Category: Screenwriting

March 10th, 2010

Didja get that thing? Searching for your MacGuffin

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 9th between 23rd and 22nd and then on to Billy’s Bakery, half a block away between 22nd and 21st. 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.

February 19th, 2010

Getting Away From Your Desk: Screenwriting in the Wild

Screenwriting, well any writing really, is a loner sport. It’s for thinkers, for watchers, for journalists of the human condition. It’s just the way it is. Even most writers who sit in a writers’ room and are forced to work together, still pretty much don’t like people as much as they like writing about people. And where you write is almost as important as what you’re writing.

I recently set up my home office. I moved late last year and I just never got around to creating a proper workspace. So, when I finally was forced into really unpacking and setting up my desk, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I wanted it to be very me, but it also needed to be functional and inspiring. I filled my desk area with eclectic thrift store findings, candles, a mug of my face that my mother made filled with a bouquet of craft scissors, loads of colorful clutter, each item with a meaning, each item providing inspiration.

But eventually my recluse ways are invariably encroached upon. Sometimes I have social or work engagements, but mostly I venture out when I’m blocked. There’s nothing like participating in the world to find the solution to your story. I’ve often said that 90% of writing is napping. Well, after you’ve done the napping and you’ve got your story, and the words just aren’t flowing, that’s when I say take your act on the road. Try writing on location.

In L.A., it’s the vogue thing, to go to Starbucks to pound out your Magnum Opus, but as far as I’m concerned, that’s a trite behavior. To really write is to think, to hear your inner voice, to channel a character’s pain and translate that into palpable text. How can you do all of that important work, while listening to a grinder gnash beans incessantly, loud teenaged girls snapping their gum and ordering embarrassingly complicated coffee drinks, and people yapping on their Bluetooth cyborg earbuds? You simply can’t. Real writers don’t write in Starbucks, people who want to be seen writing, write in Starbucks.

For my money, I like to write in bars. If I feel like I’ve been cooped up too long, and my facial tick has gone completely out of control, I pack up my laptop and head for my bar. “The Bucket of Blood” is perfect for writing. There are only a handful of ever-drunk and very quiet, afternoon regulars there during the day, which makes for a peaceful working environment. Their TV’s are on mute, and the service is excellent, mostly because the cute blonde bartender has the preternatural ability to know exactly when I want something and when I want to be left alone. It’s a great place to have a drink, look at your story and really take stock of what you have in a new environment. Usually somewhere between drinks two and three, an hour into rugby, and half an order of bangers and mash later, I get the perspective or inspiration I was missing.

I had been working in my bar the day of the last Screenwriter Karaoke, when I got stuck. I was stuck on a plot point, which is what drove me to the bar in the first place. Three martinis, two diet cokes, some potato skins and four hours later, and I was no closer to solving my problem. I figured, as I was already toasty, why not go drink away my troubles with my compatriots, with other screenwriters?

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February 11th, 2010

Happy Endings Not Just For Massage Parlors Anymore

Well, Bob, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen Office Space, mostly because I’ve lost count. And another thing, Bob, I can’t recall a week since I bought the DVD where I didn’t watch it. It is to me as TPS reports were to Peter’s 8 bosses my only reason to live.

Not really, but I do really like the film. I like it because it’s simple and comforting, not necessarily because it’s outstanding. It’s mashed potatoes, it’s mac and cheese, it’s mind meatloaf. It’s plated up with a nice vegetable side. Everything works out for Peter as we hoped. He gets the girl, he gets a job where he’s finally happy, Lumbergh is presumably jobless and the evil Initech empire is reduced to so much a pile of soot. And Milton may not have received a piece of cake or been able to keep his stapler, but he had three hundred thousand of Initech’s dollars and a sunny Mexican beach on which to drink. It was a satisfactory resolution for all of those characters; a “happy ending.”

