by Blake Snyder
The Board with its first 15 cards, representing each of the 15 beats.
The Board with additional cards for Set-Up (at Home, Work & Play) and Debate (Home & Work) in Row 1, alternate B Story and Fun & Games cards in Row 2, alternate External and Internal scenes in Fun and Games in Row 3, and five cards for the five “Points” in the Five-Point Finale in Row 4. It's easy to add cards to your original 15!
Moving on to the second row, which represents the first half of Act Two from the Break into Two to Midpoint, we only have three cards appearing from the BS2: B Story, Fun and Games, and Midpoint. How can we get 10 cards from these? Well, again, you're farther along than you think.
What we're looking for in this row is a combination of B Story and Fun and Games as we move toward Midpoint. The B Story, which starts here, details how the hero meets the love interest, mentors, and sidekicks he'll need to “learn his lesson.” How the hero is adapting to this new, weird world is the Fun and Games. By pushing the hero forward and “shuffling” B Story and Fun and Games “set pieces” — B Story-Set Piece-B Story Set Piece — 10 cards are easy. This is seen in The Matrix when Neo (Keanu Reeves) crosses into the “hidden world” and meets a series of B Story mentors, and learns his new skills in Fun and Games that take him from cubicle-dwelling Joe to possibly “The One” by the Midpoint — all by shuffling B Story and set-pieces.
Row #3, which represents the second half of Act Two, may seem similarly daunting but is just as easy to fill in. Having a problem with Bad Guys Close In? Can't think of enough scenes to complete that part of your story? Think External and Internal. “Externally,” how is the actual “bad guy” putting pressure on your hero(e)s, and circling closer? What's the other half of that equation? Think “Internally.” How is the hero's “team” reacting to this pressure, and falling apart? Alternate these two sets of scenes by thinking E and I and you'll have more than enough. By the time you hit All Is Lost, Dark Night of the Soul, and Break into Three, you'll easily get 10 cards.
And as for what happens in Row #4 and Finale, I will have more to say on that subject, but here again, 10 cards is easy! It's just a matter of finding the five essential beats that make up the “Final Exam” the hero must undergo to prove he's learned the lesson, and can apply it himself.
What's great about this method is there is always a way to check your progress. We start with an idea, break it out to a logline, break that out to 15 beats, and then 40.
And if you want to try this at home, we've created a virtual Board in our best-selling Save the Cat! story structure software that is available on my website.
I love it! But even if you use an actual corkboard, push pins, and index cards, that still gets me excited. For whether you use the old-fashioned type, or our electronic version, being a “Master of the Board” never fails to create the most important result:
A story that resonates.
MORE COOL STUFF
Whenever I get in front of a group of writers, I am forever worried about overloading them with information. I have this download of e-z-2-use tools I want to transfer from my brain to yours. It's only because I love my job, and love writers, that I want to push you right to that edge without going over the line. But there are times when I can see it in your eyes:
“I'm smiling, Blake, but in my brain… it's Chernobyl!”
This is why we now break the workshop into two separate units with the first weekend working out the 15 Beats and the “graduate” class, or “Board Class,” dealing with the 40 cards of The Board. But that was not always the case; in the early days of these workshops, we tried to do it all from idea to 15 beats to 40 scene cards in one weekend! I worry sometimes that I'll get a call from the relatives of one of those participants to ask what their family member means by “All Is Lost” — the words they keep mumbling from their bed in the facility where they've been held since my class.
Oh well! Trial and error.
“And we're walking, we're walking…”
In addition to working out what happens in each of the 40 cards, in the Board Class we also get into both “emotional shift” (denoted by the +/- symbol on each scene card) and “conflict” (denoted by the >
In terms of the emotional shift (+/-), since every scene is a mini-story, each scene tracks change. Characters walk into a scene feeling one way and walk out feeling another. And while it may be too precise to show exactly what emotions those are in the planning stage, we can easily tag every scene as either positive or negative. And I encourage you to do just that. Often it's enough to say each scene is either a “+” or a “-” as it relates to Theme.
In the cataclysmic sci-fi epic Deep Impact, for instance, the Theme Stated question is: Will we survive the humongous comet streaking toward Earth? Each scene of the movie, believe it or not, alternates with “+” Yes we will or “-” No we won't. Yes. No. Yes. No. That's the thematic structure and the up and down of the emotional ride of that movie. My own Blank Check is like this, too. The Theme Stated of our family comedy about a boy who gets a million dollars is: “He who has the gold makes the rules!” Is it true? Well, scene by scene it fluctuates “+” Yes, it's true, money is fun! followed by “-” No, it's not, money isn't everything. Yes. No. Yes. No. All the way to the end.
