If you are going to go to battle for a particular issue, make sure that you can back it up with a more substantive argument than “just because.”
In my Scottish time travel, The Spellbox, there is a magnificent deerhound named Citi. One of my trademarks, in fact, is to always write dogs into my various plots and assign them names of actual dogs I have known and loved. Furthermore, nothing terrible ever happens to any of the beasts in my books or scripts, a welcome change, I think, from authors who introduce gratuitous violence against animals, children, and women just to get a rise out of the audience.
When I went into negotiations with the film’s producers, I made I clear that not only was the dog to be spared any harm during potential rewrites but that they couldn’t change her name, either. To my delight, I learned that both partners were dog lovers just like myself. “In other words,” they said, “all the humans in this are expendable, but the dog—“
“Right,” I replied. “The dog stays in the picture.”
I like to think that, somewhere over the Rainbow Bridge, the real Citi is wagging her tail at having her own clause in a film contract.
SOMETHING TO BE LEARNED
Some of the best screenwriting training you can get is of the hands-on variety. When someone asks you to do rewrites, think of it as a living classroom in which to hone your craft. It’s also a stellar chance to demonstrate how cooperative and flexible you are, a bonus when it comes to future script submissions and/or assignments on collaborative projects with other professionals.
Between the structured direction (i.e., “Shorten Lucy’s speech at the top of page 19”) and the collective brainstorming (i.e., “Here are some location ideas we’ve been tossing around for the kidnapping scene”), you’ll be picking up invaluable tips on how to look at your script through a different set of eyes.
And remember this: whatever characters, lines, jokes, or nuances end up on the cutting room floor can always be swept up and resurrected to fit your next script.
THE CARE AND FEEDING OF CRITIQUE GROUPS
Are there fellow screenwriters in your community who get together on a regular basis to share their work? If there are, find out how to join them. If there aren’t, there’s no reason you couldn’t start a group yourself. Getting together with like-minded individuals not only keeps you encouraged and on track with deadlines, but provides a built-in cast to read each other’s scenes out loud.
Depending on the work habits and availability of your peers, your meetings will probably be scheduled once a month or once every two months. It’s also important that you keep the size of your critique group fairly small to allow equal participation in readings and discussions. When I mentored a women’s writing group in Northern California, the membership was limited to six, rotating at each writer’s house for either a potluck, a weekend breakfast, or an evening of wine and cheese, while we read each other’s new works.
The only cautionary note you may want to take heed of is not to let everyone else in the group rewrite your script to the point you no longer recognize it. Because they are writers themselves, there will be a natural tendency for them — and you — to want to rip out the seams, break out the dye, shorten the hem, embroider the sleeves, add a ruffle, and replace all the buttons on a creation that the author believed looked pretty nice to begin with. Accept any criticism with a grain of salt, incorporating those that you feel comfortable with and ignoring those that aren’t a good fit.
Most of all, be supportive of each other… and have fun!
CHAMPAGNE TASTES AND HAMBURGER BUDGETS
Sometimes the only thing standing between your script and a sale is a price tag. My work as a coverage consultant can attest to the disconnect that exists between having something creative to say and believing that a gazillionaire’s budget is the only way to achieve it. While technological wizardry has enabled Hollywood to craft mystical creatures and entire realms from cyber scratch (Al Pacino’s film, Simone, even extends this cinemagic to the creation of a human “star”), a lot of script readers won’t commit themselves past the first page if a novice has peppered it with gratuitous “grandness” and expenses that exceed what’s on the projected ledger.
One of my clients, for instance, was penning a Western epic that included a scene in which 80 Indian braves are seated outside a cluster of teepees as their squaws cook a bunch of elk over campfires. The scene, which lasted only 20 seconds, contained three lines of dialogue, one of which was a throwaway comment about when dinner would be ready.
“Why do you need 80 braves in non-speaking parts?” I queried.
“I thought they’d make a nice backdrop,” he said.
Suffice it to say, a producer with a modest budget won’t be enamored with paying scale to 80 actors plus procuring costumes, makeup, wigs, teepees, and a couple hefty elk just to be nice window-dressing, especially when those three lines could be dropped completely for not advancing the plot or being conveyed in a tight shot against a backdrop of trees.
The fact that none of these 80 Indians would ever be seen again in the storyline, nor recycled to play other parts, was an additional liability. The script was further hindered by death-defying canoe rides down the rapids, a stampede of wild horses, and the recreation of historic towns which long ago fell by the American wayside.
If “location, location, location” is the buzzword of real estate, “budget, budget, budget” is what governs moviemaking.
