The writer's room: Screenwriting apprentice no more

Of all the names my co-writer could've chosen for his blog, he chose Screenwriting apprentice. I told him I didn't like the name. It reminds me of a guy I went out with awhile ago who is pursuing acting. He was excited about an acting class assignment: choose a character, then create and perform a scene which would be taped. I imagined him as a coach whose team was being crushed; in his scene he would give a speech so inspiring that the audience feeling the power in his performance, would know the outcome of the game even before the team returned to the field. Instead he chose to play the role of a man pleading with his wealthy uncle, whom he'd have to convince to let him reach his goal.

My cowriter kept the name. "We're collaborating," he said. The story would be inspired by a story which appeared in national and international media many years ago. Though my cowriter has a special interest in the story, family and friends are familiar with the events; it also has its own Wikipedia entry. Working almost every day during the lunch hour we finished preparing and then co-writing the screenplay in about 11 weeks.

We've continued meeting at lunch, and are following Frank Wuliger's advice to MFA screenwriting students in his business of writing course at USC: write two screenplays each year.

We're becoming acquainted with the characters in our next story, discovering their strengths and weaknesses; we know what our protagonist wants and what she needs. We've decided how we're going to approach the story. It's going well and it's almost time for me to write the short story that will become the screenplay.

Before continuing to work on the project I wanted to know what my cowriter had learned. The 11 weeks spent writing the screenplay was unlike taking classes; each minute spent on one project instead of a few minutes once a week for the semester. The learning curve was incredible but I wanted to know where we were starting from; repeating anything we'd covered would have been exhausting (energy draining).

So one morning a couple of weeks ago I said: "Today at lunch I'm going to sit back and listen. I'm not going to say anything; I want to know everything you've learned about screenwriting."

I took a notebook into the small glass-walled meeting room we've nicknamed the writer's room and I listened.

He began by saying that he had thought about what he had learned and had talked about it with a friend. "Screenwriting is like no other writing I've tried," he began. And then, for the next hour I took notes.

He talked about structure and the three acts. The importance of establishing the world the characters live in. How good screenwriting shows lives being changed (polarity). Learning how to grab peoples' attention and how to pull them into the story. And then one of my favorite topics, one that took me several years to figure out: "The screenwriter must make the audience lose track of time; forget everything that's happening outside of the theatre." He also spoke about how hard it is to create the story and how, when well-written, following the story is like a game for the audience. He is intrigued by how the tone of the story changes with the characters' dialogue, and how well-placed one-liners can make the audience laugh and can make them think.

He talked about how watching the story unfold can totally captivate the audience. He mentioned that he is now watching movies and studying them for their structure. He finds it fascinating to see how a story like Argo captures events well-known by people who lived during the time the events occurred; and that introducing the story to new generations can pull them into history.

He talked about respecting the various characters (and he named the characters we had used and created). He spoke about the multiple layers of stories that are interwoven—there's no doubt what the main story is yet each of the supporting stories sheds deeper light on the main, controversial theme; while each minor story is just as satisfying as the main story. The supporting characters are so interesting and their dilemmas are so intriguing that each person who watches the movie will come away having experienced a completely different movie.

He wants the characters to be so compelling that the audience feels as if they have made a friend by the time the movie ends. Finally, he talked about the importance of being able to market the story and how to identify a story worth telling.

He said there were times when we had divided up scenes to draft pages. He had worked for hours on his scenes and when I hadn't been excited about parts of the scene, he had wanted to keep what he had written. Instead he had decided to listen and see where it would go and those were some of the times he had learned the most.

Perhaps what's the most fun is that each story (and screenplay) is unlike any other. For a long time I didn't think I could do it on my own and so I kept signing up for more classes. I'd arrive early and stay late, and there were many gems faculty shared that I heard only one time though I've known many of them for years.

I never thought the octopus I'd been struggling with each time I opened a screenplay-in-progress would be tamed. But as lunch hour ended and my cowriter, using words from his own experience, talking about what he has learned while working on his first screenplay I realized I am ready, and so is he. Much gratitude to the many USC professors and mentors who love storytelling. I am convinced: they are the most patient people on earth.

