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- Howard Casner
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Showing posts with label screenplay construction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label screenplay construction. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
SCREENPLAY STORY DEVELOPMENT: Interesting Facebook Discussion
- Great question, Marty! I first just right the screenplay the way I visualize it then I go back to see what worled and what didn't. Look at the holes in the character arcs and make sure they not only make sense but are believable, convincing. Fill in the blanks, move things around, punch up traits and how they bounce off the traits of other characters, delete exess wording, look at unusual visual settings, etc. I guess that's the norm...
- Character Profiles until all are alive demanding to be shown then the "What if" logic of the Plot Paradigm. Before investing my soul in the writing I make damn sure I feel a PASSION for the point the story will make. At that time I know what I have to research for authenticity. When those ducks are lined up, I start the actual writing and tell the world to go away.
- Howard Casner I tend to sort of wing it. When I have it generally mapped out, then I start writing and things come to me. I take a walk and suddenly I'll have an idea as to how to do this or that or make the scene stronger. I'll have a problem and think about it until I have a solution. I'm a instinct writer, I write more based on taking it as it comes along rather than heavily planning things out (if I planned things out in any serious or deep detail, I'm one of those people who would never start writing). That's what works best for me. However, it's not until I finish it and have people read it and get feedback and reread it that I really start fixing the issues and finding out what scenes, characters, et. need work.
- Howard Casner Thanks. I sometimes think of it like a creating a crossword puzzle. You set up the outline of it (which squares are dark, which aren't; how many squares there are); you then fill in the major blocks that can't be changed (the ones that contain the theme of the puzzle); and then you start filling in the other words--these can be changed and fiddled with, but in the end, have to fit together to make the puzzle work.
- Are the seven major turning points in the three act structure clear? Does the contact point (opening) involve the characters as well as the Reader? Do I know what the protagonists original goal is? What is the protagonist's new goal after the first 7 to 10 pages? What and who are blocking the protagonist from reaching that new goal? What about the three minor turning poiints near the end of Act II or into Act III? Are they clear and how do the characters get there? What are the changes outwardly and inwardly that the characters go through--especially the protagonist? What are the 3 subplots and how do they answer all the questions posed so far? What are my rhyming scenes and my connectives?
This is not to say that everything is set. It shouldn't be. You need to--as others have suggested--discover new plot lines, character traits and development, and unexpected reversals along the way. In other words, you need to let lagniappe happen. But you also need enough structure so you have a pretty good map, and in case you get a little lost--which is okay--you can always get back to the map to know where you wanted to go or maybe take the detour that's necessary to find your way there. - I'm not sure if I've found my way yet as I seem to do it different each time and dabble in a lot of different things. I did one totally free hand. It was a mess. I did one with a beat sheet, into an outline, into index cards, and it came out sterile. Lately, I've tried doing beat sheets but I get hung up on one of the points later in the story and then get frustrated. So instead of writing it, it gets shelved. Now...I get the basic beats in my head and then write it out. If something isn't working, I go back to a physical beat sheet and map it out again. See where it is falling apart. That seems to be the most comfortable method to me at this time. :)
- outline, outline, outline. I can't start without it. I'll even bullet point each scene and sketch some dialogue or ideas:
Ray and Sydney in car.
“You like her”. Ray denies. He drops her off at her apartment.
I also use the document as a scratch pad where I just copy/paste any research notes I find from the internet, I'll also write in my own ideas etc. The document is a mess of words, and notes and outlines. Ugly. - As much as I like some of the stuff in "Cat," I have no idea what 40 beats and 5 point finale means. If a written, author's scene is between 3.5 and 7 pages--which I believe and see in most every movie that it is--with a beginning, middle, climax, and end, then there really can't be more than about 22 to 25 scenes or scene cards.
I can usually pinpoint when a scene begins and ends--even with some of the transition shots that tie scenes together--but pinpointing beats sounds like the definition of shots, which means there are many, many more in a screenplay than forty.
But I would be happy to do a back and forth on this. Maybe I can learn some new things, which is always helpful. - I would love to be able to outline. I just have no patience for it. I'm also one of those people who just starts writing and whatever I feel at the time that makes sense, I put in. Then I go back, of course, and read it through and try to decipher what works and will stay in or do the "What the hell was I thinking?" bit and rewrite what is needed.
