelling, for one thing. This exhaustion of narrative is behind the rise of recent “counter-narrative” entertainments, such as:

1. Reality TV Any regular viewer knows that reality television follows its own scripted formulas, but the appearance of being unscripted is essential to its appeal. Weary of so much predicable plot, the jaded viewer turns to “reality”.

2. Anecdotal narrative The attraction of films such as Slacker and its mumblecore progeny is the enjoyment of watching behaviour encumbered by the artifice of plot. It is not “fake,” not “contrived” (although of course it is).

3. Re-enactment drama Whether based on famous events or lesser-known ones, re-enactment entertainment sells the premise that these events actually happened and were not cooked up by a staff of writers (though, again, if not actually cooked up, they were seasoned and served by writers).

4. Video games The ability of the viewer to participate in the storytelling process creates an illusion of non-contrivance.

5. Mini-mini dramas Part of the appeal of three- to five-minute stories created for cellphones, YouTube and original programming is the illusion of not being crafted narratives. Just bits of life.

6. Documentaries A staple of filmed entertainment since its beginnings, documentaries, historically the poor cousins of commercial cinema, have grown in number and viewership, an increase owed in part to the desire of viewers to look beyond predicable narratives.

What else? Write for formats based on predictability and repetition (soap operas, crime procedurals, superhero cartoons), repackage old plots with new stars and search for that elusive “original” twist that makes an old storyline fresh. And wait. Wait for emerging media to define the new need for narrative.

STORYTELLING BEGAN as ceremony and evolved into ritual. It was commercialised in the middle ages, became big business in the 19th century and an international industry in the 20th. Today it is the ubiquitous wallpaper of the postmodern era. As screenwriters, we struggle with our own success. We have wallpapered our world and now we can’t get anyone to notice the picture we’ve just hung. This is not a big deal. Not a crisis. The “exhaustion of narrative” is not a standalone development. It is one of a set of crises that afflict current cinema.

Movies were the artform of the 20th century. The traditional concept of movies, a projected image in a dark room of viewers, feels increasingly old. I don’t know what the future of audio-visual entertainment will be, but I don’t think it will be what we used to call movies. Narrative will mutate and endure. Audio-visual entertainment is changing and narrative will change with it

Proofing Your Script

Thu, 23 Apr 2009 08:28:14 +0100

“Proofing Your Script” – Written by Derek Ladd – Editor, Proof Edge

KEEPING IT CLEAN : Terminating Terrible Typos – The Importance of Proofing

I watched an interesting film a while back called ‘The Prestige’ with Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman. You may have seen it. A few months later I read the script (courtesy of DailyScipt). There are more typos in that one screenplay than in all the screenplays I’ve edited combined. Do yourself a favor and read this script. Hopefully it will teach you how distracting typos can be and why you should be diligent in eliminating them. There seems to be a rule somewhere that says if you’re an established screenwriter you needn’t be concerned with your spelling and grammar. Maybe so, but I’ve never heard of a producer or agent being turned off by a script that was “too clean.”

Typos are like potholes in your screenplay: every time a reader hits one it jolts him or her out of your story. Your mission as a screenwriter is to deliver a script that reads like a freshly paved stretch of highway.

Typos aren’t just obvious misspellings, either. Most of what I see are properly spelled words used in the wrong places: their in place of they’re, were in place of we’re, rode in place of road, etc. Spell check is a useful tool, but for this reason, relying on it alone to proof your work is a bad idea. Friends and family, including fellow screenwriters, can be a good resource of fresh eyes. But keep in mind that working for free (and knowing you) may impact the results.

Choosing Your Words – Editing

A screenwriter should not be scared by the concept of someone else editing his or her screenplay. A good editor uses a scalpel – a poor editor uses a chainsaw. Over the years I’ve made it my trademark as a ‘word surgeon’ to edit only when necessary in order to keep the writer’s original voice intact.

When writing your screenplay, choose your words very carefully. Don’t use a word like ‘melancholy’ when ‘sad’ or ‘depressed’ will do. I’ve seen writers use words like ‘erudite’, ‘obsequious’, ‘impetuous’, ‘feckless’ and ‘solipsistic’ in their screenplays. It’s great to have a large vocabulary, but with the exception of elaborate medical/technical terms used for realism, try to use shorter, simpler words whenever possible. The fewer syllables you use the faster the read. The last thing you want to do is weigh down your wonderful script with five-dollar words – especially if it forces a reader to crack open a dictionary every two minutes.As most screenwriters know, unlike a novel, the page count of a screenplay is limited, which is why an editor can be a big help.