The writers room weeks 9-10-11: Screenplay complete

I left for London on April 12 and returned home a week-and-a-half before the May 1 Nicholl Fellowship deadline. My co-writer and I finished as much of the screenplay as we could before I left; we both planned to edit it during the week I was in Europe.

During the 11-hour flight home a man in the seat next to me noticed me editing the screenplay and gave me his contact information. He works for a company that licenses characters and produces video games for SONY and X-Box; they have offices in three countries.

Back home, the jet lag worked for me. I’d wake up just after 3:00 a.m. every day and work on the screenplay several hours before work.

My co-writer and I had given ourselves permission to create the story without being perfect. The final days before the deadline we met at lunch and reworked scenes to maintain tension. We also sharpened dialogue, throwing out options until a better line appeared.

We hope we accomplished the following:

•               The protagonist progresses from experiencing a want to identifying and fulfilling a need. She experiences polarity (challenging to accomplish)

•               The story's premise is controversial; the various characters' feelings about and reactions to the controversial choices the protagonist makes are equally strong. This shows that there is validity in the differing views, reveals passion and humanity, and hopefully creates a deeper understanding of the issue

•               The characters don't cry but we wrote the story so that (we hope) the audience will

•               We avoided using cliches and tried to remove the ones that had appeared

I received an email on the day we finished the screenplay from Irvin Kershner's son. It was a photo of his father playing the viola, taken on his 90th birthday; truly amazing. We had finished the screenplay on my mentor's birthday. We polished the screenplay and submitted it to the Nicholl Fellowship competition on May 1.

We’re planning to continue meeting at lunch to write and are working on an idea for a new screenplay I proposed. Our goal is to complete a new screenplay every six months (a guideline suggested by Frank Wuliger to aspiring screenwriters during a class I took from him: write two screenplays each year).

My co-writer is an editor/writer/designer who had never written a screenplay. Today I reviewed everything we’d done and the many elements that we had built into our screenplay.

This morning a USC professor invited me to share the process we'd used to a Facebook group of her current and past students. Making progress after graduation has been challenging for many of them and she wants them to see that it’s possible to make progress creatively in small periods of time.

In my next entry I’ll write more about that here; pretty amazing to have completed an entire screenplay in less than two months. Today as I reviewed with my co-writer what we’d accomplished I realized (and mentioned to him) that I hadn’t learned the process we’d used in any of the courses I’ve taken. Reading a summary of our journey might be helpful to new screenwriters.

The writers room weeks 6-7-8: "Writing better dialogue"

It's late Friday afternoon, end of week eight working on the screenplay my co-writer and I are planning to enter into the 2013 Nicholl Fellowship competition, I believe.

Clicking on a link to an Onion article, "Find the one thing you're most passionate about, then do it on nights and weekends for the rest of your life," has made me feel much better about not updating the blog sooner. Here's the link: onion.com/11YVZeN

In spite of the painful truth highlighted in the Onion feature, my friend and I are making progress on our screenplay. We're working on every day at lunch and some Friday afternoons. with four-and-a-half weeks left we're determined to finish before the May 1 Nicholl deadline.

Here's this week's writing lesson (Writing better dialogue):

When I first began studying screenwriting, I remember struggling to write dialogue. Everything I wrote seemed fake and unnatural. Even worse every character's voice sounded the same. 

During my first screenwriting course, Sandi Berg's favorite saying was, "better line!" She said these words often, to each student in the summer production workshop she taught. What her words really meant was: "that dialogue is weak, pitiful, and I know you can create better dialogue; you owe it to your characters."

As we've been working in the writers room there have been incredibly powerful lines, perfection. But as we try to write other scenes the dialogue is lame and I hear Sandi's directive, "Better line!"

As we worked on one of these scenes nothing was helping. The scene was dead. The audience would squirm uncomfortably. We threw out more ideas but each was as lame as the last. The energy in our writers room lagged.

Then I began talking about our character—She's a kick-ass girl. We talked about the other person in the scene (a doctor). We talked about their relationship to each other (to succeed she may just outwit the brilliant doctor; she is street-wise). My co-writer and I talked about what each person in the scene wanted and what they really needed. Then, magically, lines of dialogue came alive and the energy in the writers room returned.

