Writing and Selling Drama Screenplays

by Lucy V Hay

  • Best Friend/Henchman. A sounding board for the protagonist, or a literal dispenser of hard justice for the antagonist, the Best Friend or Henchman is frequently a two-dimensional character in the spec pile. This is a shame, because some of the best secondaries in produced drama have performed these role functions, but they need their own personalities and motivations to really work.

  FEMALE

  Produced drama screenplays feature female protagonists almost as often as male, and spec drama screenplays are no different in this regard. However, scratch the surface and it is immediately apparent female characters appearing in spec drama scripts are too often defined by their role as a parent, or their sexuality (or both). Check these out:

  • Numb Mum. Often in the place of the Bad Dad or Dead Dad characters, Numb Mum will be present in the narrative, orbiting our (usually, young) protagonist. If she has a working-class background, she may struggle with depression and stay in bed all day, crying or staring into space; in other scripts she will be an alcoholic, bringing strangers back for sex, despite small children in the house. If she has a middle-class background, she will care little for her children’s emotional welfare, preferring instead to kit them out with the latest gadgets and designer labels, believing material goods and ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ are what it takes to be a good mother.

  • Oblivious Wife/Mother. The Oblivious Wife/Mother is as her title suggests: she’s so focused on herself and her own problems, she hasn’t a clue what’s really going on under her nose. Oblivious Wives/Mothers from middle-class backgrounds will concentrate on their jobs to the detriment of their children, not noticing they are being bullied in school (and, more recently, online via social media), which will often lead to a young character’s suicide. If from a working-class background, Oblivious Wife/Mother will not notice her husband sexually abusing one or all of the children in the house, or will turn a blind eye and make excuses for his violence towards them and/or her.

  • Teen Mum. Teen Mum turns up in many spec drama screenplays and nearly always in the negative: too often she is stupid and/or ‘slutty’, suggesting she ‘deserves all she gets’ (most often violence, especially rape). Even when Teen Mum is portrayed as smart, the overriding message from many spec drama screenplays is this character is now ‘doomed’ to failure and caught in the poverty trap forever (as is her child, presumably). As a teen mother myself, this is a particular soapbox of mine: I have met many smart and educated young mothers who’ve worked their way out of poverty and this continuous cycle of negative portrayals of teen mums seems utterly bizarre to me.

  • Jealous Mum. Often a Teen Mum herself once, Jealous Mum is now in her late thirties or early forties and the so-called ‘bloom of youth’ has left her, which she bitterly resents. As a result, she and her daughter will be at each other’s throats, with Jealous Mum conspicuously in the wrong nine times out of ten, suggesting in many spec dramas it’s only looks that ‘make’ a woman! YIKES.

  • Sassy Friend. Frequently written as a role for the only woman of colour in the screenplay (since her race will be noted, whilst no one else’s is, indicating that they ‘must’ be white?), the Sassy Friend knows how life works and fulfils a kind of Mentor function for the protagonist. This in itself wouldn’t be a major issue if it weren’t for the fact that Sassy Friend’s ‘blackness’ too often marks her out as being obese and hilarious (seriously?). Now, that’s not to say larger women of colour shouldn’t be part of a narrative; of course they should – this is drama, we can write ANYTHING and, frankly, all writers should be thinking of ways to include marginalised voices wherever they can as far as I’m concerned. But too often Sassy Friend ends up as a kind of glove puppet for what the audience is thought to want, which is ‘steering’ the protagonist into nonsensical situations. But this is not what we want. We want characters with depth, whom we can relate to!

  • Bitch. Sometimes a Temptress/Moll (next), the Bitch is commonly a cop, wife, mother-in-law or best friend. She epitomises the notion ‘with friends like these, who needs enemies?’ which could be great for potential conflict if her methods in spec drama features were not so obviously catty, making us wonder why the protagonist puts up with her and ultimately impacting on the reader’s suspension of disbelief. Also, the Bitch usually does little to push the story forward, being present only to say Bitchy lines.

