There is an ongoing joke in Los Angeles that everyone is a screenwriter. I’ve met lawyers who are screenwriters, café baristas who are screenwriters, waiters of course who are screenwriters, and the list goes on. My favorite was when I was pulled over by a police officer who told me she was writing a screenplay. Ask around at any entertainment industry party how many people are writing screenplays—it is probably about 90 percent of the people there. So why do so many people claim the screenwriting profession? Well, it’s so easy. All you have to do is buy Final Draft, the software that does all the special screenwriting formatting, and off you go. Right? Well...
If you had 15 seconds to pitch your movie to a producer who promised to find you the financing and the distribution deal to get your movie on the big screen, what would you say?
This is the question a good friend of mine who is a producer at Disney posed to me when I was looking to pitch a TV documentary that I wrote. I started to answer. About 30 seconds into my pitch, she cut me off. “You don’t have idea what your show is about, do you?”
“Of course I do,” I responded. “I bought rights to the source material; I’ve been living with the details for eight months; I know it better than anyone.”
She snapped right back. “Well, I’m not convinced. Any hopes you had for a deal just evaporated.”
Suddenly I felt very naïve. Is the entertainment industry really that brutal? She told me they were, and if I was going to get a foot in the door with a meeting she was setting up for me as a favor, I had to practice my pitch.
And so I did. I practiced in the car, in the shower, and to my friends and neighbors. As confident as I was that I had practiced to a polish, when I walked into the meeting, I could feel the sweat dripping from my armpits.
The producer walked in, shook my hand, and asked me if I wanted anything to drink. “A large scotch,” I thought to myself. “No, I’m fine,” is what I said. Her assistant closed the door behind him, and we exchanged a few pleasant syllables about our mutual friend who got me the meeting. And then she said it. “So tell me about your project.”
My ass tightened, and I recited the line I had been practicing without even thinking about it. Then there was silence. I was on the verge of saying something totally idiotic to break the hush when she asked, “Do you have anything written?”
“Yes, I do.” I handed over my treatment, and she promised to get in touch after she ran it by a few people. Total meeting duration: 12 minutes.
The refined, abbreviated pitch is called a logline or a one-line. My one-line was this—It’s a documentary about the quintessentially American ritual of the high school prom, in which we visit a traditional prom in a southern state like Louisiana, and a gay prom in Long Island, and then compare and contrast the two. The working title is All Night Long.
It seems deceptively simple, but it took me a long time to distill my project to those 47 words. Even now, it takes me a while to conjure a one-line for a project. But until you can do it, you don’t know what your story is about.
Knowing your one-line isn’t only for spouting to producers. What if you’re doing a small DSLR production and you need to borrow five hundred bucks from an uncle, or what about if you’re asking an actor you know to be in your production, gratis. Having a refined one-line is key for just about everything surrounding your project, including writing the actual project itself.
I’m going to give it you straight. Contrary to appearances, you know, all those screenwriters out there, writing a screenplay is hard, hard work. If anything, this chapter will serve to give a very broad overview of some the rudimentary elements of a script so you get an idea of the structure.
As I mentioned in Chapter 15 a screenplay is made up of three acts. Within those three acts are plot points, or beats, that occur at specific times in the script. Blake Snyder has written what many people call a definitive work that illustrates the structure of screenwriting. His book is called Save the Cat. (It’s rumored that his book can be found in the back pocket of many of the production people at Pixar Animation Studios.) In his book, he takes us on a journey of how a screenplay is constructed, and then he supports his concepts by using examples of movies you’ve probably seen. He also introduces the most indispensable list I’ve ever owned. It’s called the Blake Snyder Beat Sheet, and it’s a guide to the beats of a script. It is reprinted here with the permission of Blake Snyder Enterprises, LLC. In parentheses are the screenplay pages on which the beat occurs.
Opening Image (1): Establishes the mood and the tone of the movie.
Theme Stated (5): A character who is not the protagonist will pose a question or make a statement to the protagonist that establishes the theme of the movie.
Set-up (1-10): This is where the characters and their lifestyle and personality traits are introduced. This is the set-up for the whole movie.
Catalyst (12): The event or issue that sets the hero into motion.
Debate (12-15): Even though there is a catalyst, the hero debates whether she should move forward with the adventure.
Break into Two (25): We leave the old world we were introduced to in act one and enter a world that is the opposite to that world.
B Story (30): The love story (can be friendship) provides depth and a place to discuss the theme.
Fun and Games (30-55): This is where we see the hero move around in her new life with a false sense of success. Things are going well in this new world that is opposite from the one that was presented in act one.
Midpoint (55): A false victory—also referred to as a midpoint reversal—fun and games stop and the threat escalates.
Bad Guys Close In (55-75): The antagonist(s) regroup and start putting points on the board and appear to be winning.
All Is Lost (75): The antagonists have apparently won.
Dark Night of the Soul (75-85): When the hero has nothing left, she digs deep into herself to find the solution to beat the bad guys.
Break into Three (85): The hero is ready to go. This is also where the B story and A story merge.
Finale (85-110): The wrap up; the final battle.
Final Image (110): Is often the opposite of the opening image of the movie to show that change has happened.
I’ve very briefly identified what each of the beats mean so you can get an idea what is going on, but my summaries come nowhere close to what Blake Snyder has written in his book Save the Cat. I strongly suggest you fork over the small sum to purchase his book and get the full details. But you’ll notice that the beat sheet listed here very closely resembles the classic story structure I write about in Chapter 15.
Finding someone to read your script can be a little challenging. In 2009 Josh Olson, the writer of the fantastic A History of Violence, wrote a brilliant, funny piece entitled, “I will not read your ****ing script.” In the article he recounts his experience of people asking him to look at their work. Here’s a brief excerpt:
“It rarely takes more than a page to recognize that you’re in the presence of someone who can write, but it only takes a sentence to know you’re dealing with someone who can’t.”
These are tough, but true words. Which brings me to the final, brutal section of this chapter.
In this business, being honest with yourself is a powerful, powerful tool. The very foundation of everything cinematic is the story. If you try to dress up a poorly written story with gimmicks, effects, and a splash of nudity, you’re essentially putting lipstick on a pig.
If you think you have the chops to write, I say go for it. However, and I am on my knees begging here, do not assume that the road to a solid screenplay is an easy one because of the seemingly simple formatting and brevity of word count. Put in the time and training. Start with Blake Snyder’s book, and then go on to the next stage with the suggestions that he makes. Take a class and read good screenplays that have already been made into films. Conversely, don’t get caught up into too many forums you might find online. Many people will spend a lifetime talking about the craft of writing without ever taking the time to complete a project.
And then, maybe you’re not writer. Maybe you already know that about yourself—you know that typing letters and syllables and listening to your own voice in your head is annoying. Awesome, you’re doing the right thing by avoiding the keyboard. However, I’m sorry to say, your assignment is no different than that of the aspiring writer. You still have to read Blake’s book and digest at least 25 epic screenplays so you can get a sense of how a movie is made. No matter what role you choose for yourself on the set of any production—including a DSLR production—someone is going to hand you a script and ask you what you and your department have to offer the production.
