I'm looking for work.
The changed economy means that I'm finding I have to work much harder to get the attention of employers. It's something of an adjustment, as in the past I've gotten jobs easily. Send out a dozen resumes, get two or three calls back, get offered each job I interview for. (No, seriously, I've only ever been turned down for two jobs I actually interviewed for - one based on a failed proofreading test I took with a 101 degree fever. Though I suspect that the interviews will be harder this time around, as well.)
So I decided I need to write stronger cover letters.
I picked out the employer I most want to work for in Dallas, and sent them this:
I sent you my portfolio and some links earlier this week, and am following up with an updated resume.
It occurs to me there are a few things that might not be apparent from my resume. I have a lot to offer any creative team, and would be an asset to [the Company].
For example, my resume can't tell you that when I was a baby, a stranger walked up to my mother on the beach and composed a spontaneous poem about me - and because of this, she always knew I would be a writer. It would not tell you that the single piece of writing I am most proud of is not one of my published poems, or an ad I wrote for my multi-million dollar LaQuinta campaign - but the essay on my fundraiser page for the Breast Cancer 3-Day walk.
My resume can tell you I've worked as Chef, and as a Massage Therapist - but it may not tell you what that brings to my work in advertising and marketing. As a Chef, I learned not only about food, but about the business cycles of the restaurant industry, about how to appeal to a client there, and about the importance of dealing with customer complaints because you need a dozen happy customers to make up for the damage one unhappy one can do. I also learned about balancing customer expectation with my own creative expression. As a Massage Therapist, I not only became comfortable with medical terminology, and the pain management industry, but I learned how to approach clients who are making themselves vulnerable. How to build trust, and establish expertise in the 3-5 minutes I have with them before they have to let me touch them.
It may be clear from my resume that I learned about poetry - but it does not tell you that the honors English teacher I had in 10th grade taught us to write 10-12 page research papers, and to properly cite resources. To work quotes seamlessly into my writing and yet still establish my own perspective. Then the following year, the honors English teacher for 11th grade (and the 10th grade teachers best friend) refused to read past the third page - teaching us to distill our ideas and write with concision.
It also does not tell you that I have a strong visual aesthetic, which, in my experience, is not a given in a writer. That when I took the proofreading exam at Michael's, I was the first proofreader who caught the visual errors. One was an incorrect product image, intentionally placed. The other was an incorrect "burst," which I questioned because the edges of the layers were not lined up correctly - something which was an accidental error that the creator of the test had missed.
That visual sense was, in part, developed through the print shop courses I took in college. I learned to place hand-set type, to carve a linocut in reverse for printing, to lay out a booklet. I also learned a few basic principles of type design and layout. It's amazing that, with the advanced software we have, many of the principles are still the same and much of the way that a program like Quark works is based on the insertion of lead and kerns, or the layering of a multi-color lithograph.
I hope this gives you a better sense of who I am, and some of what I would bring to the job. Well, if nothing else, you are sure to understand my enthusiasm for the opportunity.
- Laura Deerfield
It's long, yes. But personal. I hope this at least gets me a call - if not, I can use it as a basis for other letters, to better communicate my unique qualifications to employers.
An Alternative Approach
In 2004, Eric Heisserer posted what are, ostensibly, a series of emails from an old friend. (The Dionaea House) Someone they knew way back when had committed a double homicide and suicide, and he was driven by guilt to try to find out what had happened to the guy to drive him to it.
As you read them, they start to imply something supernatural. A haunted house kind of story. The original series of posts ends in September 2004, with an addendum which then links to other blogs and even an instant message transcript.
There's more followup a year after the main body of the story took place.
With it, he creates a well-written spooky story that had some people wondering if it were true, some wondering whether he believed it to be true, a few playing along, and many more just enjoying a good scary story.
He also got himself the beginnings of a screenwriting career. He sold the screenplay (not sure if he sold the rights to the story and had a screenplay deal, or if he completed the screenplay before approaching studios) to Warner. While that project foundered, he has, in the few years following, landed some enviable screenwriting jobs: The Nightmare on Elm Street reboot, Final Destination 5, and The Thing prequel.
It's important to show originality as a screenwriter. Eric's example proves that it doesn't necessarily have to be with a screenplay. Despite the unconventional format of the epistolary story, The Dionaea House still has a beginning, middle, and end. It still starts with a strong hook, then builds slowly with background about the character and hints at the story. It follows conventional horror movie tropes (don't go in the house alone!) but presents them in a fresh and very contemporary way.
His writing career began in the tabletop RPG industry, so writing the story in an episodic way makes sense. Combine that with a strong sense of visual description, and you have a powerful story that you can "see" as a movie while you read it.
_______
P.S.
I just read that he actually sold a screenplay in 2000 and optioned one in 2002, so his breakout project was not his first rodeo in Hollywood.
Regarding the Dionaea House, he wrote the screenplay and then decided to create the online story and present that rather than try to sell a spec. He had begun creating the various sites that he was using to write the story, and, before the whole thing was online, it got indexed by search engines. (Knowing a little about site optimization for search, he accidentally did some great site design by having disparate sources linking back to each other with text containing similar words. This would increase the apparent validity of the site to crawlers.) He literally woke up one morning and there were millions of hits. It took on a life of its own, as many thousands of people believed it was real (or at least that he was really party to someone else's hoax) and reporters, ministers, and PIs contacted him about it. So, as with all Hollywood success stories, there was a bit of pure luck there - he just has a good enough story for it to catch fire when the match came near.
As you read them, they start to imply something supernatural. A haunted house kind of story. The original series of posts ends in September 2004, with an addendum which then links to other blogs and even an instant message transcript.
There's more followup a year after the main body of the story took place.
With it, he creates a well-written spooky story that had some people wondering if it were true, some wondering whether he believed it to be true, a few playing along, and many more just enjoying a good scary story.
He also got himself the beginnings of a screenwriting career. He sold the screenplay (not sure if he sold the rights to the story and had a screenplay deal, or if he completed the screenplay before approaching studios) to Warner. While that project foundered, he has, in the few years following, landed some enviable screenwriting jobs: The Nightmare on Elm Street reboot, Final Destination 5, and The Thing prequel.
It's important to show originality as a screenwriter. Eric's example proves that it doesn't necessarily have to be with a screenplay. Despite the unconventional format of the epistolary story, The Dionaea House still has a beginning, middle, and end. It still starts with a strong hook, then builds slowly with background about the character and hints at the story. It follows conventional horror movie tropes (don't go in the house alone!) but presents them in a fresh and very contemporary way.
His writing career began in the tabletop RPG industry, so writing the story in an episodic way makes sense. Combine that with a strong sense of visual description, and you have a powerful story that you can "see" as a movie while you read it.
_______
P.S.
I just read that he actually sold a screenplay in 2000 and optioned one in 2002, so his breakout project was not his first rodeo in Hollywood.
Regarding the Dionaea House, he wrote the screenplay and then decided to create the online story and present that rather than try to sell a spec. He had begun creating the various sites that he was using to write the story, and, before the whole thing was online, it got indexed by search engines. (Knowing a little about site optimization for search, he accidentally did some great site design by having disparate sources linking back to each other with text containing similar words. This would increase the apparent validity of the site to crawlers.) He literally woke up one morning and there were millions of hits. It took on a life of its own, as many thousands of people believed it was real (or at least that he was really party to someone else's hoax) and reporters, ministers, and PIs contacted him about it. So, as with all Hollywood success stories, there was a bit of pure luck there - he just has a good enough story for it to catch fire when the match came near.
Women in Hollywood - Still a Long Way to Go
Hollywood is biased against women. (Everything I say goes for blacks, latinos, and asians as well - but I'm not as well informed about those issues, so I'll stick to speaking about women.)
I beat this drum often.
Why? Because it's true, as backed up by studies, and yet I am still told by people both in the industry and trying to break into it that it's a myth. I am told that there must just be few women trying to break in. Or (more insultingly) that it's all about talent and hard work, and that real talent will find a champion - implying that women are either less talented, or less hard-working, or both than men by a massive ratio. Because, again, statistics show that there are far fewer women in important roles in the movie industry.
I strongly believe that one of the most significant barriers to change in this is this lack of belief that there's a problem. This is backed up by the experiences of Geena Davis, who noticed, as she was raising her children, that there were not as many girls in the lead roles in kids entertainment. Her subjective experience was dismissed, so she started a foundation, and studied the matter - and then approached people with evidence. And many of them re-thought their casting, or their writing.
