If you are a writer then chances are you are in your head. Chances are you are pretty clever. Chances are you combine these two traits to really screw yourself up.
But I'm here to tell you that you can also mind*uck yourself in a positive, proactive way.
Here's my latest example: I wrote myself a contract to finish the treatment.
Backstory: I was one simple draft away from where I think I have a chance to get a real contract (as in paid) for this project. I've been working with a produce to develop a treatment over the phone for months while he is off shooting a huge movie half way around the world. It's been a fun and rewarding process, I've learned a lot.
BUT minutes after our last conversation, where I was filled up and ready to bang this out. I got slammed with a rewrite on The Assignment and the worst flu imaginable. Bedridden with a deadline, lovely.
So here I am over a month later and am I filled up? Am I brimming with confidence and the vision I once had of the finish line? Nope. I'm filled up with doubt and fear.
Why? I was so close. Everyone was really excited including big-time producer, managers and myself.
But here I am, filled with anxiety and fear, self-loathing and two pots of coffee. The last thing I want to do is go back to this project. What I really want to do is go back to my spec.
I bet that sounds familiar, no? If only I could work on this other idea I wouldn't feel this way. The other one is where the heat is, the other one is the one I'm meant to write.
Sorry, that's Bullshit! (Capital letter intended.)
What's really going on here is mind*uck. (*Normally I'd just say mindfuck but my Auntie is now following my blog and you know, I'm sensitive to that.) (I've instructed Auntie not to read anything inside parenthesises.)
So here's what's really going on: I'm trying to remember the finish line. I'm trying to remember the finished product, but that is impossible. It's a sure fire way to bring on procrastination or even abandonment of a project. Trying to see the finish line will only make you lose the race.
What I need to do is just focus on the next step. The first step. Then the next. And soon that feeling of being full and near will return.
But how do I get to the first step? How do I will myself back to something that I've nearly convinced myself I can't do?
I wrote myself a contract. I'm great with deadlines, somehow I manage to get it done. I ask for help with chores around the house, I arrange sleepovers for my kid with the grandparents, I hang up my golf clubs, I focus, I do whatever it takes. And that's the exact type of thinking and action I need to apply to a) The Treatment and b) The Spec.
So in my best legalese, I drafted a document.
I, writer, hereby enter into an agreement with, myself, to complete the first draft of The Treatment, on or before April 8th...
You get the idea. And right now, after I hit post, I am taking that first step to reach my deadline.
Stay tuned... and Happy Writing.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Rewriting Your Screenplay & The Five Stages of Grief
Today I finished the first rewrite on The Assignment. And I'm very happy with it. After I worked my way through the five stages of rewriting grief (see below) and got down to business, it was actually fun.
As is normal with assignments the schedule spelled out in my contract has no baring on reality. In my contract I have six weeks to work on a rewrite. I got these notes on March 3rd and because the studio needed to start budgeting the movie I was asked if I could turn it around before the end of the month.
"Sure no, problem," should be the answer for any writer wanting to continue their relationship with their current employer. But this time it really wasn't a problem. The notes were pretty straight forward and didn't require much heavy lifting.
Over the weekend, (yes, over the weekend) I had another request to see if I could possibly turn it in even sooner.
I'm not complaining, I'm just warning you. This is how it really is. Just because my spec (which has now been in a holding pattern on a shelf, lingering in the first draft for many a moon) is taking forever to complete, you don't have that luxury on assignment. I don't want to give any of you the wrong idea.
Luckily, despite the entire family having the flu and having been bed-ridden for a week, I was able to deliver way ahead of schedule. I simply put in a few brutal near-round-the-clock writing sessions and passed up St. Paddy day celebrations all together. (And let me tell you passing up socially acceptable excuses to drink is pretty tough to do.)
So today it goes back to the studio 19 days after getting the notes. In otherwords, less than half the time my contract gives me to pull it off. Seven of those days were chalked up to illness (but I did brain storm and research) and three were dedicated to waiting in doctor's offices with my flu-ridden son (where I did nothing but worry and panic and didn't think about the script for one second.)
My rewriting writing process went like this: The five stages of grief.
For those of you following this blog like hawks, (ha, ha, ha) you may have noticed I previously alluded to rewriting and the seven stages of grief. Well, I discovered you could do it in five.
Ain't that what rewriting is all about?
Stage One: Denial
This stage actually starts before you get your notes. It happens the moment you've typed Fade Out. You think, "It's perfect. They are going to love it. They aren't going to have any notes. It's going straight to A-list actors who will also love it and have no changes, the director will send me a gift just for bringing this brilliance into the world and it will be thrown into production before I can catch my breath."
Stage Two: Anger
This stage starts when you get your notes and realize that all the dumb ass delusions you've been harboring have just self-destructed leaving egg dripping on your face.
Stage Three: Bargaining
This stage is when you first start getting into the notes and your immediate gut reaction is to try to talk the note giver into seeing it the way you originally wrote it. As though, even though they didn't get it when the read it - if you only explained it a little better that would make all the difference. This is also followed by trying to convince them of compromises that land somewhere between what you want and what they want. This is the most dangerous stage - because you can't really listen to your gut and be open to beneficial new ideas inspired by their feedback and your knowledge of material if you simply have your dukes up.
Stage Four: Depression
This is the stage where I usually take a night off to drink one or two more than usual, curse whomever gave the notes, curse myself for being so limited and wallow in the lazy, fat, gross feeling of "but I don't wanna....." Imagine an obese toddler, smeared in peanut butter and lying exhausted on the ground after a spazmotic tantrum.
Stage Five: Acceptance
This is usually when the commencement check has hit the bank. You remember the contract you have in your file draw and that the clock is ticking on delivery. You realize, "Hey this is my job, I've got to do this." And then you simply find that one little tiny way back into the script. That one line, one scene, one idea that opens up a path to the next and the next and the next. That's acceptance.
In stages one through four you are looking at the whole beast at once and that will kill you. In stage five, you're back to taking it step-by-step. That's always the key.
Happy Writing.
As is normal with assignments the schedule spelled out in my contract has no baring on reality. In my contract I have six weeks to work on a rewrite. I got these notes on March 3rd and because the studio needed to start budgeting the movie I was asked if I could turn it around before the end of the month.
"Sure no, problem," should be the answer for any writer wanting to continue their relationship with their current employer. But this time it really wasn't a problem. The notes were pretty straight forward and didn't require much heavy lifting.
Over the weekend, (yes, over the weekend) I had another request to see if I could possibly turn it in even sooner.
I'm not complaining, I'm just warning you. This is how it really is. Just because my spec (which has now been in a holding pattern on a shelf, lingering in the first draft for many a moon) is taking forever to complete, you don't have that luxury on assignment. I don't want to give any of you the wrong idea.
Luckily, despite the entire family having the flu and having been bed-ridden for a week, I was able to deliver way ahead of schedule. I simply put in a few brutal near-round-the-clock writing sessions and passed up St. Paddy day celebrations all together. (And let me tell you passing up socially acceptable excuses to drink is pretty tough to do.)
So today it goes back to the studio 19 days after getting the notes. In otherwords, less than half the time my contract gives me to pull it off. Seven of those days were chalked up to illness (but I did brain storm and research) and three were dedicated to waiting in doctor's offices with my flu-ridden son (where I did nothing but worry and panic and didn't think about the script for one second.)
My rewriting writing process went like this: The five stages of grief.
For those of you following this blog like hawks, (ha, ha, ha) you may have noticed I previously alluded to rewriting and the seven stages of grief. Well, I discovered you could do it in five.
Ain't that what rewriting is all about?
Stage One: Denial
This stage actually starts before you get your notes. It happens the moment you've typed Fade Out. You think, "It's perfect. They are going to love it. They aren't going to have any notes. It's going straight to A-list actors who will also love it and have no changes, the director will send me a gift just for bringing this brilliance into the world and it will be thrown into production before I can catch my breath."
Stage Two: Anger
This stage starts when you get your notes and realize that all the dumb ass delusions you've been harboring have just self-destructed leaving egg dripping on your face.
Stage Three: Bargaining
This stage is when you first start getting into the notes and your immediate gut reaction is to try to talk the note giver into seeing it the way you originally wrote it. As though, even though they didn't get it when the read it - if you only explained it a little better that would make all the difference. This is also followed by trying to convince them of compromises that land somewhere between what you want and what they want. This is the most dangerous stage - because you can't really listen to your gut and be open to beneficial new ideas inspired by their feedback and your knowledge of material if you simply have your dukes up.
Stage Four: Depression
This is the stage where I usually take a night off to drink one or two more than usual, curse whomever gave the notes, curse myself for being so limited and wallow in the lazy, fat, gross feeling of "but I don't wanna....." Imagine an obese toddler, smeared in peanut butter and lying exhausted on the ground after a spazmotic tantrum.
Stage Five: Acceptance
This is usually when the commencement check has hit the bank. You remember the contract you have in your file draw and that the clock is ticking on delivery. You realize, "Hey this is my job, I've got to do this." And then you simply find that one little tiny way back into the script. That one line, one scene, one idea that opens up a path to the next and the next and the next. That's acceptance.
In stages one through four you are looking at the whole beast at once and that will kill you. In stage five, you're back to taking it step-by-step. That's always the key.
Happy Writing.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Rewriting: How Do You Know You're Doing It Right?
I am rewriting three projects right now: An assignment (which gets priority because I have a contract), a treatment (which I will soon land a contract for) and my spec.
Which do you think is the most fun to work on?
Is it the assignment because you have a clear directive? They are paying you to write and so you simply have to do what they say?
NO. WRONG.
Because the first draft was my opportunity to tell the story I wanted to tell. Now because of shooting requirements, cast requirements, marketing requirements and various other elements that are necessary, but not exactly dramatically driven, I'm being asked to implement things that defy my internal logic.
So, that's hard. Because I have to do what I think is not quite as strong, but make it even stronger than it was to begin with in the first draft.
I also have to incorporate some dramatic ideas that I don't agree with, but that the producers feel strongly about. That's what I'm paid to do. Somehow, I have to make their ideas flow seamlessly into my own vision or guess what? The man with the hook comes out and the next writer is given a chance to do what they asked me to do. Not going to happen. It's hard. But that's the job.
So, is the most enjoyable rewriting process on the treatment where I'm trying to land a gig? I mean that's got to be more fun because I'm more partnering with the producer and we're wrestling through it together?
NO. WRONG.
Because in this instance, I'm trying to create a story to match the inspiration in the producer's head. It's like a mystery and I'm trying to solve the case. But each time I write a version, I fall in love with the story and the characters, only to have another level of the mystery revealed. We're getting closer, in fact, I think we're one draft away from finding our common ground. But each pass becomes more difficult because there are more parts of the story that we both want to keep, while adding or changing other key elements. It's a big puzzle. I love a challenge, but it's only fun once the puzzle has been cracked. So you find yourself elated that you've solved it and bounced back down to the floor with the realization that you have to jump in and try again.
Okay - so the easiest, most fun, most rewarding rewrite has to be on my own spec. Right? I mean I'm in control, I don't have to write to other people's ideas, I don't have to make choices I disagree with - I'm my own boss. That's it, right? Oh the joy of freedom.
NOPE.
Yes, on the spec I'm the one who said, "Gee, those notes do make sense." And I was the one that eventually saw that the script could get better. I'm the one leading myself back to the grind stone. But, it's also a land of infinite possibilities and your stranded there, alone with your own wildly crazed brain. (No wonder why I loved Lost.) It's enough to make you wish you were writing this spec on assignment - then at least you could have someone to complain about.
