Day 23: Roadmap into the industry (Story ideas: Monsters to Shakespeare to Oscar)

Before looking for representation, managers and agents say it's vital to have one project, polished and as perfect as the writer can make it.

"If you've written in your letter to a prospective agent that you have four, or five screenplays, backspace," advises Mark Ross of Paradigm. Just one amazing screenplay is needed.

Agents, writers, producers--they all love stories. As guest panelists spoke to us each week in Frank Wuliger's course we learned that there are many pathways into the industry. Very few are predictable. Many of the panelists had taken risks and had worked hard and for low pay. But each found their way into the industry led by their passion for stories.

A number of our guest speakers had started their careers hoping to write screenplays. While they didn't end up creating original material themselves, they found fulfilling careers working with writers as agents, producers, and agents.

While in the Master of Professional Writing program, I took a class titled the Academy series. Guests included Academy Award winning directors and actors.

One week during the Academy lectures series, we watched "Shakespeare in Love," with Marc Norman as the guest speaker.

"My son," he told us, "even while he was very young, knew that dad didn't have a constant paycheck. He tried to help me think up ideas for stories."

These sessions often happened over the family's dinnertime. "Dad, what if there's this monster and it comes into the city..." was one idea Marc's son pitched to him.

Then his son grew up and went away to college. He was studying literature when one day he called home. "Dad," he said, "What if you write a screenplay about the young Wil Shakespeare."

After Shakespeare in Love went on to win seven Oscars, Marc told us that had a replica of a giant check made, and presented it to his son.

Marc's parting words to our class were revealing. He said that it had proven challenging for him to come up with original story ideas, that that's why he spent much of his career working for others.

NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for The Business of Writing for Screen and Television, a School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year road map into the industry.

Day 22: Roadmap into the industry (What I learned from Jackie Chan)

When I started this blog, I posted notes taken during hours of screenwriting courses, and lists of information. The content was good but the posts were as boring to read as a how-to manual.

For me, the fun of learning doesn't come from reading an Avid editing book; it happens when someone familiar with the program sits beside me and shows how to adjust the audio; explains how to corrects the mistakes I've made, showing me the many ways to place the various clips together. It's a shared experience and it's exciting as the story becomes more powerful.

While sitting in class for three or four hours, I'd hear or see something that would change my writing forever. That's what I've been writing about recently. Remembering and sharing those moments has made creating these posts much more fun.

Last year, when I was taking Ron Friedman's beginning screenwriting course in the School of Cinematic Arts, a student wrote: "The camera pauses on the scene for 15 seconds." Though including camera directions in a screenplay is a no-no, Ron didn't leave it at that. "You need to understand what time in screenwriting really means," he said. "During 15 seconds onscreen, Jackie Chan could defeat 28 opponents and play a game of chess with his toes."

It was the first time I'd thought about the importance of pacing in a story, and what time feels like as the story unfolds. It was something I hadn't thought about until a student's writing created a teachable moment for the entire class.

In an introductory playwrighting course taught by Lee Wochner, I wrote a play inspired by a sandwich shop in the Napa Valley. I wrote that one of the characters takes a pickle jar out of the refrigerator and places it on a counter. Lee was all over that--"...deli-style pickles, think about the container. How could one person carry a jar that size?" In playwrighting, physical distance (how far a character must walk across the stage as their action takes place) is important; how big objects are. The writing must be precise as the actors physically must be able to accomplish what the play asks them to do.

These are some of the details that are essential to remember while writing. Yet because there are so many other rules to keep in mind, details like these might not make sense if I read them in a writing textbook. They're the gems that came alive for me with a gifted mentor in the room patiently observing, using the students' works-in-progress that they shared in class, to teach.

I crave these moments...an opportunity to form a writing group, perhaps?

NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for The Business of Writing for Screen and Television, a School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year road map into the industry.

Day 21: Roadmap into the industry (The war room)

The conference room in a top law firm where a friend used to work was nicknamed the "war room." The walls were decorated with paintings of ships in the midst of epic battles; the furniture was solid wood with brass accents. As soon as a new client enters the war room, before any words are spoken or strategy is discussed, they sense that their attorneys will fight the best battle they can to protect their interests.

More recently, a friend who is a physical therapist mentioned that she was often mistaken for a nurse. "I'm sorry, I don't have access to medication," she'd explain several times every day as patients and patient families stopped her to ask her for pain pills.

At her workplace, scrubs are considered professional attire for physical therapists, but when she began wearing office attire (or when she wears a lab coat), she works all day with patients, and no one mistakes her for a nurse.

Clothing and objects create strong impressions, and are powerful elements in every story.

Day 20: Roadmap into the industry (Who's the Director?)