I understand when people dismiss the stories I relate. Stories about women I have talked to who have been told they can't write or direct action, or can't direct period. Who have been told they'd do better as a producer, because no one will hire them as a director. That no one will hire them as a cinematographer, because women don't work behind the camera. Or that they are not hired for crew because it's heavy, hard work, and out on location there might not be a place to plug in a curling iron. Or that women can't write for an international audience, because the asian market is mostly male. Women who have had men look past them and talk to their 15 years junior male assistant. Or been told that they are too pretty, and men won't want to work with them because their wives might get jealous of all the time they'd have to spend together. Or that Catherine Hardwicke was told she wouldn't even be allowed to pitch directing The Fighter, not because she's only directed teen fare, but "because it had to be directed by a man."
What I don't understand is how people can look at the statistics on women in film and still say there is not a problem, and a large one. How they can think that such large discrepancies would be based on anything other than discrimination. Some of it conscious, but most of it just a matter of guys relating more easily to guys in an industry that's all about who you know.
What are the statistics?
According to the most recent report by the Director's Guild about television series -
"In the 2009-2010 television season, Caucasian males directed 75% of the episodes surveyed; Caucasian females directed 11% of episodes; minority males directed 12% of episodes; and minority females directed 2% of episodes."
Per the most recent study by the WGA -
"women writers remain stuck at 28 percent of television employment, while their share of film employment actually declined a percentage point since the last report to 17 percent."
"These figures indicate a [...] gender earnings gap [of] $14,017. [...] Nonetheless, this relative gain on the earnings front for women film writers was offset somewhat by the recent loss in employment share"
From the 2010 Celluloid Ceiling report -
On the top 250 domestic grossing films:
- In 2010, women comprised 16% of all directors, executive producers, producers, writers, cinematographers, and editors working. This represents a decline of 1 percentage point from 1998 and is even with 2009 figures.
- Women comprised 7% of all directors
- Women accounted for 10% of writers
- Women accounted for 24% of all producers
- Women accounted for 18% of all editors
- Women comprised 2% of all cinematographers
- Women were most likely to work in the romantic comedy, documentary, and romantic drama genres. They were least likely to work in the horror, action, and comedy genres.
Why are these statistics shocking to me? Let's quote the LA Times: "A woman is more likely to hold a seat on a Fortune 500 company board (15%), serve as a member of the clergy (15%) or work as an aerospace engineer (10%) than she is to direct a Hollywood movie (7%)." I'd say that's a problem.
I do not believe for a moment that these statistics represent the interest, perseverance, or talent of women trying to work in the American film industry.
Oh, and as for those who believe that men are somehow inherently able to make more profitable movies?
On average, films employing at least one woman as director, executive producer, producer, or writer grossed approximately the same at domestic box offices ($82.1 vs. $81.9 million) as films with only men in these roles. (Study cited here)
I beat this drum often.
Why? Because it's true, as backed up by studies, and yet I am still told by people both in the industry and trying to break into it that it's a myth. I am told that there must just be few women trying to break in. Or (more insultingly) that it's all about talent and hard work, and that real talent will find a champion - implying that women are either less talented, or less hard-working, or both than men by a massive ratio. Because, again, statistics show that there are far fewer women in important roles in the movie industry.
I strongly believe that one of the most significant barriers to change in this is this lack of belief that there's a problem. This is backed up by the experiences of Geena Davis, who noticed, as she was raising her children, that there were not as many girls in the lead roles in kids entertainment. Her subjective experience was dismissed, so she started a foundation, and studied the matter - and then approached people with evidence. And many of them re-thought their casting, or their writing.
I understand when people dismiss the stories I relate. Stories about women I have talked to who have been told they can't write or direct action, or can't direct period. Who have been told they'd do better as a producer, because no one will hire them as a director. That no one will hire them as a cinematographer, because women don't work behind the camera. Or that they are not hired for crew because it's heavy, hard work, and out on location there might not be a place to plug in a curling iron. Or that women can't write for an international audience, because the asian market is mostly male. Women who have had men look past them and talk to their 15 years junior male assistant. Or been told that they are too pretty, and men won't want to work with them because their wives might get jealous of all the time they'd have to spend together. Or that Catherine Hardwicke was told she wouldn't even be allowed to pitch directing The Fighter, not because she's only directed teen fare, but "because it had to be directed by a man."
What I don't understand is how people can look at the statistics on women in film and still say there is not a problem, and a large one. How they can think that such large discrepancies would be based on anything other than discrimination. Some of it conscious, but most of it just a matter of guys relating more easily to guys in an industry that's all about who you know.
What are the statistics?
According to the most recent report by the Director's Guild about television series -
"In the 2009-2010 television season, Caucasian males directed 75% of the episodes surveyed; Caucasian females directed 11% of episodes; minority males directed 12% of episodes; and minority females directed 2% of episodes."
Per the most recent study by the WGA -
"women writers remain stuck at 28 percent of television employment, while their share of film employment actually declined a percentage point since the last report to 17 percent."
"These figures indicate a [...] gender earnings gap [of] $14,017. [...] Nonetheless, this relative gain on the earnings front for women film writers was offset somewhat by the recent loss in employment share"
From the 2010 Celluloid Ceiling report -
On the top 250 domestic grossing films:
- In 2010, women comprised 16% of all directors, executive producers, producers, writers, cinematographers, and editors working. This represents a decline of 1 percentage point from 1998 and is even with 2009 figures.
- Women comprised 7% of all directors
- Women accounted for 10% of writers
- Women accounted for 24% of all producers
- Women accounted for 18% of all editors
- Women comprised 2% of all cinematographers
- Women were most likely to work in the romantic comedy, documentary, and romantic drama genres. They were least likely to work in the horror, action, and comedy genres.
Why are these statistics shocking to me? Let's quote the LA Times: "A woman is more likely to hold a seat on a Fortune 500 company board (15%), serve as a member of the clergy (15%) or work as an aerospace engineer (10%) than she is to direct a Hollywood movie (7%)." I'd say that's a problem.
I do not believe for a moment that these statistics represent the interest, perseverance, or talent of women trying to work in the American film industry.
Oh, and as for those who believe that men are somehow inherently able to make more profitable movies?
On average, films employing at least one woman as director, executive producer, producer, or writer grossed approximately the same at domestic box offices ($82.1 vs. $81.9 million) as films with only men in these roles. (Study cited here)
The Importance of Actors
I recently watched "Letters to Juliette." It's not a film I would normally have watched. I like RomComs occasionally, especially when I want something escapist, but this movie seemed to be pitched to high-school girls and the leads seemed immature. I watched this movie despite that, because it had Vanessa Redgrave. And I like the idea of an older woman searching for her true love. Romance for grandmothers doesn't happen often in the movies. Even so, it almost lost me before she even arrived.
The familiar tropes are there, which is fine for a Romantic Comedy. The concept is a little bit different and clever. But the characters and dialogue fail miserably. The lead is dull and wimpy, with an annoying fiance and no clear reason for them to be together. None. Yes, we know the guy she's with at the beginning will be the wrong guy, but if there's no good reason for them to be in a relationship - it undermines the integrity of the characters.
Then you have the romantic interest, who is such a completely boorish, rude, pretentious little twit it's impossible to empathize with him, even when his motivation for bad behaviour is supposedly for a good reason (to protect his grandmother.) And even after spending time together, there's no real build of any connection between them. And the girl's project seems silly and selfish - there's no real depth of insight.
But then there's Ms. Redgrave.
She breathes, and makes it a moment. She takes the most trite lines and delivers them in surprising ways. There is a scene when she is reprimanding her grandson for being hurtful to Amanda Seyfriend's character - and the most obvious delivery of the lines would have been harsh or angry. But she sighs, and with a gentle gesture, turns it into a tender and affectionate moment.
Really, calling this a comedy is a stretch - there are a couple of funny moments, but they are handled poorly. The actors, mostly, are too weak to make their characters believable, funny, or likable. Except for Vanessa Redgrave. It was worth watching a bad film, just because it highlighted the beauty of her performance.
This film made it clear to me, too, the importance of good actors. A decent line will fall flat in a bad actor's mouth. An average actor may disappear when playing an average character - but a good actor, like a good photographer, may make even and ugly baby look beautiful
an old poem
this came up in conversation on facebook... I wrote this 20 years ago
Alight
I, curled tight,
buried under blankets
as if the brooding earth,
respond
to the slow dawn
unfurling,
stretch, breaking open:
a shoot from the seed
serpent from the shell.