- R, I'm no guru, I'm probably the last guy-who-calls-himself-a-sc
reenwriter who should be involved in a back-and-forth as a teacher or guide or guru regarding any screenwriting-related topic, but, since you ask, in my humble amatuerish opinion, the STC method (15 beats + 5 Point Finale into 40 'scene cards') is basically Blake Snyder's take on the sequence method...
you state the obvious mathematical and logical bit which dictates 22-25 scenes or cards (at 3-7 pages/minutes per card) = 75-120 page/minute screenplay/movie, and you're not wrong. STC doesn't go into too much detail regarding what goes into those magical mysterious 'extra' 15-20 beats/cards, so, what inevitably happens is those cards play out a sequence that could, techincally, be considered 'one scene/sequence/card'...
the 15 STC Beats (or 20, if you count the 5-Point Finale) ARE those same 22-25 scenes/sequences...
it's just that, rather than using one card to say:
CARD # 4: '20 minutes of set-piece action and mayhem occurs... no really, it's going to be awesome! for realz!! believe me! whatever the production people can come up with to fill this section of my sci-fi action-adventure horror epic saga, it will be awesome and it occurs here in the story for the next 20 minutes...'
you might take 4 or 5 cards in the Fun & Games 'beat' of the STC outline, to detail the Foot Race to the Car Chase to the Gunfight to the Bank Robbery to the Getaway Car Chase... or whatever...
it's still 'one beat' out of 15 STC beats, called the Fun&Games beat which takes up the first half of Act II, but it takes up 3, 4, 5 cards to outline the beat in however many sequences you choose, or according to whatever other set of rules or paradigm you wish to mix into the STC method...
that's what I get out of the STC method. As I say, I'm no master, nor master debater. Mileage may vary...
write on! - If I started writing based on an idea, I'd spend hours and hours staring at the screen wondering what to write next.
I like to do a "STC" outline first so that I have a general idea of what is going to take place in the story, then I beat it out. I used to use a big cork board and index cards, but now I use the "STC" software. Like it or not, structure is very important, and can mean the difference of you getting rewritten out of your own script by another writer or not.
Once I have all my index cards filled in I can look at the story and see where it's weak and strong and do my improvements there. By the time I'm finished with my beat board, I know the story so well that I barely have to look at it, and when I sit down to write, I can find my character's voice and spend hours and hours doing a lot of really productive writing. It's so productive that I really don't have to rewrite it- just give it a polish or two. And, it only takes me a couple of weeks to finish a script.
The problem? Coming up with stories that I deem worthy of taking the time to write, then fleshing out a whole story. The jury is still out on a lot of stories, so yeah, sometimes I don't get to writing as quickly as I'd like, but I'm always writing, whether I'm going for a walk, reading a book, or day dreaming- I'm always conjuring up something.
Friday, December 9, 2011
HOW TO PLEASE A SCREENWRITER: Know Your Job: Storyboarding Deux
It’s been a long time since I wrote an entry for my How to Please a Screenplay Reader. I got work and then I’ve started a new screenplay. But I need to start catching up here.
To continue with my topic of storyboarding, I will devote this entry to a basic set of no-no’s when it comes to narrative. Most, if not all, of these rules you should know already. If not, let’s just say that the following should almost never be done. And remember, you’ve been warned: I have a ruler and I’m not afraid to use it.
TRANSITION SHOTS
Do not indicate transitions shots. This means anything like “fade in”, “fade out”, “cut to”, “dissolve to”, “smash cut to”, “match cut to”, etc. The only exception is using “fade in” to begin the screenplay (it’s like saying “once upon a time”) and using “fade out” at the end of the screenplay (there is no need to say “the end”--fade out is the same thing).
Including “cut to” is something that is just not necessary anymore. It serves no real purpose these days and is implied. And eliminating them saves you two lines for every transition. (I’ve read scripts where a writer could cut the script by two to five pages alone by getting rid of these annoying, pesky, little creatures--and believe me, if you don‘t get rid of them early on, they start breeding like rabbits.)
You don’t use any of the others (“dissolve to”, “slow dissolve”,
“match cut to”, etc.) because those are a director/editor’s decision based on issues you don’t know yet (budget--some transitions can be more expensive than others; style--what effect the director is trying to communicate; what shots are available to connect one scene to another; what rhythm is the director trying to create, etc.). In addition, “smash cut” is no different than a cut. It’s not faster (it’s impossible for anything to be faster than a cut). Some people use it to imply that something jarring is happening. That makes it a variation on the match cut with all the no-no’s attributed to that (again, that’s up to the director and editor).
As an adjunct to this, a friend in a writing group separated two scenes with:
FADE IN
FADE OUT
Not on the transition side of the script, but in the narrative area. None of us knew what this meant. The writer explained that this was traditional shorthand to indicate a long period of time passing. I actually like this idea. But again, it’s not necessary. It’s one of those things that just isn’t done anymore and many readers will have no idea what this means (they’ll think you deleted a scene and forgot to delete the transition shots).
CAMERA ANGLES
Do not state camera angles. You know what I mean and I know you know what I mean and you know I know…whatever: POV, CU, WIDE SHOT, LONG SHOT, etc.
These are all a director’s decision (along with the editor, cinematographer, even the actor). And it’s a decision they often won’t or can’t even make until after the scene has been shot and the director/editor can see what shots are available and what camera angles work and don’t work and what is the best way to tell the story and communicate what is going on in the scene.