My project for a 2007 documentary filmmaking course I took was titled "Mission to Nicaragua." The picture above was taken in the Acahualinca city dump (I'm holding the video camera). Acahualinca is a place where entire families make a living by collecting anything they can sell, including glass and scrap metal. It is grueling, dangerous work, and children join their parents searching through the mountains of refuse many hours each day.

After I returned from the trip, Irvin Kershner reviewed some of the videotape I'd captured, and he was disappointed. To help me prepare, he had lent me a book he had used to learn how to direct but he hadn't had time to go over what images I would need before I left for Nicaragua.

Many of the interviews I'd videotaped were indoors, in medical offices. "Those shots could've been taken anywhere, here in California, down the street," he said. I was devastated as he told me how to take the viewer into a location, how to film establishing shots, and how to structure better onscreen interviews. The Nicaragua project was over and I had returned home. The meager video clips our medical team and I had worked so hard to complete were all I had. That night I called Wendy Apple, who was teaching the course, and I've never cried more bitterly. I determined never to make the same mistakes again.

Over the next few weeks, the students showed their rough cuts in class and many of them made excuses. There were dozens of reasons their projects weren't better--there had been problems with locations, their equipment, the time of day, lighting, sound. Finally Wendy had had enough. "I don't want to hear any more excuses," she said. "Who's the director? You're the director."

From that moment on we listened as Wendy and the directing/MA student who was assisting her, critiqued our work. Who was the director? We were the director and we began to use what we had captured, imperfect as it was, to tell our stories.

Earlier this year, a colleague told me stories about one of his friends who works in one of the most highly paid professions. He wanted to try something new, and decided to become a director. He was convinced that he could make it happen using his own willpower, intelligence, and resources.

This year he completed two projects which he was certain would launch his directing career. No one works harder than he does, and few have the resources (both money and contacts) that he does. When I heard that he was planning to submit one of his shorts to a major film festival, I waited to see what would happen.

A few weeks ago I heard the most recent update. It was as if I were sitting in Wendy Apple's documentary filmmaking course again--neither project had turned out very well. Next came the reasons (excuses). I couldn't help it, I repeated Wendy's line. "Who's the director?"

Screenwriting is the most challenging writing I've attempted. But even while working full-time and being determined to live a balanced life (family, relaxation and fun, too), I can't get enough of it. And what makes me feel the most comfortable about it? "Who's the director" (of each story; each new project). There's no time for excuses. I will make it work, and that's what makes it worth it.

NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for "The Business of Writing for Screen and Television," a School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year road map into the industry.

Day 19: Roadmap into the industry (Creating unforgettable moments)

In 2007, I took a documentary filmmaking course from Wendy Apple. Several of my classmates were working in the industry, and had traveled to California from several countries to take the course.

I'd invited a colleague to take the class, and when she showed a rough cut of her project the professor suggested that she edit it, making it several minutes shorter.

After spending hours gathering and sorting through information, spending time with very real characters, capturing thoughts, words, and/or images on computer or videotape, discarding anything can be heart wrenching. It's such an impossibility and is so difficult to do, that film students that summer likened it to drowning puppies.

My friend called me at about 10:00 p.m. the night before our projects were due. Her documentary would've been fine for our workplace; she had traveled out of state with the person whose story was captured in her documentary. Every moment seemed important; she was exhausted. Wasn't it OK? Should she make the cuts? I told her to drown the puppies.

Later that week, when the documentary was shown in a theater at USC, the audience was comprised of faculty and hundreds of summer program students. Something pretty incredible happened during the screening. Within seconds there was an electricity in the air that hadn't been there during previous screenings; the audience roared with laughter at the same spots, was quiet as they experienced compelling parts of the story; applauded, cheered. And the documentary went on to win a regional EMMY Award.

When she edited out details that didn't create unforgettable moments my colleague had accomplished something that Professor Uno highlighted during the first night of the Directing Actors course last week. He quoted Ron Howard (words taken from a seminar the director presented at USC):

"[Moviemaking is all about] moments, highlights. So many Directors talk about the fact that a great movie is a culmination of--some Directors say three; some will say five; some say seven, but it's all about really great, memorable moments in a movie that you can build a narrative around."

So here's to keeping it simple; to creating great moments.

NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for The Business of Writing for Screen and Television, a School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year road map into the industry.

Day 18: Roadmap into the industry (naming characters)

When I took an introductory course in playwrighting, the play "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom," by August Wilson, helped me understand the structure and descriptions needed to write a play better than any of the others we studied.