Back when I ran a touring theater company, there was only one rule regarding the amount of furniture and props written into a show: If It Doesn’t Fit in the Car, It’s Not Going. It was this sense of economy that most influenced what I carried over into my workshops for aspiring scriptwriters, reinforcing the philosophy that if no one is going to mention why there’s a moosehead above the mantle, maybe that moosehead really doesn’t need to be there. A good story, first and foremost, needs to succeed on the strength of its plot and characters, not the weightiness of its production budget.
While everyone hungers to write a cast-of-thousands epic with a wealth of complex sets and technical glitz, the reality is that the lower the author can keep a script’s costs, the higher the chances of a sale.
What kind of red flags does your own movie idea contain?
The following quiz can help you identify them before you ever start shopping your script to a producer.
My film is (A) Contemporary; (B) Contemporary with historical flashbacks; or (C) Historical or Futuristic.
My film has (A) 0-10 special effects; (B) 11-30 special effects; or (C) over 30 special effects.
My film has (A) less than 10 actors; (B) 11-50 actors; or (C) over 50 actors.
My film has (A) no animals in it; (B) animals that are strictly for atmosphere (i.e., grazing cows, sleeping cats, etc.) or (C) animals that have a defined role or do special tricks.
My film has (A) 0-10 interior scenes; (B) 11-30 interior scenes; or (C) over 30 interior scenes. (Note: If you have three scenes that take place in the same location (for instance, a kitchen), count it as only one interior no matter how many times it is used.)
My film has (A) 0-10 exterior scenes; (B) 11-30 exterior scenes; or (C) over 30 exterior scenes. (Note: If you have three scenes that take place in the same location (such as a park), count it as only 1 exterior. If, however, you have a scene in a park, a scene at a beach, and a scene at an outdoor café, that would be 3 exteriors.)
My film has (A) fewer than 10 night scenes; (B) 11-20 night scenes; or (C) over 20 night scenes. (Note: Night scenes are those which take place outdoors and in the dark, not just evening scenes which are all shot inside a house.)
My film has (A) no car scenes or simply street scenes where cars are part of the background; (B) scenes in which my characters are traveling by car; or (C) car chases, crashes, or explosions.
My film primarily takes place (A) on a soundstage; (B) in an existing house or public structure; or (C) in a specially constructed set (i.e., a ‘Medieval’ castle built from sc
ratch for the production).
My film would be most successful with (A) a cast of unknowns; (B) one name star; (C) three or more name stars.
Physical stunts in my film are (A) non-existent; (B) computer-generated; or (C) performed by stunt people.
For scenes outside a soundstage, the majority of my film takes place (A) in a small town; (B) in a major American city; or (c) in a foreign country.
To score: For each (A) answer, give yourself 1 point. For each (B) answer, give yourself 5 points. For each (C) answer, give yourself 10 points.
Before we take a look at what your total score means, here are some points to keep in mind that impact the overall cost of a screenplay.
Contemporary plots are usually less costly than period pieces. Can the story you want to tell be told in a modern context or are the historical benchmarks central to your characters’ viewpoints and actions? For futuristic tableaus, how do you intend to craft ahead-of-the-times architecture, vehicles, planets, etc.?
Fires, floods, earthquakes, volcanoes, explosions — while many disasters can now be computer-generated, those that can’t are going to cost money and plenty of it.
Do you really need those swarming crowds? Even though they’re paid scale for just taking up space, they’re still an expense. (And probably whatever they’ve got hanging at home in their closets won’t match your creative vision.)
Anything with animals — especially trained ones — could be a big-ticket item. Not to mention the presence of the SPCA on the set to ensure humane treatment and safety for anything that swims, flies, or moves on four feet.
Exterior scenes leave the crew at the mercy of time, season, and weather, as opposed to interior shots which will look exactly the same whether it’s 3 a.m. in the dead of winter or 7:30 on a summer night.
Night scenes are more expensive to film than scenes in daylight.
Are your car chases/crashes necessary or just gratuitous? Vehicular mayhem can put a sizable dent in the budget.
Going on location is pricier than shooting on a soundstage, especially the travel factor. It may be cheaper to shoot in a foreign country, but in exchange for their cooperation and city hospitality, you’ll probably be expected to stay in their hotels, frequent their restaurants, and — oh yes — fill out the cast and crew with star-struck locals.
Specifying that “Brad Pitt has to be in this movie or it simply won’t work” probably isn’t a compelling pitch.