Sunlight
(warm as spooning on my back)
pierces me,
busts through my split hull
and out
my belly
low,
spreading into a sheer skirt
illuminating my labia.
Nails graze my spine,
a drawn out sigh,
caress of sunlight
illuminating my body.
Witness
the seraphim rebirth:
tripled wings erupting
slow motion unfurling;
screaming
as shoulder blades
cut
my back &
wings burst through.
I rise from my bed with the sun.
Demonangel darkness is
another shade of light.
Alight
I, curled tight,
buried under blankets
as if the brooding earth,
respond
to the slow dawn
unfurling,
stretch, breaking open:
a shoot from the seed
serpent from the shell.
Sunlight
(warm as spooning on my back)
pierces me,
busts through my split hull
and out
my belly
low,
spreading into a sheer skirt
illuminating my labia.
Nails graze my spine,
a drawn out sigh,
caress of sunlight
illuminating my body.
Witness
the seraphim rebirth:
tripled wings erupting
slow motion unfurling;
screaming
as shoulder blades
cut
my back &
wings burst through.
I rise from my bed with the sun.
Demonangel darkness is
another shade of light.
Streeetch
Writing a single, continuous 9 page scene with no time cuts or location changes is a challenge.
More later.
More later.
Cinematic Writing
It surprises me, talking to folks who are new to screenwriting, how many of them don't have a movie in their head. If you don't see a film, how are you going to make anyone else see it? They are telling a story, not creating a film. This often becomes clear if you ask them - what is character y doing while x and z are talking here? Or some other detail about something they put in the room and then left alone. They aren't *seeing* the scene.
Of course, I've always imagined somewhat cinematically. Even my most abstract poems (with the exception of a couple of grad-school literary cut-up experiments) run in my head as a short film. And I can tell you what every detail of each frame looks like.
Then there's the other sticking point - once you have the movie in your head, knowing how much to put down on paper to evoke those images in another person's head. Most of us have been told enough times not to overwrite that it's less common to see an overly florid screenplay than one which chooses such generic descriptions/dialogue that they flatten out and the flavor of the imagined story is lost. You can do a lot with the flavor of the language, rather than endless description - something I learned from poetry.
Yes, the language of a screenplay is stripped down, basic and straight-forward. That doesn't mean it can't be evocative. Your hero can walk down a wet street, or they can splash through the wet grime of rain-slicked asphalt.
My signature on Triggerstreet is: "Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass..." (Chekhov) and it illustrated perfectly what I mean. The moon may be shining, but what we see is the glint of light...and that piece of glass can add to a threatening or a down-trodden tone, depending on context.
Every word matters, every word is a chance to evoke the movie you see, in your reader's head.
Of course, I've always imagined somewhat cinematically. Even my most abstract poems (with the exception of a couple of grad-school literary cut-up experiments) run in my head as a short film. And I can tell you what every detail of each frame looks like.
Then there's the other sticking point - once you have the movie in your head, knowing how much to put down on paper to evoke those images in another person's head. Most of us have been told enough times not to overwrite that it's less common to see an overly florid screenplay than one which chooses such generic descriptions/dialogue that they flatten out and the flavor of the imagined story is lost. You can do a lot with the flavor of the language, rather than endless description - something I learned from poetry.
Yes, the language of a screenplay is stripped down, basic and straight-forward. That doesn't mean it can't be evocative. Your hero can walk down a wet street, or they can splash through the wet grime of rain-slicked asphalt.
My signature on Triggerstreet is: "Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass..." (Chekhov) and it illustrated perfectly what I mean. The moon may be shining, but what we see is the glint of light...and that piece of glass can add to a threatening or a down-trodden tone, depending on context.
Every word matters, every word is a chance to evoke the movie you see, in your reader's head.
By the Sequence
I've written about the sequence approach to structure before here, but recently discussed the actual progression of sequences on the boards at Triggerstreet. Thought I'd share that here as well.
The idea behind the sequence approach is that each section has a beginning, middle and end, and each has its own conflict and resolution or reversal. This not only helps to assure you have tension and stakes all the way through, but gives the rhythm a rise and fall, peaks and valleys.
These sequences can blend well with a three-act structure, the mini-resolutions falling around the turning points, or they can be seen as following their own rhythm. Shorter sequences, interspersed, can be used to develop sub-plots.
At any rate, you only have to think 12 pages at a time. And if you feel you need one or two more sequences, that's possible.
Here are breakdowns for It Happened One Night and Rushmore.
Now, the guy who wrote the book on the sequence approach lays them out like this (but other uses of the sequences are possible):
- Setup: The hook - a puzzle, conundrum, question in the audiences mind - used to stimulate curiosity. Then a picture of the protagonist before the story proper begins, the kind of person and type of life they have now. Ends with a Catalyst, the intrusion of instability into normal events.
- Development: The main plot point (or central dramatic question) is set out. Protag comes to terms w/ the change in circumstance, or tries to put things back as they were. This attempt fails - usually with some kind of big event (first act turning point) which signals the point of no return
- Special World: Protagonist tries to solve the problems posed at the end of the last sequence, usually an easy fix attempt which fails. Protag ventures out of their usual world and they have to learn the rules of the new domain that they have entered before they can move forward. (often a training or learning sequence)
- Game: The easy fix inevitably makes things worse, there is a desperate attempt to return to normality. Usually results in a revelation which makes everything more complicated and difficult for the protagonist. The protagonist may have a very real chance of winning only to have this feeling rapidly reversed. (midpoint reversal)
- Grace: Protagonist grapples with a new situation after the midpoint culmination and twist - leading to new situations (or a new view of them). Sometimes the quest changes direction. Usually ends w/ another change, another raise in stakes, and often confrontation w/ the antagonist
- Intensification: The main dramatic question is answered, the main tension is resolved. Can either be a dark night or a bright spot before the last reversal.
- Sprint: The apparent resolution brings unexpected consequences, which have to be dealt with immediately. Often a complete reversal of apparent objectives. The final showdown.
- Resolution: wrap up and come-down
The idea behind the sequence approach is that each section has a beginning, middle and end, and each has its own conflict and resolution or reversal. This not only helps to assure you have tension and stakes all the way through, but gives the rhythm a rise and fall, peaks and valleys.
These sequences can blend well with a three-act structure, the mini-resolutions falling around the turning points, or they can be seen as following their own rhythm. Shorter sequences, interspersed, can be used to develop sub-plots.
At any rate, you only have to think 12 pages at a time. And if you feel you need one or two more sequences, that's possible.
Here are breakdowns for It Happened One Night and Rushmore.
Now, the guy who wrote the book on the sequence approach lays them out like this (but other uses of the sequences are possible):
- Setup: The hook - a puzzle, conundrum, question in the audiences mind - used to stimulate curiosity. Then a picture of the protagonist before the story proper begins, the kind of person and type of life they have now. Ends with a Catalyst, the intrusion of instability into normal events.
- Development: The main plot point (or central dramatic question) is set out. Protag comes to terms w/ the change in circumstance, or tries to put things back as they were. This attempt fails - usually with some kind of big event (first act turning point) which signals the point of no return
- Special World: Protagonist tries to solve the problems posed at the end of the last sequence, usually an easy fix attempt which fails. Protag ventures out of their usual world and they have to learn the rules of the new domain that they have entered before they can move forward. (often a training or learning sequence)
- Game: The easy fix inevitably makes things worse, there is a desperate attempt to return to normality. Usually results in a revelation which makes everything more complicated and difficult for the protagonist. The protagonist may have a very real chance of winning only to have this feeling rapidly reversed. (midpoint reversal)
- Grace: Protagonist grapples with a new situation after the midpoint culmination and twist - leading to new situations (or a new view of them). Sometimes the quest changes direction. Usually ends w/ another change, another raise in stakes, and often confrontation w/ the antagonist
- Intensification: The main dramatic question is answered, the main tension is resolved. Can either be a dark night or a bright spot before the last reversal.
- Sprint: The apparent resolution brings unexpected consequences, which have to be dealt with immediately. Often a complete reversal of apparent objectives. The final showdown.
- Resolution: wrap up and come-down
Characters I Love
I'm a bit of an oddity, in that for much of my adult life, I haven't had TV. A television, to watch movies on, sure. But no TV service.
Since I've been living with my sister, though, she subscribes and I've gotten into watching several shows. The thing I find I love most is the ability for TV to create complex characters over time. People can display far more unlikable qualities but still win you over. They can be contradictory or surprising in ways that are much harder to get to in a movie.