And even better, the momentum from scene to scene and page to page remains unpredictable and yet right on; the story is becoming powerful and intriguing. 

During a break we spoke about how certain we were about what we were going to include in the story. However, because we had patiently tried to understand each character and honored who they were before beginning to write the direction we thought the screenplay would take faded. While following a solid outline the characters have awakened and are now commanding the creative space. They are alive and are driving the story.

There's no way that their voices are boring and they don't sound identical. In fact they are completely different from anyone who has lived, or who will ever live. I wish I could share this with Kersh; I know he would smile.

Today at 3:40 as we were leaving the office my co-writer mentioned something that meant quite a bit to me after I finished my first screenplay. In less than two months he said, we will do something that most people will not accomplish their entire lives—completing an entire screenplay. 

That's a great feeling and we won't have given up one precious evening to do it. Take that, Onion!

The writers' room, end of week five: Respect

Week five in the writer's room has ended.

My cowriter watched Argo just before we began working on our screenplay and he's determined that our screenplay keep the audience's attention from beginning to end as firmly as Argo did for him. He's way ahead of where I was when I finished the MPW program at USC.

I remember Irvin Kershner's words (shouting): "each scene must have rising tension!" But what does this mean?

In week 5 we had discussions about many scenes and I challenged my cowriter—is the story more powerful if our protagonist locks herself in the bathroom closing herself off, not connecting with her child separated by a door; or is it more revealing and powerful if she's less than five feet away from him in the same room, her mind a million miles away?

In another scene she was curled up on the couch, reeling from a painful event that had just happened.

After re-reading the scene we agreed that we would be losing the audience the way it was written. We knew what would happen next from our short story that had become cards and then had become our sequence breakdown. We rewrote the couch scene. How much more effective to watch her reeling from pain, and with her whole being, fight to numb the pain by doing something shocking and dangerous?

It's still Act 1; we aren't yet that interested in her. She hasn't yet earned the right to lie on the couch.

Explanations and understanding don't only come from dialogue; searching for visual clues is satisfying for the audience. Today we wrote a scene where our protagonist is thrust into a new and unfamiliar location--is it dangerous? How do we reveal this without dialogue, in a satisfying way? How are the characters in the new environment dressed to show their rank, the order of the place; what equipment do they use? And finally, should our character be trusting when everyone has let her down, beginning from early childhood? No, she fights! She has fought to survive her entire life; she cannot stop fighting now.

As we work and create, I continue to respect the process even more each day. I'm glad I kept going back to USC to take more classes. Everything is coming together in a pretty incredible way and our energy is high. 

Writers' room, End of week 4 • Structure

Four weeks have passed, an entire month in our improvised writers' room at work. One scene has been written and I'm thrilled with our progress.

I took a vacation day during week 4 to meet family in LA for a mini family reunion. When I went back to the writers' room on Thursday it was the most challenging session so far.

My cowriter and I weren't making progress and I felt low energy (unusual and a bad sign). We meet Monday to Thursday during lunch to write, but because we had to stay at work for an open house on Friday we decided to add an extra day.

Thursday night I looked up detailed notes and sequence breakdowns from Don Bohlinger's Advanced Screenplay Analysis course that he had emailed to the 80+ students in his class (USC School of Cinematic Arts). In one message he wrote that he hoped to feature some of our screenplays in his future classes. Such an amazing person!

We'd felt so lost in the writers' room that I printed notes for all of the movies we had studied in class. I printed detailed sequence breakdowns for movies including "Silence of the Lambs," "In Bruges," "The Apartment," "American Beauty," and "Lars and the Real Girl," among others. The terms listed in bold were familiar—planting, payoff, need, theme, scene of aftermath, stakes. Seeing the words "Act I: Sequence One" was scary—how could we make all of those index cards and the story fit into just eight sequences?

I also printed a glossary of film terms and a handout titled, "Want vs. Need."