What a screenwriter does, if he wants, is imply shots. The one example I remember from a book is:
A cowboy rides up onto a hill. He is sweating heavily. He looks behind him to see if he’s being followed. He rides down the hill and off into the distance.
Translated means:
A cowboy rides up onto a hill (wide shot). He is sweating heavily (close up). He looks behind him to see if he’s being followed (medium shot followed by POV). He rides down the hill and off into the distance (wide shot).
However, the director may still want to shoot it differently. But again, that’s his job, not yours.
There are always exceptions. The one that comes to mind is a POV shot when you don’t want the audience to know who’s watching (Friday the 13th). I still wouldn’t say POV. I would imply it. “An UNSEEN PERSON watches as Character A does something”. But this is a bit tricky, I agree.
ADDITIONAL ISSUES
1. Please don’t use a Prelap or Postlap voice overs. These are voice overs that began at the end or beginning of a scene, but are said by someone in the next or previous scene.
JANE (V.O)
And now we homo erectus.
INT. COLLEGE CLASS ROOM-DAY
Jane points to a picture projected on a screen behind her.
First, this is just plain annoying to read.
Second, it causes a momentary disconnect as the reader has to stop and think a moment in order to figure out which scene this line belongs to.
Third, this is a director’s decision with all the yadda, yadda, yadda reasons already mentioned.
Fourth, I have yet to read an example where it was essential to the plot.
Fifth, it’s just plain annoying as hell to read.
2. INSERT is no longer required:
John looks at the clock.
INSERT: 12:00
The insert is implied and redundant. Just say: John looks at the clock which says “12:00”. This also saves space and streamlines the narrative.
3. PERONAL PRONOUNS: Don’t use “we”, “us” or other personal pronouns in the story. The main reason here is that it’s just not done and people tend to look down on writers who do (not rational, I know, but there it is). It’s also redundant. Saying “we see a boy running” is the same thing as “a boy runs” and the later is more succinct and stated in a more streamlined manner. It also is a way of sneakily suggesting camera angles, etc., which doesn’t fool anyone and is not the writer’s job.
NEXT: I FEEL A NEED FOR SPEED: HOW TO STREAMLINE YOUR SCREENPLAY
To continue with my topic of storyboarding, I will devote this entry to a basic set of no-no’s when it comes to narrative. Most, if not all, of these rules you should know already. If not, let’s just say that the following should almost never be done. And remember, you’ve been warned: I have a ruler and I’m not afraid to use it.
TRANSITION SHOTS
Do not indicate transitions shots. This means anything like “fade in”, “fade out”, “cut to”, “dissolve to”, “smash cut to”, “match cut to”, etc. The only exception is using “fade in” to begin the screenplay (it’s like saying “once upon a time”) and using “fade out” at the end of the screenplay (there is no need to say “the end”--fade out is the same thing).
Including “cut to” is something that is just not necessary anymore. It serves no real purpose these days and is implied. And eliminating them saves you two lines for every transition. (I’ve read scripts where a writer could cut the script by two to five pages alone by getting rid of these annoying, pesky, little creatures--and believe me, if you don‘t get rid of them early on, they start breeding like rabbits.)
You don’t use any of the others (“dissolve to”, “slow dissolve”,
“match cut to”, etc.) because those are a director/editor’s decision based on issues you don’t know yet (budget--some transitions can be more expensive than others; style--what effect the director is trying to communicate; what shots are available to connect one scene to another; what rhythm is the director trying to create, etc.). In addition, “smash cut” is no different than a cut. It’s not faster (it’s impossible for anything to be faster than a cut). Some people use it to imply that something jarring is happening. That makes it a variation on the match cut with all the no-no’s attributed to that (again, that’s up to the director and editor).
As an adjunct to this, a friend in a writing group separated two scenes with:
FADE IN
FADE OUT
Not on the transition side of the script, but in the narrative area. None of us knew what this meant. The writer explained that this was traditional shorthand to indicate a long period of time passing. I actually like this idea. But again, it’s not necessary. It’s one of those things that just isn’t done anymore and many readers will have no idea what this means (they’ll think you deleted a scene and forgot to delete the transition shots).
CAMERA ANGLES
Do not state camera angles. You know what I mean and I know you know what I mean and you know I know…whatever: POV, CU, WIDE SHOT, LONG SHOT, etc.
These are all a director’s decision (along with the editor, cinematographer, even the actor). And it’s a decision they often won’t or can’t even make until after the scene has been shot and the director/editor can see what shots are available and what camera angles work and don’t work and what is the best way to tell the story and communicate what is going on in the scene.
What a screenwriter does, if he wants, is imply shots. The one example I remember from a book is:
A cowboy rides up onto a hill. He is sweating heavily. He looks behind him to see if he’s being followed. He rides down the hill and off into the distance.
