Posts Tagged With: revising

How NOT to introduce a character

“In closing, […] screenwriters — you need to chiggity check yo’selves before you wreck yourselves.” “#betheFUCKINGChange”
―@mysteryexec (Twitter)

**Oh ye of sensitive dispositions: I apologize in advance for the all swearing in this post. It is necessary.**

A while back (almost a year ago) the sage @mysteryexec of Twitter fame went on a bit of a rant:

“pretty without pretense or solicitation” “pretty without trying” — If you have this as character description you are a BAD, LAZY WRITER.

STOP WRITING FEMALE CHARACTERS AS FUCK PUPPETS. YOU ARE ALL BAD WRITERS. ALL OF YOU.

TALK TO ACTUAL WOMEN. MALE WRITERS, YOU ARE ALL DOING IT WRONG.

HAVE A WOMAN READ YOUR FUCKING SCRIPT AND CALL YOU OUT ON YOUR AWFUL FUCKING DIALOGUE.

“She’s quirky”. NO SHIT!!! WE BETTER GET ZOOEY GODDAMN DESCHANEL ON THE LINE RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!! LAZY LAZY LAZYYYYY.

“It’s stylized,” you argue. NO. IT IS SHIT. NO WOMEN TALK LIKE THIS YOU FUCKING HACK.

THE FACT THAT REPS BRING THIS SHIT TO ME IS EQUALLY EMBARRASSING.

So sayeth the Lord of the Mystery Twitter Accounts.  Amen.

However, again almost a year later, I am still seeing this crap in the scripts I read.  “The only thing prettier than her face is her ass.” “Her eyes were clear blue gems in a porcelain face.” (also – present tense people, please.)  “Girl-next-door looks with a not so sweet mind.”  Yes these are real.  But you see the problem.  Besides being pretty awful, they also tell me NOTHING about the character.

Now I admit, I was guilty of this until the amazing ladies at Script Chix (http://scriptchix.com/ shout out to Miranda Sajdak) hit me over the head and pointed out that I wasn’t any better.  I take solace in the fact I was doing it to both male and female characters, though that doesn’t make me a better writer, only a less misogynistic one.  But it is totally and completely lazy.  Here’s a piece of advice from the Script Chix: Hollywood does not hire actors who are not good-looking.  Therefore it is entirely redundant to specify in the script that they are good looking.  It’s a given.  It doesn’t tell us WHO the character is.  And on a smaller soapbox, it limits casting.  Is it important that your heroine is blonde?  Is it important that your hero has green eyes?  Of course not.  I tried to argue once that it was, actually, important to my character that she was pretty and that it influenced who she was as a person.  But the way to go about that was not to talk about how beautiful she was.  It was to show how she acted in the scene.  I’m sure “show don’t tell” has been beaten into your brain enough by now, but it’s as true for character descriptions as it is for anything else.

Look at some screenplays from writers you admire (I’m not going to compile a list for you, that’s what research is for) and pay attention to the descriptions.  As John August says, “Look for details that have an iceberg quality: only a little bit sticks above the surface, but it represents a huge mass of character information the reader can fill in.”  Think simple, think memorable, think beyond hair color and ass shape.

First impressions are forever, make sure yours don’t suck.

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The cutting room

“I’m all for the scissors. I believe more in the scissors than I do in the pencil.”
―Truman Capote

I’m doing it.  I’m going to tear apart my favorite script to date.  Don’t be fooled by my bravado, I created a separate file to do all this tearing and cutting because I’m a giant scaredy-cat and have the same inner fear of every writer about to revise that I’m changing my baby for the worse.  Which it totally possible.

However, one thing is for sure: if I don’t tear this thing apart, it WILL NOT get better.

I hate revision.  I’m set in my ways and have a hard time seeing around what I’ve already accomplished.  But as Capote would agree, the scissors are just as important as the pencil.  Here are my tips for revision:

1) Give it away

Send you work out for someone else to read.  They will see things you did not and not see things you intended them to.  Either way, it will tell you something about your work.  Feel free to discard the suggestions you don’t think fit, but be open.  If you only believe the good and throw away the bad, your writing WILL NOT get better.

2) Walk away

Unless you have immediate ideas about how to fix things, put the project in a drawer for a while.  Come back to it after a healthy amount of time has passed and try to read it as if it were not your own.  Get some distance to get some perspective.

3) Create a new file

If you save the original work and use a new file to revise, some of the fear of “messing up” will be taken away.  In this new file you can hack, tear, and stitch with abandon.  Plus it’s much easier to move things around if you can just copy and paste from the original.

4) Walk away again

Let it sit for a week or so and then read it again.

5) Give it away again

If your readers will agree to it, have them read the revision.  By the way, when say readers I don’t mean your mother or husband.  Get some writer friends!  They’ll have more knowledge and will hopefully be honest with you.  You know you’ve found good ones when they give you excellent advice but don’t get butt-hurt if you don’t take it.