The bottom line is that regardless of whether the changes are being ordered by a studio, suggested by a producer or come from my own need to make it better, the one thing they all have in common is that I don't want to do any of them. All rewriting starts with a big pout. It's how quickly you let that go and get down to business that makes you a professional.
So... How do you know if you're doing your rewrite right? It hurts.
Next Post: Rewriting otherwise known as The Seven Stages of Grief.
Which do you think is the most fun to work on?
Is it the assignment because you have a clear directive? They are paying you to write and so you simply have to do what they say?
NO. WRONG.
Because the first draft was my opportunity to tell the story I wanted to tell. Now because of shooting requirements, cast requirements, marketing requirements and various other elements that are necessary, but not exactly dramatically driven, I'm being asked to implement things that defy my internal logic.
So, that's hard. Because I have to do what I think is not quite as strong, but make it even stronger than it was to begin with in the first draft.
I also have to incorporate some dramatic ideas that I don't agree with, but that the producers feel strongly about. That's what I'm paid to do. Somehow, I have to make their ideas flow seamlessly into my own vision or guess what? The man with the hook comes out and the next writer is given a chance to do what they asked me to do. Not going to happen. It's hard. But that's the job.
So, is the most enjoyable rewriting process on the treatment where I'm trying to land a gig? I mean that's got to be more fun because I'm more partnering with the producer and we're wrestling through it together?
NO. WRONG.
Because in this instance, I'm trying to create a story to match the inspiration in the producer's head. It's like a mystery and I'm trying to solve the case. But each time I write a version, I fall in love with the story and the characters, only to have another level of the mystery revealed. We're getting closer, in fact, I think we're one draft away from finding our common ground. But each pass becomes more difficult because there are more parts of the story that we both want to keep, while adding or changing other key elements. It's a big puzzle. I love a challenge, but it's only fun once the puzzle has been cracked. So you find yourself elated that you've solved it and bounced back down to the floor with the realization that you have to jump in and try again.
Okay - so the easiest, most fun, most rewarding rewrite has to be on my own spec. Right? I mean I'm in control, I don't have to write to other people's ideas, I don't have to make choices I disagree with - I'm my own boss. That's it, right? Oh the joy of freedom.
NOPE.
Yes, on the spec I'm the one who said, "Gee, those notes do make sense." And I was the one that eventually saw that the script could get better. I'm the one leading myself back to the grind stone. But, it's also a land of infinite possibilities and your stranded there, alone with your own wildly crazed brain. (No wonder why I loved Lost.) It's enough to make you wish you were writing this spec on assignment - then at least you could have someone to complain about.
The bottom line is that regardless of whether the changes are being ordered by a studio, suggested by a producer or come from my own need to make it better, the one thing they all have in common is that I don't want to do any of them. All rewriting starts with a big pout. It's how quickly you let that go and get down to business that makes you a professional.
So... How do you know if you're doing your rewrite right? It hurts.
Next Post: Rewriting otherwise known as The Seven Stages of Grief.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Rewriting: Growing From Writing and Writing From Growing
A Tale Of Writing Draft Two After You Really Liked Draft One
Here I am at the beginning of version two of my spec. And already I look back at the first draft and think "How could I have ever thought that was the one?"
And I was convinced. Believe me. Just look back a few posts on this blog. I had given it my all and it was the best I could ever do. If they wanted more from me than that - well, there was nothing more to give.
This is how you should feel at the end of a draft. You've left it all on the page. You couldn't possibly make it any better.
Then time passes. You get notes. Hopefully they speak to you. Through the denial, through the pain, through the anger, disappointment, insecurity and fear, hopefully there's something about these notes that make the smallest little voice inside say, "I recognize that..."
You go far away and hopefully work on other things for a while until it's time to start again.
And then you do. And it's painful at first. It's slow and you think, "I'm not smart enough. I don't know how. This is impossible. It cannot be done."
Until one little idea worms its way through all those roadblocks and embeds itself in your brain. And you think, "Ooooooh. What's that? Interesting." You follow this lead. Maybe it's a scene or a fragment of a scene. Sometimes it can be as small as seeing how a character turns her head. Perhaps it's a line of dialogue that sticks with you because you know the subtext and why it was said and what came just before. These kernels span themselves out and gather other thoughts like an infectious web.
And the next thing you know you are asking yourself, "How could I have ever thought that first draft was the best draft of this story?"
Were you delusional? (I often am - but that's beside the point.) Were you wrong when you felt certain that you could do no better than the last draft?
The answer is no. You did give it your all but now you have more to give. You can't get to the end journey without first walking down the path. You've learned something in the process of the first draft and now you've grown as a writer and your writing has grown. So get to it.
In the spec I started in July (yes July people - I've written two other projects in the meantime), I am delving much deeper than I ever have before. I'm exposing more of my own fears and shadows. It's exhilarating and terrifying. My screenwriting craft is pretty darn sound at this point - but what needed to catch up to tell this particular story was my personal emotional growth and my ability to write about it.
Go deeper is what the universe (well, my agent and managers - almost the same thing) were telling me.
I'm in so deep now I feel like I'm sucking quicksand through my nose. But, one step at a time. I'm excited to see where I come out. But I can pretty much bet I'll be saying, "This is the one. I couldn't possibly give it anymore. I've left it all on the page this time."
Happy Writing.
Here I am at the beginning of version two of my spec. And already I look back at the first draft and think "How could I have ever thought that was the one?"
And I was convinced. Believe me. Just look back a few posts on this blog. I had given it my all and it was the best I could ever do. If they wanted more from me than that - well, there was nothing more to give.
This is how you should feel at the end of a draft. You've left it all on the page. You couldn't possibly make it any better.
Then time passes. You get notes. Hopefully they speak to you. Through the denial, through the pain, through the anger, disappointment, insecurity and fear, hopefully there's something about these notes that make the smallest little voice inside say, "I recognize that..."
You go far away and hopefully work on other things for a while until it's time to start again.
And then you do. And it's painful at first. It's slow and you think, "I'm not smart enough. I don't know how. This is impossible. It cannot be done."
Until one little idea worms its way through all those roadblocks and embeds itself in your brain. And you think, "Ooooooh. What's that? Interesting." You follow this lead. Maybe it's a scene or a fragment of a scene. Sometimes it can be as small as seeing how a character turns her head. Perhaps it's a line of dialogue that sticks with you because you know the subtext and why it was said and what came just before. These kernels span themselves out and gather other thoughts like an infectious web.
And the next thing you know you are asking yourself, "How could I have ever thought that first draft was the best draft of this story?"
Were you delusional? (I often am - but that's beside the point.) Were you wrong when you felt certain that you could do no better than the last draft?
The answer is no. You did give it your all but now you have more to give. You can't get to the end journey without first walking down the path. You've learned something in the process of the first draft and now you've grown as a writer and your writing has grown. So get to it.
In the spec I started in July (yes July people - I've written two other projects in the meantime), I am delving much deeper than I ever have before. I'm exposing more of my own fears and shadows. It's exhilarating and terrifying. My screenwriting craft is pretty darn sound at this point - but what needed to catch up to tell this particular story was my personal emotional growth and my ability to write about it.
Go deeper is what the universe (well, my agent and managers - almost the same thing) were telling me.
I'm in so deep now I feel like I'm sucking quicksand through my nose. But, one step at a time. I'm excited to see where I come out. But I can pretty much bet I'll be saying, "This is the one. I couldn't possibly give it anymore. I've left it all on the page this time."
Happy Writing.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
How To Get Unstuck In Your Writing And Clean At the Same Time
For those of you smirking or grimacing after yesterday's post: Throwing Out The Kitchen Sink. Yes - there are infinite possibilities and it would be impossible to plow through them all. I'm not just blowing Polly-Annic smoke in your direction.
I promise you won't need to test out every wrong possiblility before you can find a path to charge down. You have a trick up your sleeve - actually you have a trick in your gut. We all know what it feels like to be writing hot, filled with inspiration - and we know when something isn't right and we're forcing it. We know. So gravitate to what your gut tells you is interesting.
Since this part of the blog is about the "emotional journey" here's an example of how I got in tune with my gut just yesterday and how it led me to inspired writing today.
I'm loving my new set up, my new version of my main character (same character only more fleshed out, issues and conflicts closer to my own and therefore infinitely easier to crawl inside of), but I get half way through my new outline and I am utterly lost.
Being utterly lost in your script, especially one that you love so much in the first act, is a tortuous event. I try very very very hard to force what I think should happen to happen - but it's all wrong. First it doesn't feel right, next the structure is off, finally I check my guide-post movies and nope - my character is zigging when every other film is zagging at this spot. Seriously?! Will this ever get any easier?
And the internal monologue goes: I have no idea how to fix this. I can't do this. Think. Think. Maybe? No. What if? Lame! But- Cliche, bad cliche, false, wrong. Think harder. Maybe it can't be done. Maybe this story hasn't been told because it can't be told. I'm too stupid. I'm limited. I'm fat.
Okay - so we've been there right? When I get really frustrated or insecure or frinsecure (which is usually the case) I take a hot bath. It's hard to get distracted from thinking in the bathtub. I'm too paranoid of dropping my iPhone in the water to bring Words With Friends with me - so I'm trapped in a warm, soothing environment with my thoughts. (Also a baby-free, husband free, dog free zone - bonus.)
Worse case scenario I emerge clean and refreshed, drain the tub and go to bed. Most times however - I get inspired, leap from the tub, bubbles sliding down my leg, carpet be damned, I slosh into my office chair with an inspiration that gets me over the current, miserable hump of stuckness.
Most times it can be something really small. Last night, it was a scene that brought tears to my eyes. I had to get out of that tub and write it down. Fast. And that little scene made me realize that the problem wasn't that I didn't know how to fill up the second half of my script - it was that I was trying to skip steps again.
And I'm sorry - you just can't do that. Not even after twenty-one scripts. I needed to go back and put my 40 cards on the wall. Once I did that, I realized that the reason why I was feeling like every idea I had for her to fill up the second half of the script was irrelevant, boring and cliched, the reason why I felt that my main character was doing the right thing way too early in the story (and therefore boring the shit out of me) was....wait for it....
What I thought was my mid-point was actually closer to the end of my second act. She isn't making the right choice too early. No, she's doing it right on time; near the end of the script where it should be. It was the stupid writer who was in the wrong place.
So what happened here? A) I thought since I was performing a rewrite (even though it was a page one rewrite) I could just jump into the writing part. WRONG B) I was telling the story - but not beating it out, so I didn't realize that I was already 30 beats in. MISTAKE C) My gut didn't let me down. I knew something was jenky - which helped me find the fix. GREAT!
Okay - now I will enjoy a day, an hour, ten minutes of happy writing before hitting the next bump. But that's just the way this shit works. Get used to it and don't try to cut corners....
I promise you won't need to test out every wrong possiblility before you can find a path to charge down. You have a trick up your sleeve - actually you have a trick in your gut. We all know what it feels like to be writing hot, filled with inspiration - and we know when something isn't right and we're forcing it. We know. So gravitate to what your gut tells you is interesting.
Since this part of the blog is about the "emotional journey" here's an example of how I got in tune with my gut just yesterday and how it led me to inspired writing today.