The website enotes.com provides this description of the story: ..."Set in a Chicago recording studio in 1927, the two-act drama tells the story of a recording session with blues legend Ma Rainey, her band members, and the white producer and agent who made themselves wealthy through Rainey’s recordings. The play explores race relations between blacks and whites in 1920s America and the African-American search for identity. The title comes from the song of the same name, which is at the heart of a major conflict in the play. Of particular note is Wilson’s character, Levee, who literally embodies the aspirations and disappointments of black males during this era and, arguably, today. Wilson pits Levee against Rainey, the band members, and the whites, examining various stripes of inter- and intra-racial conflict."

The play was entertaining to read, and the playwright's descriptions of the stage and set made it possible for me to adapt a short story I'd written into a play.

One of my favorite courses in the School of Cinema, "Screenplay Structure," was taught by Don Bohlinger. Though I'd read books about screenwriting and had taken courses from a producer, directors, and screenwriters, Don's course helped me become comfortable while writing. The semester I took the class, the majority of the students were in production/directing programs. Directors think visually, and listening to production students analyze a movie was a different experience from courses I'd taken with writers. Directors think visually.

During Don's course, the movie I learned the most from was "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." I wasn't looking forward to watching it twice (at home and later in class), but it has become one of my favorite films.

I learned how the audience joins the story, experiencing momentum as the story unfolds in sequences. The audience becomes more deeply involved in the story through planting and payoff (revealing a prop, a sound, or any element in a film which appears more than one time and has deep meaning or significance). The pens in the characters' pockets (the psychiatrist; the charge nurse; and two of the patients: show who is keeping records, who is in charge and who are the followers; who is keeping score. This from a note I wrote to the teacher:

One planted image [in the movie] are containers of pens and pencils on the psychiatrist's desk. The antagonist, Nurse Ratched, also had a pen. The only other two characters who had pens and/or pads of paper (displayed in their uniform pockets) were [patients] McMurphy and Harding. They were keeping score, records, self-proclaimed leaders in the mental hospital. It was fascinating to watch Harding and McMurphy battle to control the tone of the ward (easy to see who was creating the rules during the card and board games through the imagery/pens...it was McMurphy or Harding, the other patients were followers).

I also saw the importance of naming characters.

The antagonist, Nurse Ratched (her name sounds like wretched or wrench)

Martini ( a happy-go-lucky patient)

Billy (a childish name and character)

RP McMurphy ("Mac" everyman; RP/"rest in peace" he finally leaves a world where he never really fit in)

In storytelling, the characters' names can provide powerful payoffs, revealing, reinforcing the characters' roles and personality when the names are spoken, even when the character is not in the room.

NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for The Business of Writing for Screen and Television, a School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year road map into the industry.

Day 17: Roadmap into the industry

Movie clips we studied last night in Directing Actors course included:

• The Graduate (interaction between Dustin Hoffman and Anne Bancroft; imagery in first scene)
• Rain Man (characterization vs. character. Characterization is how we are introduced to Tom Cruise at the beginning of the story--selfish and greedy, unable to love--while character is what he becomes)
• Next (lack of an interesting/intriguing plot leads to flat performances as the actors don't have internal conflict to draw upon; also a good example of character as Nicolas Cage rescues Julianne Moore even though she will torture him later)
• The American President (amazing performance Annette Bening gives as she hides her emotions from Michael Douglas while moving out of the White House)
• Gladiator (great storytelling in this movie, inspired by the story of George Washington)

In Gladiator the audience is introduced to Russell Crowe as he stands on a charred, empty landscape. His mind wanders to home, where he imagines he's standing in a field; he caresses golden stalks of grain as we hear children playing. Then the movement/sound of a small bird brings him back to the present. He's wearing the uniform of a Roman General; his expression changes to resolve--he has decided that he will fight one more battle before returning home. Even before one word of dialogue is spoken, we see that he isn't a fearless warrior, that he's a kind person who loves his family, and home.

As we studied clips from the various movies, Michael Uno's urged us to think simpler, viscerally. He'd ask a question and instead of a complex explanation, he asked us to evaluate the story and what the characters' actions reveal with one-word answers: is the character sad, mad, jealous. If we started to give a complex explanation, he would stop us and tell us that the answer was much more simple.

This is one of the hardest things for me to do. When I worked with Irvin Kershner, I learned that he despised minuscule details that were unimportant to the story, especially in the beginning stages of planning. As I outlined the scenes, he asked me to write on index cards using the biggest, thickest marker I could find. Being able to squeeze only four or five words onto each card forced me to distill dozens of thoughts into what was really important.

Here's to keeping it simple.

NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for The Business of Writing for Screen and Television, a School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year road map into the industry.

Day 16: Roadmap into the industry

Last night was the first session of Michael Uno's course, "Directing Actors." The course is offered as part of the USC School of Cinematic Arts' Summer Production Workshop.