There are many choices when ending your script, and picking the right one is of paramount importance. In a comedy for example, you need to let the audience know that it’s all going to be okay for the main characters. At the end of a drama, the conflict has most likely been resolved, the emotions are still raw, and you want to capture that intense anguish without beating your audience over the head with a leg of lamb. You want just enough subtlety to tug at your heart, but enough nuance to remain sophisticated.

While, of course, some movies do still employ the classic happy ending, most films now go out of their way to choose simple, clean, quirky endings as a way to shine. It’s a writer’s last chance to send their audience out into the lobby, with a bigger and better smile on their face.

A happy ending, to me, is one in which the protagonist satisfactorily completes his journey and has demonstrated growth as a result. He participates in a conclusion that marks the character’s growth with a hint that his future is going to be okay; that we need not worry because this person whom we’ve become so invested in, will thrive in the next phase of his life.

Recently, I saw 500 Days of Summer. I generally hate romantic comedies. But in this case, I was charmed. I liked the notion of telling the story of “the girl before the girl.” Every man has had their heart broken and it is through that pain that they become the men we marry or couple with. I find the story of the woman that helped make my man the man he is, fascinating. To me, this was a wonderfully quirky ending. Tom moved on. He chose to live and thrive. And then, he meets the girl we’re lead to believe is “the girl.” Tom has a happy ending. A classically happy one? No. But a happy one nonetheless.

Before I saw Tootsie, I felt every movie should end with the hero and the heroine driving off together, into the sky, in a cherry red convertible like Grease.

Instead, the ending is this: Michael and Julie stand on a Manhattan sidewalk on a beautiful spring day. His female persona no longer. Julie asks to borrow Michael’s yellow Halston dress. Being cheeky, he refuses to lend it to her. And so he starts to walk down the street away from the camera and Julie follows protesting, and that’s it. They just keep on walking until they vanish into New York, the end credit music lulling us to the final fade out.

Oh what a revelation! You mean to tell me, endings didn’t have to be a magical, Disney-wedding, extravaganza, in 3-D, on ice in order to sell the simple idea of love? It seemed preposterous, yet also plausible.  It doesn’t have to be wrapped up in a nice neat  bow.

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February 2nd, 2010

So Long Genoa City, I’ll Miss You

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 30th, 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.

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January 25th, 2010

TV on the Web: An Evil Plot to Destory the World?

When I was 8, my step-mother, concerned that the 10 hours a day of television I was consuming was probably too many, made a declaration: only 8 hours a day. That meant that I had to choose what to watch, not just watch everything that was on! Well, Godbless her for trying, but it didn’t work. I grew up to be a TV writing TV junkie.

Yes folks, I write television and I watch television and that’s how it should be. Writers should know what is out there, what works, what shows are thriving and why. Also, I haven’t ever had a pitch meeting that didn’t start with “What are you watching, Xandy?” I’m never at a loss for an answer and it always works as an easy ice breaker. When you watch or know something about everything on TV, chances are, you’re watching one show the development exec is watching.

An Evil Plot

I didn’t watch TV as much as I consumed it, like every book I read (1000’s), and from every episode of Love Boat I watched, I learned a little something about story structure and character development. It’s surprising but true. Think of it as an apprenticeship; TV taught me to write. But, TV was totally in charge; telling me what to watch and when to watch it. Then I discovered that my beloved Tivo was in cahoots with TV; pushing me around telling me stuff was being deleted and that I had to hurry up and watch. I had become a slave to my truest love, and I was growing to resent it.

I, the ambassador to TV Junkie Town, decided I was fed up with how television was treating me…  So I started an experiment; can a TV Junkie not actually watch a television and still view all of their favorite and new shows on the internet? And to begin this 2 month journey I took an unthinkable step. I canceled cable.

How is life without TV during Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years? Strangely adequate. Granted, I didn’t get my local programming, or Thanksgiving Day parade, but it turns out, the internet rocks! Who knew?! Everything I ever wanted to see and more from official youtube channels to network websites, is up, available and ready for my compulsive viewing pleasure.