I'm loving my new set up, my new version of my main character (same character only more fleshed out, issues and conflicts closer to my own and therefore infinitely easier to crawl inside of), but I get half way through my new outline and I am utterly lost.
Being utterly lost in your script, especially one that you love so much in the first act, is a tortuous event. I try very very very hard to force what I think should happen to happen - but it's all wrong. First it doesn't feel right, next the structure is off, finally I check my guide-post movies and nope - my character is zigging when every other film is zagging at this spot. Seriously?! Will this ever get any easier?
And the internal monologue goes: I have no idea how to fix this. I can't do this. Think. Think. Maybe? No. What if? Lame! But- Cliche, bad cliche, false, wrong. Think harder. Maybe it can't be done. Maybe this story hasn't been told because it can't be told. I'm too stupid. I'm limited. I'm fat.
Okay - so we've been there right? When I get really frustrated or insecure or frinsecure (which is usually the case) I take a hot bath. It's hard to get distracted from thinking in the bathtub. I'm too paranoid of dropping my iPhone in the water to bring Words With Friends with me - so I'm trapped in a warm, soothing environment with my thoughts. (Also a baby-free, husband free, dog free zone - bonus.)
Worse case scenario I emerge clean and refreshed, drain the tub and go to bed. Most times however - I get inspired, leap from the tub, bubbles sliding down my leg, carpet be damned, I slosh into my office chair with an inspiration that gets me over the current, miserable hump of stuckness.
Most times it can be something really small. Last night, it was a scene that brought tears to my eyes. I had to get out of that tub and write it down. Fast. And that little scene made me realize that the problem wasn't that I didn't know how to fill up the second half of my script - it was that I was trying to skip steps again.
And I'm sorry - you just can't do that. Not even after twenty-one scripts. I needed to go back and put my 40 cards on the wall. Once I did that, I realized that the reason why I was feeling like every idea I had for her to fill up the second half of the script was irrelevant, boring and cliched, the reason why I felt that my main character was doing the right thing way too early in the story (and therefore boring the shit out of me) was....wait for it....
What I thought was my mid-point was actually closer to the end of my second act. She isn't making the right choice too early. No, she's doing it right on time; near the end of the script where it should be. It was the stupid writer who was in the wrong place.
So what happened here? A) I thought since I was performing a rewrite (even though it was a page one rewrite) I could just jump into the writing part. WRONG B) I was telling the story - but not beating it out, so I didn't realize that I was already 30 beats in. MISTAKE C) My gut didn't let me down. I knew something was jenky - which helped me find the fix. GREAT!
Okay - now I will enjoy a day, an hour, ten minutes of happy writing before hitting the next bump. But that's just the way this shit works. Get used to it and don't try to cut corners....
Monday, February 14, 2011
Throwing Out the Kitchen Sink
Okay, I'm one of those writers who consults psychics. I do. And Astrologers and anyone else who will share a glimmer of hope that the choices I'm making will pay off.
Because it's a crap shoot. There are no guarantees.
Writing comes down to choices and one false turn at the beginning can lead you down the entire wrong story. That's where I'm at with my spec.
But wait there's hope (the psychic said so)... But even if my psychic didn't predict tremendous success, there still would be hope. There's always hope.
Because even if you really, really, really screw everything up - guess what? You're that much closer to getting it right. You've learned a lot by taking that wrong path. You've learned what doesn't work. So, obviously you are narrowing down what will work.
So personally, I can say with certainty - it's time to throw out the kitchen sink, the baby and the bath water, everything must go.
I went through my draft, highlighter and Post-Its in hand, to mark all things that I could transition into the next draft. Three pages in I realized I could put my fun little tools away. I was back at the drawing board. There might be one or two moments I can save - but these are moments - moments don't need Post-Its or even highlighters.
But, it's okay. It is. Because I already know what I'm writing so well that I know what will not work. So what if that happens to be nearly everything. I'm not afraid. I've got a psychic, and an astrologer, a friend who gives super tarot readings, a Magic 8 Ball in my left hand desk drawer and last week, I got a very positive fortune cookie from Panda Express.
No worries. Happy Writing.
Because it's a crap shoot. There are no guarantees.
Writing comes down to choices and one false turn at the beginning can lead you down the entire wrong story. That's where I'm at with my spec.
But wait there's hope (the psychic said so)... But even if my psychic didn't predict tremendous success, there still would be hope. There's always hope.
Because even if you really, really, really screw everything up - guess what? You're that much closer to getting it right. You've learned a lot by taking that wrong path. You've learned what doesn't work. So, obviously you are narrowing down what will work.
So personally, I can say with certainty - it's time to throw out the kitchen sink, the baby and the bath water, everything must go.
I went through my draft, highlighter and Post-Its in hand, to mark all things that I could transition into the next draft. Three pages in I realized I could put my fun little tools away. I was back at the drawing board. There might be one or two moments I can save - but these are moments - moments don't need Post-Its or even highlighters.
But, it's okay. It is. Because I already know what I'm writing so well that I know what will not work. So what if that happens to be nearly everything. I'm not afraid. I've got a psychic, and an astrologer, a friend who gives super tarot readings, a Magic 8 Ball in my left hand desk drawer and last week, I got a very positive fortune cookie from Panda Express.
No worries. Happy Writing.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Don't Forget to Have Fun
Maybe it's the subtle mix of coffee and Lo-Carb Monster Energy drink I've been living on for a week - but today I'm inspired to write about how fun the process can be.
You are writing a movie. You are either being paid to do so or hope to be paid to do so or even better you're just doing it because you have an idea that you love, full stop. Regardless - you've dreamed up an idea that got you excited. And now you're starting to figure out how to tell it.
Writing comes down to choices - there are infinite ways to tell the story you are telling. You are now in the very fun process of dreaming out one way of telling it. Why not start with the way that is the most fun?
A very successful producer I am working with (and when I say successful I mean with a capital "S" from box office to Oscar nods) told me that he starts a project by asking himself: "What would I be interested in seeing?"
It is just as simple as that. It really is. Because what interests you is what plugs in to the common human thread - it's what people can relate to, it's what we all want to see.
I think it's a great way to brain storm the storyline of your script. First you come up with "what interests you" in a macro way - the idea. Then you have to do some nuts and bolts and figure out your character arc and major structural beats. But then to connect those beats - asking yourself "what would be fun to see" or "what interests me" is a great way to get there.
On Version Two of my spec - I'm at that point in the process now. I have my characters (for the most part), I know where they start and what they learn and where they end. I know my big structural moments - and now there's this huge path that could go in any direction in order to connect those anchors together.
And so today I've got my index cards and my fat marker and I'm writing down experiences that would interest me.
A good exercise is to think of a film that reminds you of the film you're writing - either in tone or setting or style - and think of one of two memorable moments. Those are the moments that pulled you in - and those are the kinds of moments we are hunting for now.
Sometimes, you'll think of great scenes that end up not fitting. But don't let that concern you know. Just brainstorm. Have fun! There is nothing more exciting than coming up with a great idea for a scene. The kind you can't wait to write.
Not all ideas are going to be right or even good - but just churn them out. We'll prune later. Today is for having fun.
Next step is cobbling together - and our tether for that? Yes - you guessed it - the character's arc.... It's really so simple, isn't?
You are writing a movie. You are either being paid to do so or hope to be paid to do so or even better you're just doing it because you have an idea that you love, full stop. Regardless - you've dreamed up an idea that got you excited. And now you're starting to figure out how to tell it.
Writing comes down to choices - there are infinite ways to tell the story you are telling. You are now in the very fun process of dreaming out one way of telling it. Why not start with the way that is the most fun?
A very successful producer I am working with (and when I say successful I mean with a capital "S" from box office to Oscar nods) told me that he starts a project by asking himself: "What would I be interested in seeing?"
It is just as simple as that. It really is. Because what interests you is what plugs in to the common human thread - it's what people can relate to, it's what we all want to see.
I think it's a great way to brain storm the storyline of your script. First you come up with "what interests you" in a macro way - the idea. Then you have to do some nuts and bolts and figure out your character arc and major structural beats. But then to connect those beats - asking yourself "what would be fun to see" or "what interests me" is a great way to get there.
On Version Two of my spec - I'm at that point in the process now. I have my characters (for the most part), I know where they start and what they learn and where they end. I know my big structural moments - and now there's this huge path that could go in any direction in order to connect those anchors together.
And so today I've got my index cards and my fat marker and I'm writing down experiences that would interest me.
A good exercise is to think of a film that reminds you of the film you're writing - either in tone or setting or style - and think of one of two memorable moments. Those are the moments that pulled you in - and those are the kinds of moments we are hunting for now.
Sometimes, you'll think of great scenes that end up not fitting. But don't let that concern you know. Just brainstorm. Have fun! There is nothing more exciting than coming up with a great idea for a scene. The kind you can't wait to write.
Not all ideas are going to be right or even good - but just churn them out. We'll prune later. Today is for having fun.
Next step is cobbling together - and our tether for that? Yes - you guessed it - the character's arc.... It's really so simple, isn't?
Thursday, February 10, 2011
A Fresh Start... Again
The reality of writing is that you are constantly going back to the drawing board. And the drawing board can suck. It can drive you to eat, drink and be mean to your significant other. But one thing it won't do is go away.
So I've snarled at my "drawing board" for months now (while writing three other projects including one entire draft of a new writing assignment) and it's time to jump back in. No matter how beautifully I want to perform this dive, it's going to end up like a belly flop, complete with belly burn. But here I go.
My agent wants me to pretty much take my script in a different direction after the act break. And scenes are starting to bubble. As they do I write them on cards and stick them on my giant corkboard. Let's check - there's two. There's only two?! UGH!
Here's what's blocking me - trying to envision the entire thing instead of just taking it one step at a time.
Here's what I'm going to do to get over myself (again). I'm going to daydream about my character - I'm going to think about what kind of person he/she is and what he/she can possibly learn. I'm going to doodle and make lists and explore. If a scene hits me that's a keeper - it goes up on the board.
I'm also going to give myself a deadline. I want to come up with a new short treatment of the story by this time next week. That should be ample time to reel in my wandering mind and make some choices. Not set in stone choices - but choices that I can then ask people about - pitch the story to and see if people are like - oh - yeah - I want to see that...
I hope that if you are stuck - you'll remember not to think about the finished movie - you're a hundred steps away from that (at least)... Just put one foot in front of the other and we'll both be there before we know it.
So I've snarled at my "drawing board" for months now (while writing three other projects including one entire draft of a new writing assignment) and it's time to jump back in. No matter how beautifully I want to perform this dive, it's going to end up like a belly flop, complete with belly burn. But here I go.
My agent wants me to pretty much take my script in a different direction after the act break. And scenes are starting to bubble. As they do I write them on cards and stick them on my giant corkboard. Let's check - there's two. There's only two?! UGH!
Here's what's blocking me - trying to envision the entire thing instead of just taking it one step at a time.
Here's what I'm going to do to get over myself (again). I'm going to daydream about my character - I'm going to think about what kind of person he/she is and what he/she can possibly learn. I'm going to doodle and make lists and explore. If a scene hits me that's a keeper - it goes up on the board.
I'm also going to give myself a deadline. I want to come up with a new short treatment of the story by this time next week. That should be ample time to reel in my wandering mind and make some choices. Not set in stone choices - but choices that I can then ask people about - pitch the story to and see if people are like - oh - yeah - I want to see that...
