Themes and Messages

All stories have a theme. A message. And if you don’t decide on one yourself, your audience is going to decide on one for you and that could be terrifying.

Your movie’s theme is directly related to your character’s arc, or growth. Whatever your character becomes, that’s your theme.

Is your character a womanizer who learns the fun of monogamy? Your message is that monogamy is the answer to happiness.

Is your character a loner who learns to live in society? There’s your movie’s message is that humans are social creatures and we must learn to live among one another.

Is your main character a tough cop who learns he has to go outside the law to uphold it? Your movie’s message is about the dangers of limiting the second amendment.

So what growth is occurring in your main character? Is there any growth occurring in your main character? Did you even read the chapter on character arcs?

Keep in mind that the theme of your story is going to be a major selling point. Investors have the mistaken belief that if a film’s message is strong, it in some way means the film will be better. For examples of this not happening, google “highest grossing movies.” See Transformers? What about the 2nd one? And the 3rd? There’s a 4th? Case in point.

When coming up with a theme, remember that you’re not trying to reinvent the wheel. You’re not going to be teaching the audience anything they haven’t already been told in grade school. Be a good person. Don’t be greedy. Don’t push Johnny’s face into the mud.

Essentially, you’re going to want to take a look at the 10 commandments and decide which one you’d like to reteach. For examples of this see:

1. Thou shalt not commit adultery: An Indecent Proposal

2. Thou shalt not kill: Literally every movie with a bad guy who kills people

3. Thou shalt have no other gods:

4. Thou shalt not covet they neighbor’s slaves: 12 Years a Slave

5. Honor Thy Mother and Father:

Being aware that your story is not going to have some illuminating theme that will cause the reader to reevaluate their entire life should come as a relief. It is one less thing thing we have to create.

Stakes

What are stakes? Do they exist in our story? Are there enough of them?

Stakes are what is lost if our character fails. Maybe our main character owes a lot of money to a gangster. If he doesn’t pay him back he will be killed. His life is at stake.

So what should be at stake in your story? In order to ask that question we must ask an important question:

Can a story have too many stakes?

Of course not. No one has ever heard a story and said “it was good but there was too much on the line.” That has never been said.

And with that in mind, let’s re-ask the question: what should be at stake in our story?

As much as possible.

Consider the “double down” rule. Go into one of your stories, identify what is at stake and double it.

Example: The main character will lose his job if he doesn’t make a big sale.

Fixed: The main character will be murdered if he doesn’t make a sale.

Holy shit, now we’re cooking with gas.

But wait, your main character’s life is already at stake? Make his kid’s life at stake as well. He doesn’t have kids? Fuck it, there’s a skud missle heading for New York, now everyone’s are at stake.

The only thing you have to remember with stakes is to err on the side of caution. It is impossible to have a story with too much at stake so why risk having a story with too little at stake?

Your main character is a spy trying to stop a nuclear arms dealer from selling to North Korea? Fuck it, make the arms dealer an ambassador to an alien species who are going to blow up the entire galaxy.

You’re writing a silly comedy about a yard sale? Make me give a shit. Add more stakes.

Stakes are what make the reader intruiged and there’s no way to have too many of them. So where’s the confusion?

NEXT TIME: Emotional stakes and why your main character will become a shell of a man/woman if he fails. You’re writing a Disney movie? I don’t give a shit.

Common Mistakes: Writing a Fantasy

Having read thousands of amateur screenplays I have developed an encyclopedic directory of amateur mistakes. One of these mistakes is called “writing a fantasy.”

Many people use writing as an escape. We put down onto page our fantasies for a self starter to make into a movie and a rich relative to finance. However this can create problems since the people reading our scripts likely do not want to spend two hours reading a story that is simply your fantasy.

Consider going back through your screenplays and seeing if you have some of the following:

1. A quirky, beautiful woman courting a shy, quiet man who is really deep.

This is the writer living out his fantasy of sleeping with a supermodel and not having to put in any work. Consider masturbating before each writing session to avoid this problem.

