It's not (just) about the story

It's Sunday, weekend errands are finished and I just took a phone call (a friend is excited that she will be helping cater Nicki Minaj's party after the BET Awards tonight). 

It's been a long time since I've blogged, but I have been working on a new screenplay. It's been fun to begin the process again with my colleague Alan* as he knows more about crafting a screenplay now than I did when I finished my writing program at USC. As we began to cowrite the screenplay last year I shared what I'd learned over several years from professions with hundreds of combined years of experience. I've captured many of the same theories/ideas/counsel here.

Since my last blog post, Alan and I edited the screenplay we wrote last year. I remember not wanting him to feel so frustrated about screenwriting that he would give up, so we submitted the first draft to the Nicholl Fellowships competition, even if it wasn't as polished as it could be. Earlier this year it was fun rewriting scenes, fixing problems and tightening up dialogue. We resubmitted it to the 2014 competition, with results to be announced in August. 

One of the most important things to do to make it into the industry is to create material that can be sold. Most writers who accept professional positions are not able to do this. In fact, if I remember correctly Frank Wuliger mentioned in class that he hadn't met anyone, even talented writers, working full-time professional positions who had entered the industry.

I received an A- on the mid-term and an A and "Well thought through" on his Business of Screenwriting final in the USC School of Cinematic Arts. The assignment was for each student to create an outline of their path into the industry. 

I continue to follow that outline. So, though we didn't make it into the quarter finals last year, we've continued to write.

I had an idea for an animated story and Alan was interested in being the second/supporting co-writer, but we've decided to follow advice from Frank Wuliger, Mark Ross, and others — choose one genre. We've been meeting at lunch or during breaks at work, and eventually spent weeks talking about a story inspired by real events. 

We talked about why we were interested this story. Why should we tell it now. Why would someone in the midwest United States be interested? Russia? China? Why would families want to invest the time and entertainment budget to go to this movie?

We talked about the characters. We pared them down. Nothing was rushed, everything planned carefully. Some ideas became strong while others faded. We were determined that the story should be strong enough to create controversy.

Finally, we talked about creating enough tension. If we couldn't, then we'd have to say, "next idea!"

We reviewed lessons learned from Irvin Kershner (Kersh) and notes and final test from Advanced Screenplay Analysis class (USC School of Cinematic Arts).

Finally, this past week we began transferring ideas onto 3 x 5 cards. We followed Kersh's advice to write two words, MAYBE three, on each card. He had become so frustrated with me writing too many tiny details on cards. He finally told me to get the biggest, boldest marker I could find to write on the 3 x 5 cards so it would be impossible for me to write too many details on them.

Alan found about seven 3 x 5 cards in his office, and I had a few cards that I'd tossed into the recycle bin earlier in the day, and so after weeks of preparation, we began sketching out the story. Alan had wanted everyone to change and for all problems to be resolved and for the characters to be happy; we talked about the characters again.

I told him that true, lasting change in any human being is so rare, the magic of sitting in a theater, the magic of experiencing a well-told story is that miraculously, the protagonist changes (polarity).

My greatest wish is that I could sit with Kersh in his study and tell him about this experience. It's something he never thought I would completely understand. "You're TOO NICE!" he would roar after reading my latest work. He thought I'd never learn that the audience has to cry for our characters, their hearts must break, the screenwriter can't let them off easily. Then, they must be tested.

Screenwriting is the most challenging type of writing I've ever attempted. We used sound, and begin to plant things in the story that will be paid off, we followed structure with the intent that it would not be obvious. 

We had both felt disconnected to the story at first but we both agree that amazing, creative things are happening. 

The next time we met I sat back and asked Alan to tell the story (we're about halfway into the first act). 

In our small, glass-walled writers room I sat back and Alan told the story we've developed so far. Then I said OK, I love it. I'm not changing anything we've written. Now relax, sit back and listen — I want to talk about what we've written. I'm not going to change the story and I'm going to follow the story cards.

I talked about the opening scene and why where we began is powerful. I said that it's told with great simplicity but that it flips back and forth so nothing is what it seems and that the audience will enjoy figuring out important details without having the characters tell them. In each scene every character wants something. They may not say a word. What will they do to get it? Now that's interesting.

I described protagonist; his flaw. What he thinks he wants and what he really needs. I talked about the younger character and why it's important that he doesn't change; yet he becomes powerful enough in the protagonist's life that the protagonist changes. I talked about one of the adult figures in the story. She is strong and futuristic (or is she crazy and manipulative)?

I've enjoy watching David Edelstein critique movies on the Sunday Morning show. He's also  a film critic for New York magazine. Mr. Edelstein looks into the souls of the characters in the films he discusses; he feels what they're feeling. 

Even after finishing my writing program I kept going back to USC to take courses. I wanted to know how to make the audience suspend disbelief. I wanted to know why sometimes I sat in a movie theater and 10 minutes felt like 10 hours while other times two-and-a-half hours felt like 10 minutes. I dared hope that I could someday write a screenplay that would make others become lost in the story.

With our new screenplay the story is fascinating. The characters are strong; the protagonist is flawed, and changes. The young child is brave but does not change; the adult character may be a manipulator, unless she comes through with her promises. There aren't so many storylines that it becomes frustrating; it is fulfilling to see how they come together.

If I were able to talk to Kersh I would tell him I finally undersatnd. It's not (just) about the story, or mastering the elements of filmmaking. 

It's not about making charactesr act like puppets. Life isn't always nice and neat; rarely does anyone change. It is extremely challenging for a storyteller to capture the moments where the need to change is revealed to them, and the heartbreaking attempts are made followed by change and the final testing.

It's about a story well-told, that reveals the characters' souls.

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.