You’ve crafted your precious baby and you love it to pieces: the characters, the plot, and every line of dialogue is perfect. The problem is, it’s 147 pages and you can’t bear the thought of cutting a single word. Enter the editor. If I’m asked to gently trim a little here and there without damaging your little darling I’ll look for the following: large words, redundancy, unnecessary dialogue, dialogue that overlaps action (showing something AND telling about it in the same scene), and so on. My greatest feat to date is taking a 163-pagescript down to 120 pages. Don’t ask me how I did it – a magician never reveals his secrets.

It’s Developmental, My Dear Watson

Many writers are proficient at telling stories but need a little developmental assistance when it comes to distilling what they’ve written into what they really mean. This can be done with subtext (visual or spoken), or simply by trimming down information that isn’t needed. For example, look at the lines of dialogue below:

                              TERRY
               How are you and Dave getting along?

                              DIANA
               How are we getting along? Not very well.
               He’s not around much anymore, spends most
               of his time on the road. When he is home,
               it seems like all we do is fight.

What do you think, screenwriters? Eh. Right? Surely you could do better. The above is a mild example, but an editor might make thefollowing suggestion:

                              TERRY
              How are you and Dave getting along?

                              DIANA

              Like a snake and a weasel. When he’s not
              on the road I usually spend the next day
              sweeping up broken glass.

Notice how Diana doesn’t repeat Terry’s question and doesn’t use ‘seems like’ in the last sentence. The first Diana sounds passive and timid – her lines sound dull. The second Diana sounds cynical and hardened by her situation – her lines are more direct, angrier.

Once an editor gets a feel for a screenwriter’s characters, suggestions like the one above are much easier to make. If the writer establishes Diana as a jaded, hard-nosed woman on page 5, the first lines of dialogue above wouldn’t fit and a good editor would point this out. A more common situation is one where the screenwriter simply goes on and on and on with a chunk of dialogue when a few lines will do.

Other times, parts of a script just don’t work. Characters say or do things that don’t make sense, don’t fit the story, don’t move the story forward, or all of the above. In these situations an editor will often make suggestions based on where he or she thinks the writer wants the story to go. This is why establishing the theme and tone of your story as soon as possible is essential – without knowing the theme and tone, an editor might make suggestions that aren’t helpful. But if you establish that your script is intended as a family comedy, an editor will probably tell you that having someone get shot in the head in act 3 won’t play (unless Quentin Tarantino is directing – he might be able to make it work).

Know Your Stuff – Fact Checking

Adding factual realism to your screenplay can make for a more enjoyable read, but only if you keep your facts straight. A good editor will look into anything that seems askew in this area. If you’re writing a thriller that opens with the discovery of a dead body, make sure your lead detective doesn’t move the body (without good reason) until after the coroner determines a time of death and clears it for processing. If you’re writing a Vietnam-era war movie set in 1968 make sure your soldiers aren’t using M16A2 service rifles.

The devil is in the details they say, and while many readers might not notice, if a factual error goes unfixed, someone will.Over the past several years I’ve spotted and corrected many factual errors for clients. Some were as simple as the name of a foreign city or landmark – a misspelling or location – while others were as complex as the type of treatment and medication given to convicted killers in an insane asylum. How and when you do your research is up to you, but make sure you do it. If you don’t, the thriller you wrote that takes place in a hospital might fail to impress the producer who spent 15 years as a nurse

Summary

The longer a screenplay sits on your hard drive the harder it is for you, the writer, to spot your own mistakes. The work ‘hardens’ like cement, and soon you’ve read through it so many times that the same mistakes you missed on the first, second, third and fourth passes become invisible to you. So enlist the help of friends, family, fellow screenwriters, circus clowns (if they’re good readers, why not?) and professionals to help you polish your work until it shines.

Producers and agents (and readers in general) will thank you for it.

Bio

Derek Ladd started Proof Edge in April of 2003 and has been editing professionally ever since. His clients include award-winning author and screenwriter, Chanrithy Him, screenwriter and film producer, Erin McNamara, and professional cinematographer and screenwriter,Jim Grieco. Many of Derek’s clients comment on his ability as a long-time writer to offer helpful suggestions, and close to a dozen have won or placed in screenwriting contests over the past 4 years.