Some of my favorites:
House - the perfect example of someone unlikable that you end up loving. Major kudos to the writers, but especially to Hugh Laurie, who can convey an iceberg worth of subtext with a single close-up, so that there doesn't ever have to be dialogue spelling out his deeper feelings.
Mary Shannon on In Plain Sight - again, in no small part due to the acting of Mary McCarthy, but also skilled writing that always places her in a situation that's designed to push and stretch her.
Also brilliant, the way she basically plays a typical man (her car, her tastes, her view of right and wrong, her difficulty having relationships, etc) and her partner is a man who displays all the typical qualities of a woman (sensitivity, nurturing, into poetry, indirect in his communication, and so on). Watch her on one or two shows, she's amusing. (In fact, the series took a season or so to find balance so that she wasn't over the top.) Over the course of the series, she's fascinating.
Criminal Minds has two great characters I love. They used to have three, but one left the show. Reed, the savant and Penelope, the hacker. In a movie Reed would not be dynamic enough to carry it, and would probably be a lesser member of an ensemble. Given a series, there's time to tease out the background of a character who is internal and socially awkward. In a movie, Penelope would probably just be a joke, the comic relief. Cut to the quirky hacker chick. But on the show, she's had time to develop into a tender and loving woman, who is, in many ways, the heart of the show.
Other characters who would be simply lost in a film, and likely would barely have a chance to breathe and develop are the secondary characters Heddy on NCIS Los Angeles and Walter in Fringe. Heddy is still a relatively minor character, but man, do I want to be her when I grow up. The hints at her exotic and exciting life, )without ever revealing too much) her cultured sensibilities, and her ability to dig in and be a bitch when needed make her a delight. And, well, it *is* Linda Hunt. Walter is wonderful because he runs the gamut from childlike and lost to brilliant and threatening. The ability to have a character who is at once endearing and terrifying is rare. I haven't seen Splice yet, but suspect that what they wanted from their creature is something akin to what Fringe captures in Walter.
Finally, my favorite character on Television: Dexter.
Need I say more?
OK, maybe you're not a fan of the series. Maybe you're one of those who think the obsession with serial killers is a sign of a sick society - but the serial killer thing is just what gets people to turn the show on. What keeps them watching is how relatable Dexter is.
We've all had times when we were confused by other people, when we didn't understand what the social norm was, or what was expected from us. When other people felt like another species, and we had to watch carefully to guess how to act (and sometimes get it wrong.) As a sociopath, Dexter has to work to pick up the social rules and cues that most of us get by default, but most of us have had times when we felt as uncertain around others as he does.
We all have a dark part of ourselves we hide, and have been in danger of it coming out. Maybe we even fear that we'll lose our loved ones if they knew about our dark secret. It's not as dark as Dexter's - but many of us have a "dark passenger" of some kind.
Many of us also have a strong internal code that guides us, and have to deal with times that our code may come into conflict with either society's laws or our own desires.
I'm definitely seeing the usefulness for TV as a storytelling medium as I learn to love these complex characters.
Since I've been living with my sister, though, she subscribes and I've gotten into watching several shows. The thing I find I love most is the ability for TV to create complex characters over time. People can display far more unlikable qualities but still win you over. They can be contradictory or surprising in ways that are much harder to get to in a movie.
Some of my favorites:
House - the perfect example of someone unlikable that you end up loving. Major kudos to the writers, but especially to Hugh Laurie, who can convey an iceberg worth of subtext with a single close-up, so that there doesn't ever have to be dialogue spelling out his deeper feelings.
Mary Shannon on In Plain Sight - again, in no small part due to the acting of Mary McCarthy, but also skilled writing that always places her in a situation that's designed to push and stretch her.
Also brilliant, the way she basically plays a typical man (her car, her tastes, her view of right and wrong, her difficulty having relationships, etc) and her partner is a man who displays all the typical qualities of a woman (sensitivity, nurturing, into poetry, indirect in his communication, and so on). Watch her on one or two shows, she's amusing. (In fact, the series took a season or so to find balance so that she wasn't over the top.) Over the course of the series, she's fascinating.
Criminal Minds has two great characters I love. They used to have three, but one left the show. Reed, the savant and Penelope, the hacker. In a movie Reed would not be dynamic enough to carry it, and would probably be a lesser member of an ensemble. Given a series, there's time to tease out the background of a character who is internal and socially awkward. In a movie, Penelope would probably just be a joke, the comic relief. Cut to the quirky hacker chick. But on the show, she's had time to develop into a tender and loving woman, who is, in many ways, the heart of the show.
Other characters who would be simply lost in a film, and likely would barely have a chance to breathe and develop are the secondary characters Heddy on NCIS Los Angeles and Walter in Fringe. Heddy is still a relatively minor character, but man, do I want to be her when I grow up. The hints at her exotic and exciting life, )without ever revealing too much) her cultured sensibilities, and her ability to dig in and be a bitch when needed make her a delight. And, well, it *is* Linda Hunt. Walter is wonderful because he runs the gamut from childlike and lost to brilliant and threatening. The ability to have a character who is at once endearing and terrifying is rare. I haven't seen Splice yet, but suspect that what they wanted from their creature is something akin to what Fringe captures in Walter.
Finally, my favorite character on Television: Dexter.
Need I say more?
OK, maybe you're not a fan of the series. Maybe you're one of those who think the obsession with serial killers is a sign of a sick society - but the serial killer thing is just what gets people to turn the show on. What keeps them watching is how relatable Dexter is.
We've all had times when we were confused by other people, when we didn't understand what the social norm was, or what was expected from us. When other people felt like another species, and we had to watch carefully to guess how to act (and sometimes get it wrong.) As a sociopath, Dexter has to work to pick up the social rules and cues that most of us get by default, but most of us have had times when we felt as uncertain around others as he does.
We all have a dark part of ourselves we hide, and have been in danger of it coming out. Maybe we even fear that we'll lose our loved ones if they knew about our dark secret. It's not as dark as Dexter's - but many of us have a "dark passenger" of some kind.
Many of us also have a strong internal code that guides us, and have to deal with times that our code may come into conflict with either society's laws or our own desires.
I'm definitely seeing the usefulness for TV as a storytelling medium as I learn to love these complex characters.
Reviving Desire's Revenge
I'm pulling up my short Desire's Revenge and turning it into a feature in response to a challenge on Triggerstreet.
I've always intended to, but planned to finish some other projects first...which has gone real well (not). At any rate, there's a deadline, and deadlines are my best friend for creative projects. Without them I tend to tinker and rethink and retool and re-imagine for ages.
I've always intended to, but planned to finish some other projects first...which has gone real well (not). At any rate, there's a deadline, and deadlines are my best friend for creative projects. Without them I tend to tinker and rethink and retool and re-imagine for ages.
followup to last post
Excellent blog from Danny Stack on "original voice."
He essentially says not to be afraid to be more writerly, to use language to paint pictures, to tell a story.
He essentially says not to be afraid to be more writerly, to use language to paint pictures, to tell a story.
Voice
Ever read something and know immediately who wrote it?
Most of us have a clear voice in our casual writing. Our blog posts and e-mails tend to reflect our speaking style. And yet when it comes to creative writing, many find it a struggle to develop a unique voice.
I've been using the internet since the very earliest days, before it was the WWW. Back then, we all knew each other. No, I'm serious.
It was Usenet, in 1989 or 90. I learned how distinct my voice was in my casual writing in the early days of online interaction when I tried to post anonymously to a group. I was trying to be anonymous (did I mention we all knew each other?,) and consciously changed my capitalization and punctuation style to hide who I was...and said a couple of snarky things about an acquaintance. When he confronted me, it was clear he didn't even realize I'd been trying to hide. This made me wonder what it was that constituted my voice.
(note: I've also since come to realize that our casual writing voice and our creative voice is not the same thing - the former comes more naturally, while the latter takes time to nurture)
Stephen King says that a writer must pen a million words before they develop their voice. (I always wonder - do re-writes count?) When I started asking people about my "voice" as a writer, several said that I had a strong one as a poet. Of course, poetry is distilled writing. Like greek yogurt, the watery stuff drained out and intensified. (Yes, it's a goofy metaphor, but it fits and I didn't sleep well last night.) Perhaps writing in that form honed my voice earlier. Then again, most critics consider a poet under 40 to be young. Of course, I'd been writing poetry regularly for about ten years, so maybe I had hit my million words.