2. The main character is a successful screenwriter.

It makes sense to write about what you know. For this reason, you should not write about a successful screenwriter. Consider making your main character a complete and utter failure. Do you own a dog? Maybe he should too.

3. A directionless guy who buckles down and changes for the woman he loves.

Lady screenwriter(s), this is for you. Every girl wants a guy who is witty and suave and caring and will bend over backwards for the woman he loves. But no one is going to believe this person exists. And if he does and the story doesn’t end with him conning the woman out of her inheritance or telling her he’s actually gay, your story is broken.

Remember that writing your fantasies down is a great therapeutic tool. Normal people do this in a diary or a journal and do not ask their friends to read them and give notes.

NEXT TIME: Asking friends to read your screenplay and other tools for removing unwanted friends from your life.

How to Win Writing Contests

Screenwriting contests typically have between 1000 and 6000 entries. Let’s take a moment to digest that.

Imagine a jar with 6000 jelly beans in it. Would you like to drop your single jelly bean into it?

If you said yes, you might have what it takes to be a professional screenwriter. Oh and that will be $50.

So how do we win these contests? Does it even matter what advice I give? After all, we can’t ALL win these contests.

Or can we?

The key to winning a screenwriting contest is to get into a position where you select the winner of the contest. The best way to do this is to start your own contest.

You’ll notice my credits are listed as “San Fernando Valley Screenwriter’s Award – Winner”

“South Dakota Screenwriter Union Festival – Award”

“KAWL Festival – Finalist”

Do those screenwriting contests actually exist? Of course they do. Otherwise it would be lying.

Did they receive many entrants?

That depends on your definition of “many.”

If you were alone on a desert island and another person suddenly washed ashore… you just doubled the population of that island. The number 2 certainly seems like a lot now.

Were both of those scripts mine? Does that matter?

People with normal jobs exaggerate on resumes all the time. Why should screenwriting be any different?

After all, we’ve discussed the subjectivity of writing so we understand that choosing a “winner” in a creative field is akin to throwing darts at a dart board. Is the dart closest to the middle the winner? Only if you think aiming for the middle is what you should be doing. When I play darts I like to aim for the wall behind the dart board. Does that make me worse at darts? Of course not. It simply means I have different goals than most dart players.

So do not dwell on ethical concerns when starting your own screenwriting competition.

But if you really want to make it fair, open it up to the public. Ask for submissions on Craigslist. Give the general public a chance. Maybe take all the names off the scripts so the winner is chosen fairly. And maybe charge $85 per entry to weed out the people who aren’t serious.

And remember, no one is going to believe you won 9 film contests in the same year so don’t go overboard. Listing your script as a semi finalist is still worthy of mention!

NEXT TIME: Consider using those leafs that Sundance uses to make the winner awards look fancy.

The Greats

What makes the greats great? This question is not specific to screenwriting but is true of any artistic endeavor. Why is Ernest Hemingway a better writer than the schizophrenic homeless man at the bus stop?

My answer to that is: who said he is?

What criteria do we use to judge skill?

Well Ernest Hemingway is more well known than the homeless man at the bus stop. But does that make him better? It makes his publicist better.

Well scholars would likely agree that Ernest Hemingway’s writing is better than the homeless man’s. But that doesn’t mean he’s better. That just means more people think he’s better.

And that’s the point. Ernest Hemingway’s work isn’t any better than anyone else’s. But his work is interpreted as better. And that means that our goal as a writer is not to write a great piece of writing, it is to write a piece of writing that others will interpret as great.

All that matters in writing is making sure it comes across as great to the reader. It doesn’t matter what you want to do as an author. It doesn’t matter what you intended or what you were hoping to accomplish.

All that matters is what comes across to the person reading your script. Your intentions and goals are pointless. The only way to write a great piece of writing is to create something that a majority of people believe is great.