Beyond Structure

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 16:33:43 +0100

A Technique-Based Approach to Screenwriting : by David S Freeman who opens his bag of tricks to reveal some of the techniques the best screenwriters keep up close at hand.

We know that painters have techniques for their craft, such as mixing colors and utilizing perspective. And actors have all sorts of techniques for "getting into character."

But what about screenwriters? Can they also have a palette of techniques they can employ?

By a "writing technique" I mean:

1. It can be identified in the work of master screenwriters.

2. It's something that can be learned, practiced, and employed in a wide variety of screenwriting situations.

3. It creates a specific emotional impact, be it simple or complex.

4. It can liberate a writer to bring forward his or her artistry, without boxing a writer into a formula. That is, it's adaptable to many different writing styles.

Let's take a look at some writing techniques in action.

Since the idea of a technique-based approach to screenwriting is a radical departure from past approaches, I've had to invent some terms to describe the techniques. Hopefully, the nomenclature I've created is a simple one.

Definitions:

A "Character-Deepening Technique" is a technique that allows the writer to create emotional depth in a character.
A "Plot-Deepening Technique" allows the writer to create emotional depth in a plot.
A "Rooting-Interest Technique" is one that causes us to root for (i.e., like or identify with) a character.

Character- and Plot-Deepening Techniques in "Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers"

Script by Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, Stephen Sinclair, and Peter Jackson Based on the books by J.R.R. Tolkien

There's a scene where, in the mist, Gollum leads Frodo and Sam through the Dead Marshes, where small fires burn amidst a bog.

Frodo is exhausted (the Ring stops him from sleeping well). As he stares at the dead faces in the water -- he feels drawn to them -- and he plummets into the swamp. The hands of the dead reach to drag him down to the depths, but Gollum rescues him and brings him back to shore.

It's a very powerful scene, due to the numerous techniques used:

Character-Deepening Technique: "Symbol of a Character's Condition or Change in Condition."
The dead faces symbolize what Frodo is feeling: suicidal. That's why it's he, not Sam, who plunges into the water.
Character-Deepening Technique: "Ambivalence."
Gollum is ambivalent -- torn in between his human side and his monstrous side. We've seen him debate with himself before, and here he's acting out his human side. But we know it's just part of the ongoing flip-flop.
Character-Deepening Technique: "A Character Struggles to be Better Than He Is." We saw this in Schindler's List, as Oskar Schindler was repeatedly forced to evolve morally. And we see it here with Gollum, struggling to act like the caring being he once was, before he found the ring.
Plot-Deepening Technique: "Symbol of a Concept." The symbol is fire, and it is a symbol of Sauron and of evil. The other symbols used to represent evil in the trilogy are darkness, metal, and machinery. The symbols of good are water, trees, and light. A symbol of a concept becomes emotionally charged when powerful emotional experiences take place in the presence of the symbol. In the unconscious minds of the audience, the symbol then acquires the feeling of those emotional experiences.
Plot-Deepening Technique: "Foreshadowing." The dead here are those who once fought Sauron and perished. They foreshadow the death waiting for those who battle Sauron's army in the war that is to come.

Note: A reminder… the types of techniques I'm talking about here operate unconsciously on an audience, outside the audience's conscious awareness. The five techniques used in this one short scene combine in what I call "Technique Stacking" to make it a very powerful scene indeed.

Dialogue-Deepening Techniques in "Billy Elliot"

Script by Lee Hall

Billy's father, a down-on-his-luck coal miner, is incensed to learn that his son is studying ballet -- until finally, Billy shows him how he dances. In front of his angry father, he "cuts loose" and expresses his energy, his artistry, his soul.

His father suddenly and momentously realizes -- this is Billy's destiny.

It's all done with dance but without words.

In fact, you'll find in times of great emotion in films, the characters almost always speak less words, not more. I count silence as a form of dialogue, and that's what's used here. Words would have diminished the emotional power of the scene.

The name I give this technique utilized in Billy Elliot is, "Action Instead of Speech."

Character-Deepening Techniques and Rooting-Interest Techniques in "American Beauty"

Script by Alan Ball

Ricky Fitts (Wes Bentley) is the teen with an almost Zen-like view of the beauty behind all things -- or so it seems. But real Zen masters don't sell drugs, don't insist on staying detached from the world (viewing everything though a video camera), and aren't fascinated by death where they speak about it frequently.