After having worked a full day, whenever I leave a seminar or class on the USC campus at 10:00 p.m. I feel energized, even though it's an hour-and-a-half commute back home. I've never left a class session without having learned something that will change my writing, or that I will share with friends.

Last night Michael gave us 23 handouts with information about acting, and passages and quotes from well-known directors. We watched scenes from several movies and he lectured about the actors and the characters they were playing including dialogue, facial expression, what's happening internally, interactions among the characters/actors, and wardrobe.

He repeated a saying several times last night that touches on dialogue: "The bigger the lie, the better the line." The more a character wants to hide something or to be intentionally deceptive, the better smoother/more convincing his or her line will be.

We learned that a director shouldn't tell an actor to become more angry, or more sad (more about this tomorrow).

Michael also spoke about characterization vs. character. As an example, he showed portions of Tom Cruise's first scenes in Rain Man. The only thing Tom cares about is making money. That's characterization, while character is what he later becomes--concerned about his brother and longing for family. Character is also what a character does in a moment when he or she doesn't have time to think or decide what to do.

The class was from 6:00 to 10:00. We reviewed class requirements: writing original scenes and then making them come to life: choosing real actors and joining production teams to film, and then editing the clips into scenes ourselves. I realized that in order to complete the assignments I'd need to take nearly two weeks off from work. For the first time I can remember I dropped a class at USC. I'm hoping to take the class next summer.

As I write screenplays, I will think about the actors who must interpret the dialogue; writing scenes that will make it easier for them to show emotion.

NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for The Business of Writing for Screen and Television, a School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year road map into the industry.

Day 15: Roadmap into the industry

"Why is this day different from any other day in the character's life?" I wish I could remember where I first heard or read this. I think about it every time I begin to make notes about a protagonist and I ask it again as I write the first scene.

The day begins the same way it always has and then something happens; the character's life can never be the same again.

I think I heard the words during one of Syd Field's lectures. I've never taken a class from him but I responded to an email that the Master of Professional Writing office sent to the writing students in the program. He was updating his book "Screenplay," and needed someone to transcribe lectures he'd given at USC and during a 3-day seminar he'd held in the U.K. I responded and eventually transcribed audio from classes and the U.K. seminar into about 400 typewritten pages. It was an amazing experience for a beginning screenwriter.

For my friend, the doctor, the moment happened during an ordinary workday as he admired the skill of an older construction worker. It shocked him into redefining his life and he applied to med school. For me, it happened one afternoon while working on a monthly newsletter for a dental school. Deadlines were always hectic; many issues were completed with the help of Starbucks w/double shots of espresso. That afternoon a nursing student was working in the office asked: "Is this what you're going to do for the rest of your life?" "No," I replied. ( story: http://bit.ly/NYbio )

The protagonist feels content and then something happens; the adventure begins. His life will never be the same. This will continue to motivate me as I finish that short story.

Note: Syd Field's books are in my library; they were helpful as I struggled to learn the structure of those 120 pages.

These entries are inspired by the final assignment for The Business of Writing for Screen and Television, a School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year road map into the industry.

Day 14: Roadmap into the industry

For several years I worked in a college PR office. Our office published a four-page ad sheet, and each ad represented a story--a diamond wedding ring for sale, never worn; a moving sale 7:30 a.m. Sunday, everything must go; lost pets; houses for lease. Sometimes when the receptionist was away from his desk I'd help customers who were dropping off ads.

One day a physician rang the bell. He was wearing a lab coat embroidered with his name and his specialty. I felt a subtle disconnect; his appearance didn't match his uniform; he didn't have the physique or the affect of many doctors I'd met.

I could tell by his build that he was someone used to physical labor. He wanted to rent a room; his wife was a physician working in a hospital about an hour away until he finished his residency. He was studying for state boards and needed a room to sleep in, two to three nights per week.

I took his ad and payment, and answered his questions. His personality was down-to-earth. I wondered what his story was.

After the ad was printed, I ran into him once in awhile on campus. One day I asked why he had chosen to study medicine. "I was working on a construction crew," he said, "when one day I watched an older worker put some spackle on a trowel and then onto a wall. He did it expertly and so quickly and for a split second I admired his skill. Then I was horrified--I'd admired him. Was that all I wanted to be able to accomplish in 30 years?"

He applied to medical school. "My dad," he said, "is a tough guy; in high school and college he always insisted that I take the most challenging science courses."

During his med school interview, a faculty member asked why he wanted to become a physician. "So I don't have to work outside in the summer," he replied. The faculty member laughed. "That's valid," he said.

* * *

When I began taking screenwriting courses, no matter how hard I tried each character's dialogue sounded alike. I struggled with this for a long time; I knew they were no more interesting than people in computer generated crowd scenes.