6) Take all the advice

Just for an exercise, create a new file and revise using every piece of feedback you have even if you don’t agree with it.  See what happens.  It might just open up something for you.  You can throw it away later if not.

7) Know when to stop

I could read everything I’ve written every day until the end of the world and still find something to change each time.  Know when to put your tools down and say done.

8) Proofread!

For the love of god, proofread.  Please.  Use find & replace to fix common mistakes like their/there/they’re and it’s/its, etc.  Nothing screams amateur more than spelling and grammar mistakes.  Proofread.  Seriously.  Proofread.  I’m going to say it one more time, proofread.

 

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One step above blank

“You can fix anything but a blank page.”
―Nora Roberts

I never used to outline.  Meaning the first screenplay and handful of short stories I wrote weren’t written from an outline.  My limited experience as a newbie write told me to just put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, and go go go.  But as my writing grew, where I had previously been happy to meander lost along the highway and hope to happen upon my story, I realized I needed a map if I was going to get from Fade In to Fade Out.  To continue with this overused metaphor, sometimes I find a couple hand-scrawled directions will get me there, other times I need fully loaded satellite GPS.

Outlining is a personal choice but before you decry it, I suggest you try it (poetry baby).  Cause there’s no one way to do it.  Personally I have used synopses, index cards, excel sheets, post-it notes, treatments, and that chart thing from Dramatica.  I recommend trying all of them.  They all work for different kinds of projects.  My second script grew out of a eight page synopsis, my novel from an excel sheet of chapter breakdowns, my dramedy from index cards, a historical script from post-it notes, a sci-fi script written with my partner from a treatment, etc. etc.  It is especially important to outline when working with a partner, otherwise the left hand won’t know what the right hand is doing.

I wrote my first outline without even realizing it.  You see, my daughter was a co-sleeper.  She slept in our bed and napped in our bed.  The crib was a dangerous pit of hot lava to her.  But as long as I sat on the bed next to her, she would take two 2 hour naps per day.  At first I just ate cereal and watched a lot of television, then after I exhausted all the good shows and found myself tuning in to a marathon of “My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding,” I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t be using this time to be productive.

Little known fact: the clicking of keyboard keys sets off an internal alarm clock in children under 5.

I couldn’t type on the laptop during naptime.  Inevitably, she would wake up less than a page into whatever I was working on.  Somehow, she could easily sleep through a boisterous round of Gypsy nuptials, but a few clackety key strokes and her little eyes would pop open and she would immediately start asking what was for lunch.  I had to figure something else out if I was to get any work done.

Before the advent of Final Draft Writer for iPad (Paleolithic, I know), I had to download My Writing Spot in order to be able to at least make notes when they occurred to me.  I could type using the on-screen keyboard without setting off the baby alarm.  Mostly I jotted down dialogue or worked on novel chapters.  Then one day I had an idea about a project I had been mulling over for years.  This is how most projects germinate for me.  I have a vague notion of something I would like to see or a character I think is interesting and then I chew on it for months and, yes, in some cases years, until a story emerges.  This day, by the light of morning television and the sound of a snoring infant, the idea for Etoile finally gelled.  I saw the entire story from start to finish and had to get it down before it was gone again and my attention turned back to mushed peas and tummy time.  Since I couldn’t just start writing it in Final Draft like I wanted to, I used my iPad to write a very short synopsis so I could get it out of my head.

Usually for me, my characters start to have conversations with each other before the whole plot reveals itself.  I only get snippets at a time and almost always I know the beginning and end and have no idea how to fill the black hole in the middle.  I just start writing and hope it’ll work itself out.  So that’s what I did.  I started writing from my short synopsis and immediately ran into problems.  I went back and fleshed out the synopsis into a real outline, adding plot points and characters.  When I headed back into the screenwriting software the script came very quickly.  And it wasn’t half bad.  I needed to cut about 15 pages as  I tend to write long anyway, and the great problem with following the outline was that I didn’t plan the length of scenes very well.  What looked short on the outline was very long in the script.  I sat on it and revised it for several months.  Finally I chucked it up on the Black List where it made the monthly Top Lists.  I was over the moon!  However, being a period film about ballerinas in the Paris Opera, it didn’t get a lot of downloads.  No biggie.

Currently, I’m revising it to put in a major competition and know it could stand to have at least ten more pages trimmed.  How long is this monster of a script, you ask?  Originally 132.  Then 128.  Now 124.  It really should be 115.  And that is only because it’s a period piece.  Page length will be a future post because there are interesting things going on with this subject lately.

I knew there were a couple scenes I could cut but it wasn’t tightening up the way I wanted so I enlisted outside help from my sometime writing partner.  He pointed out some issues that were totally on the money and I opened it back up thinking I was going to fix everything.  But I had no idea how to start rearranging the entire plot to accommodate the fixes.  Here’s the problem with outlining: you become so married to the outline that it becomes impossible to deviate.  Changing a scene here or there, tweaking a character, adding and subtracting dialogue — that’s all fine.  But majorly changing the bones of a script?  That’s real revision.  If I figure out how to do it, I’ll let you know.

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