In fact, Ricky's supposed serenity covers his real emotion: an apathy deeper even than grief (thus his fascination with death). This apathy stems back to when Ricky was wrongly put in a mental institution and drugged.

When a character has a false emotion (in this case, serenity) that covers a real emotion (in this case, apathy), this gives the character depth. It's a "Character-Deepening Technique." I call this particular technique a "Mask" -- Ricky has one of eight types of Masks.

Alan Ball uses 15 different "Character-Deepening Techniques" in his script. Here's another one.

Though Ricky's serenity is false, this doesn't negate his eloquent insights into the beauty behind all things. When a character is either artistic or has real aesthetic awareness, as Ricky does, that's another "Character-Deepening Technique."

It's also a "Rooting-Interest Technique." So is his willingness to define his own world and not slavishly adhere to the world of social conventions. Contrast this to Carolyn Burnham (Annette Bening), who is terrified of stepping outside of social norms.

Summary

Whether a masterful writer knows it or not, he or she is using techniques to create the complex emotional experiences that make great film or TV.

There exist techniques to enrich scenes, to make dialogue sound natural, to give emotional complexity and layers to the relationship between two characters, and for many other aspects of screenwriting.

Hopefully, this short article has allowed you to glimpse how this might be so.

Even for those who have a wide variety of techniques at their disposal, there's value in expanding one's palette. It's good to know five ways to get an audience to emotionally bond with a character, but it's better to know 42.

One important note. These techniques comprise the craft of writing; it's up to each individual writer, through their artful application, to turn them from craft to art.

Structure Checklist

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 16:11:01 +0100

How to Plug the Holes in Your Script - veteran script doctor Michael Ray Brown runs down a few questions to ask yourself before you send that script out into the world.

Writers often ask me what I look for in a script. I have only one rule: the script must capture my interest and keep me wanting to see what happens next. But how do you do this?

Do you load up your script with action?
Do you keep trying to shock or surprise your audience?
Do you create a "Whammo Chart" like Joel Silver (producer of The Matrix) does, and make sure there's a "whammy" (a big action set piece) every 12 minutes?

Howard Hawks said, "There are only six good scenes in any good movie." That may be true, but there's a saying that you have to "murder your darlings." In other words, you have to be ruthless about cutting out what doesn't work, even if it's your favorite scene.

Script doctors will tell you the most important thing is structure. William Goldman says it in his book "Adventures in the Screen Trade", along with the rule, "Nobody Knows Anything."

But what makes good structure?

A good story can be broken down into three acts :

In act one, you get your hero up a tree (inciting incident).
In act two, you throw stones at him (complication).
And in act three you get him down again (resolution).

That may be an oversimplification, but it points out the one essential ingredient in all stories: jeopardy

A story can be defined as how a character copes with danger. It's the protagonist's motivation to achieve an objective, coupled with the threat of failure, that drives the plot. This threat is posed by at least one antagonist. The antagonist is usually external, but there can be internal obstacles, such as a character's fears.

It's also been said that the essence of drama is people not getting along. However, conflict alone does not a story make. Again, the conflict must be focused on an objective. Whether it is a physical threat to the protagonist's life (as in thrillers) or a more subtle threat to his happiness (as in romantic comedies), the danger is always that the protagonist may not achieve his goal. And that's what keeps audiences on the edges of their seats, wanting to know what happens next.

Even if you've taken all the classes and read all the books, sometimes a script will just stump you. Something doesn't quite work, but you can't put your finger on it. When I was running the story department at Metromedia, this occasionally happened to members of my staff. So, as an aid to my analysts, I decided to compile a list of everything that could go wrong in a screenplay.

This list eventually grew to 18 major wrongs, with perhaps 100 sub-wrongs under them. When I decided to start teaching a class on structure, I rewrote the checklist as a toolkit for writers. These are the questions you must ask yourself about your script:

Is the story relevant and easily described?
Is the size and type of story suited to a feature film?
Do we care about the principal characters?
Does the story rely on human efforts, and are those efforts credible?
Is the story unique, accessible to a general audience, and emotionally resonant?
Is something out of balance at the beginning to strongly motivate the protagonist?
Is the protagonist in extreme danger of not achieving his objective?
Is the antagonist focused on the same objective as the protagonist?
Is there always some question that keeps the audience guessing?
Is the protagonist engaged in a seemingly hopeless race against time and/or space?
Is there a unity of theme, represented in a variety of ways, but pulled together at the end?
Does the ending restore the balance and tie up loose ends?
Do the characters serve the story, and does the story derive from the characters?
Does the script focus on what's most important?
Does the script convey enough information for us to understand the story, but not too much?
Are the time and place used effectively?
Does the description lead the mind's eye of the reader in a manner that closely simulates the camera?
Does every bit of dialogue serve the story, and is there subtext?

