Screenwriting: beyond structure, solving a mystery

Even after teachers began to tell me that I was ready to "go for it" as a screenwriter, I kept taking courses. And I hope to keep taking them!

In business of screenwriting class, Frank Wuliger told us that out of the entire room fewer than 10 people would make their living as screenwriters. Throughout the semester it was intriguing to meet each guest speaker and listen to them talk about how their love of screenwriting and storytelling was realized through their work as agents, managers, producers and studio execs. They spoke about their respect for writers and the craft of writing, and each guest had helped screenwriters' stories come to life onscreen.

I'm now preparing send out queries and work every source so that my work will be read. Until then, it has been fun to use things I've learned in writing classes at USC in my work as an editor/writer for a non-profit organization.

Within the last year or so I began to understand one of the mysteries I'd tried for years to solve—how to craft a screenplay to increase the chance that the audience will feel as if five minutes have elapsed when they've been watching the screen for an hour and a half or longer. Even after earning the master of professional writing degree I had much more to learn about this; I knew I couldn't work on my own unless I figured it out.

Courses in screenplay analysis (for both feature films and dramatic television shows), and studying classic films have helped provide answers that don't only apply to writing a screenplay.

The organization where I work is raising funds to support the work of a researcher who's using technology rivaling any appearing in the most futuristic sci fi film. Part of the appeal would be made through a video, and a colleague asked how to make it as strong as possible. Our researcher had been filmed in an office with bookcases in the background, in front of a window with vertical blinds letting in bright sunlight.

After watching clips from the original video shoot I remembered Irvin Kershner's words: anchor the characters in their world. He said this after watching clips I'd taken of doctors working in Nicaragua. "That doctor could be in an office in California, or anywhere," he told me after watching video I'd brought to his home office. "You've lost the opportunity to show the beauty of the country, to make the viewer know that your doctors are in Nicaragua." I cried that night; I knew I couldn't go back and reshoot the piece. Many of the things I'm writing about in this blog were learned through tears and determination! A new video shoot was being planned and I told my colleague that it would be critical to place our researcher in a high-tech environment instead of sitting in an office. The shoot was rescheduled for a room where high-tech medical imaging takes place.

Our researcher is wearing a suit and even before he speaks the audience has examined his environment; he's in a high-tech medical setting. He's no longer in a generic office. He's not a well-dressed politician or an accountant; he's a respected medical researcher, comfortable in a world-class medical research environment.

This is just one reason why, after watching a well-crafted movie as the audience sees the credits begin to roll they re-enter the real world feeling as if very little time has elapsed. For the past 90 minutes dozens of images appeared onscreen. With each, there were hundreds of details to take in—architecture or decor, color. The audience wanted to be entertained; should they feel terrified or anticipate laughter? They learned a great deal about the characters as they searched for clues in the environment.

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.