Yes, fail. How one goes from writing seventy-five (that's 75, 7-5 or five and seventy) in three days to only getting through twenty one (21, 2-1, you get it) is beyond my understanding. Or is it? Surely there's a logical explanation, or at least something I could come up with that sounds reasonable.
There is.
Writing is rewriting. I say it over and over, I write it down (and rewrite it - ha! Ha?) but it doesn't quite make its way into the deep recesses of my psyche. The first time I wrote the pilot (see here and here), I was driven by the idea of finishing it. By any means necessary. Even if it sucked. And it did.
This second attempt was different. I wanted something more, something meatier, classy. I threw out everything I felt was gimmicky, plot-wise, and did my darndest to let the characters be likable or hate-able, and let that drive the story. That, my friends, is a lot harder to do. For me.
I'm a plot person. I like a lot of stuff going on, and I like it all to be happening to my main man, or woman. I'll never write a coming-of-age, or a complicated romance, or a subtle adult drama, or a subtle anything for that matter. Two people talking over coffee is my personal worst nightmare scene situation. I want running, jumping, exploding, throwing, laughing and blood all over the place all the time. At the same time, if possible.
This, however, poses some problems when putting my characters into the plot. That's right, that's how I look at it: I have to cram these people-things into my awesome story thing to make the awesome story things happen. So, clearly we can all see what's wrong here.
People don't see movies because of plot; they go to watch characters. These characters have to do something, but essentially we're just there to watch them, to root for them, to feel the things that they are feeling. You could make a movie out of someone buttering toast for two hours, as long as you made it clear that their commitment to the perfect toast was a life and death issue to them. And it should star Liam Neeson (just a suggestion).
Where was I going with this? The point I'm trying to make here, and subsequently force into my pea brain (at first I typed "pee brain" and I was like "that doesn't look right"), is that characters have to exist before the story does. You've heard it said that life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you react to it. That's your story. Ten percent explosions, running, jumping, laughing, screaming, punching, blood spatter and ninety percent character choices.
There's a reason this is difficult. There's a reason most writers give up and never write. There's a reason that I only got twenty-one pages finished in three days, and a reason why each of those pages was intolerably painful and probably complete garbage. But writing is rewriting is writing. Keep saying it, and keep doing it, and one day it will make sense.
Maybe.
No, definitely. Think definitely.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Writing a TV Pilot in Three Days
I'm doing it again. Same basic show, only much much better. Why, you ask? The virtues of writing the entirety of a given project in a set number of days (a small set, preferably) are not the least bit diminished by the fact that what you write in that short span of time will be complete and utter dreck. Not the least bit diminished.
Maybe slightly diminished.
Regardless. The fact remains that I have seventy-five pages of pure writing, whether or not any of those pages, paragraphs, sentences, or individual words are worth preserving is well beyond the point. However, since most of those pages are not worth saving, I've decided to start over. It's hard looking back at all the work that you were so proud of at the moment you finished and realizing that there's really, really not much to actually be proud of.
Fact: the first draft of pRN the TV pilot contains the following maladies...
1. Dialogue that mirrors precisely the action that is taking place;
2. Two people sitting there talking with nothing else going on;
3. Freeze frames;
4. Flashbacks;
5. Las Vegas, mob bosses, cross dressing, Celine Dion and general piss-poor dialogue.
So, yeah, a little left of focused on this one. I think the thought here was "more is more and less is boring." It's easy to just throw everything in on the first attempt, a kind of padding of the editing process. If I put a bunch of stuff in there that I only remotely care about, I can insulate my favorite parts from getting cut by me.
For this endeavor, I need to focus. What is this series about, or perhaps more importantly who is this series about? The highest mark you can hit with any series is to establish characters that people actually care about. What those characters do should be interesting too, but almost everything about the story should serve to illuminate the qualities of your individual characters.
Honestly, I'm crap at this. I like story, plot, structure and formula. My writing is cookie-cutter predictable with only the occasional slices of ingenuity and original humor. I'm good at making the story about something, but making it about someone proves more difficult. The something of this story is important to me, but the someone (or someones) needs to feel equally as important, because it is. That's what this draft is for.