I once attended a Ducks game with a friend who provided commentary about the crowd. Describing the row in front of us: "Season ticket holders usually sit in those seats but they're not here tonight. Those people shouldn't be there. Look how guilty they look." Across the ice, a several girls were sitting on the front row. "They're season ticket holders, too. They come to all the games and dress as sexy as they can, and flirt with the players. See the one wearing blue? she got pregnant; never stopped coming to the games, and then had the baby." I knew their stories and yet my friend had never met them.

In computer generated audience or crowd scenes small details, their stories, are missing. That's the disconnect; what appears on screen remains unsatisfying.

NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for The Business of Writing for Screen and Television, a School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year road map into the industry.

Day 12: Roadmap into the industry

Many of the writing courses in USC's master of professional writing program are presented in workshop format. Several times during the semester, each of the 12 or so students in the class complete 15 or 20 pages of a story, polish them, and make a copy for each person in the class to read. The next week the students take turns discussing and critiquing the pages, followed by the professor's assessment.

I'll always remember one of Gina Nahai's introductory lectures. She spoke about how the first scene in a novel can be likened to a stage shrouded by curtains. As the reader opens the book for the first time (or begins to read the opening sentences on a Kindle or Nook), the curtains rise to reveal the main character. The experience is wondrous, magical. Who is this person, what is their story? Gina made it seem so exciting!

Gina also discussed character, quoting a playwright's description of a little girl playing outside, she's wearing a tulle dress and is by herself spinning (or maybe she's dancing), caught up in her own thoughts and world.

I can remember at the beginning of the writing program struggling because my characters' dialogue was indistinguishable from each other. They weren't living, breathing characters. As I remember Gina's voice describing the little girl whose actions could've captivated an audience it helps make creating and writing fictional characters less paralyzing for me.

I remember an incident taken from hundreds of hours spent in writing workshops. That night we were critiquing a classmate's story. I could see the main character relaxing on the deck of a small boat, seagulls circling. The class didn't have a problem with the storyline, but our professor did. She was picturing those hundreds of thousands of books that are published each year. In her opinion, the student's work didn't stand out.

"Your character is passive," she said. "All he does is rest on the boat and watch the world go by. He needs to do something." Now, a few years later, I wonder what happened to that character. Is he still sitting on the deck of that boat watching the world go by? Does he only exist in a file on a laptop, or was he reworked, fighting battles? Would I root for him as he ends up somewhere so incredible and unexpected that as the last chapter finishes, I am saddened, wanting more?

I'm working on a short story now, and that's a lot to think about.

NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for The Business of Writing for Screen and Television, a USC School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year roadmap into the industry.

Day 11: Roadmap into the industry

What to write, what story to tell?

The bestselling authors, the agents and managers, producers, directors and actors who spoke to us at USC were realistic about our odds.

Two agents who met with us both talked about the importance of creating a saleable product. As artists create, they must consider bread before pleasure; work to put a roof over their head before creating something that's meant only for their pleasure.

To become and remain successful we were advised to read the trade publications every day. One agent was inspired by stories; another advised us to see every movie that's released and to study how they did opening weekend; then how they fared the next week and the next.

During her lectures Gina Nahai, one of my favorite professors and mentors in USC's Master of Professional writing Program, reminds students in each of her writing classes how many hundreds of thousands of books are published each year. Only a tiny fraction of them will become bestsellers, and she suggested that as we begin a new project that we ask ourselves: "Why am I writing this?" and "Why am I writing this now."

NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for The Business of Writing for Screen and Television, a USC School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help the students become working screenwriters, he asked his students to create a five-year roadmap into the industry.

Day 10: Roadmap into the industry

Irvin Kershner spoke about screenwriters who had learned their craft well with respect and awe. He spoke just as passionately about screenwriters who didn't give him a story that intrigued him, or wasn't well written. He disliked talky scenes where the characters' words were unnecessary or if the dialogue didn't create tension or advance the story.

Kersh said that the best screenwriters he knew were always watching people--in their day-to-day lives, always observing what they did, what they said.

And he said this about screenplays: "In every scene, one of the characters wants something. They may not say a word. What do they do to get it? Now that's interesting."

He gave us one assignment where we were asked to create a five- to seven-page screenplay inspired by a short story. The story had two characters--a pregnant young woman and a man who meets her one winter afternoon at a mill in a small town, and falls in love with her. And we were to use no dialogue.

That assignment was almost impossible for me at the time, as I relied on dialogue to tell the story. I wish I could complete the assignment today and give it to him.

But the lesson isn't lost. I will remember his words,"...someone wants something. They may not say a word. What do they do to get it? Now that's interesting," as I write envision the story, and with every word I write.

NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for a USC School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger: The Business of Writing for Screen and Television. Hoping to help the students become working screenwriters, he asked his students to create a five-year roadmap into the industry.

Day 9: Roadmap into the industry

Frank Wuliger wanted the screenwriting students in his business class to succeed. Each week he spoke from his heart, and he spent more time discussing "the room" than just about anything else I remember.

A screenwriter can create an amazing screenplay, Frank would say. His agent works long, grueling hours forwarding projects to industry contacts and setting up meetings for clients from a data base comprised of thousands of intricate relationships developed over the years.

The agent, however, will not go to meetings with the screenwriter. The writer or writing partners are on their own; actually selling the project depends on how the writer is in the room.

Frank encourages writers who struggle in the room or who want to become better in the room, to take an acting course.

Teachers over the years had encouraged writing students to take acting classes but for a different reason--to help them create better scenes. Yet until I felt comfortable with the screenwriting process, I wasn't ready.

Screenwriting was always wonderful as I took the hardest class first and picking up tools and gems from patient and generous mentors along the way. Then last year, teachers in two classes encouraged me and I finally felt ready.

This summer I was accepted into a course, "Directing Actors," in the USC School of Cinematic Arts' Summer Production Workshop.

To prepare I've been studying a paperbook: "A practical handbook for the actor." I took the book with me to Las Vegas this past weekend and as I read, for the first time I began to understand what actors experience as they read a screenplay and learn the lines and prepare to enter the story. It made me want to create the most powerful story I can. If I'm losing energy as I'm writing parts of the story, the actor will feel this, too.

I'm going to have so much fun this summer.

I can hardly wait.

Day 8: Roadmap into the industry

A month or so ago I attended Georgetown’s John Carroll weekend in San Francisco. The theme for the 2011 event was “The Innovation Factor: Driving Impact in Social Entrepreneurship and Education.”

One of my favorite presenters was a Georgetown communications professor who has done research about the effects of social networking on interpersonal relationships.

Here are a few bullet points from her presentation:

90% of the students she polled have broken up via text msg or by changing their Facebook status status.

They don’t want to see the other person’s face or hear their voice.

She says she has observed that people listen only when it pertains to them, if not they tune out and text or Facebook or surf the net. They are present physically but not emotionally. However, presence is defined not by being physically present, but by your audience.

Social networking is creating fragmentation. What is this doing to relationships?

She threw out quite a bit of data and engaged the audience by asking open-ended questions for discussion.

Her message made me feel sad at first, but as I thought about it I became excited about the power of storytelling, both in literature and stage and screen.

This weekend I went to see the movie Bridesmaids with friends. Though I’d had no expectations before seeing it, I was amazed at how the story impacted everyone in the group.

We talked about how both women and men in the audience had laughed; we had wanted an escape for a couple of hours but this comedy made us think, the storyline started conversations that could impact both work and personal relationships.

My friends may think about Bridesmaids from time to time, they may realize the importance of relationships and goals and dreams they may have forgotten. The storyline may even impact choices they make.

That’s what we can do as storytellers and screenwriters. And that is exciting to me.

Day 7: Roadmap into the industry

This week, Ricky commented on the post, "Day 3: Roadmap into the industry."

Ricky says:

"Take the hardest course first and succeed. Scramble! Learn, get in there and go for it!" That's some good advice.

The quote Ricky mentions came from Wendy Apple, who, in addition to teaching in the USC School of Cinematic Arts, is a documentary filmmaker. Wendy was responding to news that the writing program I was taking at the time was being redesigned. Students entering the program would be required to take introductory writing courses before registering for specialized writing courses.

As a documentary filmmaker, Wendy captures stories as they unfold; she's a keen observer and was commenting on people she had seen who had become successful in the entertainment industry.

I'm glad I finished the writing program before the changes affected me.

I was so excited about screenwriting that even before getting accepted into a writing program I went onto Amazon and visited local bookstores and read about 15 books about how to write a screenplay. I dove in!

The first course I took was a screenwriting course with students who were finishing the writing program. I enthusiastically made huge mistakes that provided great entertainment for the teacher, and I never stopped learning.

USC alumni are permitted to take any class they desire, as long as the department offering the class approves the request. And so after completing the master of professional writing program, I asked permission to take courses from the School of Cinematic Arts.

The School's writing division asked that I first take beginning screenwriting. I was so excited about taking a class from the School that I decided to treat it like a master class in screenwriting.

I went online and looked at the faces of the professors teaching beginning screenwriting and chose what I thought was the kindest face--it was Ron Friedman. Wow, the first couple of classes he raised his voice and made the topic seem unattainable, and I'd seldom heard the language he used! I would've dropped but so much was going on at work that I didn't have time to do the paperwork.