Translated means:
A cowboy rides up onto a hill (wide shot). He is sweating heavily (close up). He looks behind him to see if he’s being followed (medium shot followed by POV). He rides down the hill and off into the distance (wide shot).
However, the director may still want to shoot it differently. But again, that’s his job, not yours.
There are always exceptions. The one that comes to mind is a POV shot when you don’t want the audience to know who’s watching (Friday the 13th). I still wouldn’t say POV. I would imply it. “An UNSEEN PERSON watches as Character A does something”. But this is a bit tricky, I agree.
ADDITIONAL ISSUES
1. Please don’t use a Prelap or Postlap voice overs. These are voice overs that began at the end or beginning of a scene, but are said by someone in the next or previous scene.
JANE (V.O)
And now we homo erectus.
INT. COLLEGE CLASS ROOM-DAY
Jane points to a picture projected on a screen behind her.
First, this is just plain annoying to read.
Second, it causes a momentary disconnect as the reader has to stop and think a moment in order to figure out which scene this line belongs to.
Third, this is a director’s decision with all the yadda, yadda, yadda reasons already mentioned.
Fourth, I have yet to read an example where it was essential to the plot.
Fifth, it’s just plain annoying as hell to read.
2. INSERT is no longer required:
John looks at the clock.
INSERT: 12:00
The insert is implied and redundant. Just say: John looks at the clock which says “12:00”. This also saves space and streamlines the narrative.
3. PERONAL PRONOUNS: Don’t use “we”, “us” or other personal pronouns in the story. The main reason here is that it’s just not done and people tend to look down on writers who do (not rational, I know, but there it is). It’s also redundant. Saying “we see a boy running” is the same thing as “a boy runs” and the later is more succinct and stated in a more streamlined manner. It also is a way of sneakily suggesting camera angles, etc., which doesn’t fool anyone and is not the writer’s job.
NEXT: I FEEL A NEED FOR SPEED: HOW TO STREAMLINE YOUR SCREENPLAY
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
HOW TO PLEASE A SCREENPLAY READER: Know Your Job: Storyboard on your own time
KNOW YOUR JOB: Storyboard on your own time
The second type of overwriter are those who write from a director’s point of view, often what we call storyboarding a screenplay.
Their screenplay often reads something like this:
INT. KITCHEN DAY
A pair of hands clear the remainder of dishes from a table.
A cat rubs up against a pair of legs.
Two feet in worn slippers pad against the floor.
A set of fingers, one with a tarnished wedding band, change the channel on a radio.
An arm wipes sweat off a tired brow.
A figure covered in a sad blue dress starts swaying to the bosa nova beat coming from the radio.
The woman, now fully seen, is Elizabeth, 40’s. She loses herself in the lush music.
Let me say here and now, storyboarding is not your responsibility. Don’t do it. Don’t even think about doing it. Don’t even think about thinking about doing it. Cut off you right hand (or your left if you are so inclined) if it threatens to offend you by doing this.
It’s not your job.
Now that I got that off my chest:
For the scene above, all that is needed is
INT. KITCHEN DAY
Elizabeth, 40’s, careworn, clears a table and washes dishes.
She changes the station on the radio, then loses herself in the bosa nova music that comes over it.
It’s actually unclear to me why author’s even want to storyboard a screenplay. They often say it’s an attempt to get the director to film the image the way they see it (sneaky little devils).
I would accept this if the way the author was storyboarding the scene was essential to the meaning of the story, that the plot or character or character arc or whatever is driving the story would be meaningless if the scene was shot in any other way. But it would take a lot to convince me that the second way the scene was written (the way I wrote it) is significantly different, changes the plot or arc or whatever, in any way from how the scene was written in the first example.
I can just see the audience now. “I don’t understand that scene. It makes no sense. Wait, I know. If they had only had close ups of the hands first, then everything would be crystal clear”.
And in the end, the second example, the way I wrote it, is much easier to read and follow and brings more forward momentum to the story. The other is just a bit slog, bog heavy, unnecessarily slowing the scene down.
Storyboarding is the director’s job. They put long, hard hours into it. It’s one of their few creative outlets (we did write the screenplay and come up with the whole idea, characters, themes, mood--you know all the good stuff). So throw them a bone and let them add that something creative to the proceedings since it‘s all they have to offer.
The problem writer’s have with director’s is not that they do the storyboarding, it’s when they rewrite the script, which are two different issues--and writing the screenplay as if you were storyboarding it isn’t going to stop the director from rewriting it; it might even encourage him to do more of it.
In addition, storyboarding is often based on issues that you as a writer are not aware of yet: budget; scheduling; how many takes a director can take; how does he edit a scene out of the shots he made; the location and set design; how the actors want to do the scene and what they want to bring to it; etc., etc., etc.