One thing that has helped us decide what to include and what to eliminate as we have developed the story so far has been to continually ask if each element supports our protagonist's character arc. The details of the story and each of the people in the true story are intriguing and alluring. At one point I said, "we've lost her (our protagonist) completely!" That brought us back to our heroine and her journey.

Though Mr. Bohlinger had lectured about "want vs. need," I didn't have a full understanding of what it meant until I took Pamela Douglas's TV script analysis course last year. At the beginning of many dramatic films the character is unaware of their greatest/deepest need, only to become aware of it and against all odds, change. It's fascinating for the audience to be present with the character as the story unfolds and the character transitions from not needing or wanting love to experiencing love; or as he transforms from living a life of bitterness to experiencing hope. The film term for this is "polarity,"* and it must be equally challenging/fascinating for the actor who will play the part.

Pamela Douglas's class helped me understand that in the best television and cable programs, the characters become our friends; their character arcs often take place over several seasons/years. In a movie, extreme change (polarity) takes place during the telling of the story, often in less than two hours.

As I reviewed what comprises the three acts of a screenplay I paged through the glossary of film terms; one term led to another and then to another, equally important in understanding a single concept. I followed wherever new concepts/definitions led. As I reviewed the breakdowns for each of the movies we had studied in class I realized that the point of attack in our story was wrong. 

(Point of attack as defined by William Archer in "Playmaking," is where the dramatic conflict first appears. It's the thing in the story that changes everything;* the character/s will never be able to go back to their normal existence when it happens.)

In our writers' room we knew our characters completely; we'd discussed them for a month. We had done reviewed the facts of the real events that happened in the early 1980s and were crafting the storyline that will be written as our screenplay.

As I identified the point of attack for each movie Thursday night, I realized that in the examples the point of attack isn't a series of events. It is a single thing, a package being delivered or a character being admitted to the hospital.

There are usually two 10- to 12-minute sequences in Act I; four in Act II; and two in the third act (in Act III, the sequences are shorter than in the first two acts).*

I shared what I'd reviewed with my cowriter Friday afternoon as more than 1,000 guests toured the center where we work. At first he thought that we'd have to start writing from scratch. I assured him that nothing was going to be lost. We would use everything and would build on it.

Realizing that the point of attack often ends the first sequence in act 1 inspired us to pause and  expand on the characters' lives before we reveal the shocking event that will change her life forever. Now she doesn't stay in her living room, she goes out into her environment which is fascinating. We follow her. Who is she, why is she fighting so hard to keep her life the way it is and why is she acting so destructively that she is endangering her life and another life?

So for us, instead of constricting our creative process (which was stalled anyway), thinking about screenplay structure made the attacking octopus retreat and sink back into the depths.

As we worked, something surprising happened. Not only did we use everything we had created so far, when we began applying structure, points in the story revealed even deeper meaning. While we had been stalled completely the day before, with the structure of a screenplay as our guide we each suggested new scenes that worked beautifully.

By the end of the day Friday, we had placed the new and improved story into same format as the sequence breakdowns used for the movies in advanced screenplay analysis class. 

I'll post the rest of what happened Friday afternoon in the writers' room after I finish my homework (transcribing Friday's handwritten notes into our own formal Sequence breakdown for our screenplay). We plan to begin writing the screenplay tomorrow as we begin week 5 in the writers' room.

Our goal remains the same: to complete and enter the screenplay into the 2013 Nicholl Fellowships competition.

*From notes/Don Bohlinger's advanced screenplayl analysis course.

The Writer's Room, End of week 3 (Creative life bonus: a fun Academy Award story)

"You want to direct? You're young. Go, pursue a career. Live your life. Then if you want to direct, you can."

The trip to Irvin Kershner's home was over an hour, so I often asked someone to join me. My brother still talks about things Kersh said during one one visit. Over the years I invited colleagues and videographers and student workers who helped with the publications I was editing, to come with me. Kersh was kind to each person and asked about their lives, often teasing them a little before working with me on my writing.

Melissa, one of the student workers who helped with dental publications, was my guest a few times. On this visit she had told him that she enjoyed movies and wanted to direct, but she was also interested in becoming a psychologist. His reply, "You want to direct? You're young. Go, pursue a career. Then if you want to direct, you can."

