A lesson shared by a master storyteller

From screenwriting to finance and Instant Pot groups, the number of Facebook groups I follow has grown.

I usually do a quick check of various groups to see what has been posted recently, scrolling past any drama.

A couple of weeks ago I responded to a question from a member of a screenwriting group who had asked for help with dialogue. Writing dialogue was one of the top skills I wrestled with while taking courses at USC in the College of Letters, Arts & Sciences and in the School of Cinematic Arts.

Every moment I spent on the USC campus was so amazing I think I skipped class just once or twice during the six years I attended USC while working full-time and one of those was when I was on a work trip to Africa.

After class at USC I always traveled back to the Inland Empire with at least one amazing gem learned during whatever class I was taking at the time. I took classes from several USC professors more than once, and as I look back I can think of many top things I learned from each of them that they shared only once. That's why I came to class early and often stayed in the classroom during breaks to hear questions students asked the professor during breaks.

An insight that changed how I write came from my friend and mentor, director Irving Kershner. When I shared my struggles writing dialogue with him, he said, "In every scene every character wants something. They may not say a word. What do they do to get it? Now that is interesting."

I posted this quote of Facebook in the responses to the question about how to write dialogue and the thread took off.

As I continue working on a book that I plan to adapt into a screenplay, Kersh's advice is shaping the story. What happens as storytellers follow each character is driven by what the characters want and need, and ultimately what they do; if their words are the most interesting part of the story, the story is not very interesting.

I asked Kersh once why he didn't write a book about storytelling or writing and he said he was much too active to write a book. I learned so much from him and I miss him often as I write.

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.