What I often find interesting here is that more often than not, when a screenwriter begins their screenplay the way the example does above, it usually only lasts a couple of scenes. After that they tend to go back to writing in a more clear, concise manner (notice I said more clear and concise, not clear and concise).
Why, I don’t know. I mean, if the story or characters made no sense in the opening scenes without the storyboarding, then that should be true of the screenplay as a whole. My guess is that it’s much harder to write a screenplay by storyboarding it and the author quickly realizes they don’t need all this directory type stuff to communicate their intention. It’s an exhausting way to write a story and it doesn’t really do what the author thinks it does.
NEXT: STORYBOARDING DUEX
The second type of overwriter are those who write from a director’s point of view, often what we call storyboarding a screenplay.
Their screenplay often reads something like this:
INT. KITCHEN DAY
A pair of hands clear the remainder of dishes from a table.
A cat rubs up against a pair of legs.
Two feet in worn slippers pad against the floor.
A set of fingers, one with a tarnished wedding band, change the channel on a radio.
An arm wipes sweat off a tired brow.
A figure covered in a sad blue dress starts swaying to the bosa nova beat coming from the radio.
The woman, now fully seen, is Elizabeth, 40’s. She loses herself in the lush music.
Let me say here and now, storyboarding is not your responsibility. Don’t do it. Don’t even think about doing it. Don’t even think about thinking about doing it. Cut off you right hand (or your left if you are so inclined) if it threatens to offend you by doing this.
It’s not your job.
Now that I got that off my chest:
For the scene above, all that is needed is
INT. KITCHEN DAY
Elizabeth, 40’s, careworn, clears a table and washes dishes.
She changes the station on the radio, then loses herself in the bosa nova music that comes over it.
It’s actually unclear to me why author’s even want to storyboard a screenplay. They often say it’s an attempt to get the director to film the image the way they see it (sneaky little devils).
I would accept this if the way the author was storyboarding the scene was essential to the meaning of the story, that the plot or character or character arc or whatever is driving the story would be meaningless if the scene was shot in any other way. But it would take a lot to convince me that the second way the scene was written (the way I wrote it) is significantly different, changes the plot or arc or whatever, in any way from how the scene was written in the first example.
I can just see the audience now. “I don’t understand that scene. It makes no sense. Wait, I know. If they had only had close ups of the hands first, then everything would be crystal clear”.
And in the end, the second example, the way I wrote it, is much easier to read and follow and brings more forward momentum to the story. The other is just a bit slog, bog heavy, unnecessarily slowing the scene down.
Storyboarding is the director’s job. They put long, hard hours into it. It’s one of their few creative outlets (we did write the screenplay and come up with the whole idea, characters, themes, mood--you know all the good stuff). So throw them a bone and let them add that something creative to the proceedings since it‘s all they have to offer.
The problem writer’s have with director’s is not that they do the storyboarding, it’s when they rewrite the script, which are two different issues--and writing the screenplay as if you were storyboarding it isn’t going to stop the director from rewriting it; it might even encourage him to do more of it.
In addition, storyboarding is often based on issues that you as a writer are not aware of yet: budget; scheduling; how many takes a director can take; how does he edit a scene out of the shots he made; the location and set design; how the actors want to do the scene and what they want to bring to it; etc., etc., etc.
What I often find interesting here is that more often than not, when a screenwriter begins their screenplay the way the example does above, it usually only lasts a couple of scenes. After that they tend to go back to writing in a more clear, concise manner (notice I said more clear and concise, not clear and concise).
Why, I don’t know. I mean, if the story or characters made no sense in the opening scenes without the storyboarding, then that should be true of the screenplay as a whole. My guess is that it’s much harder to write a screenplay by storyboarding it and the author quickly realizes they don’t need all this directory type stuff to communicate their intention. It’s an exhausting way to write a story and it doesn’t really do what the author thinks it does.
NEXT: STORYBOARDING DUEX
Thursday, October 13, 2011
HOW TO PLEASE A SCREENPLAY READER: Proust or Hemingway--what goes into a narrative paragraph
My topic de jour is what exactly goes into a narrative paragraph. The answer actually resembles two phrases you may have encountered somewhere along the way. A story is made up of a beginning, middle and end. A person is born, lives and dies.
Both statements are deeply profound and incredibly insightful. The first one tells you everything you need to know about how to structure a story. The second tells you everything you need to know about the meaning of life.
At the same time, both statements tell you nothing at all. The first doesn’t tell you what goes into a beginning, middle or end, or how to use them to achieve your goal. The second doesn’t really tell you anything about how to live your life and falls short of explaining what the “meaning of” even means.
It’s the same for what goes into a narrative paragraph. The answer is that it is the least number of words necessary to introduce a character; establish a setting; or further a plot. Nothing more, nothing less.
