April has been a jam-packed, incredible month, filled with many blessings and surprises… and it’s not even over yet!

April began with a speaking engagement at the RT Convention about the importance of script coverage, and what to expect from your story analyst. Merrel Davis was on the panel with me, and we spoke to a full-house crowd of published, aspiring, and undiscovered writers and readers who were willing and eager to learn.

We were met with such a warm welcome thanks to, popular and sensational author, Viviana, who hosted and moderated our panel. She paid keen attention to novelists and how they too can benefit from a writing assessment. What the writers left the panel with was a solid understanding of the steps required to start their careers in screen / novel writing and why being open to feedback goes a long way once you achieve your goal of selling your work. We also made sure to get out the word on branding. Just because you’re a writer and you’re sitting at home hunting and pecking out your opus, doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have a proper web and professional presence. It’s easily achieved and is so integral to your success.

Next we were on to the LA Comedy Shorts Film Festival, where Merrel and I were sponsors. It was more branding talk and networking with some very, very funny people and exceptionally talented filmmakers. The event was a 4-day non-stop, hilarity-filled extravaganza, with fantastic nighttime parties at the Kyoto Grand, ESPN Zone, and J Restaurant and Lounge. The liquor was ever-flowing, the attendees loads of fun and with every short we screened, it reignited my passion for making film.

As fate would have it, my recently reignited cinematic passion would get instantly put to good use, because Merrel and I are off to shoot a documentary pilot in Nebraska. It is an awesome time and a most exciting adventure traveling to a town of 292 people about 4 hours south of South Dekota. It’s a town that time forgot. The residents harken back to a way a life that is all but extinguished. It is a place where men work the land and rear their cattle to support their families. We’re going in search of the last bastion of the original American way of life and some sexy cowboys!

The last two weeks have been pre-pro central; work-shopping cameras, production meetings and shot lists. With cameras and crew locked in, we’re off to start location scouting / casting on 4000 acres of rich ranch land and local prep for our shoot.

Even though I can barely sleep for excitement about what’s coming in just a matter of days, beyond our awesome Midwestern Safari shoot, there’s loads to look forward to this summer!! GAPF in June, Screenwriter Karaoke NYC edition in July and much more! Stay tuned!

Netflix has got my best interest at heart. I know that now. Anytime I’m bored, or lazy or just trolling the channels looking for something fresh, there’s Netflix Streaming with a fantastic suggestion for me. Sunday’s offering: Visioneers.

I’m not a fan of “small films,” usually, because I find their story choices to be largely influenced by their aggressively poor budget. That’s just one of my filmmaking pet peeves. However, Visioneers isn’t like that all. While it was indeed a “small film,” it was well-crafted, visually inspired and has such a fresh twist on a bleak future universe that it was a total surprise delight. I loved it!

Visioneers is the simple story of a man, living in a dystopian corporate-owned tomorrow, which is only a mere hyperbolic breath from reflecting our actual reality. Zach Galifianakis stars as George, a middle-management worker at The Jeffers Company, the most influential company in the country. There it’s always a sunshiny “Jeffers Morning.” While The Jeffers Corp would have you believe everything is wonderful, there’s a palpable feeling that Big Brother is ruling with an iron hand. Under all those faux Jeffers smiles, are really worker bees not wanting to be wished into the cornfield. So they continue along searching for an ever-evasive happiness that will always allude them. Under the weight of having to pretend to be happy all the time, this society is suffering from such outrageous stress that it causes them to literally explode… It’s like Kopfgeschlagen, only with less Kevin Kline.

It was this quirky premise that caught my attention, it was the solid filmmaking that kept my attention. This movie didn’t find issue with the fact that they were small, they used it to their advantage. Since the future was close, the world so very similar, the sparse sets had a modern Brazil feel that instantly piqued my interest. In fact, the set design was fantastic. It really felt like a near modern tomorrow. It was because of this concerted visual style that it was so easy to believe this world could and probably would exist.

I’m not into Galifianakis’ man-child routine, so to see him play it straight, emotional, frustrated was compelling and powerful. Judy Greer, also known for her comedy, was delightfully dark and melancholy as his limp wife, too depressed to have her own ideas.

There was a bit of a let down for me with a couple of the sub-plots, (his relationship to George Washington, his absent son for example) but on the whole, I didn’t let the fact that it didn’t totally pay off for me ruin the entire experience. There were too many clever nuances, jokes, mannerisms and unexpected hand gestures for me to feel otherwise. This movie pretty well delivered. It was certainly worth the time it took to watch it on a Sunday morning, and it has stayed with me, like a haunting dream, since then. Plus, I’m a sucker for a movie that opens with an industrial film. So check out, Visioneers. It’s a Jeffers movie, for sure.