How does this saucy writer fill her internet TV Days? Here’s what I’m watching:

Peep Show

No, it’s not dirty, it’s the best British comedy you’re likely not watching. It’s an “Odd Couple” show with quirky POV camera work and Voice Over. Mark and Jeremy are best mates from college who are still sharing a London flat well into their 30’s and while Mark is stiff, uptight and generally a rule follower, Jeremy is the total opposite: a rock god in his own mind. This comedy is dark, hilarious and altogether the best show you’re probably not watching. Peep Show “I fucking love you!”

Hell’s Kitchen

I love Hell’s Kitchen. Gordo is so totally my boyfriend. He’s only got about 60 shows currently on all over the world so, so between Fox and BBC, they’ve got me covered on all the streaming screaming from his hot kitchens and it’s so wonderful. I have also been able to catch some Kitchen Nightmares, The F Word and some hour-long Cookalong Live deal. Oh Gordo, I just can’t get enough of your furrowed brow, and thanks to the internet, I can order you up for delivery. Ahh,  instant gratification tastes so good.

South Park

Okay, I have a lot of boyfriends. I love Trey Parker too. I told you I’m a junkie; I get around. Truthfully, South Park is simply just excellent TV. Trey Parker knocks out those scripts in a week, then they have like three minutes before it has to air to animate it. I am impressed with what they have accomplished and I revere him as a screenwriter. His episodes are not only topical and timely but also brilliantly well written. At South Park Studios, you can watch all of the new episodes as well as any from the prior 14 seasons. There’s nothing better than going down to South Park, to have myself a time. And now I can do it from anywhere. It’s awesome.

Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace

The series’ fictional premise: in the 1980s, best-selling horror author Garth Marenghi and his publisher/publicist, Dean Learner, made their own low-budget television series. It was bad, really bad. If you like incredibly quirky and meta shows, check it, Dark Place “from your bean bag chair, if that’s how you choose to live your life,” and watch “the greatest televisual event since Quantum Leap” and I don’t say that lightly.

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December 15th, 2009

Getting Started in Screenwriting with Xandy Sussan

Recently, I was interviewed on getting started screenwriting in Hollywood at All Freelance Writing.com. Here is a link to the article where I candidly share how I got my start and helpful tips on how to get started yourself. I sincerely hope you enjoy and find this interview resourceful and a fun read.

December 9th, 2009

CoverMyScript Sponsors “Screenwriter Karaoke LA”

Only one more shopping day until Screenwriter Karaoke LA! Come on out, belt a few tunes, and meet some filmmakers. You don’t have to be a writer to join the fun, just in the business. Bring your cards and a friend. Can’t wait to see you!

SCREENWRITER KARAOKE LA IS THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10TH, 8:30 PM AT SARDO’S BAR AND GRILL IN BURBANK, CA.

Thursday December 10th, 8:30 PM
Sardo’s Grill and Lounge
259 N. PASS AVE.
BURBANK, CA 91505

Driving directions: Here


INT. KARAOKE BAR – NIGHT

THE NEXT SCREENWRITER KARAOKE EVENT IS THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10TH, 8:30 PM AT SARDO’S BAR AND GRILL IN BURBANK, CA.

Thursday December 10th, 8:30 PM
Sardo’s Grill and Lounge
259 N. PASS AVE.
BURBANK, CA 91505

Driving directions: Here

TO RSVP PLEASE GOT TO THE MEETUP.COM EVENT PAGE HERE

Sardos_BurbankScreenwriter_Karaoke_NY2

Screenwriter Karaoke is just what it sounds like, but perhaps slightly cooler: Karaoke for Screenwriters.

Think of it as a way to let your hair down. It is a little known secret that screenwriters love karaoke. Originally born from the head of screenwriter Merrel Davis, he felt there must be a more fun and boisterous way to network, all while having a good time.