It’s a numbers game. If you have a script that 5% of readers will think is the greatest thing ever created you’re going to get your ass kicked by a script that 75% of readers believe is pretty good.

As a writer, you having a batting average for getting a good read and your only goal is to increase that batting average.

And that’s the beauty of writing. It is completely subjective which means no one is any better than anyone else. How good someone is is simply how good people believe them to be.

So that homeless man might actually be 10x the writer that Ernest Hemingway is. And if that’s not comforting, I don’t know what is.

NEXT TIME: So who are these people reading your script that you need to impress? And, more importantly, who are their assistants?

The Inner Critic

The alternate title for this chapter is “Why You Hate Yourself.” Make no mistake. All writers hate their work and themselves. And if you achieve any degree of success more than them, they also hate you.

But where does this self loathing come from? Is it your parent’s fault? Of course. But who else is to blame?

The inner critic is the voice inside your head that reminds you your work is garbage. As you stare down at your outline, it lets you know that you will never succeed and be an embarrassment to everyone you know.

So the obvious question we must address is: How do we block out this startlingly accurate voice of reason?

After all, it is very difficult to pursue a creative field while constantly being reminded you are completely average.

First off, give your inner critic a name. It is important to personify this dissenting voice. Mine is named Jerry. Maybe yours is named Ricardo. Or Dad.

Once you’ve given your inner critic a name, it’s time to put it in it’s place.

Yell as loud as you can “Shut up _______”

Is the inner critic still there?

Apologize to the library staff and yell it again.

Your relationship with your inner critic should be a battle. And remember that the best defense is a good offense. Your inner critic is trying to destroy your self esteem. Destroy your inner critic’s self esteem first.

Draw a picture of your inner critic. Or find a picture of a random person through Google Images. That is now your inner critic.

Is your inner critic going bald? Tell him or her that.

As a learning tool, I’ve taken notes on my last conversation with my inner critic and turned it into screenplay form as we are screenwriters.

INT. COFFEE SHOP – DAY

Arnold stares down at his finished treatment, scanning the page for typos.

JERRY: It’s garbage. Absolutely garbage.

ARNOLD: Screw you Jerry.

JERRY: You’ll never be successful.

ARNOLD: You look like a ogre and no one will love you.

JERRY: Bold statement from you.

ARNOLD: What the hell is that supposed to– fuck off Jerry. Go smoke more meth with your hooker girlfriend.

JERRY: She doesn’t do that anymore.

ARNOLD: Tell that to the dozens of guys getting dick deep every week.

*Jerry silently sobs*

ARNOLD: Are you okay Jerry?

JERRY: Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine.

ARNOLD: Good, now stop crying and fuck off.

COFFEE BARISTA steps up to Arnold.

COFFEE BARISTA: Sir, you’re going to have to leave.

Perfectly handled. Any sense of discouragement has been channeled into violent aggression.

And the creative process can continue.

NEXT TIME: How to convert your screenplay into a novel so the rights can be sold and turned into a screenplay.

Tailoring Your Script

Submitting your script to festivals and competitions is a great way to get your foot in the door. And while most people who get their metaphorical foot in Hollywood end up having it smashed by the metaphorical door of Hollywood shortly thereafter, we cannot afford to let that discourage us. Remember, you cannot spell tenacity without breaking a few eggs. [note: Frank, I think this got messed up. You’re using one of each metaphor.]

So how do we get our script noticed out of the thousands of desperate, sad people submitting to these cash grabs? After all, if we aren’t chosen by the fellowship, how are we going to learn from succeed in the professional world from professional writers who were hired by their uncle’s?

The key to getting noticed to to tailor your script. Remember, every fellowship or contest is unique. Simply writing a script and sending it out to all of them is like throwing mud against the wall, hoping it sticks.

Instead, turn that mud into a high powered sniper rifle, capable of shooting holes in the wall.

And how do we do that?

Research the contests.