In class, Kersh would review students' work and would comment on the depth of the writing. "Have any of you been through a war? Starved? Even missed a meal? Until you've lived, it will be almost impossible for you to write a story that means something." This message was frustrating to the writing students, many in their early 20s.

In addition to creating a story with depth and a meaningful theme, finding a new idea is rare. I'm sure I've written about Mac Norman's visit to the master of professional writing class and will sort that out as I create a new website, but it fits here.

At the end of his presentation Marc Norman, who co-wrote "Shakespeare in Love," left us with this thought: "It's hard to come up with original storylines." He said that this why he has worked for others for much of his career. 

To illustrate, he told us this story. Even at a very young age Mr. Norman's son understood how challenging it was to be a screenwriter; he'd felt what it was like when his dad was between projects. So at the dinner table he'd try to be helpful. He'd say "Dad, I have this idea for a movie, this huge scary monster comes and eats a city..." Then Mr. Norman's son grew up and was away at college. One day he called home, "Dad, I have an idea for a screenplay; it's about the young William Shakespeare." Mr. Norman told us that when the resulting screenplay won the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay he presented his son with a nice check. I love that story!

***

So now back to the writers' room. My cowriter and I have talked about whether our sessions have been positive, and they have. While we plan to enter our screenplay in the 2013 Nicholl Fellowship competition, we're already beginning to talk about ideas for additional screenplays and are deciding which one we want to cowrite.

I've told him how difficult it is to become a full-time screenwriter while also working full time. I've also emphasized Frank Wuliger's often repeated words to the USC School of Cinematic Arts students who would soon graduate. The only road to success he's seen is to make screenwriting a priority in year 1; to  put a roof over your head and take a job as a waiter so you can put all of your creative energy into writing. He told us that living life and working a high-powered job take so much energy and time that it is nearly impossible to become a screenwriter. However, I earned an A+ and a "Well thought through" on my midterm and final tests in his class. For me this required drafting and finalizing a plan or roadmap into the industry to pursue while working full time.

One more quick example that gives hope to me and to everyone pursuing a dream. I remember attending an orientation session with new dental students (I was an editor for the school publications); and the dean for student affairs at the time told the incoming dental students how challenging dental school would be. He told the story of one dental student who was married and had small children. He said that the student had accomplished what everyone had predicted would be impossible; he had balanced work and family life and had been equally successful as dental student; husband and father. 

Here's how he did it: immediately after each class ended, he reviewed his notes before leaving the classroom. Then, when school was over at 5:00 he stayed in the building and re-reviewed all notes from the day and notes from the preceding week. At 6:30 or 7 p.m. he'd disconnect from school, go home to be husband and father, 100 percent of his energy focused on family.

For me, writing alone after work just wasn't happening for me. I'd spoken with several colleagues until I found someone who is at the right place and is as motivated as I am to learn and master the craft, and to complete a screenplay. The creative energy remains at a high level and instead of classroom deadlines (25 pages by next Thursday); we will soon be creating firm deadlines to move forward.

The writer's room: end of week three

Week three has ended and hours of prepwork have been completed. Storylines have faded away, and led by the main spine of story (the protagonist's arc), others have become stronger with some of the more fine details emerging.

This weekend I'm importing info from our 3x5 cards into Final Draft. I've given my cowriter scene breakdowns from several screenplays I studied in Don Bohlinger's class; described to him what a sequence is. His assignment for tomorrow (Monday) is to begin work on a single scene; the scene that ends Act I.

So much goes into this; and elevates the work.

This scene will:

Introduces a character

Propel the storyline forward

Create hope and immense challenges for each of the characters

Most challenging in the writing will be:

Must be kept simple (edit and then edit some more)

First time dialogue is placed on the page, don't talk to or down to audience, tricky!

Last Thursday, my co-writer, who is learning about screenwriting for the first time, said, "Hours and hours of work and thought go into creating the screenplay. Then when the audience sees the movie, it seems as if it came together effortlessly and easily; as if it had been written it in a few days." I love that! A much more interesting way of saying what I've thought while struggling with the attacking octopus two thirds of the way through writing and feeling creatively wrung out in a good way; "Screenwriting the most challenging writing I've ever attempted."