  • Temptress/Moll. Often the girlfriend of Bad Guy Gangster, she may seduce Good Guy Gangster, either falling for him for real or as a honey trap. All tits and ass, she flaunts her sexuality and uses it as a weapon, but is usually more caricature than character.

  CHILD

  • Little Lolita. Usually under 17, but not younger than 13, Little Lolita has become aware of her developing body and uses it to get what she wants from much older men. Frequently an orphan and/or runaway, she’s smart and older than her years, often already ‘tainted’ by the streets and/or her situation, which forces her to do what she does, even if she does not actually have sex. If she is from a privileged background, she will have been raised by a succession of nannies, rarely feeling the love of her parents, an orphan in all but name. She is cynical, lost and unaware of the concept of ‘normal’ childhood.

  • Precocious Child. Bright and full of life, the world holds many wonders for Precocious Child, who has a few things to teach the adults in the narrative. Often the child will have a special talent, skill and/or disability, so the adult in the story must access the Precocious Child’s world view via other means and, in doing so, learn what is ‘important’.

  • Bully. Bullies are nearly always present in a spec drama narrative when there is a child protagonist, and since nearly everyone gets bullied at school, the Bully could be a good character, especially if the reasons for why s/he is the way s/he is are explored. However, this is hardly ever the case and the Bully is too often a two-dimensional stereotype in the spec drama screenplay.

  STEREOTYPE VERSUS ARCHETYPE

  The problem many writers have when it comes to characterisation, especially in drama screenplays, is they confuse stereotype with archetype: the difference is subtle, but huge. Stereotypes are perceived negatively, because they are oversimplifications of what people ‘are’. If you take a moment to consider ‘real life’ and apply certain stereotypes to yourself, immediately you can see the problem. For example, I live in Devon in the UK, yet none of the stereotypes associated with living in a rural area – second homes, lots of money, farming, lack of education, blood sports! – apply to me. Not one. And this is why people get angry when they see characters stereotyped on screen, since they immediately feel it is an unjustified slight on themselves and/or others.

  In comparison, then, an archetype is altogether different from a stereotype. Originating from the Greek ‘arkhetupon’, meaning ‘something moulded first as a model’, its meaning is clearly much more positive from the offset when considering the operative word in the definition is ‘first’. We’re not recycling old prejudices and assumptions via stereotypes; we are CREATING new ways of looking at characters. How can that be anything but a good thing? In other words, you need to take a character and put your own unique and authentic twist on him or her, instead of simply shoving a character we’ve already seen loads of times before into your work. This aspect is non-negotiable if you want readers (and thus filmmakers, not to mention audiences) to get on board with your spec drama screenplay.

  So, with the list of spec characters from the last section in mind, I would ask: where’s the Manic Pixie Dream Girl archetype? Or the Everyman (or Woman!)? Or the spoilt brat? Or the Lost Boy or Girl, who doesn’t have to be literally lost, but lost emotionally? Or the ‘Rock Star’, who doesn’t have to be an actual rock star, but thinks everything is about him or her (usually him)? Or the change agents, who change very little themselves, but end up changing all the secondary characters in some way? Excepting a few, most in the list are okay as starting points, but you have to add to them. The point of drawing writers’ attention to the ‘us
ual’ characters in the spec pile is not to say they’re all crap and you should completely start again. We don’t want to go from one end of the scale to the other; you don’t have to reinvent the wheel. Instead, figure out who your characters are, what they want and why we should get on board with them by working out what is the ‘same but different’ about them, as producers always say? We want something we can recognise, yet have never seen before, that’s all (!).