The Austin Film Festival for example. Where does that take place? Texas.

Now would your script’s chances be improved if the locations were made native to Texas? You bet they would.

And what about your character’s names? If you’re submitting to a contest in Boston, throw in a couple O’Mallies. Does the main character need to be named Hector? Why not Patrick? He’s Mexican? Why not Irish?

Is it an LGBT contest? Throw in a couple gays. Are we still talking Boston? Why not call them queers?

Now let’s take it to the master level: What is your name? Is it something boring like James?

Why not change it?

Diversity is all the rage in Hollywood right now. Maybe Rashid would serve you better.

And what about gender? Women seem to be underrepresented in Hollywood and that’s got all the broads upset. Why not change your name to Sally? That sounds like a woman.

If you win and have to collect your prize in person you can say you’re one of those transgentials or whatever the T in LGBT stands for.

Is this immoral?

Absolutely not.

If judges want to give a prize to a woman instead of a boring white male, then it is your responsibility to give yourself and your script the best shot it has. After all, it’s not your fault women can’t seem to get their act together and write a decent script.

Tailoring your script to the specific place it is being submitted is an easy way to better your chances at receiving that brief glimmer of hope in the most competitive industry in the world before being crushed by years of rejection.

Sluglines

A slugline indicates where your scene is taking place. Here are a couple examples:

INT. KITCHEN – DAY

EXT. PLAYGROUND – NIGHT

INT. / EXT. D-E2 INTERSPECIAL TRANSIT CENTER – FADING DUSK

There are three parts to a slugline.

The first, as we can see, is the INT or EXT. These are not acronyms, they are abbreviations.

INT stands for Interior. EXT stands for exterior.

If your scene is taking place inside, you put INT.

If it’s taking place outside, you put EXT. I believe the Spiderman movies used this quite a bit.

You can put INT. / EXT. if it is moves from inside to outside or exists in both at the same time. An example of this might be a moving automobile. Or, as seen above, an interspecial transit center in your science fiction script. It is also a good way to demonstrate that you know how to use this and are therefore not some amateur writer.

The middle part of the slugline tells where exactly your scene is taking place. And it brings us to an important note for sluglines.

Studies have shown that people will not read your sluglines.

Readers have been questioned and, quite often, they read over the sluglines without committing to memory where the scene is taking place. This is important because the main goal of a slugline is therefore to let the reader know the scene has changed.

And while they probably aren’t going to remember where it has changed to, or where it has changed from, it is important to tell them nonetheless.

For this reason, try to make your sluglines as long as possible. The longer they are, the more bolded letters there are, the more likely the reader will notice the scene has changed.

Some examples include: INT. MIDDLE AMERICAN RUSTIC KITCHEN – DAY

That could be shortened to simply “Kitchen” but that isn’t long enough.

Let’s elevate this to the master level:

When writing a slugline, try to use the letters that take up the most space. The ones that appear the densist.

Ideally, our slugline would simply be a series of capital I’s and hastag signs. It’s going to be pretty difficult for the reader to not realize the scene has changed when they see this on the page:

I#I#I###I#I#I#I#II#I##I#IIII#I#I#I#I#II#I#I#II#I#I#I#III###IIIIII#I#I#I#I#I#II#I#I

However, try to find words that English speaking readers will understand.

BACKYARD is a great one. Notice how thick all those capital letters are. How close together they are.

This is screenwriting for the 21st century. Remember, you’re writing a script for a reader who isn’t going to read it.

DINNING ROOM is another great one. Take a moment to really appreciate how dense those capital I’s and N’s are. How voluptuous those juicy O’s are nestled between the R and M. Don’t tell anyone but I’ve got a bit of a chubby.

NEXT TIME: [Insert next time topic here]. Hey Frank, I’ve still got to come up with a next time topic to put here. Any ideas? Any we should probably get rid of that last sentence, it might come across as unprofessional. Give me a call at home.