Conflict (>) offers more challenge, especially when you're having a hard time finding it in your scenes. How many scenes have conflict in a 110-page screenplay? That's right. Every. Single. One. And yet finding that conflict in all scenes isn't easy. During an early class, the wonderful writer/actress Dorie Barton was working out cards for her L.A. thriller, Migraine, and we had a scene wherein the protag, a waitress hampered by severe headaches, explains to her boss what a “migraine” is. It's pure exposition, and the scene just lay there. Why? No conflict! Well, to fix that, we shoved some conflict in. We created a customer who, while the hero goes on explaining her condition, keeps banging on the counter. “Miss! More coffee over here! Miss! MISS!” The forced conflict of that scene makes it play better — and reinforces the pained look on the hero's face as her migraine builds.
“Forced conflict” like this appears in lots of movies. My favorite example is in the Tom Cruise racecar epic, Days of Thunder. It's a simple scene: NASCAR driver Tom phones doctor Nicole Kidman, whom he just met, to ask her out on a date. Very dull. Aside from the conflict of “Will Nicole say yes?” what other conflict is there? So the writers have placed this scene in the break room at Tom's workplace, where Tom's co-workers get their coffee. Since everyone is curious about Tom, they keep busting in for another cup of java — and embarrassed Tom keeps pushing them out, wanting privacy. The scene now demands attention. Forced conflict can feel phony — Tom could make the call from the pay phone across the street, right? — but we get better at it with practice. Because we must put conflict into ALL our scenes!
Dorie Barton at the Board in one of our first classes (taken with one of the first cell phone cameras).
And there is no better way to vet this, or test if your scene has conflict, than putting it up on The Board.
“DEATH” AND THE PLEDGE COMMERCIAL
Some writers are surprised to learn how many ways the beats of the BS2 can offer insight into storytelling. In fact, it can be used for any story, no matter what length or type. And yet here's a shocker for many of you:
The 15 beats can also be used to write a scene!
Did I just blow your mind?
I hope so.
To repeat, a scene is like a mini-story. Like a whole movie, it has emotional shift and conflict. It also has a Midpoint, Breaks into Act Two and Act Three, and a definite All Is Lost. It's amazing… but true. I also hold to the idea that pinpointing the All Is Lost is the key to getting your bearings. If you can't identify the beats of the scene you are writing, or watching, identifying the “death moment” about three quarters of the way in is a good place to look.
We begin every scene, like every movie, with a hero who has an expectation. He also has an obstacle: a person, a pr
oblem, a question that needs answering. And at any given point in that scene, there is a “death.” In class, I dissect the scene in Godfather 2 where Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) meets with his wife, Kay (Diane Keaton). He's just outwitted Senate investigators and wants to tell her his next move and his plans for their future together, expecting her and their children to snap to…. Well, think again, Al! After the Set-Up — Al in charge — and the Break into Two — laying out his plans — Al is surprised when Diane says: “No.” That's the Midpoint “bump” of the scene.
This “raising of the stakes” is a definite turning point in Al's expectation, and the Bad Guys Close In section sees him reeling, trying to figure out what's going on. But it's the All Is Lost point and its “Whiff of Death” that solves the mystery. It's the shocking news Diane reveals to Al that her “miscarriage” wasn't. “It was an abortion, Michael!” Diane tells him. Well, not only is this a death moment of the Corleone marriage but of the scene, too. Whatever expectation Al had at the start is over.
Death is even found in a 30-second commercial that hits ALL the beats. Take a look at a story we'll call:
The Day I Discovered Pledge
Opening Image – A downcast housewife. Home a mess. Dust everywhere. This “Before” snapshot depicts the Set-Up, and even a Stasis = Death moment, for it looks like things won't change.
Catalyst – Then our hero discovers… Pledge!
Debate – “Should I use it?”
Break into Two – Yes!
Fun and Games – With a spray can of her B Story ally, the delighted homemaker flies through the house, dust vanishes like magic, tabletops glow. And the “false victory” at Midpoint shows that she can live this way all the time. But there's a problem…
Bad Guys Close In – To have the “new,” she must give up the “old.” Can our hero face the truth of what she must sacrifice?
All Is Lost – What “death” has to occur? What “old idea” must be gotten rid of? What is the “All Is Lost” moment of our Pledge commercial? Why it's dropping Brand X in the trash! It's the furniture polish our hero used to use, that is now obsolete.
Break into Three – Having dispensed with Brand X, the synthesized pair finish up the housework with delight and…
Final Image – Dressed in her tennis outfit, racket in hand, a newly together housewife walks out the door, leaving the primally named Pledge atop a very shiny table to guard her home.
The End
That's a lot of drama for 30 seconds!
But it's there: a transformation — a story with drama, fun, and yes, even a “death” before its final triumph!
More than that, it's proof the BS2 can be used for any story, of any length, where a narrative arc is found.
SPECIAL TROUBLE IN THE CLASSROOM
I frankly love it every time I work with writers in small groups and start hearing pitches. Out there our problems are seemingly insurmountable, but in here, wherever our classroom is, we're in charge. We can mold our stories, invent characters and situations, pitch out wild set pieces and even wilder showdowns.
And we don't have to commit to any of it.