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The Social Network patois is annoying! Which part? The part where they…talk too much and say so much and so fast and it’s all so precious. My head hurts from The Social Network, Aaron Sorkin‘s 2-hour amped, surprisingly deposition laden romp about people writing code and backstabbing over fraternities that are really study clubs, chicken abuse and big bucks.

I listened to the opening scene: a break-up we’ve all had, a scene we’ve all written. A generic college bar, a guy and girl who can’t get it together. Harsh words exchanged at such a fast rate that it felt less like real life and more like the characters were waiting smugly with their barbs just to step on each other’s words. They weren’t talking like people, or characters really, they were using the writer’s own voice. And when everyone sounds the same, it’s a lot of shouting down a boring crowded hallway of clones.

Opening your characters to new voices while keeping them in stead with their peers is the way to properly craft a character. Besties will have common phrases, while so will criminals, generally not the same ones, but each person and the way they speak is unique and special and to just steamroll from one line to the next isn’t right, because it doesn’t give the actors a chance to emote, to relate, or to create the necessary pathos needed to care about the characters. Or to borrow a phrase from Tyler Durden, Sorkin is just letting his characters “Wait for their turn to speak.” He doesn’t give them the space to deeply interact. It’s like a boxing a hanging bag: boom boom boom boom. Rhythmic repetition but a slamming beat over and over.

Those characters weren’t connecting, they were reciting lines like every Sorkin character ever recited a line before them, well, but sounding like Sorkin himself, hyper, clever and geniusly aggressive. And maybe, if I play devil’s advocate for a second and give Sorkin some credit, and say he was setting up the pacing, the energy of the film, the characters as unlikable people through this opening scene, well he did that in spades. Except nothing about any of it endeared me to any of them. Because they were so go-go-go in the exact same way, my heart was thumping, due to the non-stop, rapid-fire, pseudo-genius-ease. I found the dialogue exhausting. I walked out and wished for aspirin for my aching head.

This whole movie felt like each character was hanging around the craft service table just waiting for their chance to deliver their lines perfectly. I LOVE David Fincher. He’s a God and his filmmaking is incredible. It was exciting, off-putting, confusing and while I felt the ending lacked some of the resolution I was looking for, I felt it was artful and worthy. It was beautifully shot, the pacing was excellent and the match reveals worked brilliantly.

However, the writing drove me mad! I tried to get lost in Fincher’s cinema, but I can’t help it. I can’t stand Aaron Sorkin’s “coke binge patois”… every character sounds like the same genius who has been up all night doing blow. And while that’s fun for some, it gives me a headache, especially when no one has their spoons out willing to share.

To be fair, Sorkin isn’t the only one whose writing I find challenging for this exact reason. Sitting through aggressive, same patios is exhausting, not because the writers themselves are not super-genius talented; they’re characters, every one of them, are a one-trick ponies and I want more.

The common thread here is that when every character in your script sounds the same: the grocery man, the teen slut, the butcher, the baker, and the gun runner, your script won’t read right. The best writers are writers who are able to have a total consistent voice that is their own, while imbuing their characters with their own voices and patois. For example, I might speak differently with my bestie at a rave than at a holiday dinner with the folks, but if my folks and everyone at the party sounds the same, and everyone in every scene after does as well, it looses its charm. But in movies like this, with very important writers, the WRITING IS WHAT MATTERS. Don’t make everyone sound the same. Give the characters the respect they deserve to be their own people. You put so much effort into creating them, make them the special individuals they are.

Yes, the story is important, but one part of the screenwriting process that is so neglected are the characters’ voices, and if you’re unable to craft them so that they’re different enough to live in the same world but “be their own people,” then for me your movie isn’t a success. I’m not lambasting Sorkin. He’s a genius and talented and he and I know it. I just wish he didn’t write all of his characters the same and at the same level of clever genius, studio exec or janitor. It makes them all seem dumb in their shining brilliance.

Oh and a little shoutout to Justin Timberlake trying to act. He’s so cute. I wanted to pinch his cheeks every time he earnestly tried to deliver a poignant line. Aww, Justin. Keep at it buddy, you’ll get there. I hear you’re the voice of Boo-Boo.

This is the story of how I rediscovered my two very favorite movies. As my first two blu-rays I got Fight Club and Goodfellas, uh duh, because I’m not retarded. I got this crazy, awesome TV. I’m finally in stead with young 20-something men or the paunchy mid-life crisis sect in terms of my electronics level and I wanted my two favorite movies to christen my new PS3. (I was a good girl this year.)

So along came Tyler Durden, restored, remastered, sparring whilst sweat slowly dripped off his glistening abs in glorious 1080i. It wasn’t my first night at Fight Club, but I came to fight; well after talking through the first 20 minutes about how incredible it looked, so much so that the movie had to be restarted, because I hadn’t watched it for seeing it. I know. I must’ve been a boy in a past life.