  THERE IS NO ‘RIGHT’ WAY TO TELL A STORY

  Though there is more writing and filmmaking information freely available 24/7 to writers and filmmakers now than at any point in history, it has come at a price. Rather than use this information as a springboard for ideas about what works when it comes to storytelling, many writers and filmmakers pour their efforts into discovering the ‘right way’ to tell a story. NEWSFLASH: there is NO right way to tell a story out there and, even if there was, I wouldn’t want to pay attention to it. The key to good storytelling is in one’s own gut. Anyone who tells you otherwise is at best a div and at worst lying to you so they can part you from your hard-earned cash. There is no ‘right way’, only YOUR way. However, it is also important to remember NO ONE (not even an Oscar-winning screenwriter!) knows how to tell a great story through intuition alone. If you want to be sure the story for your spec drama screenplay really is great, I would recommend asking yourself the following BEFORE you spend X amount of hours writing it:

  • What is my concept? Always write an initial logline. That doesn’t mean you need to marry it; you can swap it later. Just remember that if you can’t write a logline, you’ll run into trouble with the screenplay! Doh.

  • Does it work? Some writers like to hold their concepts to their chest like jealous kids, sure their ideas are SO AMAZING other people will steal them at a moment’s notice; other writers are simply embarrassed, either because they sense their ideas are underdeveloped, or because they don’t like asking for help (sometimes both). Most writers are somewhere in-between these two extremes. But trust me when I say you NEED to ensure your concept works… so DO tell it to other people whenever you can. It doesn’t have to be other writers if you don’t want; the simple act of talking your concept through with friends, your partner, your dog (!), will MAKE you concentrate on it and ensure it’s not holier and stinkier than that old, mouldy, forgotten sock under the bed.

  • What has gone before? Identify the threats, such as those stories that are VERY like the concept you want to write, and again think about what’s different in yours. Don’t forget to also identify the opportunities, not only in terms of produced projects, but potential target audiences. In addition, if you are unable to find produced content dealing with your subject matter, when it comes to drama this can often be a VERY good thing!

  • Who are the characters? Characterisation is important in all screenwriting, obviously, but arguably it’s most important in drama screenplays because they are ‘character-led’, via that notion of ‘internal conflict’. This does not mean all your characters have to be ‘likeable’, but equally it doesn’t mean you’ll be able to get away with your characters being total shits either. Great drama screenplays know that people are not black and white, so protagonists may not be ‘good’ and antagonists may not be ‘bad’, but they will all be relatable.

  • What is learned in the story? If you recall, most drama screenplays place an overt message or theme at the heart of the story and frequently characters will learn something in order to communicate that to the target audience. I call these ‘transformative arcs’, which are frequently demonstrated by the ‘coming out’ and/or ‘coming of age’ tale. But this isn’t the only reason I chose Beautiful Thing as the sixth case study, as you will see, next.

  CASE STUDY 6: THE COMING OUT STORY

  BEAUTIFUL THING (1996)

  Written by: Jonathan Harvey

  Directed by: Hettie Macdonald

  Produced by: Tony Garnett

  Budget: £1.5 million

  Q: What’s good about it?

  A: A gentle tale about love, which teens and adults alike can relate to, but which does not indulge in the sensational or the overly sentimental.

  MY LOGLINE: When a young teenage boy’s abused school friend comes to stay, the two lads realise new feelings and why they both never quite ‘fitted in’ with their peers.

  Writing and Selling Beautiful Thing

  In the late nineties, the UK was known for romantic comedy and hard-hitting drama. It was a very far cry from the current climate! In this age of austerity, genre can be highly prized, with low-budget horror, thriller and comedy on many agents’, producers’ and execs’ wish lists. Yet when listening to any writer or producing team talk about their produced drama, it soon becomes apparent that getting the green light for drama has always been difficult. There’s nearly always a fear the subject matter is too controversial, or conversely too dull; or that themes are not universal enough; or that audiences will not relate to the content, the characters or their world views. In short, drama is just a hard sell!