This is sketching. Like an artist, we start with a faint idea. And as we work it out, we go from rough drawing to filled-in outline, to painting — trying out details as we go. And at any given stage, if we're any good, we can back off and say: None of it works! We can erase parts and start again, and the benefit of the Save the Cat! method is: We have yet to type Fade In. Our motto: Be flexible. Because that's so empowering!
What often stops empowerment from happening is the writer's unwillingness to let go — or to see his or her story in a new way. That leads to special trouble when these same old problems keep popping up. So let this be a warning to writers of the following:
► “This happened to me!” – I shudder every time someone comes in with a so-called true story. Sorry! But let me say, when I start to twitch, when I realize the hero of your pitch is… you… it hurts. Why? Because one's life seldom makes a good movie. The other reason is if there's even a slim hope we can make something of it, you are less likely to be flexible. “That's not how it happened” is your comeback, and mine is: “We don't care.” You think these events are cool. You may be the only one. Story first. Reality second. Story first. How it felt second. Story first. True stories… rarely.
► Copying – I am a big believer in “give me the same thing… only different.” I am against copying. Many times we will be halfway through a pitch and a vague recollection will come to me: I've heard this story somewhere before. Not kinda the same: the same. This is a direct result of a writer who has discovered a very obscure movie, and whose intention is to retell it — exactly. Usually I am pretty good at spotting this. I am the man with 10,000 plots in my head. I've seen them all — or most. But this is a non-starter. If you are taking this tack, please reconsider.
► Fantasy worlds – Again I hark back to my warnings in Chapter 1 about “Heaven” stories. I have found after a 20-year career as a screenwriter, and several years wrestling with writers in the classroom, that the single toughest story nut to crack is when you bring me a story of an original “fantasy world” the hero lives in or travels to. You may think you see it, but you don't. And when I ask simple questions like “What's the problem?” or “What are the rules?” of this new world, you often are offended. I am only trying to let you know that the specialness of your special place may be covering up the real problem: no story! To sell us on it, you'll have to work extra hard to make your fantasy real.
“IT'S EASY!”
The success stories that have come from using the method we've perfected in class are remarkable. But the biggest lesson I've gleaned from watching so many writers crack their stories is it's best to walk in the door with an idea that's just beginning to germinate. That, and flexibility — plus a willingness to listen — are key.
And being the most excitable person in that room, I often have to be contained from jumping up and down as I watch a story that was barely there blossom before my eyes.
But it happens all the time.
Recently, a writer came in with just a title and the barest semblance of a pitch, and within the first weekend had 15 beats that were ready to go. But wanting to make sure, she came back and did her 40 cards and, honestly, it got even better. It was such a great pitch, I called her afterward to tell her that what she had was pure gold.
She wrote the script in a week. And we're still waiting for it to go “out to the town.” But the joy of watching that slim notion become a story is the payoff.
Because for me it's proof that the method works.
Wherever two or three are gathered, or even if you apply these principles on your own, we can all find our way out of the pitfalls, back up from any seeming dead end, get out of any jam, and find our way to the winner's circle.
So long as we remain open to new ideas.
My favorite expression in class, and one that boggles the minds of many when I say it with a big smile on my face, is:
It's easy!
You are struggling, drowning, confused, and hating it all, and I'm beaming at you, repeating this horrible phrase like I have the answers at the back of the book and won't show you!
It's easy! I say… because it is. There is always an answer!
Within every story is the potential for not only a fix — but greatness. And I'm smiling because I not only know you can do it, but the process of doing it is so much fun — if you let it be.
Because I know magic can't be far behind.
chapter 3
ALL LAID OUT…
AND NOWHERE
TO GO
Blake's Blog /August 2, 2007
“We transform every day, re-awaken to new concepts about the world around us, overcome conflict, and triumph over death… only to start again each morning. It's why stories that follow this pattern resonate. Because each day is a transformation machine, and so are our lives.”
Overcoming hur
dles.
That's what Save the Cat! is about.
Yet when it comes to the topic of “structure,” which I think makes Save the Cat! a breakthrough for any screenwriter, the trouble I've gotten in for being a structure advocate is puzzling.
We all have deficits in our writing skills. Some of us are missing the “idea gene,” some are horrible at titles, but without structure we're sunk. Yet the fights I get on this topic astound me, and lead me to believe I haven't quite made my case. The good news is: Of the skills it takes to be a great storyteller, structure is the easiest to learn — if you're open to it.
And if you are, it is also the most empowering!
I think the biggest misconception about structure, and the biggest block for many writers, is the sense that I'm asking you to do something “formulaic.” Can I be honest with you, just you and me? This objection exhausts me. Let's just say for now that those who argue against structure on the basis that it is stopping you from “being free,” or feel that if you follow my advice you'll be doomed to write Big Momma's House 2 over and over, are wrong. And if you've read my second book, which applies this so-called “formula” to everything from big studio hits like Spider-Man 2 and Forrest Gump to Indies like Open Water and Saw, and you still aren't convinced these a) hit the beats, and b) are extremely different, well… you will have trouble with structure, and that's no fun!