Every shot, every extra detail, every camera trick was so familiar, yet so new and plainly visible, my brain exploded with possibility. When I was a kid, I only ever saw The Wizard of Oz on a 12 inch TV, that is until we got one of those giant rear-projection monstrosities and a laser disc player, when I was in high school. When I saw it I was like “Holy shit?! That’s what this movie looks like?”

This was the same experience. I saw details of the Paper Street Soap Company I never noticed, because my TV was so terrible. Bottom line, get the blu-ray. It’s your turn to fight.

Next Goodfellas, what a treat! Marty at his best, and the filmmaking was the star. Every shot, every camera angle, pure pristine planned perfection.

I sat around most of my freshman year at NYU, in all black, smoking ditch weed from Washington Square Rastas, and arguing which was a better tracking shot Goodfellas or The Player. To be fair, I don’t have The Player yet on blu-ray, nor am I still smoking from the Rastas (it was mostly dirt anyway), but this was like watching God himself in cine-motion. Forgive my gushing, but that tracking shot was worth the price of the blu-ray alone. Details I’ve never seen; jokes I never noticed.

For the love of God, I mean, his father is wearing a patterned wife-beater when he smacks Henry in the beginning for not going to school “IN MONTHS! MONTHS!” I never could see that level of detail before on my tragic massive tube TV.

So, what have I learned from my two new blu-rays? That A) THEY’RE AWESOME! and B) They’re great movies. I can’t believe the level of detail that I was now able to see. It so heightened the tension that for the first time, I winced a little while Billy Batts got his beating to Atlantis. It was so real, it was like I was there. The gore was palpable and terrifying and I was in love again. I hit rock bottom and I was reborn, scarred and shipped off to egg noodle and ketchup obscurity. I, like Dorothy, was always home, and suddenly I could see how fantastic it is.

Dear Tyler and Henry, my heart still belongs to you. Now get into the blu-ray ring. No shirts, no shoes and the first guy to tap out, the fight’s over.

An old article of mine “The Six Deadly Script Sins” has recently resurfaced,  and some of the comments were that writers wanted less about the do’s and don’ts of “presenting” your script to agents / prod co’s  for consideration, but rather they wanted to know about the do’s and don’ts of writing. So, here are my newest Six Deadly Script Sins, only these are about the craft of screenwriting, not the submission process.

1) Have one ending – Jaws ends beautifully.

The end. There’s no more, just one end. There is no need for a tag, and then a tag’s tag, and then a button on the end of the final tag. Just decide what the end of your movie is and commit to it. It’s exhausting trying to navigate more than one proper conclusion. It also makes you seem indecisive and amateurish as a writer.

2) Have an active protagonist – You character should always be doing something. They have to be the catalyst that propels the story forward. Allowing supplemental characters to cause havoc surrounding the main character is good story development and excellent to add plot complications, but you can’t rest on that alone. Set up your protagonist with a singular goal from the outset and have him work towards achieving it the whole script. It will give your protagonist interesting depth as well as create a built in plot device. Also try a MacGuffin if that better suits your needs.

3) If you don’t outline you’ll die. Well not really, but it is serious. Always. Always. Even if by the end of your first draft you’ve completely gone another direction, write the outline anyway. It’s good homework for you to know what the story is. It’s important that you, the writer, understand the full breadth of your characters and the over arching story. An outline is a horrible, tedious thing, but it’s good for you. It’s the brussel sprouts of writing. Just eat them and shut up.

4) Stop worrying about the writing and start worrying about the content. Yes your script should be well written. It should be properly formatted and in the correct font. But that isn’t the end. Your script needs to be concise, visual and above all convey a complete story. Spend less time worrying about how beautifully your action passages read, and think more about the content. You’ll find that you’ll feel less stressed when you realize pretty prose is for novels.

5) Don’t be vanilla. Yes, 90% of movies have the same beats and structure. I know you’re all “But my script…” yeah yeah, no. Your script is the same basic structure as everyone else’s whether you choose to believe it or not. It’s not that your story isn’t special, it’s just that there’s everyone else in the world with a story in their heart that probably touches on some similar beats. What will make you stand out are the details. A utilitarian scene is often necessary to give information or move the story along. That is the perfect time to add weird, quirky details if it’s a comedy. Throw in extra layers to your joke by building in visual references to complement your dialogue. That way you’re effectively hiding the fact that you need this scene to move from A-B, but at least it was interesting and unexpected. That way you’re getting more bang for your buck. I love when you get more for your money. Add the details. It’s worth your time.

6) You’re not Tarantino. You’re not Diablo Cody. You’re not either Gilmore Girl. I don’t care how cool your friends think you are. I don’t care that you once waited on Jane Lynch while you were a cashier  at a Bookstar. You are you and as such you are special. Quit trying to write preciously clever dialogue that is pervasive throughout your whole script. If you have one mouthy teenager who says the coolest, hippest street ever. Awesome. Give her her own voice. She deserves it. But if mouthy teen’s mom, the green grocer, and an alien from Neptune all have the same patois, it grows immediately tiresome. Find a voice unique to each character. Allow each character to be rich and full. Don’t make them spew semi-cool dialogue out of every pore just so you, as a writer, can seem relevant. It’s just totes, lame peeps.

