#2: Scripts with idiot dialogue—There’s bad dialogue and then there’s idiot dialogue… . Bad dialogue includes things like overly long dialogue blocks, run-on sentences, or multiple characters speaking with similar phrases or styles. Idiot dialogue, on the other hand, is the screenwriting equivalent to fixing a jet engine with chewing gum; it’s used by weak writers to fill-in plot holes, explain irrational character behaviors, or to simply fill space and reach the correct number of pages. If a script has a solid structure, which follows the rules of its gold-mine genre, and has a fun hook to spice things up, bad dialogue is a relatively easy cleanup job (it’s certainly not advised, but it’s not a death wish). Idiot dialogue is a clear and incurable symptom of a script (and a writer) with nothing to offer. So what is it, exactly? Idiot dialogue is the literal and verbal explanation of events, actions, thoughts, or intentions—this has also been referred to as “As you know, Bob” dialogue, because the phrase “As you know, …” typically precedes a character recapping something that happened in order to bring the audience up to speed. Do we as humans speak of our feelings or thoughts openly or literally? Absolutely not… . We say we’re happy even when we’re miserable. We refuse help when we’re desperate for it. We say we’re in love when we’re not and we say we’re not when we are! People don’t speak literally; in fact our words are quite meaningless. It’s only our actions that prove our strengths. If a character is lonely or hurting, a great deal of spec scripts will contain long passages with that character explaining their thoughts or feelings… . This is idiot dialogue. First, people rarely just openly pour out their hearts to others—and honestly, few people want to listen to it (which is why therapists cost so much money); second, if your goal as a writer is to convey the level of hurt and loneliness your character is going through, it would actually be much more effective for your character to lie and say “no, I’m fine” when they’re in need. People generally say the opposite of what they mean, so characters in your script must follow suit. And if we’re not lying about our thoughts or feelings, then we’re explaining them through analogies… . People only pony-up and speak bluntly when they have something to gain. (Use this observation to build real character interaction that not only strengthens your conflict, but makes it more interesting—and fun—to read.) But it’s not just thoughts and feelings that read as “idiotic” on the page; characters explaining plot points or motivations are forms of idiot dialogue as well… . For example: Two spies running through a corridor, explaining to each other why it’s so important they stop the bad guy. We already know stopping the bad guy is important—not only that, they’re spies and it’s their job to stop the bad guy (so they would already know stopping the bad guy is really important)! If you’re writing your rough draft and you fill it to the brim with idiot dialogue, that’s totally fine (because it’s a draft, it’s not your final submitted version). We all write junk to initially get our ideas on the page and flesh out where we want things to go. But as you fine tune your script’s structure, tighten its plot points, and develop its characters, make sure you’re using dialogue to progress the themes and meaning of your story, not to explain them or to lazily fill in the gaps.
#1: Scripts with typos or grammatical errors—Sad that each reader actually mentioned typos and grammatical errors, but even more so as the number one reason most of them put a script down after ten to fifteen pages. You don’t have to be perfect; you can use loose or free-flowing language to get your points across. Readers will even forgive a typo here and there; but when a reader picks up your script and comes across blatant typos or poorly constructed grammar, it gives the appearance that you didn’t really take much time to revise your work. And if you as the writer didn’t have time to value your work, why should a reader? Remember, readers have the ability to “pass” on your script while still recommending your writing abilities… . But they have to be completely confident in your writing in order to ever recommend your script. (It doesn’t work the other way around.) Do you think a script full of typos is going to get a writer recommended? It won’t. One reader told a story of picking up his first script of the day, opening to page one and reading this as the first scene:
FADE IN:
INT. CITY STREET — ALLEYWAY — EVENIG
CAM turns into an alley.
The reader closed the script right then (after only twelve words, including the standard “FADE IN:”) and tossed it into the reject pile. What time of day or night is “Evenig,” exactly? Perhaps slang? And this character, “CAM,” can certainly enter the alleyway, but how exactly does a person transform on screen and literally become an alley? The story might have been decent, but the writer absolutely lacked the ability to convey his or her ideas in a clear or professional manner, so they got the boot. (Incidentally, at the end of the day, the reader did give the script a second chance, as he’d suspected, the poorly constructed grammar persisted and his gut instinct had not let him down.) As you’ve read this list of the things readers hate most about spec scripts, nothing is more within your ability to perfect than the spelling and grammar of your own writing. Handing in a professional sample of your writing with typos and grammar is absolutely inexcusable.
To quote the great Stanley Kubrick: “I never know what I want, but I know exactly what I don’t want.” There’s no shortage of spec scripts coming through the door of agencies or production companies; the faster readers can get through their pile of scripts, the faster they can go home. Sometimes the strategy to best convey your writing talents to Hollywood and move up its ranks isn’t just writing the best script, but rather, writing the script with the fewest mistakes.