I hope that if you are stuck - you'll remember not to think about the finished movie - you're a hundred steps away from that (at least)... Just put one foot in front of the other and we'll both be there before we know it.
Monday, January 17, 2011
How Bad Movies Can Be So Motivating
Okay - last night I just watched one of the worst movies I've seen in a long while. And it was just the tonic I needed to get my butt rocking on my rewrites.
Seeing big movie stars up on screen in a real stinker is a great way to relocate your confidence. I've been dealing with faltering confidence because I was given some abstract notes.
Here's a list of notes you will get in your career that are totally worthless. (Unless you want to breed panic, depression, and writer's blockage.)
1) Needs to be funnier.
2) Go Deeper
3) The characters need to be more original
I could go on - but these are vague notions that all convey the same thing: We not invested in your main character.
The movie I saw last night had an unlikable main character. Maybe it's the fact that we're in the Great Recession and she was a rich celebrity that created her own dilemmas. Maybe it was the fact that she had done something so grievous that the audience could never forgive her and therefore who are you rooting for?
Regardless, it inspired me. Because I recognized where the story had gone wrong, I immediately thought of what I would have done to make it work for me. (Hey, nobody tries to make a bad movie, and I respect anyone who accomplishes getting a film made.) But seeing something miss, reminds this writer that nobody gets it right all of the time.
Sometimes you have to go down the wrong path a few times before you find the right one.
And how to attack those darn abstract notes? Make a concrete plan and take it one step at a time.
Think about "what interests you" "what would you enjoy seeing" "what is a dilemma that engages your creative mind" and then write. Have fun with it.
Go see a bad movie and think about how you would fix it. Then see what lessons you can apply to your own work.
That's what I'm doing this week. Wish me luck and happy writing.
Seeing big movie stars up on screen in a real stinker is a great way to relocate your confidence. I've been dealing with faltering confidence because I was given some abstract notes.
Here's a list of notes you will get in your career that are totally worthless. (Unless you want to breed panic, depression, and writer's blockage.)
1) Needs to be funnier.
2) Go Deeper
3) The characters need to be more original
I could go on - but these are vague notions that all convey the same thing: We not invested in your main character.
The movie I saw last night had an unlikable main character. Maybe it's the fact that we're in the Great Recession and she was a rich celebrity that created her own dilemmas. Maybe it was the fact that she had done something so grievous that the audience could never forgive her and therefore who are you rooting for?
Regardless, it inspired me. Because I recognized where the story had gone wrong, I immediately thought of what I would have done to make it work for me. (Hey, nobody tries to make a bad movie, and I respect anyone who accomplishes getting a film made.) But seeing something miss, reminds this writer that nobody gets it right all of the time.
Sometimes you have to go down the wrong path a few times before you find the right one.
And how to attack those darn abstract notes? Make a concrete plan and take it one step at a time.
Think about "what interests you" "what would you enjoy seeing" "what is a dilemma that engages your creative mind" and then write. Have fun with it.
Go see a bad movie and think about how you would fix it. Then see what lessons you can apply to your own work.
That's what I'm doing this week. Wish me luck and happy writing.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Happy New Year - I love 2011 Already
I have to apologize for my last post -Deadlines Don't Wait For Santa it was uncharacteristically negative. I blame the fact that my deadline corresponded with the holidays. But it's all behind us now and we are well into a new year.
Time for resolutions. I love the new year because it is the most optimistic holiday of the year. And you get to drink champagne for 24 hours, morning, noon or night and nobody gives you that worried look.
I am setting an intention that 2011 will be a great writing year. I will stretch myself. I will complete many projects. I will meet and work with new and interesting people. I will not beat myself up so much. I will strive to keep smiling. I'm going to pray more, because it helps me get into the flow. The Flow - that good place where all ideas and inspirations come from.
I'm going to try to do more for others. I'm going to think bigger.
What's happening with all the writing projects?
Right now, I'm waiting on a conference call with a very big, A-list-y-type producer who happens to be shooting a movie in the Indian Ocean. I am also waiting on feedback from the studio on the first draft of the "assignment." I am waiting to discuss the film treatment for my indie-directing project with the fabulous cast/writer-creators. I am contemplating diving into a new draft of "the spec."
I say contemplating - but what I'm really doing is watching movies and just trying to let go a little more before I speed write a new version.
Oh - I'm also trying to write more loose and free in my first drafts and challenge myself more to go to deeper places. I might have to re-read and
Next post - seen anything great lately?
Time for resolutions. I love the new year because it is the most optimistic holiday of the year. And you get to drink champagne for 24 hours, morning, noon or night and nobody gives you that worried look.
I am setting an intention that 2011 will be a great writing year. I will stretch myself. I will complete many projects. I will meet and work with new and interesting people. I will not beat myself up so much. I will strive to keep smiling. I'm going to pray more, because it helps me get into the flow. The Flow - that good place where all ideas and inspirations come from.
I'm going to try to do more for others. I'm going to think bigger.
What's happening with all the writing projects?
Right now, I'm waiting on a conference call with a very big, A-list-y-type producer who happens to be shooting a movie in the Indian Ocean. I am also waiting on feedback from the studio on the first draft of the "assignment." I am waiting to discuss the film treatment for my indie-directing project with the fabulous cast/writer-creators. I am contemplating diving into a new draft of "the spec."
I say contemplating - but what I'm really doing is watching movies and just trying to let go a little more before I speed write a new version.
Oh - I'm also trying to write more loose and free in my first drafts and challenge myself more to go to deeper places. I might have to re-read and
Next post - seen anything great lately?
Monday, December 27, 2010
Deadlines Don't Wait For Santa
Note to Hollywood: When did you become Europe?
My friends in Germany, France and Spain hardly ever put in a solid month of work. There is always some bank holiday, some religious thing that no one understands or can define that precludes them from going to work. On top of that they all get about two months vacation...
Well, in recent years, so does Hollywood. It used to be that things shut down for Thanksgiving and didn't really get going again until after Sundance in mid-January. But, lately, it feels like people start checking out day before Halloween and maybe arrive again after Valentine's day. And the summer? Nothing moves forward but the sun.
Well, the sun moves and the writer. We write our buns off year-round. And Christmas or no, I wrote my buns off to make my deadline!
(Okay - you know what? No, I did not in fact write my buns off. I, in fact, think I grew an extra bun during this project. And what I really wanted for Christmas was a Wii Fit. I imagined becoming Gillian Michaels after my son was asleep and I had that precious 45 minutes of downtime before collapsing into insomnia. But, did Santa hear my plea? Still waiting.)
Why is it that stress and being chained to your desk 22 hours of every day makes everything turn to inflatable mush buckets? My son pointed to my belly yesterday and said with a big grin: "Fat." Yeah, thanks son. I'm only sitting down and not getting my workout in order to put you through college. So, we're just going to have to deal with a little extra jiggle.
My script was due at the end of the year and for various reasons I wanted to make sure it was recorded in the 4th quarter (taxes, pension and health, etc.). But, in order for it to be checked in, it needed to be received on Thursday December 16 (before everyone in accounting went on va-cay) not December 31 when it was due. Anyone counting that's over two weeks early. Two weeks of an 8 week deadline is a big chunk of early.
But The studio is doing me a solid and gives me a choice of turning it in early or holding off and turning it in when they return from vacation. Giving me until January 7th - because nobody reads anything until the weekend.
But, because of personal medical issues with my son, I really need to get it in 4th quarter. Which now ends two weeks and two days earlier than expected.
I find this out on Monday December 13th, post-lunch. Up to this point, I had been jamming on the script, keeping up the schedule I had pieced together. Working late to catch up here and there, but not really killing myself. Yeah, well that went out the window. I wrote 60 pages in 4 days. I spent all but about six hours in those four days in front of my computer.
And are you ready for a Christmas miracle? It came out really good. I got notes and everything and took a week away before re-reading myself - and I'm really excited. So now, I'm just waiting for notes - which will for sure come my way by the end of Sundance.
But, once you've lived with something and worked out the story using all your tools. And once all that's left to do is write the scenes - this can go much faster than you could possibly imagine. Kind of like those people on The Biggest Loser who can run farther than they thought they could. (Are you sensing that I'm obsessed with dropping the holiday ten I packed on?)
I'm going to have to remember this "fast writing" technique when I relaunch into reworking The Spec. I have a feeling my agent thinks will be ready when he returns to the office next week. Luckily, nobody really gets down to business until February - so I might be able to buy some time.
Fingers crossed and happy writing.
My friends in Germany, France and Spain hardly ever put in a solid month of work. There is always some bank holiday, some religious thing that no one understands or can define that precludes them from going to work. On top of that they all get about two months vacation...
Well, in recent years, so does Hollywood. It used to be that things shut down for Thanksgiving and didn't really get going again until after Sundance in mid-January. But, lately, it feels like people start checking out day before Halloween and maybe arrive again after Valentine's day. And the summer? Nothing moves forward but the sun.
Well, the sun moves and the writer. We write our buns off year-round. And Christmas or no, I wrote my buns off to make my deadline!
(Okay - you know what? No, I did not in fact write my buns off. I, in fact, think I grew an extra bun during this project. And what I really wanted for Christmas was a Wii Fit. I imagined becoming Gillian Michaels after my son was asleep and I had that precious 45 minutes of downtime before collapsing into insomnia. But, did Santa hear my plea? Still waiting.)
Why is it that stress and being chained to your desk 22 hours of every day makes everything turn to inflatable mush buckets? My son pointed to my belly yesterday and said with a big grin: "Fat." Yeah, thanks son. I'm only sitting down and not getting my workout in order to put you through college. So, we're just going to have to deal with a little extra jiggle.
My script was due at the end of the year and for various reasons I wanted to make sure it was recorded in the 4th quarter (taxes, pension and health, etc.). But, in order for it to be checked in, it needed to be received on Thursday December 16 (before everyone in accounting went on va-cay) not December 31 when it was due. Anyone counting that's over two weeks early. Two weeks of an 8 week deadline is a big chunk of early.
But The studio is doing me a solid and gives me a choice of turning it in early or holding off and turning it in when they return from vacation. Giving me until January 7th - because nobody reads anything until the weekend.
But, because of personal medical issues with my son, I really need to get it in 4th quarter. Which now ends two weeks and two days earlier than expected.
I find this out on Monday December 13th, post-lunch. Up to this point, I had been jamming on the script, keeping up the schedule I had pieced together. Working late to catch up here and there, but not really killing myself. Yeah, well that went out the window. I wrote 60 pages in 4 days. I spent all but about six hours in those four days in front of my computer.
And are you ready for a Christmas miracle? It came out really good. I got notes and everything and took a week away before re-reading myself - and I'm really excited. So now, I'm just waiting for notes - which will for sure come my way by the end of Sundance.
But, once you've lived with something and worked out the story using all your tools. And once all that's left to do is write the scenes - this can go much faster than you could possibly imagine. Kind of like those people on The Biggest Loser who can run farther than they thought they could. (Are you sensing that I'm obsessed with dropping the holiday ten I packed on?)
I'm going to have to remember this "fast writing" technique when I relaunch into reworking The Spec. I have a feeling my agent thinks will be ready when he returns to the office next week. Luckily, nobody really gets down to business until February - so I might be able to buy some time.
Fingers crossed and happy writing.
Friday, December 10, 2010
My Hollywood Agent: A love-hate relationship
I love my agent because he's always right.