There’s tons more. As I think of them or as people comment I can certainly write more and expand on this as requested.

Okay, so I’m now 27 days in and I have written 91 pages. That puts me 1.1 pages over my target. I should be happy, but I’m not… this script is still not finished. Why is the end so hard to reach?

When I started this script almost a month ago, I was ready. Well, sort of. After three or four false starts, I was ready.

I had my outline, Final Draft, I had snacks… it seemed like a winning combination. I would stare for endless hours at my screen and then I would type diligently for 20 pages. I would procrastinate and then I would write 3 really tough pages for 9 hours. I never seemed to find my rhythm like in other projects.

This whole writing process, this writing to a self-imposed deadline with no promised paycheck at the end, reminds me every minute of every day of a 1-mile marathon I ran when I was a kid.

My step-mother, Eileen, and I trained for weeks to participate in Millbrook, NY’s fun summer festival activities with the hopes that I would do great. I always have loved the idea of being a runner; the light on your feet pounding, the swift feeling of power as you raced your body hard like a steam engine. I always could see the deliberate turning of the body’s gears, as I watched other runners passing me by on the NYC reservoir’s track and I longed to be poetry on my feet.

My family had a weekend house there, so we practiced running the course religiously. We also ran in the city. I never could keep up. Even as a 13-year-old, I was no runner. (Author’s note: at 13 I had a D-cup. Now that I’ve put that inappropriate image in your head, here’s a picture of your mother.)

Well, the day of the race came. I woke up, I was ready to go. I was running the course in my mind. I laced up my sneakers. I was bouncing around like Rocky. That’s what runners do, right? They warm up and stuff?

My parents took me down to the starting line a bit early. I was one of those busy-body kids. The kind of kid you tell to stay someplace, and they don’t listen. They go off in a fog, thinking their weird kid thoughts and then wind up sleuthing mysteries that no one knew existed. Well, yeah, that was me. So on that day, I wound up next to the awards table and discovered they were giving trophies for the various races. There was one for the 1st girl and 1st boy of the 1-mile race. Hmm… I liked my odds for a trophy. I looked around at the other kids who were taking their place, and so far, it was only boys and me. I also liked my odds for having a soda with a boy at the diner afterward. But that’s another story.

I silently prayed that no other girls would show, just so I could trophy, and that’s when they gathered us around. The gun was fired. We were off and running. Haha! I was the only girl in the race, and provided I didn’t die and I crossed the finish line, I would win a trophy! I was so getting that trophy, I was so getting it, if it killed me.

At first, surrounded by a bunch of very cute boys I was running and bouncing and being a pony-tail flipping moron. For about six feet I kept this up, until I couldn’t breathe. The cute boys all ran very ahead of me, very quickly, leaving me with my plodding feet, beating mercilessly down on the cruel hard pavement, my gasping breath that no amount of well-intentioned training could’ve prevented, it was just me and the road. I had to run or quit. It was up to me.

So, like a quarter mile in I’m thinking, how far is a mile? That’s like 20 NYC blocks right? I can run 20 blocks. So like that’s from my house to 73rd Street. I can totally do that. Then maybe two NYC blocks later I start complaining to myself “The reason why NYC is so much better than the stupid country is that there’s stuff to look at while you’re running the mile. God!” This carried on for maybe six more NYC blocks, until I was too tired to silently complain anymore. I was now just groaning on a loop inside my mind.

I had run this course before. I knew how much farther it was going to be, and it was indeed far. I couldn’t breathe. My legs were burning as they always did every time I tried to run. I wondered how it was that people were able to run 26 miles. I didn’t think at this point I could evade a serial killer if I had to. I would be the first person killed in a horror movie. I just knew it.

But I kept on running. So, like NYC block 17, I’m basically blind, sort of delirious, definitely deranged. I can’t breathe. I am drenched with sweat. I feel pretty low, but I’m still moving. Barely. That’s when the ambulance showed up. I wondered who they were there for. I hoped they were alright who ever they were. The paramedic, sitting  in the open back door of the ambulance spoke to me. “Are you, Xandy?”

The ambulance pulled up and around me, so that they were in front of me, pacing me while I ran. One of the paramedics sat in the back, the doors open, his legs dangling. His partner tooted the horn at me. I was startled. I shivered, I was roused, like a demon was released from my body. And there before me was the smiling paramedic. He told me all about the mayor and how he was worried that I was dead. He told me to get in the ambulance and they would drive me the rest of the way.