Homework Assignment
Hop onto iTunes, Netflix, or your cable provider’s pay-per-view service (or any other outlet platform you frequent). Skim the artwork of the available independent movies… . Without focusing on the titles, try to guess which gold-mine genre type each “non-studio” movie offering represents. (Also, pay close attention to which indie titles reside directly next to major studio releases.)
For extra credit (and valuable screenwriter skillset development), rent or purchase a movie (or two) you identify as falling into a clear gold-mine genre type. As you watch them, consciously think about the list of ten things readers hate and really focus on your selection’s structure. Whether you ascribe to Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat “Beat Sheet” philosophy or Syd Field’s act breakdowns from Screenplay (or any other valuable screenwriter formatting theories), apply them to the gold-mine genre type you’re watching. Literally map out each movie’s structure, from beginning to end (act by act, beat by beat) …
What you’ll notice is that they’re formulaic as hell and easily approachable… . More importantly, you’ll realize there is absolutely no reason you cannot write a spec script that’s just as good—if not better—than any of these other indie gold-mine genre types already in the marketplace.
Get to work!
Most Important Rule: Have Fun
Just because you’re writing a spec script that exists within the boundaries of a specific genre type doesn’t mean you can’t go all out with your ideas… . You should totally have fun with your script!
Make it entertaining, break clichés, and push the envelope wherever possible. As long as you’re keeping the focus of your screenplay filtered through the principles of each gold-mine genre type, you can absolutely experiment and juggle unique ideas. Don’t feel as if you’re working on an assembly line regurgitating the same old thing—you get to add whatever spin you choose to your spec script as long as it fits within your genre type. Make the villains the baddest, make the creature feature monster the creepiest …
Writing gold-mine genre type scripts doesn’t make you a “sellout”… . It makes you more likely to get your work noticed so you can build a professional career as a Hollywood screenwriter.
Finalizing Your Spec Script for the Reader
After you plow through your first draft (or two), I do recommend two great book
s for advice on revising your spec script: William M. Akers’s Your Script Sucks!: 100 Ways to Make it Better (2008) and Denny Martin Flinn’s How Not To Write A Screenplay: 101 Common Mistakes Most Screenwriters Make (1999).
In addition to the advice presented in both of these books, I’d like to include a few Writing for the Green Light tips my reader contacts clued me in on:
Drop the “Ums”
It’s not uncommon for readers to skim the descriptive blocks and only read a script’s dialogue… . Therefore, how your dialogue appears on the page (and how it reads) is very important for how your faithful reader will evaluate your writing abilities. Look at each dialogue block in your script and start cutting any occurrences of “um,” “so,” or “but” you find.
CHARACTER
Um, I think you’re lying to me.
Cut the “um” and get to the point.
CHARACTER
So, do you want to go to the movies?
Cut the “so”; it doesn’t matter if it sounds natural in your head, it will always read awkwardly.
CHARACTER
But, she told me she wasn’t interested.
Again, cut the “but” and move on.
This accomplishes two things: First, it is a fast way to clean up all the dialogue in your script so that any of the dialogue that is to remain from this draft is essentially ready to go, but second, it makes it much more obvious if the dialogue being spoken is simply overly wordy or unnecessary.
An interesting challenge one writer told me about is that he first removes the “ums” and “sos,” but then goes back through the dialogue and tries to see how many dialogue blocks he can condense down to five words or fewer… . Sounds crazy, but using the three simple suggestions above, we can immediately see improvement in the quickness to read and the ability to see direct conflict from the language used (all vital to a spec script’s presentation). Let’s cut these examples down to five words or fewer:
CHARACTER
You’re lying.
CHARACTER
The movies?
CHARACTER
… Said she wasn’t interested.
Already there’s a marked difference in tone, but also in the level of concentration required of your reader while taking in your script. They have a stack of ten more to read after yours, so readers appreciate your assistance in getting them through the important stuff quickly and easily. (There will obviously be portions of dialogue that need to extend beyond five words; this “rule” is more about cutting down as much as possible.)
Scenes Begin with Dilemmas but End with Decisions
Scenes always begin when things are going as planned until an action or event disrupts the flow… . A guy walks into his office, only now there’s someone already in there waiting for him. His anticipated flow of events has now been disrupted. The scene exists because your character needs to hear information or experience something that forces him or her to move things forward… . But where to end?
Scenes don’t end just because characters are saying goodbye to one another. Scenes end when our protagonist has been in a dilemma, but finally reaches the decision he or she must make.
This doesn’t mean you need to verbalize or tell us what decision is being made, sometimes it’s when a character is all alone (staring at themselves in a mirror), they’re making a decision while looking at themselves—it’s not until we cut to the next shot that it’s revealed what decision has been made.