I hate my agent because he's always right.
I finally talked with my agent about the spec. And here are the results:
While he still believes in the concept (and he should because it was mainly his idea) and thinks I can bring this baby home, he told me I need to throw about 2/3 of it out and start again.
You heard me 2/3.
Gulp. (And, yes, if you're wondering, that goes down about as easy as chugging lighter fluid spiked with hot sauce.)
But, I'm a pro. And I took it like a pro. I listened.
Because I had distance from the script. I'm really grateful my wise managers made me sit on it and that it took a couple weeks to connect with my agent about his response.
Emotionally disconnecting from your work before you get feedback is always key. Get away from it for as long as you can and it will hurt less. Kind of like a band-aid that's gotten really gooey from the shower before you rip it off.
I listened to what my big agent was saying, but just as importantly I listened to what my gut was saying. And my gut actually agreed with the big agent. (Traitor! I have a love-hate relationship with my gut, too.) What my gut was saying was, "He's right again, damn him, I'd rather see that movie, too."
So how do I feel about going back to the nearly blank chalkboard? Actually, I feel inspired.
My agent gets paid the big bucks because he's very good at his job. He also is one of the rare agents out there that give really brilliant feedback, not only zeroing in on the market, but actually breaking the story as good as any writer I know.
It kinda makes me want to bash him in the teeth.
But, I can't because... well, I love him.
I needed to write this version of the script in order to get to the best version of the script. Often times, us writers just troll around having no idea we are headed in the wrong direction until the odious evidence wafts up from our falsely landed foot. (Sometimes it's just fun to write really bad stuff like that.)
Luckily, I'm not alone. And I'm very grateful.
So, now that meeting is behind me and I delivered the pitch (news still pending on that one, but it's off my desk for the moment) - here's the plan:
1) Finish the assignment.
2) During Reading Period (this is when the studio and producers and director read and give you feedback) I will dive back into the Spec.
I love a challenge and I'm determined to make the spec the greatest work of my career (so far...)
Keep those emails and posts coming. They really brighten my day, well... they stop me from eating chips for a few minutes at least.
Happy Writing.
I hate my agent because he's always right.
I finally talked with my agent about the spec. And here are the results:
While he still believes in the concept (and he should because it was mainly his idea) and thinks I can bring this baby home, he told me I need to throw about 2/3 of it out and start again.
You heard me 2/3.
Gulp. (And, yes, if you're wondering, that goes down about as easy as chugging lighter fluid spiked with hot sauce.)
But, I'm a pro. And I took it like a pro. I listened.
Because I had distance from the script. I'm really grateful my wise managers made me sit on it and that it took a couple weeks to connect with my agent about his response.
Emotionally disconnecting from your work before you get feedback is always key. Get away from it for as long as you can and it will hurt less. Kind of like a band-aid that's gotten really gooey from the shower before you rip it off.
I listened to what my big agent was saying, but just as importantly I listened to what my gut was saying. And my gut actually agreed with the big agent. (Traitor! I have a love-hate relationship with my gut, too.) What my gut was saying was, "He's right again, damn him, I'd rather see that movie, too."
So how do I feel about going back to the nearly blank chalkboard? Actually, I feel inspired.
My agent gets paid the big bucks because he's very good at his job. He also is one of the rare agents out there that give really brilliant feedback, not only zeroing in on the market, but actually breaking the story as good as any writer I know.
It kinda makes me want to bash him in the teeth.
But, I can't because... well, I love him.
I needed to write this version of the script in order to get to the best version of the script. Often times, us writers just troll around having no idea we are headed in the wrong direction until the odious evidence wafts up from our falsely landed foot. (Sometimes it's just fun to write really bad stuff like that.)
Luckily, I'm not alone. And I'm very grateful.
So, now that meeting is behind me and I delivered the pitch (news still pending on that one, but it's off my desk for the moment) - here's the plan:
1) Finish the assignment.
2) During Reading Period (this is when the studio and producers and director read and give you feedback) I will dive back into the Spec.
I love a challenge and I'm determined to make the spec the greatest work of my career (so far...)
Keep those emails and posts coming. They really brighten my day, well... they stop me from eating chips for a few minutes at least.
Happy Writing.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Writing Truth: You can never really see the end before you get there (and looking for it can really mess you up)...
Trust me on this, I've been stuck and staring into the abyss (while inhaling a bag of chips) all day.
Situation: Two deadlines approaching. (Imagine me tied to the train tracks like in those old fashioned cartoons with two locomotives barreling towards me from both directions.)
Problem: Stress. Fear. Overload. The Holidays. The baby. Stress. Fear. Overload.
Solutions Tried: Alternating between eating Salt & Vinegar Chips and Sour Patch Skittles. Alternating between drinking Pale Ale and Red Wine. Cried. Yelled at my husband. Retail therapy. More binging.
Result: Guilt. Regret. Embarrassment. And saddest of all - the same deadlines approaching, only now I they are so close I can feel the rails rattle.
So what's a writer to do? Back in the day (pre-baby) I would have chained myself at my desk, ordered up a box of jelly-filled and banged it out with about 45 gallons of Starbucks. Working night after night until three or four in the morning sometimes puts you in such an unhinged state of mind that you're will to just go for it, try anything. That's often when you make a fantastic discovery.
But those days are gone. Let's face it, if I accidentally stay awake past 11PM I go into meltdown mode. If there's one thing I can count on, it's that the baby will be up at least two hours before I want to even think about opening my eyes.
This is the new normal. I'm certainly not the first one to land here. I've got to find a way to make this work. And, let's be honest these are good problems to have. Too much work? I ain't complaining. I just want to do a good job. And the more I want to do a good job the more stressed I get, the farther I feel away from my goal.
And then it hit me.
I decided after a "working nap" that resulted nothing but a stiff neck - to go for a "working walk" and try to shake the cobwebs out of my head and some of the "salt & vinegar chip" off my flabby backside. And as I was pushing the stroller up the hill, telling my babbling baby boy what I needed to do to make both of the projects I'm working on work - I realized what I was doing wrong...
I recognized it immediately - because I've done it before. More like again, again and again.
I was trying to see the finished product!
The stress of having to complete two projects simultaneously with my new life pressures kept me worrying about how I was going to pull it off. How was I going to get to the end? How was I going to finish in time? How was I going to solve all the problems and come up with what the producers want?
All of these questions were focusing on the end result. Of course I couldn't move forward. Because you can NEVER see the end when you're in the middle.
The only way to really see the end of a piece (the piece that has subtle and powerful dialogue, subplots that interweave theme and plot effortlessly, the perfect rise and fall, surprises) is to arrive there one step and one discovery at a time.
Yes, you make a plan. An outline, a beat sheet, you cast your path out ahead of you - but you walk down that path one step at a time. Carefully checking in and making sure you didn't inadvertently go in the wrong directly.
That's also why you have drafts. You write one and then add to it, change it, vary it. How could you possibly see the end result if you haven't even written draft two? What are you psychic? No! You're a writer. And we're in this together.
Trying to see the end freezes your brain. So here's what I'm doing next. I'm looking at the next scene in my script and I'm going to write draft two on my pitch. Wow - that feels better already. It's not the final draft - it's just the next one. No biggie.
So on to the next step....
Situation: Two deadlines approaching. (Imagine me tied to the train tracks like in those old fashioned cartoons with two locomotives barreling towards me from both directions.)
Problem: Stress. Fear. Overload. The Holidays. The baby. Stress. Fear. Overload.
Solutions Tried: Alternating between eating Salt & Vinegar Chips and Sour Patch Skittles. Alternating between drinking Pale Ale and Red Wine. Cried. Yelled at my husband. Retail therapy. More binging.
Result: Guilt. Regret. Embarrassment. And saddest of all - the same deadlines approaching, only now I they are so close I can feel the rails rattle.
So what's a writer to do? Back in the day (pre-baby) I would have chained myself at my desk, ordered up a box of jelly-filled and banged it out with about 45 gallons of Starbucks. Working night after night until three or four in the morning sometimes puts you in such an unhinged state of mind that you're will to just go for it, try anything. That's often when you make a fantastic discovery.
But those days are gone. Let's face it, if I accidentally stay awake past 11PM I go into meltdown mode. If there's one thing I can count on, it's that the baby will be up at least two hours before I want to even think about opening my eyes.
This is the new normal. I'm certainly not the first one to land here. I've got to find a way to make this work. And, let's be honest these are good problems to have. Too much work? I ain't complaining. I just want to do a good job. And the more I want to do a good job the more stressed I get, the farther I feel away from my goal.
And then it hit me.
I decided after a "working nap" that resulted nothing but a stiff neck - to go for a "working walk" and try to shake the cobwebs out of my head and some of the "salt & vinegar chip" off my flabby backside. And as I was pushing the stroller up the hill, telling my babbling baby boy what I needed to do to make both of the projects I'm working on work - I realized what I was doing wrong...
I recognized it immediately - because I've done it before. More like again, again and again.
I was trying to see the finished product!
The stress of having to complete two projects simultaneously with my new life pressures kept me worrying about how I was going to pull it off. How was I going to get to the end? How was I going to finish in time? How was I going to solve all the problems and come up with what the producers want?
All of these questions were focusing on the end result. Of course I couldn't move forward. Because you can NEVER see the end when you're in the middle.
The only way to really see the end of a piece (the piece that has subtle and powerful dialogue, subplots that interweave theme and plot effortlessly, the perfect rise and fall, surprises) is to arrive there one step and one discovery at a time.
Yes, you make a plan. An outline, a beat sheet, you cast your path out ahead of you - but you walk down that path one step at a time. Carefully checking in and making sure you didn't inadvertently go in the wrong directly.
That's also why you have drafts. You write one and then add to it, change it, vary it. How could you possibly see the end result if you haven't even written draft two? What are you psychic? No! You're a writer. And we're in this together.
Trying to see the end freezes your brain. So here's what I'm doing next. I'm looking at the next scene in my script and I'm going to write draft two on my pitch. Wow - that feels better already. It's not the final draft - it's just the next one. No biggie.
So on to the next step....
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
How To Start Your Writing Project
Okay the closets are organized, the drawers in your refrigerator are sparkling, the car has been detailed and the tires have been rotated, you know what I mean. I know you do. The only thing left to do is start.
But what if, like me, you're kind of fuzzy on the whole first act. It's all there, but I'm just not sure if point c or point d is my inciting incident. Is point x or y the first act turning point?
I've rearranged my cards on the board. I've done a one-line beat sheet run down. The story is in the order it should be, I have a clear vision of my character, her arc and what needs to be set up. But, still I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I've done this 21 times and I'm not sure.
And I'm not going to be sure. Sometimes I am. This time I'm not. Every project comes out a little differently and this time. Here I am - writing it anyway.
Sometimes you just have to take that leap of faith. Write it. Write it fast and then read it. That will lead to ideas, which will lead to a revision, which will lead to figuring out the puzzle.
This is exactly how I broke through writing the first ten pages of my current writing assignment.
But I couldn't have done it without my writing buddy. Yes, the most important tool in any writer's arsenal - the person who knows exactly what you're going through because they have/are going through it themselves.
In my case, my writing buddy said - "Just write anything and send it to me." Those little words, knowing that my writing buddy was there for me, freed me up to start.
I didn't even end up needing to send my writing buddy my pages, but just knowing that she's out there. If need be. Golden.