I had been gone so long that the mayor thought I was dead? How long had I been running this mile? Going on 3 hours. No wonder I was so tired. I was dehydrated, I was exhausted. I was basically brain dead. The paramedic tried to hand me some water, but I refused. The mayor thought I was dead?! Oh, crap! There would be no trophy for me now. All of this for nothing. I slowed to a stumble. The paramedic told me to hop in. They would take me the rest of the way.

I was done. I was done 8 NYC blocks back. I was dead on my feet. But I was no quitter. As soon as I realized the mayor thought I was dead, and sent the ambulance to resuscitate me I got a second wind.  I don’t know from where or how, but I roused and I ran. I wiped the sweat from my beet red face, I fixed my pony tail and I ran.

I refused to let the ambulance take me the rest of the way. I had come so far and only my determination would carry me across the finish line. And, something like 20 more minutes later, about another quarter of a NYC block,  I finished. The whole town was there, to cheer me across the refastened finish line.

Everyone came out to see the girl who took nearly four hours to run a mile. It was humiliating. Everyone in our town now knew us. The search for me, or really the town-wide caucus to decide if they should send the ambulance to go find me, had really brought everyone together. It would’ve been sweet if not at my expense.

I made it three inches on the other side of the finish line, and that’s where I collapsed. My parents were there. My dad had many stories about the nice people concerned about me, about all of the people who volunteered to uncover my dead body. Eileen was proud of me that I finished on my own. So was I. In fact I was so glad to no longer be moving, that I forgot that I didn’t win a trophy.

I was finally able to stand. Eileen said I could order whatever I wanted from the diner to celebrate my victory. That’s when the mayor came over. He was thrilled to discover that while I was indeed a wreck, I wasn’t dead and a girl found alive during the town festivities is a weight off of his shoulders. The race had been over for the better part of 5 hours for everyone else, even though it was only really minutes for me. But, he handed me my trophy anyway, and said that I deserved to win just for having the strength to finish. I felt renewed. I accepted it and walked with my parents to the diner and ate probably the best BLT that ever existed.

I’m sure that as soon as I type “The End” on my script, I’ll feel as accomplished as I did after finishing the 5-hour 1-mile marathon that cost the city $17,000 in man hours and service from the dedicated paramedics. How does this relate to my #Scriptfrenzy script? Well, I’m right now at NYC block 17 and I’m really looking forward to my BLT.

Something happened to me this year that hasn’t happened in last five; I had a bunch of movie ideas. Up until recently, I was  so focused on television writing, working in television and working with other writers on their movies, that I hadn’t written one myself in five years. I am rusty to say the least. So, when I found myself with six viable movie ideas and a dull instrument I was nervous.

I have spent the better part of the last three months, procrastinating, but then I learned about Script Frenzy. It’s an effort to get screenwriters writing, by giving themselves 30 days to produce 100 original pages of a new movie. And that seemed like the perfect challenge to me.

I am not a joiner. I do not like doing things in packs. But there was something different about this challenge. This wasn’t like Weight Watchers, where everyone had to know all of your business in order to keep you accountable. I’m already accountable. I know when I’m behaving badly. That isn’t necessarily a deterrent. So, I needed something to give me the motivation to go for it, but not the oppressive pressure usually involved in group activities.

Enter Script Frenzy; the solution to what ailed me. It forced me to finish my outline before the April 1st, start date. It has given me a goal to strive for, and a non-self-imposed deadline, which I so terribly needed. But the first 5 days, haven’t been all moonlight and roses. There have been some hurdles.

I didn’t manage to finish my outline in time for the deadline. I know,I know!! I feel terrible about it. However, I’m glad I didn’t start before my outline was done. Because even though I waited until today, I still had some problems with the outline and it’s causing me grief. I felt alone, and like a failure, and like the worst writer in the universe! That’s a big statement, but it’s true. I felt low.

I tweeted about my feelings, and the outpouring of support I’ve received has been unbelievable. Everyone is also feeling insecure, they’re undertaking something as huge as me and they’re also scared. They’re worried about their protagonists as much as me and it was so amazing realizing that I wasn’t alone in my writer’s fear. It’s been fantastic knowing the other #scriptfrenzy participants on Twitter. They have given me the strength I needed to persevere and I managed to write 10 of the 16 pages I needed to write today to get back on track with the time line.

And, instead of hopping on my gerbil wheel and making myself crazy, I am doing as my #scriptfrenzy friends on twitter suggested. Write some extra pages per day and I’ll make up for my slow start in no time. Stay tuned for further updates, as I progress throughout the month.

Yesterday, I had the delightful pleasure of being a guest on #scriptchat’s professional reader’s panel, on Twitter, and my fingers have only just cooled down from all that speed typing!! It was amazing how many questions everyone had and how fast they all came! What an amazingly inquisitive bunch of writers!!