Make sure each scene of your script is beginning with a disrupting dilemma and concluding once a decision has been reached. Everything before and after can simply be cut out. And if there’s no real dilemma that affects your main character (and will not force a decision from your main character) you can scrap the whole scene!
Parallel Lines
I’m sure there’s an actual storytelling term for this, but I call it “parallel lining” your script. This is the phenomenon used when your A-story and your B-story sync together, when the rise and flow of events from both storylines seem to mimic one another (and it’s something that masterful screenwriters do constantly).
As the events in your A-story are taking off, so too should the events in your B-story. An even better example, when your protagonist in your A-story has a falling out with a friend, your B-story must also be going through some type of loss or hardship. When your hero encounters a setback in your A-story, they must also be getting pushback in B as well. See the pattern?
The real reason this works is because the decisions your protagonist is making will certainly affect his or her direct situation (the A-story), but every action or decision also has consequences elsewhere in our lives, or the lives of those close to us (B-story). So when things in our lives are going well, we tend to approach all aspects of our routine with positivity, but when things are hectic and stressful, it’s easy to feel all aspects of our lives are wearing down on us.
This flow of events is universal, so it’s best to skim through your script and ensure that your A-story and B-story plot lines are syncing up. This is a great time to experiment if a cut away from A to B should take place in a different place in the story, or if there’s a better way to transition.
Putting Your Line-Producer “Blinders” On
There’s lots of producers on a movie… . There’s the producer-producers (the ones who carry the project from beginning to end, who hustle and grind, hire and fire, and manage the project from concept to completion), there’s executive producers (who effectively represent the money or the financial interests behind the film, or are sometimes directly financing it themselves, either out-of-pocket or through their company), and there are associate producers (individuals who contribute something relatively small in scale yet absolutely vital to the overall production; they might work for one day, or sometimes make one phone call, but that one action connects the production with the people who can finance it or otherwise saves the day).
But there’s a producer out there who rarely gets the credit they deserve: The line producer. They’re hired on productions, sometimes very early on, and their job is to (1) review the script and come up with a real-world budget, then (2) manage the money throughout the production process (including pre- and post-) to ensure that budget is properly followed.
A line producer generally doesn’t care about the content of the script; they principally read it for informational purposes only. They get the name “line” producer because they skim every single page of the written script (line-by-line) and look for indications of cost and expenses. They are keeping track of things like: how many characters are in the script, how many locations, what props are used in this scene, how many extras are in that scene, does a particular sequence take place at night (if so, will it require additional lighting or a generator), how involved is that fight scene and will it require a stunt double or additional trainer on set.
They also map out matrixes of information like which characters are in which scenes and which scenes can be shot in the same location (meaning are there characters that need to be at a location for an entire day or for only one or two shots). They also calculate details like the age of certain actors, if there are there minors on set (and if so, how many hours they’re working, which can require an on-set educator to be present).
It’s an extremely meticulous job, one that you can never fully appreciate until you’ve actually stood in their shoes (and I can safely tell you from afar I have zero interest in trying those shoes on!).
However, bringing that mindset to your now polished and revised reader-ready spec script is a very useful way to get your work market-ready.
This process not only makes it much easier on the readers (round number one), when it gets to the hands of development execs (who use a methodical thinking style similar to that line producers use), they will take note of your carefully structured script, it’s attention to clear detail, and its logical breakdown of locations and chronology of events.
Every word you write costs mon
ey. That’s fine, the project is going to have a budget and investments will be made to produce it… . But the more money conscious you can be during your rewrites, the better. Not only does taking two characters and combining them into one reduce your cast (which saves money), you also need to think this way regarding props, locations, sequences, and actions.
I have a challenge for you: Hop on Google and search for production software or film scheduling breakdowns… . Get a real-world sense of how scripts are actually broken down into day-by-day shooting schedules. Give it a try; actually schedule your script as a legit production. Number the scenes, enter the data of each scene (location, time of day, props, cast, etc.), and actually start thinking about how you would structure a shooting schedule. Assume you have an eighteen-day shoot, how would you arrange locations? How many (and which) characters need to be on set each day (and do they all need to be there for the whole day)? How many props are needed and can they be cut down?
You will see your script in a completely different way! If your script has a scene with two characters speaking while cruising together in a car, this comes across as extremely time consuming and difficult to shoot. Now you need car mounts, possible street permits, and so on. Can that conversation happen elsewhere? Could you even take the “new” location and combine it with another scene?
As your spec script is passed around a production company, these are the kinds of questions and concerns that working development executives voice when reading your work… . Scheduling out your own spec script will truly open your eyes to how much more complex seemingly easy ideas can become for a production crew to break down.
Fix those mistakes and rework your script with your line producer blinders on. It is tedious and frustrating, but it will have a huge payoff when readers and development executives can see the ease of shooting it (which will show them you are a writer who gets how difficult their jobs are).
Writing for the Green Light Page 11