I will eventually be getting into particulars of how to do all three, but right now, I want to continue in generalities.
The two main errors I see in how screenplay narrative is written (and as I said in my first column, I do believe it’s getting worse and worse) is first, overwritten narrative, especially those with a literary bent, and second, narrative that is storyboarded or written from a director’s viewpoint. I’ll deal first with overwritten narrative, saving the second for my next column.
Overwriters are those who approach their narrative like it’s a novel. They fill it with details and minutia , ideas and commentary, figures of speech and literary flourishes, all of which would be a joy to someone reading a book (it’s actually one of the joys of reading literature), but are a nightmare to someone reading a screenplay.
For example:
EXT. GARDEN DAY
Henrietta stands like a soldier in front of her easel as if ready to do battle. Then she suddenly drops her shoulders, relaxing into the excitement of what is to come.
She delicately grasps a brush and playfully twirls it in a glass of water, as if her artistic weapon were a ballerina. She thinks a moment, then carefully dips the brush in a reddish color that explodes off the palette.
She knits her brow as she deconstructs a vibrant red rose that almost seems to be blushing. Then she takes the brush and with delicate strokes, she applies color to canvass almost as if she is entering a trance.
In a way, I’m exaggerating. In a way, I’m not. I’ve actually gotten a few screenplays run riot with that much detail (the one above is a recreation of a page that actually went on for quite a few more paragraphs before the whole scene was over). Unfortunately, I had to inform the author that all she needed, believe it or not, was:
Henrietta stands in her garden painting a rose.
That’s it. End of story. That’s all she wrote, or should have.
At the same time, you’re right. I don’t get a screenplay that detailed very often (though more often than I or anyone should). However, it is not unusual to get a screenplay that reads something like:
John gets in his car like a thief in the night. He puts on his seat belt and adjusts the mirror. He starts the car. He listens attentively to a talk show on the radio for half a minute, trying to figure out if he wants to keep listening to it. He looks over his shoulder and pulls out of the driveway, calmly driving down the street.
When all that is needed:
John gets in his car and drives away.
I’m not sure why writers want to do this. For many it’s simply not knowing any better (the only acceptable excuse, though after reading this column, you can‘t use it anymore).
For many, I think they believe this is the way to create a visual image (it actually does the opposite as I‘ll go into in a future column).
For many, they think this is the way they can control what is shown on the screen and how it is shown (it won’t; first it has to get past a reader and this kind of overwriting will probably prompt a keeper of the gate to tell his boss that the screenplay is a slog to get through and moves at a snail’s pace; secondly, the director will just ignore all the details and storyboard the screenplay the way he feels he needs to in order to create his artistic vision).
One rider said he wrote in such detail in order to create a mood. I didn’t tell him, though I was tempted to, that the only mood he was creating was boredom. (Mood is not created through the literary details of narrative, but through action, character, setting and maybe, just maybe, every long once in awhile, a very carefully placed adjective or two--preferably no more than one if any at all).
I still have much to say here as I delve into such things as how to introduce a character and how to establish a setting. But first I want to deal with the idea of writers who storyboard a screenplay with their narrative.
In conclusion, I am going to make one last comment. When choosing a style for writing narrative, do not chose Proust or Faulkner as your literary model. They are two of the greatest writers that ever lived, and I relish their books. But if you write like them in a screenplay, it’s deadly.
Instead, take as your model Ernest Hemingway, especially the short story Ernest Hemingway. Simple, short, finely honed to the point declarative sentences with little to no literary flourishes.
Actually, there are times when I wish people would copy the style of their first grade reader: See Dick. See Dick run. See Jane. See Jane run. See Dick and Jane run. But Hemingway will more than suffice.
NEXT COLUMN: KNOW YOUR PLACE
Both statements are deeply profound and incredibly insightful. The first one tells you everything you need to know about how to structure a story. The second tells you everything you need to know about the meaning of life.
At the same time, both statements tell you nothing at all. The first doesn’t tell you what goes into a beginning, middle or end, or how to use them to achieve your goal. The second doesn’t really tell you anything about how to live your life and falls short of explaining what the “meaning of” even means.
It’s the same for what goes into a narrative paragraph. The answer is that it is the least number of words necessary to introduce a character; establish a setting; or further a plot. Nothing more, nothing less.
I will eventually be getting into particulars of how to do all three, but right now, I want to continue in generalities.
The two main errors I see in how screenplay narrative is written (and as I said in my first column, I do believe it’s getting worse and worse) is first, overwritten narrative, especially those with a literary bent, and second, narrative that is storyboarded or written from a director’s viewpoint. I’ll deal first with overwritten narrative, saving the second for my next column.
