I believe great care is always taken in writing the best screenplays. The story needs to be psychically and spiritually nutritious. This isn’t a one-night stand. This is something that needs to be meaningful, maybe even last a lifetime, which is difficult even under the best circumstances.
Believe it or not, in the end, it needs to make sense in some way.
Even if you don’t see yourself as some kind of “artist,” you can’t avoid it. You’re going to be writing this script using your whole psyche. All of the feelings, physical sensations, life experiences, sense of human values, and conscious actions you perform are the product of your entire being.
I don’t know about you, but the whole idea of my script being good and being liked by people is very personal.
You want this thing to be powerful, memorable, and most of all, you want them coming back for more.
But what feels right? What works? It’s different every time you start a new project. What’s the next move? What should I do to make this better — and better — and better? How can I make it as satisfying as possible, but at the same time not make it self-conscious or formal?
This is the personal and emotional side of what you do when you write a story.
But there’s craft involved.
I like to describe screenwriting as a professional craft, which can be thought of as a combination of music, law, and architecture.
Music: because the creative notation of the written document is absolutely nothing like the beauty of the final product. You don’t “see” a screenplay and you don’t “listen” to sheet music. But without it, nobody would know how to perform it; how to bring it to life. Ultimately, the reward of a movie and a symphony are actually invisible. The final product is felt by its audience.
Law: because, in a story, you’ve got to prove something to your audience — and it must make sense according to essential human values.
Architecture: because you cannot ignore certain proven principles of cause and effect; because you must have structure so that we understand what it is; because you must respect the rules of engineering so that the whole thing doesn’t fall apart.
And for one of the most important reasons you’ll learn in this book:
A screenplay is not written — it’s built.
This book is intended for anyone who is thinking about writing a script. That could be a feature film, a one-hour drama, a sitcom spec, or a short film, and this includes students, first-time scriptwriters, and professionals who want to revisit the governing principles of our craft or those who just want to take a crack at it.
Orson Welles once said something both funny and cynical: “Anyone can learn anything in this business in forty-five minutes.” I actually agree with what sounds like a grotesque undervaluing of the remarkable amount of craft that goes into every aspect of filmmaking.
But what he’s right about is that this is like becoming a lumberjack. How much do you actually need to learn that you haven’t learned already? And are you ready to listen? And are you ready to cast off so many notions that provide you a toxic kind of comfort for some of your ideas, which may have no business being translated into a screenplay?
The ideas and principles that we’ll explore cover the basic principles of all dramatic writing and so it doesn’t matter how long or short your script turns out to be.
So let’s get something out of the way right at the start. It’s just my opinion, but . . .
Film is NOT a visual medium.
Blasphemy?
Okay, if your knees shook or you wanted to punch me in the face maybe this book isn’t for you . . . or maybe it is.
If you’re an open-minded creative person curious about other points of view and figure “what harm can yet another book on screenwriting do me?” then keep reading.
PROMISE: Read this book, and you’ll understand what I’m saying. It will also free you from a lot of ideas and methods that are making it more difficult for you to work through and finish your decent and producible screenplay. It will also help you dispel a lot of delusions about writing scripts that will allow you to use your native talent (which I’m sure you have, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this) and finish a good script that people will read.
This book will help you connect with something that will make your script better than you thought. It’s what I call the human value. This is what your story is about; what the main character struggles for. It’s what audiences really want to see. It’s what actors really want to be involved in. But it’s not a sermon or an essay. It’s a screenplay. A dramatic script that will then go through the amazing process of being transformed into that wonderful final product: a movie.
Remain excited. That’s another thing you’ll learn to do.
That human value is pretty simple. “Crime doesn’t pay.” “Love finds a way.” “Be yourself.” “It’s better to be connected to people than not.” “Money isn’t everything.” “Family is important.” Yes, just the kind of things everybody struggles for in their everyday lives.
But telling the story of your character struggling with this value needs to be exciting, funny, engaging, and original in some way. Aristotle claimed there was “nothing new under the sun.” Yet even with the limited amount of great human values out there, we just can’t stop trying to tell those stories in a staggering variety of ways.
Read this book and you’ll also have the opportunity to free yourself from the self-judging and inhibiting mindset you bring to your work every day.
It will stop you from hearing certain things from your “savvy” friends, even industry professionals, who pollute your mind with statements like, “Oh, they’re only doing horror movies this year” or “Nobody’s looking for that.”
What this book affirms is that what “they” are looking for is a good script. They always have been and they always will be. What this book proposes is to improve the skills that you need in order to write a good screenplay; what I like to call a screenplay that works.
Industry professionals, studio executives, even independent producers live in a world of fear. It’s not their fault. They come by it honestly. They’re frightened of saying “yes” to the wrong thing and just as frightened of saying “no” to the right thing. Best thing you can do is stay out of that dilemma and simply write what you believe works.
Notice I have not used the word sell.
Sure, I can tell you which kind of script sells — the one they just bought!
Nobody knows if a script will be produced or if it will sell, so forget about that. And they can’t really tell if a movie will be successful. Odds are against every movie being either critically or financially successful anyway. If that’s why you picked up this book, just shut it, right now, and go find a book that makes the ultimately false guarantee of helping you write a script that will sell. Won’t happen. At least I cannot make that promise. Sorry.
But take this book home, get what you can out of it (and please don’t pass over any other of my colleagues’ worthy books), and the script that you write will be read and read by the people who matter: actors, talent agents, artists’ managers, producers, and directors. If you’re a student, your advisor will see a clear and sensible piece of work that has imagination and originality. If you’re making your attempt with a real producer or buyer, you’ll know if their notes are stupid or not. If you are an experienced professional and need to look at this whole thing from another perspective, you are as brave an artist as you need to be and I’m flattered at your attention.
I’ll also help you write a likable script, which will get your next script to the right people even faster. Your script will be “industry ready.”