Screenwriting has been described as a craft, not an art. It has a strict form. Many talented writers stumble when it comes to structure, which is arguably the most important factor in a script's success.Fortunately, dramatic structure is something you can learn. And you can use this list as a guide. Check your screenplay against it. If you answer "no" to any of these questions, that's where your script may need work.

Create Character Depth

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 16:11:14 +0100

As screenwriters we are are often told to layer our scripts with subtext, reversals, etc. This is important because it adds ‘depth’ to the characters and the plot bringing thee story alive on the page and screen. Yet layering is a technique which often eludes even the best screenwriters.

This post focusses on creating character depth via reflection techniques because these ‘techniques’ often create layering without much effort on the screenwriter’s part. A screenwriter who masters reflection techniques will often discover their screenplay has built-in subtext and reversals because the reflection techniques often allows the more difficult areas of screenwriting to fall into place.

The easiest way to utilize the reflection technique in your script is to start with the hero and reflect all other characters off him. By doing so, the story will automatically have built-in subtext.

Here's an example:

The hero is Josh. He has a commitment phobia and won’t ask a long-term girlfriend to marry him. She’s prepared to leave him if he doesn’t pop the question.

Josh’s best friend has been married for 10 years and has a solid relationship – this “reflects” what Josh really wants, but is too afraid to commit to. His boss is reluctant to make him a partner in the firm. This reflects Josh’s reluctance to marry and have a life-time partner. Maybe Josh’s mother is married to her fourth husband and looking for a fifth. Maybe Josh’s college buddy has a different woman every night….etc.

When the other characters reflect the hero’s internal conflict the story becomes layered. Subtext seems built-in and reversals are easy to accomplish.

In most stories, the only character the screenwriter uses to “reflect” the hero is often the antagonist. This is done by creating an antagonist with an opposing viewpoint to the hero. This is great, but if you want to create a layered plot and character depth, then try reflecting all the characters off the hero!

Be careful not to overdo the technique in terms of reflecting off the hero. If the hero has a courage issue, the plot could easily become overdone if all the other characters have a courage issue.

The trick is to downplay the other character’s reflective issue.

Josh’s best friend isn’t likely to have his marriage end soon.
Josh’s boss won’t lose his business if he doesn’t to make Josh a partner.
Josh’s problem is the main conflict and the other character’s issues only serve to reflect it.

Another easy technique to create reflection is via “opposite” visuals.

Here’s an example:

Put a single guy in a room filled with Valentine couples and the couples will “reflect” what the single guy longs for.

Another easy technique to create reflection is via “the same” visuals.

Here’s an example:

Two friends who regularly go for a beer together. One is more emotionally mature than the other and he sees his friend as a reflection of the person he no longer wants to be.

Another easy technique to create reflection is via visual metaphor.

Here’s an example:

Give a hero with the need to redeem himself for a past mistake a friend who collects things from the past (eg: vinyl records). His friend’s need to hold onto the items from the past reflects the hero’s redemption issue.

Another technique is take inventory of every item in the hero’s world. Determine how each item reflects the hero’s internal conflict.

A great example is the movie “The 40 year-old Virgin”. The film’s character rides a bike and collects superhero figures. The bike and the figures reflect his need to move beyond boyhood into manhood. Also, notice how this film’s secondary characters reflect the hero’s issues regarding sex.

There are more complex psuchologial techniques where one character reflects their issue onto another character.

Here’s an example:

A husband accuses his wife of cheating with no basis for the accusation whatsoever. It’s more likely she wasn’t cheating at all and he was. He’s reflected his guilt onto his wife.

This technique is more difficult because it requires a setup and payoff to work.

There are many reflective techniques a screenwriter can develop that will add character depth.
The more reflections there are in a script, especially when the reflections revolve around
the main character, the more layered a story becomes.