I found that the scriptchatters had a lot of similar questions. These were the most common. What do professional readers look for in a script? How many pages in before I know I want to pass? Why is working with a professional important? / What should I expect to get out of my coverage experience?  I figured I would take the time now, to answer those three questions again in a little more detail than the 140 characters Twitter afforded me. Here are my answers:

Q: What do I look for in a script?: This question could be both literal and metaphorical, so here’s both answers. I check to make sure that the script is properly formatted, that the font is correct, that the cover page appears professional –all sorts of critical minutia. After my “white glove” inspection, I start reading. While I am reading, I look for concise, breezily written action passages. I look for fully realized characters. I look for a complete story filled with appropriate structure and act breaks. And finally, I look for typos.

Q: How many pages in before I know I want to pass?: I know on page one, if this is going to be a script that I will be engaged by or one that is going to be an uphill battle. I’ve read enough scripts in my career to know which writers will tell a compelling story and which ones won’t. Very rarely am I surprised past page 1. But when I am that’s great! That’s why I keep reading.

Q: Why is working with a professional important? / What should I expect to get out of my coverage experience? A story analyst much like a personal trainer or a therapist, is there to tell you what to do to get you healthy, not do the work for you. Why you want a story analyst, is exactly why you want a trainer or a therapist; you have things that are bothering you and you need some help fixing them. Your reader will ideally provide you timely, unbiased notes, which are constructive, a path to resolve whatever problems are found, and an open line of communication to discuss everything. While you might get a lot of those things with a friend, a friend isn’t a pro… unless your friend is a pro and then by all means, enslave them. However, if you are not friends with a professional story analyst, it’s wise to seek out help before you start submitting. A pro will be able to spot industry standards that your friends might overlook. Also, friends and family tend to love or hate whatever you write simply because you wrote it. And while that loyalty is super adorable, a pro is going to tell you like it is, always. And isn’t that really why you’re there to being with?

Ultimately I feel like a reader / writer relationship is one based on trust. Like any therapist or trainer, a reader is privy to the writer’s deepest, most personal feelings of self-consciousness and with that comes great responsibility for your pro. You and your reader should agree to the terms prior to starting to read. You should know exactly what services you’re getting and make sure that your needs are met. If you don’t want a synopsis but they’re included, speak up. If you need your script expedited, speak up. The clearer you are with your needs, the easier it is to have them met.

Should you ever have an issue with your reader, which shouldn’t ever happen since you took such care in selecting them, you should be able to explain your point of view, and allow the reader to work with you to find some sort of solution. We’re writers too, for the most part. We understand how tough it is to get notes. It’s exhausting, but it’s a necessary part of a writer’s growth. So, figure it all out in advance, go into it with an open heart, hear what the reader has to say, and work on a plan of attack together. That’s the best way to make the most of your time with your story analyst.

One of the other panelists from #scriptchat was Merrel Davis, my story analyst. He has the tough job of keeping my writing on the straight and narrow and making sure that I don’t get testy while hearing his notes. Hey, it’s a tough gig, but someone has to do it! He and I have shared clients in the past, someone comes to me and him at the same time, gets two sets of notes, but no way to reconcile them. Merrel and I thought, like so much an infomercial, that there had to be a better way!

I’m so thrilled to announce that I will be partnering up with Merrel Davis, my good friend and colleague, to bring a REVOLUTIONARY NEW SERVICE TO YOU! We’re calling it: “DOUBLE FEATURE.”

We offer two professional story analysts working on your project, at the same time, and then collaborating together to help you get the most out of your development experience. We plan to offer this amazing service to both screenwriters and novelists of every genre. This service is the first of its kind. There are NO OTHER SERVICES QUITE LIKE IT.

Merrel and I share a passion for story development and a keen eye in which to help writers push through to reach their goals. I chose Merrel to partner with for this project, because we share the belief that it’s essential for writers to trust their story analysts, be able to get what they need in order to grow, and he has the same no-nonsense approach that I look for when I hire a reader to review my work. I felt, without question, he was the right person to bring on board.

So, Merrel welcome to CoverMyScript.com! And to all of you, please check out the #scriptchat transcript for the other panelist’s answers. And  I can’t wait to see you, at the “Double Feature.”

My sister, Spenser, and I go on the same highly anticipated adventure every time we’re together. We drive from our parents’ home in Connecticut into Manhattan for a quick, food hit-and-run on Original Ray’s on 9^th between 23^rd and 22^nd and then on to Billy’s Bakery, half a block away between 22^nd and 21^st. It’s my favorite two blocks in Manhattan, next to Zabars and H&H. Mmm. Delicious! The drive usually takes us one hour and forty five minutes roundtrip to complete and then there’s forty five more minutes of scarfing pizza and cupcakes while we giggle. We are on a mission, specific solely unto us, which can only be satisfactorily concluded with that first bite of pizza and end with the last moist bite of a chocolate cupcake with vanilla frosting.