Looking for a collaborative writing partner with a knack for 17th Century English? Reach out before belting These Boots Were Made for Walking. Oww! Need a no-nonsense DP with a good reel? Woo them with your manly rendition of Sweet Transvestite. Needs some coverage on your latest romantic comedy? I promise you someone in the room will have you covered!

Is this only for screenwriters?

No! In fact, the event usually brings a mix of writers, actors, editors and various other filmmaking peers. If you are looking to connect with somebody, for say, a short film. There is no better place to begin than Screenwriter Karaoke!

But… There are 5 million other networking events for writers and filmmakers already.

That’s not really a question but, right you are! However these environments can sometimes be awkward. In networking portions of an event you often have to mill around, wait for a break in conversation and interject. It’s hit or miss. Screenwriter Karaoke aims to be a more informal way to get to know your peers and counterparts and hopefully make a connection!

When, Where?
Here it is again for good measure.

Thursday December 10th, 8:30 PM
Sardo’s Grill and Lounge
259 N. PASS AVE.
BURBANK, CA 91505

Driving directions: Here

What are the rules?

  • NO COVER CHARGE.
  • The space has been graciously provided, so please patronize the bar. (2 Drink minimum)
  • 21 and over only. Please bring ID and be prepared to show it.
  • Have fun, sing, and connect!

Who organizes this crazy thing?
Merrel Davis is a screenwriter/director who lives and works in Los Angeles You can check out more about him and his work at
MerrelDavis.com


October 31st, 2009

Avoiding The Six Deadly Script Sins

Written for “Hollywood Scriptwriter Magazine” May 2005

brassfasteners

Your mother always said to wear clean underwear in case you’re in an accident and that you only get one chance to make a good first impression. Well, your mother has found her champion, because I’m here to say, that she’s 100% right.

I can’t stress enough how important first impressions are in the film business. This is an industry where the superficial is king, where creative execs hate to read and their main job function is to say “no”. Getting your script into their hands is your biggest challenge. However, what you might not know is that there’s someone else you need to woo before Mr. or Mrs. Producer will ever see your script.

It doesn’t matter that the executive is your mother’s brother’s uncle’s sister or that he’s your doorman’s brother’s live-
in partner, your script will most certainly be covered by a reader before your executive ever sees page one. A reader is someone who went to film school, is a frustrated writer, either gets paid less than the janitor or is (shudder) an unpaid intern, most likely loathes you because your script is being submitted and tragically has the most say in what the producer sees. If the reader hates something, even the most mundane thing about your script, your opus is sure to be filed under “g” for garbage.

From deciding on font type, to two brads verses three, every choice you make, no matter how big or how small, reflects on you as a writer. It doesn’t seem fair, but that’s “Chinatown , Jake”.

Of course there are the superheroes you read about, the writer who landed a deal in his underwear from a script written on napkins. But that’s an extraordinary case and is most likely not you. If you’re trying to get your foot in the door and you weren’t born into Aaron Spelling’s clan, try not to aggravate the same people you want to win over.

The first rule in making a good impression is to do things the right way. Even though it seems like ridiculous minutia, straying from the industry standard incurs an immediate pass.

That means:

Always use three-hole punch paper, bound with two, 1½” brass fasteners. Not three, always two. I don’t care that the pages turn better with three. If you use brads that are longer than 1½”, they can stab the reader while the analyst evaluates your script and nothing makes them hate you more than a work related injury.

Do not use colored or specialty covers for your script. It shows that it didn’t come from a proper representative. Your rep will have the right cover to adorn your script. No bad script was ever sold because it had a flashy cover. Focus on the writing.

Courier 12. There should be no clever fonts ever! Not on the cover page, not in the body of the script and not on the back. No one ever got ahead using a clever font. All it does is make people think that you spent more time on the font than you did on the story.