Writing a scene, the most challenging assignment so far; it will be fun to blog about it tomorrow.

Writer's room, week 3: moving beyond structure to make time stop (Part 1)

The first time I heard Syd Field's name I was beginning my first semester in the USC master of professional writing program. I carpooled about an hour to campus with a friend—she was about a year ahead of me in the program. Classes were from 7 to 10 p.m. once a week and we'd often arrive back home after 11. One of her best friends was working on his thesis and had mentioned to her  how valuable Syd Field's book "Screenplay" had been to him.

I bought the book, and while I'd read more than a dozen books on screenwriting before beginning the writing program, the screenwriting structure that was presented in "Screenplay" was clear, simple, and made the most sense to me.

About a year later a mass email was sent to the students in the MPW program—Mr. Field was looking for someone to transcribe a series of lectures he'd given. I replied to the email and ended up transcribing a series of seminars he'd given in London and class discussions recorded at USC. He used the transcribed notes as he updated "Screenplay." 

***

In our improvised writer's room at work I've shared the same stories with my cowriter that I'm sharing here. We've identified our main characters and supporting characters. After two weeks working during our lunch hour it's become easy to put additional characters aside; after brief discussions we agree that they won't make the story better and they aren't needed to create tension.

It wasn't until I took Pamela Douglas's television script analysis class that I understood the difference between character development in a dramatic TV series vs. a dramatic film. As Ms. Douglas teaches, the dramatic arc in television characters' lives can take place over several seasons. The protagonist in the screenplay we're working on must experience insight and change during the story—in less than two hours. That's our challenge this week as we finish outlining the story using 3 x 5 cards. I've drawn and shared a rough sketch of the three acts and plot points and our stack of 3 x 5 cards is growing. By Wednesday (Thursday at the latest) we should be ready to write the first scene.

As we weave the story together we'll include many of the elements I learned from Don Bohlinger in his advanced screenplay analysis course. The semester I took the class most of the students were in the School of Cinematic Arts' directing program. Every other writing/screenwriting/fiction/playwrighting course had been easy for me; advanced screenplay analysis was the first course I thought I might fail. The final test was a take home, open note test and it took me nearly 10 hours to complete. I received the most amazing note from Mr. Bohlinger after I emailed my completed test; I'd received a perfect score and he was planning to use it as a key to grade the rest of the tests. I'd struggled that semester; his kind words gave me the confidence to keep writing.

More in the next post about the precise details that go beyond structure and dialogue that are (I'm convinced) the answer to the mystery about how audiences are transported into a story so deeply that time stops.

None of the books I've read or classes I've taken have presented this theory (and a glance at the top how-to screenwriting books on Amazon doesn't reveal the answer).

It will be fun to write for it's about what I've found to be the most frustrating (at first), mystifying (even after years of careful study) and ultimately exciting part of storytelling and screenwriting.

Week 2, an invitation: learning while visiting the writer's room

"[As aspiring screenwriters] plan to create two screenplays a year." —Frank Wuliger

It's week two creating the new screenplay. I've been having fun teaching a colleague about screenwriting as we work on a story that we are writing into a screenplay. After four days exploring the characters (what are their flaws, who/what is the antagonist) we talked about the time period (early 80s). I said we cannot edit the protagonist to make her too nice, she's a kick-*** character. As we talked about the protagonist's character arc (need vs. want) I mentioned time period and how movies play with time.

In our improvised writer's room a different process than I've used before is taking place. In the past screenwriting as a student meant:

Getting up at 4:30 a.m. to work on screenplay pages due for class before going to work

In class, waiting for three hours for the teacher to comment on my writing for a few minutes. More was learned through mentors as they spent time teaching individually. My life changed because of these amazing teachers.

Each writing class though, was incredible as I was listening to professors as they worked with various students on many different types of stories and scenes and characters. I kept taking classes until at the end of one semester at USC a teacher in the School of Cinematic Arts told me, "You're ready to go for it."

