Please Note: This following Blog is going to be particularly vague so as to not offend anyone who might figure out what I’m possibly talking about. Is that vague enough? Good. Let’s get started.
Years ago I had been working on my first real screenplay entitled “Vegas Dreams.” When I used to write books I would write it, re-write once, stick it in a box. With this screenplay done, I wanted so much to really REALLY make it good. I already understood that Hollywood was a business that was looking for product to sell – not necessarily the next work of art. So “Vegas Dreams” was a pure Hollywood product. A film noir set in the adult film industry in the 1980’s. Filled with sex, violence, nudity, bad language – I didn’t care if it got bought or made and went straight to video. I knew I was a first time screenwriter and any connection, and any money, would be a good thing. Even if it went into the clearance bin at the local video store (before Blockbuster destroyed them all...and then got destroyed by Netflix...) I was okay with that.
After writing and re-writing for what seemed like 10 years (more like two), I was “done.” I had worked and re-worked and re-worked what I had worked and it was “finished.” Note: Art is never finished – it’s abandoned. Even crappy straight-to-video “art.” But finished I was and done I was.
Through my connection at Seattle Central, I was able to get the script to a guy by the name of Mitch Klebanoff.
I was at work when Mitch called me and wanted to talk to me about “Vegas Dreams.” What then ensued was a conversation of well over an hour where he went through – page-by-page and told me what I had done wrong, told me what I had done right, and really put me through the wringer. But as much as I was squished out and put back together again, this guy had told me everything I needed to know and how to fix it. What was “finished” was now reborn into something amazing and I could not wait to get home and start writing again. It was exactly what I needed. By the guy who wrote “Disorderlies” and “Beverly Hills Ninja.”
As I went on to teaching screenwriting, I began to read and edit scripts from students and friends and I soon learned that I needed to do the same thing that Mitch did. I needed to take the time and energy and show them EXACTLY what needed to be changed. What did this mean? Well...it meant I was in for a lot of work because I couldn’t just read a script for pleasure. With red pen in one hand and red wine in the other – I would dive in. After slogging through the script, I would then sit down and do a highly detailed page-by-page review of the script. Going through every single detail. What worked, what didn’t, how you could make it better, etc. etc. And when everything was done, my critique would be between 20 and 40 pages. All with the understanding that they could tell me to go to hell and write it however they want. They didn’t have to take a single word I wrote, that was fine. This wasn’t about me...it was about them and their script and making them both better.
Why 20, 30, 40 pages? Well...I couldn’t very well say that “this didn’t work” or “show character” or “you need to have better dialogue here.” I had to SHOW them what would work, or how to show character or how to boost the dialogue, etc. The worst kind of critique you could get is someone saying: “Oh, yeah. It was good.” Without explaining what MADE it good. Or: “It was pretty bad.” Without explaining what MADE it bad. How is one to learn? Grow? Make the script better?
With most scripts...I can see where the writer is going but they don’t know the shortcuts to get there. I can glean what the idea is, but they’ve come up short in some way. I can understand what they’re trying to get to with the subtext but they’re just not there yet...maybe I can help. And I can help with the inevitable bad formatting.
In June 2012, I was asked by a local writers’ association to read 8 screenplays. They were having a contest and they needed me to pick the top 2. Certainly I would do it, what the hell. Only real hitch is that they didn’t want me to write reviews. They just wanted me to read them. What do you mean...just read them? I don’t just read newbie screenplays. I make copious notes. I write mini-novel reviews/critiques. You don’t expect me to just read the screenplays...do you? “Yep. All we need is #1 and #2.” Seems the authors had already been given feedback.
Sitting down with the 8 screenplays, I started in. And it was very difficult on a number of levels. Difficult because all the 8 screenplays were subpar in my opinion. Each one had various formatting errors, each one had various character development errors (only one had something resembling character arc), each one had structure errors. Some had stories so outlandish that they made no sense. Some had stories that had been told and re-told numerous times. If you’re going to do a tried and true genre – it better blow me away (hint: it didn’t).
Another level where it was difficult was in the fact that me and my co-writers have submitted our scripts to multiple contests. Yes, one was in the top 8 of one contest and another got to the semi-finals in another...but...please. THESE scripts? These 8? The best one had typos, the worst one didn’t have page numbers – or any other formatting for that matter. You mean to tell me this the crop of the crop?
The final level where it was difficult was that I can’t contact them and tell them what they did incorrectly. Each script was cleared of any contact information to make this as fair as possible. One of my best friends could have submitted a script and I wouldn’t know it. But now there’s someone on the “outside” about to be awarded a prize of some sort and they’re thinking: “Score! I wrote a script! I won an award! I’m going to send it out to people in Hollywood!” Not knowing that they have some basic formatting errors and that they needed to change this and change that and maybe combine this and combine that and shorten the script by a half-dozen pages. Even the number one script had typos – a HUGE no-no especially in this day-and-age of computers and spell checkers. How do you miss 'the' spelled 'teh?' But...even more so to those that didn’t win – they have no idea why they didn’t win and how to make their script(s) better. My good friend Vicky enters scripts into contests all the time and one of the most disheartening thing is to see the quarter finals come out and find your script isn’t included – with no explanation as to why not.
Lastly what this experience taught me was the cruel harshness of Hollywood. Straight up I knew within the first 20 pages whether or not the script was going to be any good. I still read through them completely because I felt like I had to honor what they had done and not just discard it out-right. What if the writer did a kick ass third act that redeemed the entire script? But this is just 8 SCRIPTS. Not dozens and dozens an agent or manager or producer or studio gets EVERY WEEK. I can completely understand why an agent would look at page numbers, formatting, first/second/third act breaks to see if the writer was clueless or not and then discard the script outright. I see the importance of the “Hook” as a couple of these scripts had no hook and I was soon yawning and wishing I had a red pen and a way to help. But, alas, no.
I finished the scripts a week ahead of the deadline and got my final scores in. My hope is that, now that the scores are in – the authors will be told of their wins early instead of waiting by their phone wondering what is going on. I've certainly been there - done that.
As much as might I complain about this process...I still thoroughly enjoyed it. Reading scripts like these is good for my brain...
No comments:
Post a Comment