Proofread. There is no reason to have a typo on page one. It’s just inexcusable. Readers always, without exception, pass on scripts that have typos on page one. If the writer was too lazy to proofread the first page then readers assume that that person is also too lazy to turn in a quality product. If you feel that you’re incapable of proofreading because you’re too close to the project, hire someone who can or ask a friend. It’s better to annoy your buddy than to face premature rejection.

Don’t dedicate your script to anyone. If you wrote it for your dead dog, leave a copy on his grave, but don’t advertise it. When and if it’s produced and you have the lofty position of power to dedicate the movie to someone, do it then. Otherwise it will make you seem like a besotted newbie.

Never call for music. That means when your plucky girl lead finally leans in for that meaningful kiss on page 101, and you say in the action, “Brown Eyed Girl plays softly in the background” it better mean that something plot related is about to happen. The only acceptable time to call for music is when it’s integral to your story. For example in “ Sea of Love ” the song was part of the plot, it indicated the killer was approaching. If you want to match songs to script plot points, be a music supervisor. If you want to be a writer, focus on your story.

This is really a checklist of why most new writers get a pass. In future columns we’ll get into the deeper and more serious issues like character development and story arcs that are also reasons for a pass. The key is understanding a simple idea: this is a superficial business. And as such, if you make stupid, superficial errors you’ll never get sold.

If your script is clean, when it’s handed to a ruthless reader or an exhausted executive, then the special story that you slaved over will shine through and your work will be seen as it was intended. And look at it this way — if they do wind up passing, then at least you know they took you and your work seriously. And in most cases, those same professionals who did pass will be willing to look at other scripts in the future. You then have the limitless opportunity to cultivate relationships, ultimately creating the exact thing every new writer needs, contacts.

So, if you feel passionate about a story, write it. But be painstaking with your work prior to sending it out for review. Don’t make avoidable and grievous errors and your luck just might improve with those no-sayers. They just might utter a yes.

October 25th, 2009

The Three-Act Structure and You, Perfect Together

Printed in “Hollywood Scriptwriter Magazine” July 2005

If you listen to any great raconteur entertain a group of people at a party, he tells his anecdote in a certain way to elicit the greatest emotional response from his audience. Well that, in its simplest essence, is the Three-Act Structure.

By following the Three-Act Structure’s formula, the story teller knows how to introduce the characters, when to create the drama of the circumstances and more importantly, how to get the audience to feel what he wants, exactly when he wants.

Act One is for getting to know your hero, understanding his world, his struggles, and learning what his problem is. Based on a 90 page script, Act One is broken up into a couple of sections. Pages 1-10 contain character introduction, location set up, general opening details. Let’s make up an example for illustration purposes. So, you’ve got a family man, let’s say, a taxi driver from Brooklyn . His ex-wife is a pain and she’s demanding he fetch his daughter’s cake from a Queens bakery before 2pm . By page 10 in Act One you must have the Inciting Event, which is some action that either the protagonist does or something that is done to the protagonist to set his story in motion. In our example, the family man taxi driver picks up a mob guy who dies in his cab and the taxi driver’s now got a kilo of mob coke in his back seat.

Act Two usually begins at page 30 and lasts for the majority of the 90 page script until approximately page 70. Act Two is the hardest section of the script and the place where most, if not all, writers have difficulty because it’s the longest section. This is where all the dramatic pathos is, where the emotionality resides, where the plot complications flourish. So now our taxi driver is on the run, the mob guys are after him, thinking he jacked their coke and they want him dead. Plus he still has to go to his daughter’s ballet recital and stop at the bakery.

So our taxi driver does a creative u-turn and evades his pursuers. It looks like he’ll get the cake after all. However, that forward moving story progress comes to a crashing halt, at the Dark Moment. In a 90 page script, the Dark Moment usually comes in between pages 65-70, and it’s the point in the script where everything is against the protagonist and it looks like the character won’t achieve his goal. So, right before the recital, the taxi driver is carted off by henchmen and is about to get boiled in oil for the coke and it looks like nothing will save him.