Reading voraciously helped. Having read nearly all the works of Shakespeare (plays and sonnets) before I was 17. Most of the work of the Romantics, plus ee cummings and Edna St. Vincent Millay. Not to mention fantasy novels. Scary stories. Mysteries. And by the time I was doing this investigation into voice (at age 19 or 20,) a great deal of postmodern literature and criticism. In fact, at that point I was so into Derrida and Foucault and Hakim Bey that I'm sure their influence came out even in my most casual writing.
That year, my third year of college, I was in a poetry workshop. Some of the young writers disdained reading other poets, for fear they would dilute or corrupt their own voice. One week, an outspoken champions of this idea objected to the reading assignments and passed around his work prefaced by a speech on the subject. I read his poem. Then I asked him if he'd read any novels lately. He said, of course. I then asked whether that might be Bret Easton Ellis he was reading. He seemed surprised - but his work sounded like a bad imitation of Ellis, broken into verse on the page.
What we read influences us. What we hear and see. There's no way around it. On Star Trek, when Data is trying to learn to play the violin, he struggles to find his voice as a musician. He consciously makes the choices we all make subconsciously - assembling his performance out of pieces of the masters' performances. Someone points out to him that this assemblage is his voice. That the particular combination in his knowledge base, and his choices about how to combine them became something new and unique. The best choice to make is to seek out an array of influences. To bombard ourselves with so many voices that no single one stands out when we sit to write.
So, other than reading a lot and writing a lot - what else can we do to develop and strengthen our voice? Some suggestions:
Trust your instincts. Your internal voice will come out in your creative writing, if you let it. (If it doesn't work, that's what rewrites are for.)
Enjoy what you're doing. If you allow your imagination to play with language, you will make more creative choices.
Know the rules. Having a strong grasp of the basics of grammar and storytelling will free you to stop thinking about those things, and focus your attention on the story, and the telling of it.
Go ahead and borrow. One of my favorite exercises for a developing writer, and one I still use when I'm studying someone, is to consciously imitate them. Try writing 5 pages in the style of Minghella, or Shane Black - and it will make you think about the choices they made, and what makes their style distinctive.
Listen. Your influences are all around you. Your family, friends and neighbors contribute to your voice as much as who you read and try to emulate.
Get rid of your favorite tricks. Like "murder your darlings," this points out the difference between what we think works for us and what does. If you have any consciously adopted stylistic tricks or flourishes, try writing without them. You may find (as I did with my anonymous Usenet post) that your voice shines through even more clearly.
Finally - after you've done all that: stop trying. Ultimately, your voice is you. How hard can that be to express?
Now, this is (primarily) a screenwriting blog. Screenplays are minimalist, blueprints. They're about story and character, not style. So is there even a place for voice in them? I'd say, yes. Absolutely. If you have any doubt - go back and read the work of three of your favorite screenwriters.
Most of us have a clear voice in our casual writing. Our blog posts and e-mails tend to reflect our speaking style. And yet when it comes to creative writing, many find it a struggle to develop a unique voice.
I've been using the internet since the very earliest days, before it was the WWW. Back then, we all knew each other. No, I'm serious.
It was Usenet, in 1989 or 90. I learned how distinct my voice was in my casual writing in the early days of online interaction when I tried to post anonymously to a group. I was trying to be anonymous (did I mention we all knew each other?,) and consciously changed my capitalization and punctuation style to hide who I was...and said a couple of snarky things about an acquaintance. When he confronted me, it was clear he didn't even realize I'd been trying to hide. This made me wonder what it was that constituted my voice.
(note: I've also since come to realize that our casual writing voice and our creative voice is not the same thing - the former comes more naturally, while the latter takes time to nurture)
Stephen King says that a writer must pen a million words before they develop their voice. (I always wonder - do re-writes count?) When I started asking people about my "voice" as a writer, several said that I had a strong one as a poet. Of course, poetry is distilled writing. Like greek yogurt, the watery stuff drained out and intensified. (Yes, it's a goofy metaphor, but it fits and I didn't sleep well last night.) Perhaps writing in that form honed my voice earlier. Then again, most critics consider a poet under 40 to be young. Of course, I'd been writing poetry regularly for about ten years, so maybe I had hit my million words.
Reading voraciously helped. Having read nearly all the works of Shakespeare (plays and sonnets) before I was 17. Most of the work of the Romantics, plus ee cummings and Edna St. Vincent Millay. Not to mention fantasy novels. Scary stories. Mysteries. And by the time I was doing this investigation into voice (at age 19 or 20,) a great deal of postmodern literature and criticism. In fact, at that point I was so into Derrida and Foucault and Hakim Bey that I'm sure their influence came out even in my most casual writing.
That year, my third year of college, I was in a poetry workshop. Some of the young writers disdained reading other poets, for fear they would dilute or corrupt their own voice. One week, an outspoken champions of this idea objected to the reading assignments and passed around his work prefaced by a speech on the subject. I read his poem. Then I asked him if he'd read any novels lately. He said, of course. I then asked whether that might be Bret Easton Ellis he was reading. He seemed surprised - but his work sounded like a bad imitation of Ellis, broken into verse on the page.
What we read influences us. What we hear and see. There's no way around it. On Star Trek, when Data is trying to learn to play the violin, he struggles to find his voice as a musician. He consciously makes the choices we all make subconsciously - assembling his performance out of pieces of the masters' performances. Someone points out to him that this assemblage is his voice. That the particular combination in his knowledge base, and his choices about how to combine them became something new and unique. The best choice to make is to seek out an array of influences. To bombard ourselves with so many voices that no single one stands out when we sit to write.
So, other than reading a lot and writing a lot - what else can we do to develop and strengthen our voice? Some suggestions:
Trust your instincts. Your internal voice will come out in your creative writing, if you let it. (If it doesn't work, that's what rewrites are for.)
Enjoy what you're doing. If you allow your imagination to play with language, you will make more creative choices.
Know the rules. Having a strong grasp of the basics of grammar and storytelling will free you to stop thinking about those things, and focus your attention on the story, and the telling of it.
Go ahead and borrow. One of my favorite exercises for a developing writer, and one I still use when I'm studying someone, is to consciously imitate them. Try writing 5 pages in the style of Minghella, or Shane Black - and it will make you think about the choices they made, and what makes their style distinctive.
Listen. Your influences are all around you. Your family, friends and neighbors contribute to your voice as much as who you read and try to emulate.
Get rid of your favorite tricks. Like "murder your darlings," this points out the difference between what we think works for us and what does. If you have any consciously adopted stylistic tricks or flourishes, try writing without them. You may find (as I did with my anonymous Usenet post) that your voice shines through even more clearly.
Finally - after you've done all that: stop trying. Ultimately, your voice is you. How hard can that be to express?
Now, this is (primarily) a screenwriting blog. Screenplays are minimalist, blueprints. They're about story and character, not style. So is there even a place for voice in them? I'd say, yes. Absolutely. If you have any doubt - go back and read the work of three of your favorite screenwriters.
I'm Pissed at You
Mystery Man, I'm mad at you.
Not "golly, you rascal, you had me going gee gosh I'm so mad"
but white-hot furious.
I thought better of you.
I even said as much multiple times.
I said you wouldn't allow people who cared about you to grieve. That you would not be that cruel or careless. That you were a gentleman, and simply a good guy.
I was wrong.
I *grieved* for you, you son of a bitch.
I *cried* for days.
I was heartbroken.
And it was just some kind of stunt?
We all understand you needed to leave the Mystery Man persona behind, and would have understood retiring it. To tell people you were dead was a crappy way to do it.
I've lost respect for you.
I have added your accounts on facebook and twitter because I know I will forgive you (I'm very forgiving for a Scorpio) and don't want to lose track of you in the meantime.
___________
Not "golly, you rascal, you had me going gee gosh I'm so mad"
but white-hot furious.
I thought better of you.
I even said as much multiple times.
I said you wouldn't allow people who cared about you to grieve. That you would not be that cruel or careless. That you were a gentleman, and simply a good guy.
I was wrong.
I *grieved* for you, you son of a bitch.
I *cried* for days.
I was heartbroken.
And it was just some kind of stunt?
We all understand you needed to leave the Mystery Man persona behind, and would have understood retiring it. To tell people you were dead was a crappy way to do it.
I've lost respect for you.
I have added your accounts on facebook and twitter because I know I will forgive you (I'm very forgiving for a Scorpio) and don't want to lose track of you in the meantime.