Like Peewee and his bike, Citizen Kane and his Rosebud, Lt. Aldo Raine and his Nazi scalps, Spenser and I wanted something so much that it prompted us to act just to get it. That slice and cupcake, in the movie of our cross-state adventure, is our MacGuffin: the “thing” we seek.

A MacGuffin, plainly and simply is everything and nothing at the same time. It is the object of your character’s desire; it’s the thing that drives him and forces him to act. It is the carrot at the end of your plot’s stick. It is an excellent character motivator and every movie has one, regardless of genre. Some movies have a tangible thing, like Harold and Kumar’s White Castle, while others can be intangible, like Dorothy wanting to “go home.” While she’s not yearning for a “thing,” she’s yearning for “something” and that’s enough to motivate her to act.

The term MacGuffin was coined by Alfred Hitchcock while working on Notorious. The spies were originally going to be hunting diamonds, but then Hitchcock decided Uranium would work better. The thing about MacGuffins is that even though there’s a huge difference between diamonds and Uranium, there’s really no difference at all. Hitchcock recognized that all that needed to remain constant was the characters’ desire to obtain the “thing” not what the “thing” is. The “thing” itself is really just a random thing. Sam Spade had his Maltese Falcon, The Terminator has John Connor, Neo has his whatever The Matrix is about. Everyone wants something different. What they want doesn’t matter, just that they want something does.  It’s really a spectacular revelation when you think about it.

Hitchcock dubbed this concept a “MacGuffin” after a joke: Two Scotts are on a train. One points to the other’s case. “What’s in the case?” “It’s a MacGuffin. It’s an apparatus used to trap lions on the Scottish Highlands.” “But there are no lions on the Scottish Highlands.” “Well, then sir, that is no MacGuffin.” And that’s it. A MacGuffin was born.

According to Hitchcock, a MacGuffin can really be as varied as the character. My cupcake, is one spy’s papers is another thief’s diamond necklace. But what that “thing” is, isn’t important. What is important is the character’s desire to possess that “thing.” Because it is desire that drives us as people, and it is desire that makes for relatable and accessible characters.

It is this desire that will prompt a cross-state adventure to satisfy a food craving, but it is also this desire that puts your character on their journey to self discovery. The MacGuffin gives your character something to focus on, to strive for, to be pushed to the limit to have. It is through this process that your character will develop and ultimately grow as a result of participation. The MacGuffin is such an integral piece of all writing, fiction and non, because it is a comment on the human condition. Everyone wants something… that “thing” that they want, isn’t important. Their hunger for it is everything.

Just because your character is on a quest for some “thing,” it is really how he gets it and if he gets it that is important. So while it might be of the highest importance to eat that slice and cupcake, it’s the getting there, and the trip with Spenser that makes the movie exciting. It is the minutia of what happens to us in the car ride that makes the movie special.

Whereas the object of your character’s desire can be as varied as the landscape in which you create it, the one thing that will always remain constant is that the MacGuffin is the most important thing to your character. It is this unabashed love of something that drives your character to act, to journey, to grow. So no matter if it’s a waffle or a sports car, whatever the “thing” your character wants, should inform their choices to obtain it.

The MacGuffin also allows you to show a little bit of character in a fun and clever way. The Dude’s attachment to a small throw rug in his living room is odd. It was weirdly sized, awkwardly placed and grungy. It was something of little consequence to basically everyone in the world; everyone in the world but The Dude.

You see, if The Dude hadn’t so seriously wanted his rug back, he might never have met The Big Lebowski, nor been sucked into the caper of The Missing Bunny Lebowski. It was his desire for his rug’s safe return that lead him to Maude, it was the rug that led him to the Nihilists. If Jackie Treehorn’s porno-actor thug hadn’t micturated upon the rug “that really tied the room together,” The Dude might not have realized how important this item was to him. He might have done his bowling Thai Chi over it for 10 more years as it gathered dust, unnoticed below him. But it was the loss of this rug, the ever present desire to reclaim it that forced him to realize how important it really was to him. That this rug didn’t just “really tie the room together,” it really made him whole, it defined him.

So, when you’re crafting your character think about what they want. By giving them a MacGuffin, you’re giving them something that explains something about their personality while also giving them a built in goal. The item itself is immaterial, as it can be anything. But what makes it so exciting and so mysterious, is that while it’s so important, it’s really of little consequence. Ascribe them something strange and different, make the object a poignant character point rather than some throw away. Use your MacGuffin to center your journey around, and let it inform your character’s choices.

I believe that when you employ an interesting MacGuffin, you’ll find the same satisfaction I find in my slice and cupcake, as your character will find in their adventurous expedition to get the “thing” they’re after. It is in the hunting for that “thing,” the lusting for that “thing,” the obtaining of that “thing” that your character will find their happiness. It is in the adventure to get the “thing,” their MacGuffin that will actually force your character to grow.