Several students did drop the class, a couple of students joined, and then we started to work on assignments; brief five- or six-page stories on themes Ron chose. By the fourth week of class, Ron's demeanor changed and he became the one of the strongest champions for beginning screenwriters that I've ever experienced. I admire his brilliant strategy--students who were only there to have fun, or who didn't want it enough dropped and the remaining students were there to learn, and try no matter what. It was an incredible experience.

Midway through the semester, I told Mr. Friedman that even though I'd completed a graduate-level writing program with an emphasis in screenwriting that for me, writing screenplays still felt as if I were struggling with an octopus--it's the hardest type of writing I've ever attempted. He said not to worry, that the octopus would be tamed by the time I finished his class.

And it was. Every week we watched classic films and discussed their structure (and I tweeted from class). He taught us about the palette of paints: dialogue, setting, music, architecture, psychology, costume, that writers choose from to bring the story alive. He taught us how not only how to create a scene, but to write it so that the audience will look at the exact point on the large movie screen that we wanted them to.

On the final night of class I told Ron that if his students were listening, I was convinced that more working screenwriters would come out of his class than any other I'd taken.

And I'll continue to share what I've learned from Ron and many patient professors and mentors and friends...step by step.

Day 6: Roadmap into the industry

So it's Day 6 and I'm enjoying writing these posts as I finally feel movement on my writing journey; energy every day after having worked a full day as an editor/writer.

When I'm taking a writing or production class it's easy. It's like being on a cruise--I'm with people who are having fun. Every day I visit a new port where I enjoy incredible experiences that touch every sense; when I arrive back at the cabin I find a newsletter on the freshly made bed. Inside is a brand new itinerary filled with a list of upcoming parties and excursions to marvelous places, so many choices! Then the cruise is over. The next day I experience an extreme letdown, where's the newsletter; there's no newsletter, what should I do? I want a cruise director/party planner in my private life.

I'm talking with friends who want to write fiction; we plan to read books assigned in fiction writing courses, studying how authors capture voice, place, movement of time. I'll share what we're reading and what we've learned in future posts.

And one of my favorite websites for inspiration is Gwyneth Paltrow's Goop.com

In the archives is a newsletter about film and studying film. Here's the link:

http://bit.ly/iOR0kf

I love Gwyneth's honesty. She begins the issue:

"I’m not one of those film people who can tell you who the cinematographer was on On The Waterfront or who most influenced Truffaut. When it comes to knowledge of film history, I’m semi-rubbish (a friend of mine once left the dinner table when I admitted I had never seen one of the most famous and most well-regarded films of all time)."

Gwyneth asked five director friends to list their must-see films, included their answers in the issue. For inspiration and fuel for the journey I plan to watch, enjoy, and study them all, hopefully with friends. What an amazing resource. Thank you, Gwyneth!

Day 5: Roadmap into the industry

Frank Wuliger gave this guidance to USC MFA screenwriting students in his business class who would soon graduate: Stick with one genre.

If a beginning writer tells him they have screenplays in more than one genre ready to be read--a comedy, a drama, science fiction and/or romance, it worries him. On their journey to get an agent, screenwriters should choose one genre and stick with it. Short stories/plays are good to have; be prepared if an agent asks to see additional writing samples.

Additional advice from Mark Ross at Paradigm: proficiency in writing short stories and/or playwrighting is a plus. It's all about the storytelling ability. In fact if one of his clients asks for time away from screenwriting to direct a play, that's healthy, it's good for the writer and for the agency, and he's fine with that.

Important to remember as I start working on my next story.

Day 4: Roadmap into the industry

I miss my friend, Part II

That semester in Irvin Kershner's class I began to learn about the artistry of filmmaking as we studied classic, foreign films and wrote papers about them.

Kersh asked us to began developing ideas for projects, and after his approval we would then develop them into short stories. For the final, we would turn in the first 25 pages of a screenplay. There was room for fewer than 20 people in the class and several people dropped the class because they wanted to turn in screenplay pages they'd written every week.

I'd written one screenplay before, with much enthusiasm and little skill, and I knew how grueling it was to produce 25 new pages in one week while working full-time; and if any part of the storyline needed to be changed it meant hours spent reworking each scene that followed.

Kersh told us that if a fully developed short story were completed and polished, it should then take two weeks to write the screenplay. And at the end of his class I tried it--I took a two-week vacation from work and completed the screenplay. I submitted it the next day into a film fest and it was one of 10 finalists. I then called the competition contact number and asked, "Did you have only 10 entries?" The person who answered the phone laughed. "You should see our offices," she said. "They're filled with boxes and boxes, hundreds of entries."