___________
Creativity and Decisions
So, I have an idea. I think it's a really good idea. It falls into a sub-genre of thrillers I think of as daddy-daughter flicks, in which a father must rescue or revenge his little (often teenage) girl.
The problem I'm having is that I have an abundance of ideas about how to approach it.
I know who the main character is. I know who his antagonist and con-tagonists are. I know what the ending is, and I know everyone's motivations.
That still leaves me with a HUGE range of creative choices. I could write two or three complete screenplays based on these characters in this situation and have them be distinctly different.
The first dillemma: how much backstory do I front-load?
I could open with the scene of what happened to this man's daughter, showing just enough but leaving out some details that would be revealed later. The main character has suppressed parts of this event, but is also driven by it.
Or, flash back to it a few times as he encounters the individuals he's seeking revenge on, and as he remembers more. A little of this will happen regardless, because of the memory issue, but flashbacks are so tricky, perhaps they are best left alone. They seem natural to this storyline, but perhaps the audience will be more involved, and the structure will be simpler if I go with the first option.
Another approach: only hint at the event, dropping information through conversations and confrontations, without ever really showing it. I *could* even do this combined with the first option - showing very little in the opening scene, through the protag's faulty memory, and then hinting through the reactions of others that there was much more to the story
None of those are bad choices. Honestly, I love the third approach - not even showing the event, but teasing information about it through each scene, until we have a good idea - but never a 100% complete one...I'm just not sure my craft is strong enough to make that work on the page without being confusing. It's a problem I've had before.
The other major dramatic choice I'm making is between two basic approaches to the story. Make it a standard thriller-hunt type film like Taken? Or a mostly-single location psychological drama like The Negotiator and Albino Alligator?
The hunt has terrific possibilities for chase scenes, big set pieces, and lots of great cathartic torture them for info then blow them away moments. Basically, he knows where one of the people he's hunting for is, and uses them to get to the next one, leaving a trail of carnage and attracting the attention of the police. The pacing would be fast, and the story would be visceral.
The second option - have most of the people he's hunting gathered in one location, where he secures them and isolates them, then confronts each of them for information about the "truth" and the location/identity of the person who is really responsible for the bad thing that happened. Again, I lean toward this, but it's trickier to keep it interesting and tense.
Of course, I could actually write two screenplays...but since I've not written any (feature-length) scripts in a while, I think I'd better focus on just one!
The problem I'm having is that I have an abundance of ideas about how to approach it.
I know who the main character is. I know who his antagonist and con-tagonists are. I know what the ending is, and I know everyone's motivations.
That still leaves me with a HUGE range of creative choices. I could write two or three complete screenplays based on these characters in this situation and have them be distinctly different.
The first dillemma: how much backstory do I front-load?
I could open with the scene of what happened to this man's daughter, showing just enough but leaving out some details that would be revealed later. The main character has suppressed parts of this event, but is also driven by it.
Or, flash back to it a few times as he encounters the individuals he's seeking revenge on, and as he remembers more. A little of this will happen regardless, because of the memory issue, but flashbacks are so tricky, perhaps they are best left alone. They seem natural to this storyline, but perhaps the audience will be more involved, and the structure will be simpler if I go with the first option.
Another approach: only hint at the event, dropping information through conversations and confrontations, without ever really showing it. I *could* even do this combined with the first option - showing very little in the opening scene, through the protag's faulty memory, and then hinting through the reactions of others that there was much more to the story
None of those are bad choices. Honestly, I love the third approach - not even showing the event, but teasing information about it through each scene, until we have a good idea - but never a 100% complete one...I'm just not sure my craft is strong enough to make that work on the page without being confusing. It's a problem I've had before.
The other major dramatic choice I'm making is between two basic approaches to the story. Make it a standard thriller-hunt type film like Taken? Or a mostly-single location psychological drama like The Negotiator and Albino Alligator?
The hunt has terrific possibilities for chase scenes, big set pieces, and lots of great cathartic torture them for info then blow them away moments. Basically, he knows where one of the people he's hunting for is, and uses them to get to the next one, leaving a trail of carnage and attracting the attention of the police. The pacing would be fast, and the story would be visceral.
The second option - have most of the people he's hunting gathered in one location, where he secures them and isolates them, then confronts each of them for information about the "truth" and the location/identity of the person who is really responsible for the bad thing that happened. Again, I lean toward this, but it's trickier to keep it interesting and tense.
Of course, I could actually write two screenplays...but since I've not written any (feature-length) scripts in a while, I think I'd better focus on just one!
Getting Back Into It
Finally read and reviewed another screenplay on Triggerstreet:
Read Here
Hey, it took me almost 6 years to get my life back on track after my husband died. This period of grief wasn't nearly so bad. I even started a new career... just let my writing go by the wayside and let all my friends fade from my life.
I'll be honest, I missed the former more than the latter. Nothing meant to slight any old friends - but the writing has always meant more to me. Friends have always been more separate, some of them genuinely adored, but not really taken in to my heart. People I actually felt close to very, very rare.
Read Here
Hey, it took me almost 6 years to get my life back on track after my husband died. This period of grief wasn't nearly so bad. I even started a new career... just let my writing go by the wayside and let all my friends fade from my life.
I'll be honest, I missed the former more than the latter. Nothing meant to slight any old friends - but the writing has always meant more to me. Friends have always been more separate, some of them genuinely adored, but not really taken in to my heart. People I actually felt close to very, very rare.
Freedom, Structure & Creativity
Recently, I stumbled on "another bored college student" blogging that she "really want(s) to write a screenplay," but she is
There's the popular-with-youngsters idea that free writing is truly creative, because it's free. If I read a novel and there are chapters that don't serve the overall purpose in some way, I get frustrated. In poetry, each stanza (each word) should be relevant and appropriate. Free writing is useful only in diaries and exercises - not for anything intended to be communicated to others.
But more than that is the complaint I came across often among poets when I was studying writing in college: that form and structure, that limits in general, were antithetical to creativity. In fact, the opposite is true. Limits engender creativity.
Interesting and original art typically comes from the streets, the poor, the oppressed. The people who have the most limits. People whose time, resources, and even daily activities are the most circumscribed.
Interesting and original art creates it's own form, where a form did not exist.
In grad school, I found that wrestling an unformed thought into the bindings of a sonnet, villanelle, or pantoum forced me to exercise my mind in a way that free form poetry does not. Giving it those limits forced me to be more careful with my phrases, and allowed me to play the language against the structure in ways that created meaning that is not possible in free verse. The form allows you to draw attention to specific words by their placement, and to tie one word or stanza to another - through the form - and create layers of meaning. You build layers, like a good wall (or a cake!), and repetition gives it strength. Or like passes of ink over a silkscreen, the color intensifying each time it's pushed through the form.
If you really want to write a screenplay, you want to write something that is identifiable as a movie. Movies have certain specific limits, and the limits of narrative in that medium also create opportunities for creativity. Where else can you have image and reaction? Where you have the complexities of visual storytelling possible in painting paired with the dynamism of movement? Where you can contrast an image or action with sound and create meaning from that? And yet, yes, it has to have a story. It has to have a beginning, middle, and an end. It has to make sense to others. And there's no point in having scenes that, well, don't have a point.
If you really want to write a screenplay, you also have to want to write something that reads well on the page. That does not ramble, that does not turn inward, and that does not waste time on anything that is not the movie. That is tight, and neat, with lots of white space.
If you really want to write a screenplay, you want to write something that moves, on the page. That the reading of it takes you on the journey - whether it's a stroll, a dance, or a hard run. The structure of the segments and scenes, of the short dialogue and brief descriptions are kinetic. Good screenplays use the limits of the medium to create an experience on the page that moves.
Creativity does not end with formula and structure. Creativity rejoices - because like water flowing in a river, it only gets to sing when it passes over the stones.
so used to free writing which is a better fit for novel writing. Screenplay writing is very specific and every scene needs to have a purpose and function to the pace and story as a whole. So by definition it's more of a formulaic writing than free flow writing. It sucks the creativity out of it.
There's the popular-with-youngsters idea that free writing is truly creative, because it's free. If I read a novel and there are chapters that don't serve the overall purpose in some way, I get frustrated. In poetry, each stanza (each word) should be relevant and appropriate. Free writing is useful only in diaries and exercises - not for anything intended to be communicated to others.
But more than that is the complaint I came across often among poets when I was studying writing in college: that form and structure, that limits in general, were antithetical to creativity. In fact, the opposite is true. Limits engender creativity.
Interesting and original art typically comes from the streets, the poor, the oppressed. The people who have the most limits. People whose time, resources, and even daily activities are the most circumscribed.