So, go out and make a writing buddy connection. More on the perfect writing buddy can be read about in my post Getting The Most Out Of Your Notes.
Writing groups also can serve a fabulous purpose in the beginning of a writing career. They help you make connections, long standing connections that will buoy you over the long haul. One word of warning: Most great writing groups are filled with highly motivated and productive writers - you may find yourself spending your valuable writing time reading.
Reading others work is the best way to learn about writing, but once you start juggling multiple projects and working on crazy deadlines, this luxury won't be feasible. That's why at this stage, I depend on my Writing Buddies.
On the other hand, a good friend of mine has a writing group where everyone meets to do a short timed writing. They discuss what was written in the room and they go home. That sounds so stimulating and dynamic. I mention this to say that a writing group can take many forms. The point is get together with the other odd birds on this crazy trip and lean on each other in whichever way best supports you getting to your goal.
Happy Writing - even if you are just slogging through it to discover what's on the other side!
But what if, like me, you're kind of fuzzy on the whole first act. It's all there, but I'm just not sure if point c or point d is my inciting incident. Is point x or y the first act turning point?
I've rearranged my cards on the board. I've done a one-line beat sheet run down. The story is in the order it should be, I have a clear vision of my character, her arc and what needs to be set up. But, still I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I've done this 21 times and I'm not sure.
And I'm not going to be sure. Sometimes I am. This time I'm not. Every project comes out a little differently and this time. Here I am - writing it anyway.
Sometimes you just have to take that leap of faith. Write it. Write it fast and then read it. That will lead to ideas, which will lead to a revision, which will lead to figuring out the puzzle.
This is exactly how I broke through writing the first ten pages of my current writing assignment.
But I couldn't have done it without my writing buddy. Yes, the most important tool in any writer's arsenal - the person who knows exactly what you're going through because they have/are going through it themselves.
In my case, my writing buddy said - "Just write anything and send it to me." Those little words, knowing that my writing buddy was there for me, freed me up to start.
I didn't even end up needing to send my writing buddy my pages, but just knowing that she's out there. If need be. Golden.
So, go out and make a writing buddy connection. More on the perfect writing buddy can be read about in my post Getting The Most Out Of Your Notes.
Writing groups also can serve a fabulous purpose in the beginning of a writing career. They help you make connections, long standing connections that will buoy you over the long haul. One word of warning: Most great writing groups are filled with highly motivated and productive writers - you may find yourself spending your valuable writing time reading.
Reading others work is the best way to learn about writing, but once you start juggling multiple projects and working on crazy deadlines, this luxury won't be feasible. That's why at this stage, I depend on my Writing Buddies.
On the other hand, a good friend of mine has a writing group where everyone meets to do a short timed writing. They discuss what was written in the room and they go home. That sounds so stimulating and dynamic. I mention this to say that a writing group can take many forms. The point is get together with the other odd birds on this crazy trip and lean on each other in whichever way best supports you getting to your goal.
Happy Writing - even if you are just slogging through it to discover what's on the other side!
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Why Writers Drink
To stay sane.
Short post.
See you tomorrow.
Kidding.
It's a cliche to be sure, but behind all cliches are ugly truths. I can't speak for all writers - but the reason why I do a lot of things is fear. Writing is scary.
I'll share a story that has haunted me for probably 15 years, maybe longer. As an undergraduate theater major, an acting professor once advised our class, "Never buy property." To be an artist you had to ride the highs and lows. Having a house payment would force an artist to make bad choices, desperate choices.
These words have been ringing in my ears ever since. In part, because it's true.
Not only do I have a mortgage, but I've got a diaper-dirtying machine who needs everything from food to doctor's visits to a new pair of shoes (on a monthly basis).
Does all this responsibility effect my choices?
Not really.
Does it stoke the fires of fear into an inferno? Does it add to my insomnia? Do I digest properly - no way! But, if regular bowel movements and sleeping without pills were all that important to me I would have gone into banking. (Ha!) You see? there are no guarantees in this day and age anyway. What was once the most stable of professions has been turned on its ear. So, if you have a choice between uncertainty and uncertainty - I say go with the one that fulfills your dreams.
In reality having a mortgage hanging over my head still doesn't effect my choices - because when a writing job comes, I try to get it. Because nobody ever knows when the next one will be. Unless it was a topic that I morally objected to, I try to make it work. I try to crack that nut. Which is what I'm currently doing, while also moving forward with The Assignment.
If I was living in an apartment or in a house or in a van on Fourth street, I'd still try to crack that nut. (Especially if I was living in a van on Fourth Street.)
Only now, owning a house, having a family makes going after that job less about my own ego and winning, as it does about providing for my family. Which really makes the entire process more satisfying, not more scary.
So, then, if everything is so peachy, why do writer's drink and over-eat particularly when it comes to nachos and pizza?
Because writing is scary. You ask yourself to go to a place where you're not sure anything exists and pull out something that will inspire. No guarantees. Freaking terrifying.
But here's the bottom line, my life would be a lot scarier if I wasn't doing what I love.
So, after a long day of having plots and scenes and dialogue running through my skittish brain, I like to unwind with a glass of red or a bottle of Pale and reflect on just how great it feels to be doing exactly what I was meant to do. Come what may.
I will leave you with a movie recommendation, a semi-old but serious goodie. I saw Adaptation
in Century City on opening night many moons ago. The entire audience was filled with writers. There was a collective gasp of recognition after the opening monologue. Charlie Kaufman is a genius and if you really want to know what it's like - the first half of this film nails it.
Short post.
See you tomorrow.
Kidding.
It's a cliche to be sure, but behind all cliches are ugly truths. I can't speak for all writers - but the reason why I do a lot of things is fear. Writing is scary.
I'll share a story that has haunted me for probably 15 years, maybe longer. As an undergraduate theater major, an acting professor once advised our class, "Never buy property." To be an artist you had to ride the highs and lows. Having a house payment would force an artist to make bad choices, desperate choices.
These words have been ringing in my ears ever since. In part, because it's true.
Not only do I have a mortgage, but I've got a diaper-dirtying machine who needs everything from food to doctor's visits to a new pair of shoes (on a monthly basis).
Does all this responsibility effect my choices?
Not really.
Does it stoke the fires of fear into an inferno? Does it add to my insomnia? Do I digest properly - no way! But, if regular bowel movements and sleeping without pills were all that important to me I would have gone into banking. (Ha!) You see? there are no guarantees in this day and age anyway. What was once the most stable of professions has been turned on its ear. So, if you have a choice between uncertainty and uncertainty - I say go with the one that fulfills your dreams.
In reality having a mortgage hanging over my head still doesn't effect my choices - because when a writing job comes, I try to get it. Because nobody ever knows when the next one will be. Unless it was a topic that I morally objected to, I try to make it work. I try to crack that nut. Which is what I'm currently doing, while also moving forward with The Assignment.
If I was living in an apartment or in a house or in a van on Fourth street, I'd still try to crack that nut. (Especially if I was living in a van on Fourth Street.)
Only now, owning a house, having a family makes going after that job less about my own ego and winning, as it does about providing for my family. Which really makes the entire process more satisfying, not more scary.
So, then, if everything is so peachy, why do writer's drink and over-eat particularly when it comes to nachos and pizza?
Because writing is scary. You ask yourself to go to a place where you're not sure anything exists and pull out something that will inspire. No guarantees. Freaking terrifying.
But here's the bottom line, my life would be a lot scarier if I wasn't doing what I love.
So, after a long day of having plots and scenes and dialogue running through my skittish brain, I like to unwind with a glass of red or a bottle of Pale and reflect on just how great it feels to be doing exactly what I was meant to do. Come what may.
I will leave you with a movie recommendation, a semi-old but serious goodie. I saw Adaptation
in Century City on opening night many moons ago. The entire audience was filled with writers. There was a collective gasp of recognition after the opening monologue. Charlie Kaufman is a genius and if you really want to know what it's like - the first half of this film nails it.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
What if that Pale Ale I drank last night killed the brain cells that formerly retained my screenwriting know-how?
I realized on day two of blogging about The Assignment - that I am going down the same steps I did with my first 20 scripts. I'm writing about the same process I've blogged about in detail since July. I'm en route to writing the most boring and repetitive blog in the the blogasphere. And I'm not about boring people. So, change of plan. If you want to read about the specific steps I'm going to describe it starts with the post: "And So It Begins." I'll add relevant links back to previous posts as I complete this script.
I've decided to focus my blogging about my 21st screenplay - The Assignment - on the emotional process. I haven't found anyone out there in screenwritingland who's talked about the nearly insurmountable mountain of fear and self-loathing that goes into the writer's journey. And it's not because I'm the only one. If there's one common thread that links screenwriters (outside of our appreciation of sweatpants) it's insecurity.
Screenwriters who don't have the insecurity thing plaguing them quickly evolve into writer/directors. Trust me on this.
So, here it is - psyche exposed.
I am under contract to write the sequel to my previously successful movie. And as usual, I'm wondering how to start, how I ever did this in the first place?
General worries include very rational things like, "What if that Pale Ale I drank last night killed the brain cells that formerly retained my screenwriting know-how?"
I've got to be honest. The pressure is a little bigger on me because I feel like I need to write something even better than the last one. And I know better. That kind of thinking will prevent me from even getting out of the starting gate.
What I've got to do is just write, stay in the moment. It's like in golf. If you think, "I've got to birdie this hole to break 80", you have pretty much guaranteed yourself a double bogey.
So, how do I get started. Always the hardest part. Once you get that first scene under your belt - well, it's like turning on the lights and making the monsters disappear.
But right now - I'm just trying to get my plot cards up on the wall. Here's what I've accomplished so far:
1) I hung a picture that had been waiting around my office in need of a hook for months.
2) I cleared off my "outline" cork board to my "random crap" cork board on the other side of the office.
3) I cleared my desk, filed paperwork, organized project files with notes I'd been stuffing in my "inbox" since my last assignment. I even cleaned my computer keyboard and monitor.
Funny how working on the spec didn't motivate me to organize anything. Having a contract kind of puts up a force field, limiting your mobility to a six foot radius around your computer. Now my entire office is so well organized it looks like nobody has ever done a day of work in here.
There is literally nothing left to do but write.
So, now what? On-line card games, facebook, e-mailing distant relatives are all calling my name. But, NO! I must resist. It is time to get to work.
When it's really time, you feel it. You just know. It's time.
I am taking out my collection of cards. I'm opening my treatment that I've broken down into Acts and major beats. I'm transferring the big turning points first onto cards and then onto the board... I'm feeling better already.
Hope you are, too.
I've decided to focus my blogging about my 21st screenplay - The Assignment - on the emotional process. I haven't found anyone out there in screenwritingland who's talked about the nearly insurmountable mountain of fear and self-loathing that goes into the writer's journey. And it's not because I'm the only one. If there's one common thread that links screenwriters (outside of our appreciation of sweatpants) it's insecurity.
Screenwriters who don't have the insecurity thing plaguing them quickly evolve into writer/directors. Trust me on this.
So, here it is - psyche exposed.
I am under contract to write the sequel to my previously successful movie. And as usual, I'm wondering how to start, how I ever did this in the first place?
General worries include very rational things like, "What if that Pale Ale I drank last night killed the brain cells that formerly retained my screenwriting know-how?"
I've got to be honest. The pressure is a little bigger on me because I feel like I need to write something even better than the last one. And I know better. That kind of thinking will prevent me from even getting out of the starting gate.