However, here comes Act Three to the rescue between pages 75-80. The Act Three act break is a direct result of the dark moment and it gives the character a new chance to rebound from seeming failure. So, maybe our taxi driver hero sees that he can save himself by swinging out harm’s way and in a Herculean feat of strength sending his captor instead into the oil to be French fried. It is this chance that leads the protagonist to the successful resolution of his problems. He makes it to the recital, with the cake, and eventually gives the coke back to the Don. He and the Don make up and our hero’s life is spared. And that is the Three-Act Structure.

Another is example is 1988’s Working Girl, which has perfect Three-Act Structure. This film knows structure and if you’re having trouble figuring it out, check out this movie again and watch for the transition between acts.

Tess is a struggling secretary with dreams of success in the corporate world. However, she’s tacky and no one takes her seriously. So when she gets fired, i.e. the Inciting Event, she has to start a new job, working for narcissistic Katherine. Tess pitches an idea to Katherine, whom she views as a mentor, which Katherine rebuffs.

In Act Two, Tess has to take over for Katherine, who is injured. Tess discovers that Katherine passed off Tess’ idea as her own, and so Tess decides to pose as Katherine’s colleague to get her ideas heard. Tess contacts Jack, a colleague who coincidentally is Katherine’s beau, to put the deal together. Both Jack and Tess are unaware of the Katherine element in their relationship, adding more plot twists and heightened tension for the audience as Jack and Tess fall in love. These are all perfect Act Two details.

The Dark Moment comes just as Jack and Tess are about to succeed and finalize the big Trask deal. Katherine, recently returned from her injury, and having discovered Tess’ scheme, goes and humiliates her in front of Trask himself proclaiming “That woman is my secretary!” Tess, shamed, leaves the boardroom knowing that she’s spoiled her one chance at happiness both for work and love. As part of the audience we shout, “Tess, speak up, don’t let Katherine get away with it!” but you see, if she did, then it would prematurely end the story, providing a less than satisfying climax. But this is not the end of the story. There’s still Act Three to bring us our promised happy ending.

As Act Three begins, Tess is unemployed. But we discover that Jack loves her not Katherine, and he intercedes with Trask on Tess’ behalf. Tess finally has the courage to speak up and vindicate herself. Katherine is fired for her unscrupulous behavior. Tess winds up with a job at Trask as an executive and gets Jack too! This is how Act Three ties up all the loose ends and satisfactorily concludes the story.

The Three-Act Structure is the best story telling tool around. Understanding it, implementing it and using it to your advantage will make screenwriting all the easier because since it’s a formula, you will know exactly where to place the highs, lows and inbetweens. The Three-Act Structure and you are perfect together.

September 23rd, 2009

Relationship Porn: Your Jenna Jameson is my Don Draper

Everyone has their porn. For some, the word “porn” may evoke girls in cherry red pumps and little else; not a bad way to spend an afternoon. But there are other kinds of porn out there, porn often more satisfying than sex and better yet, it’s taboo free! For me there has always been “Relationship Porn” and god does it feel good! Oh, yes it does!

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For “Foodies,” there is “Food Porn.” Think Top Chef, Hell’s Kitchen, Iron Chef, all that quick paced, rat-a-tat-tat chopping, steel against wood, parsley minced to beatific perfection resulting in a fluffy cloud of green. How could you not get a little turned on by such a cunning culinary display?

For “Gearheads” there is “Car Porn.” Think Top Gear and American Chopper, all that gleaming chrome, endless road, open terrain whizzing by at dizzying speeds, making you long to drive like The Dark Knight in a tunnel with the dazzling flair of 007. How could you not want to fondle that gear shift, firmly in your grasp, as you punch the clutch?

Then there is my favorite kind of pornography, the very best smut around that satisfies me, and countless other like-minded women, on every level: “Relationship Porn,” the delicate balance of romantic minutiae and overly complicated details woven into a tapestry of magnificent, belabored satisfaction. What a remarkable invention! Shows like 90210, Melrose Place and certainly all daytime soaps like The Young & The Restless create, for me, the sort of feeling you get after taking an hour to eat a single frozen Milky Way; sheer, unadulterated, prolonged ecstasy.