Every time the equipment gets moved, the cash register dings. Try to minimize your locations so multiple scenes can be shot in one place. It’s also prudent to take into account the expense of a scene versus the amount of time it’s actually seen on camera, i.e., remember those 80 Indians?
How did your answers tally up?
If your score is less than 40, you probably have a story that falls into the “low” budget range and would be appealing to a small or independent producer.
If your score is between 40 and 80, you have hit the mid-ranges. This range gives you a lot of latitude since you can adjust up or down, depending on whom you approach with your pitch.
If your score is between 80 and 120, your vision may be too “big budget” for someone to take a risk on. The good news? It’s within your power to bring the higher numbers down by examining your (C) answers and determining where appropriate compromises can be made without compromising the story.
CHAPTER 12: MAKING THE MOST OF
PROFESSIONAL CONSULTATION
One of the terms you’ll often encounter on the path to being a screenwriter is “script coverage.” Script coverage actually refers to two different levels of critique. The first type is done by studio readers whose job is to give each project either a pass (thumbs down) or a recommend (thumbs up). What they are looking for — and subsequently summarizing in one page or less — are projects that are not only professionally packaged but are in keeping with the studio’s corporate vision, budget, and wish list.
You, as the writer, won’t be privy to what appears in a studio critique unless you have someone inside the system who can find out for you. Therefore, should your submission receive a polite “No, thanks,” you’ll have no clue whether they thought your premise of flesh-eating hamsters from Saturn was a singularly stupid idea or if it had too many similarities to a flick on flesh-eating woodchucks from Akron they had already optioned three months earlier.
While rejection without explanation is one of the more frustrating realities of this business, the sheer volume of material received and the shortage of personnel to process all of it makes it impossible to counsel individual writers on why their work didn’t click.
The second type of coverage is a paid critique that screenwriters do see. Unlike the pass/recommend format, this type is designed to address the strengths and weaknesses of a project in the context of a teaching tool for the writer to improve his/her craft. Coverage consultants (who may or may not be affiliated with a studio or agency) are either generalists or specialize in specific genres (i.e., romantic comedies) or aspects of screenwriting (i.e., character development).
The fees charged for coverage services vary in accordance with expertise, level of detail and recommendation provided, and whether the client wants to engage in an ongoing mentor relationship. While script consultants are fairly easy to find on the Internet and in the classified sections of screen trade magazines, finding one who is committed to giving you honest and practical advice is a little harder. Just as there are unscrupulous therapists who prolong the recovery of patients who represent a long-term meal-ticket, there are also all manner of “script doctors” whose method of cure has more to do with reducing your bank account than maximizing your talent.
Certainly one of the best ways to find professional assistance is through word of mouth. If you know of fellow screenwriters who have engaged the services of a script consultant and were pleased with the feedback they received, find out whether you can be referred to them. Screenwriter chat rooms are also a good place to post your query and garner a wide variety of suggestions… including which ones to stay away from.
If you haven’t already bookmarked the following Web sites, you’ll find them to be a good source of consultants who are not only accomplished writers themselves but who additionally have worked as agents, entertainment lawyers, directors, and producers.
American Screenwriters Association
www.asascreenwriters.com
InkTip
www.inktip.com
Writers Guild of America
www.wga.org
MovieBytes
www.moviebytes.com/directory.cfm
(Note: This directory lists contests that are sponsored by script consultants, as well as studio competitions that provide feedback to each entrant.)
Did you hear a good speaker at your last screenwriters’ conference? There is a strong network of writing professionals who are always more than happy to make referrals to colleagues and/or recommend courses in which one-on-one feedback is a major component. If you subscribe to trade magazines such as Screentalk, MovieMaker Magazine and Scr(i)pt, you may want to extend your sleuthing to the bios of contributing authors and editors, many of whom do independent consulting and referrals.
What can you expect to get back in terms of professional advice? Again, this is contingent on the background of the consultants and the value of their time. For my own clients, I provide five to eight single spaced pages of analysis covering the following topic areas: originality, character development, dialogue, pacing, structure, budget, and marketability. In addition — and dependent on a submission’s degree of polish — I recommend upcoming competitions, Web sites, and independent studios that I feel would make a good match.
While this type of consultation works well for many writers in identifying what kind of first-aid their scripts need, others will seek out someone who can do a line-by-line analysis of the full text and, if necessary, participate in an actual rewrite. For those who are just starting out, consultants who
can provide mini-critiques of the first 10-20 pages, plus a synopsis, are all they really need to let them know if they’re on the right track.
Could It Be a Movie Page 15