It's so easy for the months to pass though (and Frank Wuliger tells his students that it is almost impossible for even the most gifted student to work full time and to become a screenwriter). I worked on a plan for this in his class though, and his words "well thought through," and "good plan," inspire me.

This is the first time working on a screenplay without the safety net of a classroom. I'd been afraid the octopus would arrive again in the writer's room (struggling to make it work), but students' and professors' words are coming to mind when I need them to solve problems, and my colleague is beginning to feel more confident and the collaboration is fun.

Yesterday for the first time we created our first index cards. I mentioned Irvin Kershner's frustration at my need to write down too many details at this point. He finally said, "get a marker, the biggest marker you can so that you are forced to write only two or three words on each card." 

We're following Kersh's rule as we outline broad ideas that we will move around and keep or discard to fit into the structure of the screenplay. As my friend and I worked yesterday I said, "you're hearing my mentors' words as we are working."

If our lunchtime meeting in the small glass-walled writer's room in our office were recorded you would hear me say:

• Immediately, from the first page, we have to let the audience know how we want them to feel
• We must grab the readers' attention; we need a better opening scene (and I gave examples of opening scenes from literature and film)
• On dialogue: "...You know how you say something at a party and then the next day you're kicking yourself because you've thought of the perfect thing you couldn'v e said? Our dialogue has to be 100 times beter than that."

More fun to come today, I'll continue inviting you into the writer's room. It's a creative way to learn (and I've tried many on this journey to become a screenwriter), and it has worked for me.

Yes this post is about screenwriting!

Less than a month ago my colleagues and I met to walk through our new office space. Desks were still being installed and we walked past a ladder or two. What had been an old post office has been completely remodeled and the lobby has the feel of a luxury hotel. 

I left a pretty amazing office shared with colleagues I've described as thoroughbreds in their field (philanthropy), to join a space shared by writer/editors and a media team. We've been in our new offices now for about three weeks. 

Though moving from a private office to a cubicle is definitely not an upgrade I'm now occupying a space shared by longtime friends. There's a window and during the day I glance up and see the sky changing. It's the first time I've felt time pass connected to the changing sky. I'm glad to have experienced this during the winter—the sky morphs from the brightest blue to hundreds of variations of cloudiness. Even while working on a deadline I sense the movement of the sun across the sky as the afternoon passes, at about 2:30 I have to move when it shines into my eyes. The sun moves and clouds appear and spash themselves across the sky, hiding slivers of blue in bright silver or the whitest white, or covering it with angry greyish black. 

When the clock told me that it was mid-afternoon in the old office I'd long to see the sky and would walk down a long hallway past multiple offices to pause for a few minutes near the front desk. Looking outside I'd see the sky and I was happy; the mental fogginess caused by hours of staring at a computer screen lifted. I realize now that what I'd cherished every day was actually as rigid as a snapshot, even if taken during the most beautiful time of day.

Another unexpected positive—I realize that work is a place to contribute and support and achieve, but it is transient compared to my life. Home has become more important to me and I feel more creative, good things are happening and I'm not forcing it.

My friend and I decided to work on our Nicholl entry at lunch. At 11:05 today I told him (we share a cubicle wall), "Only 55 minutes 'til noon. Are you still excited about the screenplay?" "Yes!"

We met in the small conference room and started where we left off yesterday. I'd written the main characters' names on an iPad along with  a few important facts about the story. Today discussed the individual characters and I continued to make notes.

How far would one of the characters go to break the law? What was his relationship with our protagonist? How did he treat her? He's a pretty bad guy. Why did she love him for so many years? How did they become a couple (she was 16 and he was in his early 20s)? Why did she fight for a relationship that was so painful and abusive?

As we explored the characters and their motivations, I continued gathering facts that would provide the building blocks necessary to tell the story and then later to write the screenplay.

We talked about the importance of images (planting and payoff), and agreed that a uniform that will be worn by at least three of the characters has unique and equally powerful meaning when worn by each of them.

I mentioned a couple of movies I'd studied and we discussed the way these movie were structured and how this might help or hurt the story we are telling.