Any television series that revolves around regular characters in love and in peril, progressing in the tiniest of baby steps, while hyper-examining lint sized emotional triviality, falls under the category of “Relationship Porn.” I, like most women television viewers, love the details. I always want to know everything that happened to everybody, ever. and also because the details are what make a story interesting and engaging. It is these details that reveal the character and what invests us in their outcomes.

Felicitylogo1998’s Felicity taught us that a single word could mean so much, to so many. Every time Ben, the hunky Northern Californian barista, said “Hey,” to Felicity it was never clear if it was going to be a good “Hey,” like when they were in love, or a bad “Hey,” like when they weren’t. Either way, the “Hey” signified that they needed to discuss their feelings over lattes and ringlet curls.  And lest we forget a perfect example of contemporary “Relationship Porn:” Mad Men.


MadmenlogoIn Mad Men, not only does the show have the romantic, nostalgic costumes and sets, but it has Don Draper, the king of “Relationship Porn.” He is a cheater, a lover, a genius and the smoothest man on Madison Avenue. It is his devastating good looks that draw in the ladies, but the minutia is with his desperately sad, yet tragically beautiful wife Betty. Then, there’s star-crossed lovers Peggy and Pete, their story so subtle yet so intangible. We only get just enough to tease ourselves, but never quite enough to feel like we’ve eaten a full meal. There is always room for Peggy and Pete, definitely seconds and sometimes thirds

Just as there will never be enough Don Draper, I will always want more “Relationship Porn.” Give me interesting characters, romantic complications and a sincere desire to tickle me slowly with feathery details, and I’m there every time.

In Shaun of the Dead: How do you Pegg it, when you Wright, I discussed how changing details can reinvent a standard plot. Well, in “Relationship Porn,” change even the most insignificant details, and you’ve got season two. With each new detail revealed, a rippling complication can further separate desperate lovers. Yes! More time to savor that sweet character drama melting like chocolate slowly on my tongue. It is the willingness to see heroes vanquish evil, overcome every romantic obstacle and saboteur, and finally be united in a brief yet emotionally satisfying manner that keeps the audience tuning in week after week. The key to keeping the audience around? Our lovers can only be happy momentarily before, once again, they are ripped apart by evil forces determined to ruin the lovers’ chance at a happily ever after. It gets me every time.Real_Wives_NYC

When women talk life with their friends, it’s the details that we focus on.  The salacious details, all dramatic pathos, plots rife with potential conflict and drama in the most delicious possible way, and it will take the long slow road to solve each dilemma. The Real Housewives of NYC is a great example of Reality Show “Relationship Porn” that isn’t sexual or romantic in nature. Since it is about straight women’s relationships and the in-fighting with each other, it is nothing but “Relationship Porn.” There’s Simon, the husband who crashed a “Girl’s Night” dinner party and started a war with Ramona, another party guest, in season one, setting off a series of disastrous and drunken confrontations that are always a train wreck and a delight to behold. Season two found Bethany at odds with Kelly, the newest housewife and resident snotty bitch. As they fought about who was cooler and who was “stupider” and whose face belonged under whose Jimmy Choo, we hated Kelly and her embarrassing display of childish brattiness as we rallied behind Bethany for rising above. Godbless, Bravo!

“Relationship Porn” isn’t about the outcome, it’s about the journey. The satisfaction doesn’t come from the big climax at the end. Because once the secret’s out, then it’s time for the next big reveal and then next, into infinity (or until the show is canceled). It’s pervasive, it’s ubiquitous, and it’s just like life, only better. Revel in those details, soak up all that minutiae. You’re deep in the throws of “Relationship Porn” and, oh god, is that a sexy place to be!

With contributions from Merrel Davis (www.merreldavis.com)