What I've got to do is just write, stay in the moment. It's like in golf. If you think, "I've got to birdie this hole to break 80", you have pretty much guaranteed yourself a double bogey.
So, how do I get started. Always the hardest part. Once you get that first scene under your belt - well, it's like turning on the lights and making the monsters disappear.
But right now - I'm just trying to get my plot cards up on the wall. Here's what I've accomplished so far:
1) I hung a picture that had been waiting around my office in need of a hook for months.
2) I cleared off my "outline" cork board to my "random crap" cork board on the other side of the office.
3) I cleared my desk, filed paperwork, organized project files with notes I'd been stuffing in my "inbox" since my last assignment. I even cleaned my computer keyboard and monitor.
Funny how working on the spec didn't motivate me to organize anything. Having a contract kind of puts up a force field, limiting your mobility to a six foot radius around your computer. Now my entire office is so well organized it looks like nobody has ever done a day of work in here.
There is literally nothing left to do but write.
So, now what? On-line card games, facebook, e-mailing distant relatives are all calling my name. But, NO! I must resist. It is time to get to work.
When it's really time, you feel it. You just know. It's time.
I am taking out my collection of cards. I'm opening my treatment that I've broken down into Acts and major beats. I'm transferring the big turning points first onto cards and then onto the board... I'm feeling better already.
Hope you are, too.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Day Two - The Assignment
First a note on the spec. Agent sent apologies, has not read yet. Maybe next weekend or over the holiday? I'm not sweating it. With the holidays there's not much action that is going to take place right now anyway.
So I will focus on my assignment. Which is in a rush.
Day Two: Cards
So, I took my pitch and tried to break it down into an outline. And that didn't get me very far - because the pitch was so condensed. To expand it to a nice outline with approximately 40 beats - I get to pull out some of my favorite play things: Index Cards.
Hanging on the wall behind my desk is an enormous cork board just for this purpose.
Putting scenes on cards is a freeing exercise. It must use a different part of your brain.
Start with the scenes you know you have to write. Jot down notes on anything and everything from dialogue to ideas about what actually happens in the scene. As ideas come up that don't fit into the scenes you already have in your treatment jot them down on their own cards. Put the randoms over to one side and start lining up the "mandatory" cards in their acts, in order. It's loads of fun.
This should take me another day to complete. If I wasn't under contract, I'd probably stretch this process out all week - but there's that nasty little deadline making me uber efficient.
When I arrive at 40 cards - then I'm on to the next step.
Until then... Happy Writing.
So I will focus on my assignment. Which is in a rush.
Day Two: Cards
So, I took my pitch and tried to break it down into an outline. And that didn't get me very far - because the pitch was so condensed. To expand it to a nice outline with approximately 40 beats - I get to pull out some of my favorite play things: Index Cards.
Hanging on the wall behind my desk is an enormous cork board just for this purpose.
Putting scenes on cards is a freeing exercise. It must use a different part of your brain.
Start with the scenes you know you have to write. Jot down notes on anything and everything from dialogue to ideas about what actually happens in the scene. As ideas come up that don't fit into the scenes you already have in your treatment jot them down on their own cards. Put the randoms over to one side and start lining up the "mandatory" cards in their acts, in order. It's loads of fun.
This should take me another day to complete. If I wasn't under contract, I'd probably stretch this process out all week - but there's that nasty little deadline making me uber efficient.
When I arrive at 40 cards - then I'm on to the next step.
Until then... Happy Writing.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Day One - The Assignment
It's Monday November 15th and I'm officially moving from "research" to writing on my new writing assignment job. And by that I mean, I searched through all my old journals to gleam some clue on how the hell I ever pulled this off before.
Kidding, studio if you are reading this. I got this. No worries.
Seriously, I'm not kidding. This is unfortunately part of my process. I've been given eight weeks to write a very solid draft of a script.
At least the first full writing day is spent agonizing over how to get started while organizing my office well enough to pass an inspection from an anal-retentive-clutter-phobe.
Here is an actual snippet from a journal entry from probably three assignments ago:
"But here I am turning to my journal - all of which, each fragmented segment has lent absolutely zero insight. Each time I start a new project I’m overwhelmed with the notion that I have absolutely no clue how to do this. So I go back to my journal writing, reading through and hoping to find some clue. The only clue being that I have felt this way before."
File that under - the more things stay the same. Journal regurgitation finished. Desk organizing. Done. (How happy am I that I finally located that picture from Oktoberfest?) Okay, okay! I'm starting.
First, I'm going to take the short treatment that I pitched and I am breaking it down. Here's how that goes. I duplicate the treatment and make a new document called "outline." I then break out all the story beats into any recognizable scenes and give them a slug line. I identify where they will take place.
Then I step back and see what I have. Hopefully, I'll have a nice 10-10-10-8 division of scenes. But, I won't. There will be holes. There will be too much on one side of the mid-point and not enough on the other.
I will pull out my two favorite tricks of the trade to help me even it out. You can read about those - here. Also, I might stick my "tonal guide-post" breakdowns up on my cork board for when in doubt moments, you can read about those in my post "Stumbles Are Necessary".
Happy Writing!
Kidding, studio if you are reading this. I got this. No worries.
Seriously, I'm not kidding. This is unfortunately part of my process. I've been given eight weeks to write a very solid draft of a script.
At least the first full writing day is spent agonizing over how to get started while organizing my office well enough to pass an inspection from an anal-retentive-clutter-phobe.
Here is an actual snippet from a journal entry from probably three assignments ago:
"But here I am turning to my journal - all of which, each fragmented segment has lent absolutely zero insight. Each time I start a new project I’m overwhelmed with the notion that I have absolutely no clue how to do this. So I go back to my journal writing, reading through and hoping to find some clue. The only clue being that I have felt this way before."
File that under - the more things stay the same. Journal regurgitation finished. Desk organizing. Done. (How happy am I that I finally located that picture from Oktoberfest?) Okay, okay! I'm starting.
First, I'm going to take the short treatment that I pitched and I am breaking it down. Here's how that goes. I duplicate the treatment and make a new document called "outline." I then break out all the story beats into any recognizable scenes and give them a slug line. I identify where they will take place.
Then I step back and see what I have. Hopefully, I'll have a nice 10-10-10-8 division of scenes. But, I won't. There will be holes. There will be too much on one side of the mid-point and not enough on the other.
I will pull out my two favorite tricks of the trade to help me even it out. You can read about those - here. Also, I might stick my "tonal guide-post" breakdowns up on my cork board for when in doubt moments, you can read about those in my post "Stumbles Are Necessary".
Happy Writing!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Script Number 21 & A Story About Pitching
This blog began as a way to commemorate the writing of my 20th script - referred to herein as The Spec. (I just signed pages of contracts and lawyer-speak is contagious, sorry!)
The Spec has just hit the first-draft-worthy-of-showing-people stage and therefore, is by no means close to the end of its journey. That said, I am preparing to start writing my 21st screenplay, an original story I have come up with to fulfill a writing assignment. This will hereto be referred to as The Assignment. (Oops, did it again.)
So, this might be a great time to deliver that long time promised post about pitching. But first a story; a cautionary tale:
The first time I took out a pitch it was with my former writing partner and it was disastrous. During our second meeting, the executive fell asleep half way through. I will never forget her gum falling out of her mouth, rolling across the floor and stopping right in front of my brand new shoes I hoped would impress people, but I could in no way afford. So much for that.
On the way to our next pitch (back then it was a mad frenzy to pitch all the buyers the same day) we got a call that all our meetings had been canceled and we were to report to our agent's office. Do not pass go, do not collect a million dollar preemptive bid.
Our agent sat us down and said, "Pitch me." We started. First my partner started with the set-up and then about five minutes later I jumped in to do "We open with...".
I noticed that while I was pitching my partner was mouthing silently all of my lines. To her defense, we had practiced this for weeks and I was probably doing the same thing when it was her turn, only I probably added hand-gestures.
Ten minutes in, our agent held up his hand and said, "What are you doing? Are you pitching this movie in real time? How long is this running?"
Barely audible I answered: "Once we did it in 58 minutes."
Our agent's head dropped on his desk.
Looking back now - it is just one of a hundred mistakes I have made in my career. Now, it's funny. Then, it was embarrassing and potentially a career ending level of bad. We were lucky to get a second chance. That said, the industry is more fickle now. Hopefully other writers will be able to learn from my mistakes.
That said, a good pitch has you hooked 30 seconds in and lasts no longer than 10 minutes.
You see how far off the mark we were? But, we loved our story. It was a great story. The characters were amazing. It would have been the best thing we ever wrote. But we weren't skilled enough pitchers to give that idea its chance in the spotlight.
Honestly, I have yet to master the short pitch. I still struggle. I'm a 15-20 minute pitcher - but I'm also funny in a room and I make a lot of comedic asides. I am not recommending this tactic. It's a crutch - each and every time I try to be a 10 minute pitcher, I will always try until my last time "in the room."
That said, my batting average isn't that bad. Of the last four assignments I've been up for I've landed three. I'm not saying this to brag, I just want you to trust me. Cut it down. Cut it down. Cut it down.
Now for the nitty-gritty:
There are two primary types of pitches. Pitches of your original ideas (either tv or feature) that you hope a buyer (studio or network) will purchase and give you the money to write in advance. There are also the pitches for "open writing assignments" and "rewrites."
The difference is that on the latter you have a set of criteria you must incorporate. Usually, you are considered for the gig because the producer/studio/network has read your writing sample and they feel your talents would lend themselves to their project.
Since pitching your original idea will dovetail into the pitching for an assignment, I'll continue with the assignment track.
Your agent or your manager calls you up and says that there's a potential assignment at studio "x". They read "y" of yours as a sample. Your agent/manager will give you the one-liner and whatever else they know of the direction the studio wants to take.
For example, "It is a movie about the Kentucky Derby. They read your story about the Off-Track betting and think you'd work. The original draft is a thriller where there's a plot to kill the favorite before the race. The studio wants to turn this into a fish out of water comedy starring (insert SNL comedian turned blockbuster star) with a strong love-interest subplot. She may or not be the horse's jockey."
For those of you in the business, even though this does sound nearly plausible, I made this example up.
So, now you get to work. And here's the part that is just like pitching your own original idea. You come up with a way to set up your main character, meaning make us care about what he's after, make us want him to get it and then throw a big obstacle in his path. You hit all the major turning points, making sure to illuminate the scope and tone of your piece. Don't forget about the set-pieces. (I define SP's as the fun moments that will probably end up in the trailer, but are usually the same fun ideas you can't wait to write.)
I've had tremendous success following the late and great Blake Snyder's SAVE THE CAT formula, which I tweaked to create my own Story Grid.
Once I find all my major points, giving a lot of attention to my main characters arc, I write the beats from my Story Grid out how I would say it. (It is always, one hundred percent too long.) I then edit it down as much as I can and start practicing telling the story in the mirror.
In the mirror is key. You have to say it so many times that you can say it like you were telling a story to your friend. Know it well enough that you can answer questions and then jump right back in after being interrupted.
Practicing it this much also tells you where it lags. When you get to a part you want to skip - see if you can cut that. Then practice on everyone who will listen. I practiced once at a cafe with a stranger who was also a single eating alone. She turned out to know a lot about the arena of my film. We are still friends.