I wanted to see what my friend thinks about the creative process and how it extends to the director and actors. Being too controlling will not work.

He's a musician who has toured globally with an orchestra and he talked about musicians' artistry. Just as the musical groups he has performed with enjoy performing a piece a differently each time, I said that nothing would make me happier than writing dialogue that will inspire an actor (I can say it this way, no what about this? No this would be more powerful.). 

While just two days ago my friend had wanted to begin writing screenplay pages he has become intrigued by the preparation. After experiencing the process yesterday, at the end of our first session he said that we're nowhere near ready to begin writing. 

Just before our lunch hour was over today I sketched out the three-act structure to show him, and said that we're collecting the pieces needed to complete the structure. Then the short story (7-15 pages), then create scenes and sequences on index cards, and finally the screenplay.

The real work (fun) that happens before "Fade In"

"Out of everyone in this class, maybe seven of you will become full-time screenwriters." Wow, were there 50 people in the room? More than 70? All I remember is that the classroom was full of screenwriting and directing students who would be graduating in a few months.

While Frank Wuliger only said these words one time to our business of writing class he assured us that the others could find work in the industry. He demonstrated this through his guest speakers who loved stories and storytelling: agents and attorneys and directors, studio executives and managers. It was an amazing class (I remember "amazing" was a word he used quite often).

Another one of Frank's comments continues to haunt me. After finishing our writing program he encouraged us to do work that would put a roof over our head but that wasn't too intense. He said that he had observed many talented writers who took jobs that were so challenging that they had nothing left at the end of the workday, and never became screenwriters.

Taking screenwriting classes at USC while working full-time has helped me continue to write outside of work. But this semester I'm not in class. Writing alone after work can sometimes feel like punishment and so I've been joking with friends and colleagues—"Let's cowrite a screenplay and enter the 2013 Nicholl Fellowship competition."

Finally someone said yes. While I'd told him that if we worked together I wanted the process to begin with writing a short story (7 to 15 pages) before writing any screenplay pages and that that would save weeks of work. Rewriting pages of dialogue is not fun.

When he came back from lunch yesterday excited to show me a few screenplay pages he'd written I glanced at the first few scenes and remembered my first attempts at screenwriting. After having read about 14 books about screenwriting my words were written with enthusiasm. The protagonist made a bland appearance talking about something that was on TV.

I remembered classmates in USC's master of professional writing program who were upset when Irvin Kershner stopped them from writing screenplay pages and made them stop and think when they were as excited as racehorses wanting to run!

I started talking to my friend about storytelling. While we both write every day, the work we do is different from the purest storytelling. As I talked about what a story can be I realized I was echoing words I'd heard from mentors who had taught classes, students in those classes with hundreds of years of combined experience. My friend agreed to meet the next day at lunch and talk about the story.

I've heard the story we're writing about over the years. It was in the headines for a few months in the early 1980s. During our first meeting we talked about

• where the story should start (a topic which had come up many times in classes I'd taken). 
• who the antagonist is (not the easy answer, oh this was getting fun)! 
• controversial parts of the story that might have people talking by the water cooler after they had seen the movie. 

I mentioned that I had struggled for years to learn why audiences can watch the screen for nearly two hours and feel as if no time has passed. I shared some of the techniques that filmmakers use to do this (how to show the passage of time using images; planting and payoff and images and musical themes we could include in the story that will enchant the viewers.

My friend is a musician who composes music and I told him that learning how to write a screenplay is as complex and takes as much practice as learning to play an instrument and then learning how to write a symphony. Though I'd read those 14 books about screenwriting I didn't feel confident writing a screenplay until after taking classes and working with mentors, while struggling to create on my own. I remember telling one professor that writing a screenplay is like struggling with an attacking octopus.

We debated every part of a multitude of events and people who came together to create a story that made headlines for a few weeks in the early 1980s. While we're still not ready to begin writing the short story, we began to discover and agree on elements that make the story dramatic vs. melodromatic.

Today was the first time since Kersh helped me with my thesis that I've gone through this creative process. I'd been afraid that without him or a professor the octopus would return. But it was amazingly satisfying. And it's pretty fun to blog about too.