Day 25: Roadmap into the industry (Controversial topics; opportunities for great storytelling)

Entering a writing program at a well-known university after having attended a small Christian liberal arts college was intimidating. The director of the Master of Professional Writing (MPW) program at the time was Dr. James Ragan. Dr. Ragan was well-read, and I never stopped by his office to chat as many of the students in the program did; I was afraid I'd say the wrong thing.

Then one day during a lecture he told a story about an incident that had happened shortly after he moved to Los Angeles. One night, following a performance of one of his plays he was approached by a small group of people. One of them stated, "We want to buy your property." Dr. Ragan said that his first thought was, "I don't want to sell my house, I just moved in." But what they really wanted to acquire were the rights to his play. After Dr. Ragan shared that story, he seemed less intimidating to me.


Dr. Ragan taught a course that was so popular that as soon as a new semester began, there would be a waiting list for his class for the next time it would be taught.

A couple of years ago Marilyn Thomsen, vice president of La Sierra University, invited Dr. Ragan to speak to communications students at her college; he had chaired the MPW program when she was in the program. She invited me to the presentation, and that evening he shared a few of the gems that had made his class so popular.


After Dr. Ragan read his poetry he told the audience to be unafraid; he said even early in their careers, they should never turn an offer down. They should try new challenges even before they thought they were ready.

During the Q&A, Marilyn asked Dr. Ragan to discuss a theory about how to approach telling a story that he'd presented the semester she took his class at USC. It truly isbrilliant.

Dr. Ragan said that some of the most interesting and award-winning movies focus on a controversial topic. As the story evolves the various characters reveal their views and thoughts about the topic.

As examples he used the movies Juno (the story of a pregnant teen and the choices she makes) and As Good As it Gets (a single mother's friendship with an artist who is gay). There are disagreements as the characters voice their opinions; there may be heated conversations, disagreements; characters may be pressured to change their actions or viewpoints.

It's fascinating for the audience to predict what the outcome will be. And outside of the theater heated conversations about the story, the characters, and the controversial topic will take place in talk shows and around water coolers for weeks. That's drama!

Brilliant.

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.