I’ve been watching The Young and the Restless since before I was born. How is that possible, you ask? My mother watched it while pregnant with me. I know that’s a cheap one, but it counts. I’ve been actively watching it since my birth. How many shows, other than the news, can you say that about?

I watched it my entire childhood. I tuned in throughout my teen years, on those rare occasions when I could convince my parents I was indeed bleeding from my eyes, so I could stay home from school.

When I went to college, I started watching every day. I hadn’t missed a single episode until this past November 2009. On November 30^th, Y&R went dark in my house for the first time in my life. It’s been hard on me. Y&R has moved on, but I have not.

I should’ve seen it coming, and even though it was my idea to end our relationship, that doesn’t mean that I’m not grieving. In fact, being apart is almost harder than it was when we were together. I find myself wondering, in the middle of the day, around 11:30am, what Y&R is doing. I wonder if my Genoa City friends are okay, left in the hands of a revolving door writing staff who don’t know the characters past a couple of seasons.

It reminds me of something that happened to me at a WGA function last week. I met a writer staffed on a reboot animation franchise (I can’t say which one, but it was a big one with a flop live action movie.) The offending thing was, while lovely and presumably talented, he didn’t know the history of the show he was working on. He wasn’t a fan. He had never seen or connected to the original incarnation. But like a competent journeyman writer, he cranked out satisfactory scripts regardless of his project knowledge; they had to be good to impress their difficult and demanding Executive Producer.

The thing is this happens. I’m no civilian. I should know better. I know that the turnover a writing staff is. To expect every new staffer to know everything about every character ever in a 35 year history, is fairly ridiculous of me. But in the same way I was so appalled by the TV writer who had never seen the show he was remaking, I was furious with the Y&R staff.

I know who Sharon Newman is, and she is not how the writers have been crafting her. She’s done a total 180 degree turn as a character, and not in a positive, growing sort of way. The writers have lost the real essence of Sharon, what really makes her a character you love, and instead, they’re presenting us a Sharon imposter… which might not have been a bad plotline, but turns out to be the death knell for me as a viewer.

Then about 5 years ago, the show took a strange turn. Concerned that the audience was getting bored with the tried and true Y&R, they decided to make it glamorous, more daring, more like a nighttime soap. That’s the beginning of the end for me.

Y&R has been suffering a snowball effect of bad writing since then. The nighttime soap idea was a disaster. Y&R had their lowest ratings ever. Then there was the writer’s strike. More viewers lost. Then there was the interim staff who just kept things humming, but Y&R was clearly out of tune.

Then, two years ago, like a shining beacon of hope, a Bell was back in charge of Y&R. Maria Arena Bell, the series creators’ granddaughter, was now helming and she was going to reestablish the show and restore it to her grandparents’ legacy. At least that was the hope. CBS was behind her and seeing the Bell name at the top of the show, post credit sequence, was oddly comforting. While we had a bad, mean babysitter looking after us for a while, it almost felt like Mommy had come home from dinner.

And then, things went weird in the writers’ room. The 35 year history of Genoa City was rewritten, character backstory was thrown to the wind. It was like they were bizzaro world clones of their former selves. They did the old plot standards: a murder, a court case, mistaken identity, baby switching, but all the plotlines were ruthlessly dark, bizarre, and seemingly angry without any payoff. There was no pleasure in watching these characters.

My eyes and brain were tired of being assaulted. I have loved these people, the citizens of Genoa City, my entire life. I remember a lot of what’s happened to them over the years. But at some point, when the writing is so bad, when the characters no longer make sense, when everything they do is so improbable that you’re embarrassed for the people who make the thing you love, you have to tap out. And that’s what I did.

On November 30^th, I finally had enough. Wednesdays are usually boring on a soap. Something minor happens, to move towards the exciting Friday cliff hanger, but nothing too noteworthy occurs. On this Wednesday, an art theft case was wrapping up; another murder no one cared about was solved. Amber, a blonde bimbo with a sweet side and a penchant for trouble, was finally united with Daniel, her true love (for that hour anyway), but then she was forced to marry this other guy to save him. Would she, wouldn’t she? It had taken maybe 6 months for me to finally say, no more. Daniel, Amber, I just don’t care anymore.

But like a partner, with whom you shared a deep and profound long-lasting love, you miss the nearness of them, the comfort they provide, even if the relationship is abusive.

I will forever miss The Young and the Restless. But, I’ve moved on to new lovers. I’m seeing some really nice celebrity chefs right now, and I’m hanging out a lot over at with “Horrible People.” I’m pretty sure I’m going to be okay.

I just have one thing left to say.

Young and the Restless: You were my first, and as that, you’ll always have a place in my heart, even if we can’t be together. But just know, Y&R, and all the good people of Genoa City, I miss you now and I’ll miss you forever.