  So, as I’ve said already, it’s not so much a case of waiting for the ‘right time’, but MAKING that right time yourself: you have to ensure others share your vision and get on board WITH you. One way of ‘making’ that right time for your drama screenplay is by adapting it from another source. In the case of 1996’s Beautiful Thing, it was originally written (and performed) as a stage play. The play is a classic coming of age tale, but unusually (especially for 1996) it does not focus on heterosexual love, but a burgeoning romance between two young, working-class teenagers, the bookish Jamie and ‘lad’s lad’ Ste: ‘I’d never written a screenplay before, so at first I was crap at it,’ writer Jonathan Harvey confesses. ‘It ended up being like a really shit, really long episode of Grange Hill!’ The stage play is set entirely on the estate where its two would-be young lovers live, taking place inside a bedroom and the walkway outside. In comparison, the film takes in a number of locations, including both the boys’ flats (as well as their neighbour Leah’s); the bar where Jamie’s mum, Sandra, works; Jamie and Ste’s school; various walkways, the street and even the flats’ terraces. Even so, Beautiful Thing still has its roots very firmly in its source material, thanks to director Hettie Macdonald: ‘When Hettie was brought on to direct, she encouraged me to make it more like the play and only expand it when I needed to… keeping the claustrophobia of the play helped the screenplay become more focused,’ Jonathan explains. This notion of keeping your own drama ‘focused’ is crucial, especially when it comes to keeping the budget down. Imaginative use of limited characters and locations can showcase your writing ability, especially if you can do this without compromising your story. In comparison, too many of the spec drama screenplays I read feel like potential ‘stages on screen’, with characters walking on simply to speak their lines, before exiting again.

  By today’s standards, £1.5 million is a huge whack of money for a realist drama. I’d wager it’s unlikely an ‘ardently British’ drama feature like Beautiful Thing would receive the same amount of funding today: Film Four seems to prefer to fund more ‘global’ (adapted) dramas like Slumdog Millionaire and 12 Years a Slave. It’s also worth contrasting the budget of Night People from this book, which received far less public money. Beautiful Thing and Night People share another element as well: they both cast ‘unknowns’. As with any film, casting is a huge issue for dramas, though for the opposite reason to many other genres, like thriller and comedy, which often thrive on spending money on so-called ‘star power’. Making a realist drama like Beautiful Thing is markedly different in that it will frequently make use of those actors without ‘names’, not only for obvious financial reasons, but also in a bid to ensure audiences don’t get ‘taken out’ of the story. Though Jonathan heard lots of suggestions for stars to play the mum, Sandra, in Beautiful Thing, its producer Tony Garnett said to Jonathan: ‘People need to go to the pictures and see it and believe every second. The minute they think, “Oh look, there’s so
-and-so, pretending she lives in a council house”, you’ve lost them.’ Eventually the role went to Linda Henry, famous now for playing Shirley Carter in EastEnders.

  It should also be noted the making of Beautiful Thing is a tale of perseverance. After it was initially rejected by Film Four, the play’s rave reviews changed everything: ‘Film Four called me back in and said they wanted to make it into a film… they gave me carte blanche to go round interviewing producers and production companies and deciding who I wanted to produce it,’ Jonathan says. ‘I realise now this was very unusual but I had no idea at the time!’ Shot in a real housing estate, there were many issues in getting the film physically produced, in the middle of summer. Having worked there already, Jonathan knew the location and the people well, which helped. Jonathan tells me the night shoots were gruelling and it was hard to keep residents happy at two in the morning; location-wise, one of the flats used in the film is also Thamesmead Rape Crisis Centre, which was apparently ‘shut for August’. The references to existing copyrighted material like Coronation Street (amusingly, Jonathan now works on Corrie) and the songs, such as the Mama Cass records Leah plays, or those which form part of the non-diegetic soundtrack, would have been expensive: some songs can cost thousands in rights! But without Mama Cass, Leah would have been a shadow of her former self from the source material. What’s more, that famous dance scene at the end of the movie proved the biggest challenge: ‘It was nerve wracking for everyone as there were only a handful of extras and the rest were real people who turned up to watch,’ Jonathan says. ‘You’ve got two teenage lads slow dancing to Mama Cass full blast and a crowd watching. In 1995! But they all got into the spirit of it, really.’