Overwriters are those who approach their narrative like it’s a novel. They fill it with details and minutia , ideas and commentary, figures of speech and literary flourishes, all of which would be a joy to someone reading a book (it’s actually one of the joys of reading literature), but are a nightmare to someone reading a screenplay.
For example:
EXT. GARDEN DAY
Henrietta stands like a soldier in front of her easel as if ready to do battle. Then she suddenly drops her shoulders, relaxing into the excitement of what is to come.
She delicately grasps a brush and playfully twirls it in a glass of water, as if her artistic weapon were a ballerina. She thinks a moment, then carefully dips the brush in a reddish color that explodes off the palette.
She knits her brow as she deconstructs a vibrant red rose that almost seems to be blushing. Then she takes the brush and with delicate strokes, she applies color to canvass almost as if she is entering a trance.
In a way, I’m exaggerating. In a way, I’m not. I’ve actually gotten a few screenplays run riot with that much detail (the one above is a recreation of a page that actually went on for quite a few more paragraphs before the whole scene was over). Unfortunately, I had to inform the author that all she needed, believe it or not, was:
Henrietta stands in her garden painting a rose.
That’s it. End of story. That’s all she wrote, or should have.
At the same time, you’re right. I don’t get a screenplay that detailed very often (though more often than I or anyone should). However, it is not unusual to get a screenplay that reads something like:
John gets in his car like a thief in the night. He puts on his seat belt and adjusts the mirror. He starts the car. He listens attentively to a talk show on the radio for half a minute, trying to figure out if he wants to keep listening to it. He looks over his shoulder and pulls out of the driveway, calmly driving down the street.
When all that is needed:
John gets in his car and drives away.
I’m not sure why writers want to do this. For many it’s simply not knowing any better (the only acceptable excuse, though after reading this column, you can‘t use it anymore).
For many, I think they believe this is the way to create a visual image (it actually does the opposite as I‘ll go into in a future column).
For many, they think this is the way they can control what is shown on the screen and how it is shown (it won’t; first it has to get past a reader and this kind of overwriting will probably prompt a keeper of the gate to tell his boss that the screenplay is a slog to get through and moves at a snail’s pace; secondly, the director will just ignore all the details and storyboard the screenplay the way he feels he needs to in order to create his artistic vision).
One rider said he wrote in such detail in order to create a mood. I didn’t tell him, though I was tempted to, that the only mood he was creating was boredom. (Mood is not created through the literary details of narrative, but through action, character, setting and maybe, just maybe, every long once in awhile, a very carefully placed adjective or two--preferably no more than one if any at all).
I still have much to say here as I delve into such things as how to introduce a character and how to establish a setting. But first I want to deal with the idea of writers who storyboard a screenplay with their narrative.
In conclusion, I am going to make one last comment. When choosing a style for writing narrative, do not chose Proust or Faulkner as your literary model. They are two of the greatest writers that ever lived, and I relish their books. But if you write like them in a screenplay, it’s deadly.
Instead, take as your model Ernest Hemingway, especially the short story Ernest Hemingway. Simple, short, finely honed to the point declarative sentences with little to no literary flourishes.
Actually, there are times when I wish people would copy the style of their first grade reader: See Dick. See Dick run. See Jane. See Jane run. See Dick and Jane run. But Hemingway will more than suffice.
NEXT COLUMN: KNOW YOUR PLACE
Saturday, October 8, 2011
HOW TO PLEASE A SCREENPLAY READER: Does Size Matter--how long should narrative paragraphs be
Another issue that comes up when I’m reading scripts is the length of narrative paragraphs. Sometimes it seems to me that writers either don’t know or just don’t care or think it’s irrelevant what the length of paragraphs should be. But I suggest that by not caring, it is so easy to create a screenplay that a reader has to slog through rather than breeze through. And believe me, I’ve done more than my fair share of slogging in my time.
One way to deslog one’s script is to find user friendly lengths to the paragraphs. Most writers tell me they are taught, or read in books, that narrative paragraphs should be no more than 3 ½ to 4 lines each. However, I wish to support a more reader friendly length. Narrative paragraphs should be no more than 2 ½ lines each. The exception here would be for action scenes, which I suggest be no more than 1 ½ lines each (a column on action scenes, on which I sometimes feel my opinion to be a lone voice in the wilderness, will be covered in a future column).
My preference for 2 ½ line paragraphs (or less) is not based on anything but experience; I can‘t point to anything empirical here, just a feeling based on reading script after script for years. It’s not unusual at my peak period to read four to five a day (not that unusual for people who read for a living). And based on this, I have found that paragraphs of 2 ½ lines each are easier to read than 3 ½ or longer. And there are times when even less than this is better.
Also, having a paragraph line that ends halfway through or sooner (and no more than 2/3rds of the way through) is psychologically easier to read than a paragraph in which the last line reaches the end of the margin. It’s the same thing as something costing 99 cents coming across as way cheaper that something costing a dollar on the dot.