So on Day 4, Roadmap into the industry, I am remembering the words of advice Kersh said dozens of times to his students, "It's all about the story."

Day 3: Roadmap into the industry

I miss my friend

I miss my friend, Irvin Kershner. I remember the first time we met--it was 5:50 p.m. on a Wednesday night and the class he was teaching started at 6. At USC, classrooms often remained empty until the small hand on the clock reached 12; no one was early. So that night I was alone with the famous director. I was reading as many screenplays as I could, trying to unravel the structure and learn the artistry of screenwriting. I was holding a copy of Chocolat, and he noticed. "That's a good story," he said. "A good screenplay to study."

I had recently been accepted into the writing program, and didn't have a clue how the system worked. Students who would've won any reality show were assured a place in the most popular courses, and competition was intense. Shortly after I entered the program it was redesigned to have more structure, and as rumors of changes surfaced, a faculty member in the School of Cinematic Arts wondered why changes were needed. "That's what it's like in the industry," she said. "Take the hardest course first and succeed. Scramble! Learn, get in there and go for it!"

That semester, every screenwriting courses had been filled and there were waiting lists, and so Kersh had agreed to teach a new course. Students in the program shared information on an informal "rate your professor" system, but there was no information on how Irvin Kershner would be as a professor, or how hard the class would be. So that first semester he taught, competition to get into classes was elsewhere. The old system was working in my favor.

...to be continued...

Day 2: Roadmap into the industry

Wow…

A just did a quick google search for the name "Wuliger" and the word "screenwriting" since I’d mentioned him in my blog yesterday, and I wondered if people who read the blog could find out who he is since I hadn’t listed his first name.

A link to a website for Alexandra Sokoloff, who has written works of fiction, plays, and screenplays and is one of Frank Wuliger's clients, appeared in the search with the words: “My agent, Frank Wuliger, has been kind enough to let me audit his class at USC.”

The wow is because I'd taken the USC class the first time Professor Wuliger taught it. I sent emails to him during the semester with random thoughts and ideas.

He lectured about the realities of the business--that if his clients don't produce marketable work he works with them for two or more years and then he has no choice but to fire them. He hates doing this yet it's nothing personal, it's the business.

During his class and in a meeting I had at Paradigm we were told, "It's not going to be like this when you have an agent—they will not be able to spend hours talking with you."

What a semester that was! Our class had many more hours learning from a partner in an agency about the differences between agencies, how to work with agents and managers, how to succeed and how to continue to succeed as screenwriters than his clients—what incredible access we had, three hours a week for maybe 14 weeks.

In one of my emails to Frank, I mentioned that he was giving us guidance taken from his years of experience about what to do and not to do on every level, from writing to pitching in meetings to how to talk to agents and managers and more—and because agents don't have time to spend hours with each client giving them this information, it might change his clients’ careers and their lives if they were able to take his course.

So once again, Wow. He told our class several times that he wasn't sure if he wanted to teach the course again (it is a huge commitment) but he did, and I learned yesterday that he invited at least one of his clients to take his class (she is successful and has written about the class and how much she has benefited from additional insight into the business of screenwriting).

Here's her web page--she also has helpful info for screenwriters: http://bit.ly/kcXMHR

Sooo cool!

Day 1: Roadmap into the industry

Screenwriting students at USC are required to take a course, "The business of writing for film and television," and I'd received special permission from the School of Cinematic Arts' writing division to take the class.

The teacher, Professor Wuliger, spoke to us from his heart--he was amazingly open and throughout the course, he told us that he listens to his emotions, and that he relies on them to help guide his life. He looked over our classroom, filled with screenwriting students who would graduate in a few months, and told us the reality was that maybe seven of the people in the class would make screenwriting or television writing their profession.

He said that he had worked with and had known talented writers who finished school and then life and making a living took so much of their time and energy that they never pursued their dreams. He asked us each to create a five-year roadmap into the industry for our final test. He wrote "Well thought through," on my final, and the grade A+ with a bold circle around it; time has passed since I finished the course and I need to find that 7-page document!

I've learned that when I take writing classes I work on new projects. I'm inspired by classmates and by the professor. I'm productive and write outside of work. But when I'm not in class with writing assignments due, it just hasn't happened.

But my desire to live my dream--writing screenplays and seeing them produced--is more powerful than the time that's passing.

I've also wanted to share insights from some incredible mentors. I've tried to do that in this blog. The real magic, however, happened for me when a mentor would see me struggling, or would be convinced I could do better even when I didn't know it myself, and would reach into their own life experience to help. This was done quietly sometimes, and sometimes with passionate anger.

Those moments changed my writing, and my life, forever.