The Inadequacies of the Script

A script’s job is to convey a movie. It does this using words which the reader reads and creates a movie. And how does a script convey a movie?

A script cannot convey a movie. It is impossible. Let’s do some math.

A script has roughly 175 words on each page. The average movie is about 100 pages. This means that the average script is roughly 17,500 words.

And how many words does it take to create a movie? Well if a picture is worth a thousand words and there are 24 frames per second…

Your typical two hour movie requires 172,800,000 words. That comes out to about 987,428 pages of script.

And despite being a proponent of the million page script, it is simply not realistic in today’s marketplace.

So what do we do?

The first step is coming to terms with the fact that your script is not sufficient to show the movie to the reader. It doesn’t matter how good you are with words, you don’t have enough of them.

So what is our script going to be if it’s not the movie we’re creating?

It’s going to be a rough outline of the movie. It’s not an oil painting, it’s a sketch.

Which is great because sketching is easier than oil painting and it doesn’t take as long.

If a movie is an oil painting of a beautiful naked woman, a script is a sketch of an androgynous human looking creature with a note attached that says “trust me, it’ll look like a woman when we paint it.”

A script is the guy at the end of the bar with all the answers. Good in theory but falling apart in the cross examination.

A script is buying a house with a pool. If you can convince a naive couple how much fun they’ll have throwing parties, you can see them the house and let them deal with cleaning dead squirrels out of the filter.

A script is avocado on a BLT. “That sounds good, honey. Let’s try it.” “What the fuck this tastes like shit.”

A script is a timeshare in Myrtle Beach.

A script is dating a nurse because the ones in the Halloween costumes look hot.

A script is growing a goatee because Hugh Jackman looked good with one on the cover of a magazine.

A script is an invitation to the beach without taking into account finding parking.

A script is setting up a home theater system for your dad without taking into consideration the fact that he won’t remember which remote does what.

The script you write cannot convey the movie you want to write. Accepting this is the first step towards creating a document that another individual will read and think: this isn’t half bad.

NEXT TIME: Just as your script will not live up to the movie in your head, your career will not live up to the dreams in your head. Also, love is a combination of chemicals in the brain and there’s probably no afterlife. Welcome to the real world.

What is a Script?

Scripts: Why do we use them? What is their history?

The history of scripts dates back to just after the dawn of man itself. Before scripts were used, stage plays were organized purely by the use of storyboards, seen here:

Once written language was invented, however, mankind needed a more sophisticated way to organize the visual storytelling. And with that, the script was born.

Before cameras, screenplays were used for stage plays, sometimes called plays. A number of playwrights became famous for these, from Shakespeare to others who I’m sure existed.

And once the camera started being used to document these stories, it was natural that the technique for organizing them would come as well. The birth of the screenplay.

Early movies were silent and as such their early screenplays were not nearly as sophisticated as the ones we have today:

EXT. CITY STREET – DAY

RASCAL THE KID, 9, shimmies down the street when he sees a dirty irishman:

TITLE CARD READS: Lookie there, it’s a regular carrot top bog-jumper. Let’s give him the what-for

Rascal and OTHERS surround the mick and push him down, giving him the what-for.

Rascal trots off, job well done.

The use of title cards was clunky and slowed down the story and blatant racism was passed off as a feature of the times. When movies started using sounds, dialogue was brought into the screenplay and we can see a more sophisticated, progressive exerpt here:

EXT. CITY STREET – DAY

JIMMY THE KID, 9, shimmies down the street when he sees a dirty Italian.

JIMMY: Lookie there, it’s a regular guinea greaseball. Let’s give him the what-for.

Jimmy and OTHERS surround the mick and push him down, giving him the what-for.

Jimmy trots off, job well done.

And so the screenplay has existed, continuing into the present where it is used in the making of virtually every film. From low key, dialogue heavy indie bore-fests, to blockbuster action/adventures, a screenplay is always present, summing up the what we see on screen in a couple sentences.