In addition, the number of paragraphs you have in a row or in a scene is also a pertinent factor. There is little that is more dispiriting than for a reader to turn a page and see four or more paragraphs of 3 ½ lines or longer in a row. A reader’s usual reaction here is to sigh heavily, roll their eyes, then gird their loins and start on a painful journey through a mire of slogginess.
It is thus suggested that the more paragraphs you have in a row, the shorter the paragraphs should be. It is also suggested that if you have three or more paragraphs that you vary the length, say make one 2 ½, the next 1, the next 2 lines, etc. In addition,
my experience has been that if a writer has three or more paragraphs of 3 ½ lines each, most likely the paragraphs are overly written, filled with unnecessary details, and need to be ruthlessly edited.
This is where the concept of “white space” comes in. In the end, what the author is trying to achieve with his screenplay is having as much “white space” as possible, i.e. to have more white space than words.
The easiest way to check this out is to pull up a number of pages at a time and look at them (they don’t even have to be readable here; all you need to be able to do is to see at a glance how much white space there is). I agree that this sounds arbitrary; and it is, in a way. Shouldn’t the number of words parallel what Mozart said to the Archduke when the Archduke commented that there were two many notes in an opera Mozart had written--paraphrasing, Amadeus replied, only the exact number that is needed, no more and no less?
At the same time, the more I read scripts, the more the idea of white space does seem to correspond to a screenplay that is easy breezy to read. The less white space there is, the more likely again that the narrative is being overwritten. The more white space there is, the more likely that you will have the exact number of words you need, no less and certainly no more.
There are methods one can use to help with tightening paragraphs to within an inch of their lives, thus keeping paragraphs at a user friendly length and adding to the amount of white space. But first, I want to talk about what actually goes into narrative and what doesn‘t, which is the subject of my…
NEXT COLUMN: PROUST OR HEMINGWAY
One way to deslog one’s script is to find user friendly lengths to the paragraphs. Most writers tell me they are taught, or read in books, that narrative paragraphs should be no more than 3 ½ to 4 lines each. However, I wish to support a more reader friendly length. Narrative paragraphs should be no more than 2 ½ lines each. The exception here would be for action scenes, which I suggest be no more than 1 ½ lines each (a column on action scenes, on which I sometimes feel my opinion to be a lone voice in the wilderness, will be covered in a future column).
My preference for 2 ½ line paragraphs (or less) is not based on anything but experience; I can‘t point to anything empirical here, just a feeling based on reading script after script for years. It’s not unusual at my peak period to read four to five a day (not that unusual for people who read for a living). And based on this, I have found that paragraphs of 2 ½ lines each are easier to read than 3 ½ or longer. And there are times when even less than this is better.
Also, having a paragraph line that ends halfway through or sooner (and no more than 2/3rds of the way through) is psychologically easier to read than a paragraph in which the last line reaches the end of the margin. It’s the same thing as something costing 99 cents coming across as way cheaper that something costing a dollar on the dot.
In addition, the number of paragraphs you have in a row or in a scene is also a pertinent factor. There is little that is more dispiriting than for a reader to turn a page and see four or more paragraphs of 3 ½ lines or longer in a row. A reader’s usual reaction here is to sigh heavily, roll their eyes, then gird their loins and start on a painful journey through a mire of slogginess.
It is thus suggested that the more paragraphs you have in a row, the shorter the paragraphs should be. It is also suggested that if you have three or more paragraphs that you vary the length, say make one 2 ½, the next 1, the next 2 lines, etc. In addition,
my experience has been that if a writer has three or more paragraphs of 3 ½ lines each, most likely the paragraphs are overly written, filled with unnecessary details, and need to be ruthlessly edited.
This is where the concept of “white space” comes in. In the end, what the author is trying to achieve with his screenplay is having as much “white space” as possible, i.e. to have more white space than words.
The easiest way to check this out is to pull up a number of pages at a time and look at them (they don’t even have to be readable here; all you need to be able to do is to see at a glance how much white space there is). I agree that this sounds arbitrary; and it is, in a way. Shouldn’t the number of words parallel what Mozart said to the Archduke when the Archduke commented that there were two many notes in an opera Mozart had written--paraphrasing, Amadeus replied, only the exact number that is needed, no more and no less?
At the same time, the more I read scripts, the more the idea of white space does seem to correspond to a screenplay that is easy breezy to read. The less white space there is, the more likely again that the narrative is being overwritten. The more white space there is, the more likely that you will have the exact number of words you need, no less and certainly no more.
There are methods one can use to help with tightening paragraphs to within an inch of their lives, thus keeping paragraphs at a user friendly length and adding to the amount of white space. But first, I want to talk about what actually goes into narrative and what doesn‘t, which is the subject of my…
NEXT COLUMN: PROUST OR HEMINGWAY
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