Interesting and original art creates it's own form, where a form did not exist.
In grad school, I found that wrestling an unformed thought into the bindings of a sonnet, villanelle, or pantoum forced me to exercise my mind in a way that free form poetry does not. Giving it those limits forced me to be more careful with my phrases, and allowed me to play the language against the structure in ways that created meaning that is not possible in free verse. The form allows you to draw attention to specific words by their placement, and to tie one word or stanza to another - through the form - and create layers of meaning. You build layers, like a good wall (or a cake!), and repetition gives it strength. Or like passes of ink over a silkscreen, the color intensifying each time it's pushed through the form.
If you really want to write a screenplay, you want to write something that is identifiable as a movie. Movies have certain specific limits, and the limits of narrative in that medium also create opportunities for creativity. Where else can you have image and reaction? Where you have the complexities of visual storytelling possible in painting paired with the dynamism of movement? Where you can contrast an image or action with sound and create meaning from that? And yet, yes, it has to have a story. It has to have a beginning, middle, and an end. It has to make sense to others. And there's no point in having scenes that, well, don't have a point.
If you really want to write a screenplay, you also have to want to write something that reads well on the page. That does not ramble, that does not turn inward, and that does not waste time on anything that is not the movie. That is tight, and neat, with lots of white space.
If you really want to write a screenplay, you want to write something that moves, on the page. That the reading of it takes you on the journey - whether it's a stroll, a dance, or a hard run. The structure of the segments and scenes, of the short dialogue and brief descriptions are kinetic. Good screenplays use the limits of the medium to create an experience on the page that moves.
Creativity does not end with formula and structure. Creativity rejoices - because like water flowing in a river, it only gets to sing when it passes over the stones.
Getting Organized
My goal for this year (I wouldn't call it a resolution) is to get organized. My room, my office, and my kitchen are a mess - lots of stuff, in piles, randomly stuck into drawers or cabinets and forgotten about or lost.
This is partly because I'm, well, lazy. But largely because I moved into this house while my mother was dying, and have only in the last few weeks really begun to feel back to myself. In fact, just yesterday, felt good, good in a way that made it clear how rarely I've felt more than OK in the past few years. I grieve for a long time.
I've read that when people whose space is organized are more organized and productive in their work, and that matches my own experience. It's not simply a matter of habits carrying over - it's the setting. Clutter is distracting. Makes for messy thinking. Also, for me, provides a constant nagging "I should be" that keeps me from diving in to projects I care about.
So, my goal is to spend my vacation organizing, finding places for my stuff, weeding out stuff I don't need, cleaning. Then to set about organizing my activities, finding room for my writing, exercise, play time with the dog, and going out to movies and dinner... and then to keep organized throughout the year.
This is partly because I'm, well, lazy. But largely because I moved into this house while my mother was dying, and have only in the last few weeks really begun to feel back to myself. In fact, just yesterday, felt good, good in a way that made it clear how rarely I've felt more than OK in the past few years. I grieve for a long time.
I've read that when people whose space is organized are more organized and productive in their work, and that matches my own experience. It's not simply a matter of habits carrying over - it's the setting. Clutter is distracting. Makes for messy thinking. Also, for me, provides a constant nagging "I should be" that keeps me from diving in to projects I care about.
So, my goal is to spend my vacation organizing, finding places for my stuff, weeding out stuff I don't need, cleaning. Then to set about organizing my activities, finding room for my writing, exercise, play time with the dog, and going out to movies and dinner... and then to keep organized throughout the year.
NYC Midnight challenge round 3
Somehow, I managed to land in the middle of my group last round, and squeak by into the next one.
Of course, I thought it was going to be this coming weekend - and Yahoo glitched and held my mail from Thursday night through Saturday night... so I didn't even read that I had made it until Sunday am. I had to think of an idea at work, and come home and write it in a couple of hours.
Though, really, 2-3 hours seems to be par for this course. I always end up writing the script in about that time.
This one went more smoothly, as it was a more comfortable genre and setting for me: Fantasy in a Cemetery. The object was a first aid kit.
I uploaded to Google docs, since some folks find the Scrippets format hard to read for more than a few lines.
I had fun. Let me know what you think. Cemetery Lanterns
Of course, I thought it was going to be this coming weekend - and Yahoo glitched and held my mail from Thursday night through Saturday night... so I didn't even read that I had made it until Sunday am. I had to think of an idea at work, and come home and write it in a couple of hours.
Though, really, 2-3 hours seems to be par for this course. I always end up writing the script in about that time.
This one went more smoothly, as it was a more comfortable genre and setting for me: Fantasy in a Cemetery. The object was a first aid kit.
I uploaded to Google docs, since some folks find the Scrippets format hard to read for more than a few lines.
I had fun. Let me know what you think. Cemetery Lanterns
NYC Midnight challenge round 2
Genre: Comedy
Setting: The North Pole
Object: Crutches
Pole to Pole
Setting: The North Pole
Object: Crutches
Pole to Pole
FADE IN
INT. TV STUDIO - DAY
CHRISTINE, a perfectly coifed Asian woman in a tropical print dress addresses the camera.
CHRISTINE
They've made it to the finals. Our Pole-to-Pole contestants have traveled for hours, and now arrive at their secret destination.
Behind her, a huge screen shows brightly a painted helicopter landing on a vast expanse of ice. A CREW MEMBER opens the door, and helps 4 CONTESTANTS step out. They wear blindfolds.
EXT. THE NORTH POLE - DAY
CAMERA OPERATORS, MIC OPERATORS and CREW swirl around the helicopters.
The 4 blindfolded contestants, 2 men, 2 women, are taken by the hand and walked to a flag stuck in the ice.
They stand there, attempting to look heroic.
In the background, a head in a pointed cap pops up from a crack in the ice. No one sees it, and it ducks away again.
Trucks and generators are all on one side, leaving the view behind the contestants empty and imposing.
THE DP walks out from one of the trucks, and shouts
THE DP
And...cut. Keep your blindfolds on. Stay in place, OK.
The contestants are bundled up in fashionable gear.
TOM, late-30s, square-jawed and not much over 5'2", flaps his arms across his chest.
TOM
Fuck it's colder than a witch's tit out here.
BRANDI, 21, with blonde braids and cocoa skin, tilts her head, and puts her hands on her hips.
BRANDI
Are you for real? Who says that?
TOM
Hey, can you fucking guys get it together? Are we ready to proceed here already?
The camera operators huddle together. They ignore Tom.
CHAD, mid-20s, tall with dark hair, is shifting back and forth, and tugging at the neck of his coat.
CHAD
Where are we? I didn't think anyplace was this cold in July.
STEPHANIE, late-20s, perks up.
STEPHANIE
Actually, the seasons in the southern hemisphere are reversed. They must have brought us south of the equator.
She tilts her head back, trying to see under her blindfold.
INT. TV STUDIO - DAY
CHRISTINE
Unbeknownst to our finalists, one camera has continued to film them.
On the video screen:
TOM
All I know is this [beep]-ing place is [beep]-ing cold and I'm [beep] [beep] that this is taking so [beep]-ing long.
BRANDI
What is it with you and that mouth?
CHAD
I just hope this doesn't chap my skin. I don't want my cheeks to be all red.
EXT. THE NORTH POLE - DAY
The DP approaches, camera and crew move back in place.
THE DP
All right, folks, we're going again. And five, four, three
He motions 2 and 1.
The contestants put on their game faces again.
One of the boom operaters seems to have shrunk in size. And... are his ears pointed?
The contestants pull off their blindfolds with clumsy, frozen fingers. They look around.
TOM
Well, I'll be f....
He looks at the camera a moment.
TOM
...a monkey's uncle.
BRANDI
You have a serious problem. I don't know what kind, but you got it.
CHAD
We're...nowhere.
He spins in a circle.
Stephanie pulls a compass out of a pocket.
She excitedly steps up and down, and starts bouncing around.
STEPHANIE
This is so cool! Do you know where we are?
The others just look at her.
STEPHANIE
The North Pole!
CHAD
Where are the elves?
Brandi rolls her eyes.
The tiny boom operator slowly backs away, and slips away from the crew. An ASSISTANT carrying coffee sees him, and his jaw drops.
INT. TV STUDIO - DAY
Christine walks over to a stage with a stripper pole, and the logo "Pole to Pole".
CHRISTINE
They've danced all over the world. Now, our contestants must dance in freezing temperatures, on a pole at the North Pole.