The meeting is set and you pitch it. Going into a room is a heroic feat for us writers. We live most of our work lives in sweat-pants and bedhead. Our best conversations are with imaginary characters that we create and rewrite and kill if need be. So, to step into a room filled with execs (all of whom are smart, attractive, articulate and very, very learned on your craft) and become "the showman." Well, it's like asking a trained seal to drop the ball and clapping act and instead paint a still-life watercolor.
Also, often, not always, but often good "pitchers" aren't the best writers. As good writers often aren't the best pitchers. We are all unique. We all have places where we can and should work on our game. I'm too long-winded. My long irons tend to fade. Doesn't mean I'm not great out of the sand.
You do what you can. You give it your all. Sometimes you get the gig. Often times you don't. But each time you try you are better. Each time you try you are that much closer to success.
Happy Writing!
The Spec has just hit the first-draft-worthy-of-showing-people stage and therefore, is by no means close to the end of its journey. That said, I am preparing to start writing my 21st screenplay, an original story I have come up with to fulfill a writing assignment. This will hereto be referred to as The Assignment. (Oops, did it again.)
So, this might be a great time to deliver that long time promised post about pitching. But first a story; a cautionary tale:
The first time I took out a pitch it was with my former writing partner and it was disastrous. During our second meeting, the executive fell asleep half way through. I will never forget her gum falling out of her mouth, rolling across the floor and stopping right in front of my brand new shoes I hoped would impress people, but I could in no way afford. So much for that.
On the way to our next pitch (back then it was a mad frenzy to pitch all the buyers the same day) we got a call that all our meetings had been canceled and we were to report to our agent's office. Do not pass go, do not collect a million dollar preemptive bid.
Our agent sat us down and said, "Pitch me." We started. First my partner started with the set-up and then about five minutes later I jumped in to do "We open with...".
I noticed that while I was pitching my partner was mouthing silently all of my lines. To her defense, we had practiced this for weeks and I was probably doing the same thing when it was her turn, only I probably added hand-gestures.
Ten minutes in, our agent held up his hand and said, "What are you doing? Are you pitching this movie in real time? How long is this running?"
Barely audible I answered: "Once we did it in 58 minutes."
Our agent's head dropped on his desk.
Looking back now - it is just one of a hundred mistakes I have made in my career. Now, it's funny. Then, it was embarrassing and potentially a career ending level of bad. We were lucky to get a second chance. That said, the industry is more fickle now. Hopefully other writers will be able to learn from my mistakes.
That said, a good pitch has you hooked 30 seconds in and lasts no longer than 10 minutes.
You see how far off the mark we were? But, we loved our story. It was a great story. The characters were amazing. It would have been the best thing we ever wrote. But we weren't skilled enough pitchers to give that idea its chance in the spotlight.
Honestly, I have yet to master the short pitch. I still struggle. I'm a 15-20 minute pitcher - but I'm also funny in a room and I make a lot of comedic asides. I am not recommending this tactic. It's a crutch - each and every time I try to be a 10 minute pitcher, I will always try until my last time "in the room."
That said, my batting average isn't that bad. Of the last four assignments I've been up for I've landed three. I'm not saying this to brag, I just want you to trust me. Cut it down. Cut it down. Cut it down.
Now for the nitty-gritty:
There are two primary types of pitches. Pitches of your original ideas (either tv or feature) that you hope a buyer (studio or network) will purchase and give you the money to write in advance. There are also the pitches for "open writing assignments" and "rewrites."
The difference is that on the latter you have a set of criteria you must incorporate. Usually, you are considered for the gig because the producer/studio/network has read your writing sample and they feel your talents would lend themselves to their project.
Since pitching your original idea will dovetail into the pitching for an assignment, I'll continue with the assignment track.
Your agent or your manager calls you up and says that there's a potential assignment at studio "x". They read "y" of yours as a sample. Your agent/manager will give you the one-liner and whatever else they know of the direction the studio wants to take.
For example, "It is a movie about the Kentucky Derby. They read your story about the Off-Track betting and think you'd work. The original draft is a thriller where there's a plot to kill the favorite before the race. The studio wants to turn this into a fish out of water comedy starring (insert SNL comedian turned blockbuster star) with a strong love-interest subplot. She may or not be the horse's jockey."
For those of you in the business, even though this does sound nearly plausible, I made this example up.
So, now you get to work. And here's the part that is just like pitching your own original idea. You come up with a way to set up your main character, meaning make us care about what he's after, make us want him to get it and then throw a big obstacle in his path. You hit all the major turning points, making sure to illuminate the scope and tone of your piece. Don't forget about the set-pieces. (I define SP's as the fun moments that will probably end up in the trailer, but are usually the same fun ideas you can't wait to write.)
I've had tremendous success following the late and great Blake Snyder's SAVE THE CAT formula, which I tweaked to create my own Story Grid.
Once I find all my major points, giving a lot of attention to my main characters arc, I write the beats from my Story Grid out how I would say it. (It is always, one hundred percent too long.) I then edit it down as much as I can and start practicing telling the story in the mirror.
In the mirror is key. You have to say it so many times that you can say it like you were telling a story to your friend. Know it well enough that you can answer questions and then jump right back in after being interrupted.
Practicing it this much also tells you where it lags. When you get to a part you want to skip - see if you can cut that. Then practice on everyone who will listen. I practiced once at a cafe with a stranger who was also a single eating alone. She turned out to know a lot about the arena of my film. We are still friends.
The meeting is set and you pitch it. Going into a room is a heroic feat for us writers. We live most of our work lives in sweat-pants and bedhead. Our best conversations are with imaginary characters that we create and rewrite and kill if need be. So, to step into a room filled with execs (all of whom are smart, attractive, articulate and very, very learned on your craft) and become "the showman." Well, it's like asking a trained seal to drop the ball and clapping act and instead paint a still-life watercolor.
Also, often, not always, but often good "pitchers" aren't the best writers. As good writers often aren't the best pitchers. We are all unique. We all have places where we can and should work on our game. I'm too long-winded. My long irons tend to fade. Doesn't mean I'm not great out of the sand.
You do what you can. You give it your all. Sometimes you get the gig. Often times you don't. But each time you try you are better. Each time you try you are that much closer to success.
Happy Writing!
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
The First Finish Line
This is the moment we've all been waiting for! I am turning my spec into my agent for him to read. Hopefully, he'll get to it this weekend, or the next depending on how many projects came in.
If he likes it, then he'll either have notes (because he's one of the few agents who give really great notes) or he'll think it's ready to show people.
At that point, we'll come up with a plan to sell it. This plan will probably include packaging*. But, we'll blog about that bridge when we slowly slog over it. Specs usually don't go out to studios without "attachments" any more. But, as I said, the "plan" is a future blog subject.
If the agent doesn't like it. Well, (insert explicative here). Hopefully, I won't have to blog about that. But, you never know. Just because something is well written does not guarantee a sale. There could be a glut of material in the same genre competing for a small group of actors' attention. Or you could just run up against bad luck. There's no need to worry about that. That's your rep's job mainly. Your job is to write something that has a chance to sell and do your best on it. And I can honestly say I've done that. Let the chips fall where they may.
So, how many drafts has this "first draft" taken? Here's a review:
1) I came up with a short treatment. Got notes.
2) I expanded that to an outline. Got notes.
3) I wrote a very quick "vomit draft." Got notes. Mainly that one of the characters was so unlikeable it threw off the viability of the hero's actions. Fixed that.
4) I wrote a solid rough draft. Got notes. The notes discovered that the tone was too "rom-com" and I rewrote the next draft to reflect a more "dramatic/romantic/inspirational" tone.
5) The first draft was born. I got notes. These notes suggested areas where I could enhance character, add more flavor to my locations, hit certain beats a slightly different way. Did that.
6) I went through a final pass (and so did my managers) for trims - to get it as tight as possible. And now we are here. First Draft dated November 9, 2010.
This has actually been a very slow process for me, but nowadays specs really one have one shot at success. My agent will read it once and decide if it is something he can get behind. That's it. One read. So, I took my time. I wanted to take my best shot.
Between July 1 and November 9 (the time it took to get to this stage) I also wrote a bunch of other things as well, including the writing assignment I recently landed. As I said, if you are a writer, you are also a juggler. And I'm very happy to get this script "off my plate" for a while so I can focus on my writing assignment.
The contracts on THE ASSIGNMENT should be ready by the end of the week - which means the clock starts on when I have to have the draft in to the studio. That first draft will have to be ready in either eight or six weeks, depending on what my representation works out in the deal.
I will blog about that process concurrently while tracking how THE SPEC continues - updates on each will be identified as SPEC or ASSIGNMENT.
So, isn't it exciting? What do you think the agent will say? Am I on the verge of success or about to fall off a cliff? Who knows. All you can do is the best you can do. Then you've got to let it go.
Happy Writing!
*There are only a few actors in each age group who can "green-light" a movie. And nowadays you need one of them to commit to your project to get a sale.
If he likes it, then he'll either have notes (because he's one of the few agents who give really great notes) or he'll think it's ready to show people.
At that point, we'll come up with a plan to sell it. This plan will probably include packaging*. But, we'll blog about that bridge when we slowly slog over it. Specs usually don't go out to studios without "attachments" any more. But, as I said, the "plan" is a future blog subject.
If the agent doesn't like it. Well, (insert explicative here). Hopefully, I won't have to blog about that. But, you never know. Just because something is well written does not guarantee a sale. There could be a glut of material in the same genre competing for a small group of actors' attention. Or you could just run up against bad luck. There's no need to worry about that. That's your rep's job mainly. Your job is to write something that has a chance to sell and do your best on it. And I can honestly say I've done that. Let the chips fall where they may.
So, how many drafts has this "first draft" taken? Here's a review:
1) I came up with a short treatment. Got notes.
2) I expanded that to an outline. Got notes.
3) I wrote a very quick "vomit draft." Got notes. Mainly that one of the characters was so unlikeable it threw off the viability of the hero's actions. Fixed that.
4) I wrote a solid rough draft. Got notes. The notes discovered that the tone was too "rom-com" and I rewrote the next draft to reflect a more "dramatic/romantic/inspirational" tone.
5) The first draft was born. I got notes. These notes suggested areas where I could enhance character, add more flavor to my locations, hit certain beats a slightly different way. Did that.
6) I went through a final pass (and so did my managers) for trims - to get it as tight as possible. And now we are here. First Draft dated November 9, 2010.
This has actually been a very slow process for me, but nowadays specs really one have one shot at success. My agent will read it once and decide if it is something he can get behind. That's it. One read. So, I took my time. I wanted to take my best shot.
Between July 1 and November 9 (the time it took to get to this stage) I also wrote a bunch of other things as well, including the writing assignment I recently landed. As I said, if you are a writer, you are also a juggler. And I'm very happy to get this script "off my plate" for a while so I can focus on my writing assignment.
The contracts on THE ASSIGNMENT should be ready by the end of the week - which means the clock starts on when I have to have the draft in to the studio. That first draft will have to be ready in either eight or six weeks, depending on what my representation works out in the deal.
I will blog about that process concurrently while tracking how THE SPEC continues - updates on each will be identified as SPEC or ASSIGNMENT.
So, isn't it exciting? What do you think the agent will say? Am I on the verge of success or about to fall off a cliff? Who knows. All you can do is the best you can do. Then you've got to let it go.
Happy Writing!
*There are only a few actors in each age group who can "green-light" a movie. And nowadays you need one of them to commit to your project to get a sale.
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