INT. LARGE YURT - DAY
The floor is ice. Chairs are set up in front of a small stage with a stripper pole. Heaters are set around the stage.
The contestants stand in front of it staring.
STEPHANIE
I suppose the pole might be warm enough once the heaters get going.
TOM
Fuck this.
He stops out of the tent.
CHAD
I never understood how that troll made it this far.
EXT. THE NORTH POLE - DAY
Tom stomps past the crew trucks, muttering. Something catches his eye. He goes to a crack in the ice, and suddenly the elf reaches up, grabs his ankle, and pulls him down.
He gets stuck a moment at chest height, struggling to pull himself back out. Then stops.
TOM
Fuck me.
He disappears from sight.
INT. LARGE YURT - DAY
The other three contestants are at a sound board, getting their songs ready to go.
The elf darts out, holding a pot, and runs to the stage. He smears something greasy on the pole.
INT. LARGE YURT - LATER
A small audience hoots and hollers, while music plays.
Chad stretches, to the side of the stage, with big movements designed to draw attention. Stephanie hobbles on crutches.
Brandi, in a sexy dress, tries to dance, but can't get any friction on the pole. Every time she tries to climb up it, she slips down fast.
The audience boos.
She makes one last desperate attempt, flinging her legs upward, and wrapping them around the pole - only to slide down and land hard on her butt.
BRANDI
Someone greased this pole.
She hobbles off the stage, fuming.
Chad steps up, rips open his coat, and flings himself at the pole, trying to swing around it. His hand slips off, and he ends up falling off the other side of the stage.
CHAD
Ow. Not fair.
Suddenly, Tom walks in, wearing shades. But...he's even shorter. And his clothes are baggy. It's the elf.
The other contestants stare.
ELF
Fucking cue my goddamn music, bitches.
A moment of dead silence, and then a song starts.
The elf hops onto the stage, and whips off his scarf. He wraps it around the pole, and shimmies as he rubs it up and down, cleaning the pole.
Off come the hat and sunglasses. The audience gasps.
INT. TV STUDIO - DAY
On the big screen behind Christine, Tom, Brandi, and Stephanie sit in the yurt, bandaged. Stephanie's crutches are beside her.
CHRISTINE
And now, based on your votes from all across the nation, our first Pole-to-Pole champion!
The elf comes out, wearing nothing but a tiny thong and shades. He looks like a male model - shrunk in the wash, with pointy ears.
ELF
Thank you! Ever since the workshop branched out into adult toys, this has been my dream.
He takes a bow.
FADE OUT
The Lie that Tells
Art is a lie but a lie that tells the truth.
- Pablo Picasso
In real life, how often do we address the truth directly? Do we discuss what personal history makes us act as we do? Do we bare our feelings? Do we admit our wrongdoings? How often do we even stop to examine these things? And does not examining them usually require a stop from the movement and action of our lives?
OK, yes - as artists, most of us probably engage in far more examination of truth, history, and motive than the average person. But most people (I have come to realize from the blank stares I sometimes get in attempting to start conversations on such matters) rarely think, much less speak, about such things.
In fact, I've dated men who act like the question, "Why?" was not even in their vocabulary, and who genuinely had never in their lives thought to question their motivations.
This is vitally important to understand when you are writing a screenplay. We must know the truth behind our story, the history of our characters, their feelings and wrongdoings... but they must rarely, if ever, speak of these things directly. Instead, they inform the choices and actions our characters take.
To discuss these truths too openly will make your story ring false.
I was reminded of this during last week's episode of NCIS. The team had a man in interrogation. At first, he lied, to avoid the consequences of his actions. His ranged from tone was matter-of-fact and casual to offended and outraged. Then, after further questioning - his tone changed and became more urgent. One of the observing characters noted that he was probably telling the truth because he was not pausing before answering, his answers were not overly elaborated.
This made me think: to communicate a believable truth in my writing, I need the character to have a sense of urgency, to act without hesitation, and to show things simply without excessive elaboration. (Think action movie)
And, to the opposite effect, if I want to communicate avoidance of truth (which is sometimes the whole point of a story) I should slow down the pace, add hesitation, and elaborate at length - particularly over irrelevant details. (Think drawing room drama)
In either case, however, the characters show or avoid the truth through their behavior and the tone of the dialogue - not through specifically speaking about it. Speaking about truth quickly becomes either pedantic and preachy or like watching a video of someone's therapy session.
There is an excellent post here examining some specific cases.
I will add, finally, that there can be times in a screenplay to reverse the rule and have a character directly speak a truth that's been only implied up to that point.
One use is comedy. Highlighting an aspect of a relationship or action that the characters involved have been avoiding. "Get a room already, you two." Best done by a tertiary or minor character (so as not to disrupt the primary relationships). A good example was also this last episode of NCIS, when a someone referred to one of the characters as a sidekick. This then played out through the rest of the episode in small comedic actions as this character attempted to step out of that role...but was not addressed directly again. Some screenplays even have a "fool" character whose role is primarily to say that thing that everyone is thinking but won't address.
Another use is the turning point, especially the mid-point. When the character is at their wit's end, and cannot figure out what else to do, they might have a moment of reflection in which they examine, find, and possibly even articulate their real motivations. The "a-ha" moment that gets them moving again and gives them the strength to face the rest of the challenges the story will throw at them. Just... keep it brief. Like the soldier being interrogated, they should speak the truth simply and with urgency.
Not to say there is no place in art for lengthy internal examination. Novels are an excellent medium for this. Film, however, is an external art. Moving pictures are most engaging when they are, well, moving.
- Pablo Picasso
In real life, how often do we address the truth directly? Do we discuss what personal history makes us act as we do? Do we bare our feelings? Do we admit our wrongdoings? How often do we even stop to examine these things? And does not examining them usually require a stop from the movement and action of our lives?
OK, yes - as artists, most of us probably engage in far more examination of truth, history, and motive than the average person. But most people (I have come to realize from the blank stares I sometimes get in attempting to start conversations on such matters) rarely think, much less speak, about such things.
In fact, I've dated men who act like the question, "Why?" was not even in their vocabulary, and who genuinely had never in their lives thought to question their motivations.
This is vitally important to understand when you are writing a screenplay. We must know the truth behind our story, the history of our characters, their feelings and wrongdoings... but they must rarely, if ever, speak of these things directly. Instead, they inform the choices and actions our characters take.
To discuss these truths too openly will make your story ring false.
I was reminded of this during last week's episode of NCIS. The team had a man in interrogation. At first, he lied, to avoid the consequences of his actions. His ranged from tone was matter-of-fact and casual to offended and outraged. Then, after further questioning - his tone changed and became more urgent. One of the observing characters noted that he was probably telling the truth because he was not pausing before answering, his answers were not overly elaborated.
This made me think: to communicate a believable truth in my writing, I need the character to have a sense of urgency, to act without hesitation, and to show things simply without excessive elaboration. (Think action movie)
And, to the opposite effect, if I want to communicate avoidance of truth (which is sometimes the whole point of a story) I should slow down the pace, add hesitation, and elaborate at length - particularly over irrelevant details. (Think drawing room drama)
In either case, however, the characters show or avoid the truth through their behavior and the tone of the dialogue - not through specifically speaking about it. Speaking about truth quickly becomes either pedantic and preachy or like watching a video of someone's therapy session.
There is an excellent post here examining some specific cases.
I will add, finally, that there can be times in a screenplay to reverse the rule and have a character directly speak a truth that's been only implied up to that point.
One use is comedy. Highlighting an aspect of a relationship or action that the characters involved have been avoiding. "Get a room already, you two." Best done by a tertiary or minor character (so as not to disrupt the primary relationships). A good example was also this last episode of NCIS, when a someone referred to one of the characters as a sidekick. This then played out through the rest of the episode in small comedic actions as this character attempted to step out of that role...but was not addressed directly again. Some screenplays even have a "fool" character whose role is primarily to say that thing that everyone is thinking but won't address.
Another use is the turning point, especially the mid-point. When the character is at their wit's end, and cannot figure out what else to do, they might have a moment of reflection in which they examine, find, and possibly even articulate their real motivations. The "a-ha" moment that gets them moving again and gives them the strength to face the rest of the challenges the story will throw at them. Just... keep it brief. Like the soldier being interrogated, they should speak the truth simply and with urgency.
Not to say there is no place in art for lengthy internal examination. Novels are an excellent medium for this. Film, however, is an external art. Moving pictures are most engaging when they are, well, moving.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