So, here's how I've set myself up for success:
1. Outline is ready. It's a completely new outline, though it utilizes plot points from the previous outline.
2. Days are free. I've got three days in a row this week with nothing to do but write, and those around me are well aware that I will be unavailable (and probably highly irritable) during this time.
3. Fridge is full. Food goes in mouth, fingers go on keyboard. Important not to mix that up.
4. Apartment is clean. Kind of. I'm working on it.
5. Expectations are set. I've all but guaranteed those interested (mom) that I will have a second draft completed by the end of these three days. Failure or success; there's no middle ground here.
Let's do this. Tuesday. Because I work tomorrow, so...
Maybe slightly diminished.
Regardless. The fact remains that I have seventy-five pages of pure writing, whether or not any of those pages, paragraphs, sentences, or individual words are worth preserving is well beyond the point. However, since most of those pages are not worth saving, I've decided to start over. It's hard looking back at all the work that you were so proud of at the moment you finished and realizing that there's really, really not much to actually be proud of.
Fact: the first draft of pRN the TV pilot contains the following maladies...
1. Dialogue that mirrors precisely the action that is taking place;
2. Two people sitting there talking with nothing else going on;
3. Freeze frames;
4. Flashbacks;
5. Las Vegas, mob bosses, cross dressing, Celine Dion and general piss-poor dialogue.
So, yeah, a little left of focused on this one. I think the thought here was "more is more and less is boring." It's easy to just throw everything in on the first attempt, a kind of padding of the editing process. If I put a bunch of stuff in there that I only remotely care about, I can insulate my favorite parts from getting cut by me.
For this endeavor, I need to focus. What is this series about, or perhaps more importantly who is this series about? The highest mark you can hit with any series is to establish characters that people actually care about. What those characters do should be interesting too, but almost everything about the story should serve to illuminate the qualities of your individual characters.
Honestly, I'm crap at this. I like story, plot, structure and formula. My writing is cookie-cutter predictable with only the occasional slices of ingenuity and original humor. I'm good at making the story about something, but making it about someone proves more difficult. The something of this story is important to me, but the someone (or someones) needs to feel equally as important, because it is. That's what this draft is for.
So, here's how I've set myself up for success:
1. Outline is ready. It's a completely new outline, though it utilizes plot points from the previous outline.
2. Days are free. I've got three days in a row this week with nothing to do but write, and those around me are well aware that I will be unavailable (and probably highly irritable) during this time.
3. Fridge is full. Food goes in mouth, fingers go on keyboard. Important not to mix that up.
4. Apartment is clean. Kind of. I'm working on it.
5. Expectations are set. I've all but guaranteed those interested (mom) that I will have a second draft completed by the end of these three days. Failure or success; there's no middle ground here.
Let's do this. Tuesday. Because I work tomorrow, so...
Monday, March 11, 2013
List of Possible Factors Contributing to Successful Completion of Television Pilot
As previously mentioned here, I wrote a TV pilot. In three days. Impressed? You should be (seriously, be impressed; you've no idea how much I seek your approval). Being that my success in this matter defies the very conventions of writers everywhere (that is, deferring any actual writing until it becomes absolutely necessary, and then procrastinating), I have compiled a list of possible contributing factors that may have been influential to my success. They may also have nothing to do with it. But lists are my favorite!
Also, I'm going to present this list in such a way that it appears to be a fool-proof method by which anyone may produce the same results, specifically write a TV pilot in three days. I don't mean to imply that there is any guarantee this will work, but the inference might mistakenly be made.
Also, I'm going to present this list in such a way that it appears to be a fool-proof method by which anyone may produce the same results, specifically write a TV pilot in three days. I don't mean to imply that there is any guarantee this will work, but the inference might mistakenly be made.
A Fool-Proof Method by Which Anyone May Produce a TV Pilot in Three Days. Guaranteed.
- Clean your space. I don't mean tidy up a bit, I mean tidy up, sweep, dust, dishes done, bathroom hairless, sinks unclogged and living space feng shui'ed.
- Tell everyone what you're about to do. Text, email and tweet this madness; make sure everyone knows you are unavailable, even in emergencies.
- Stock the kitchen. I don't mean have a loaf of bread and some peanut butter on hand, I'm talking real oatmeal, spinach salads, pasta, fruit, granola and yogurt - you're not going to send yourself into a sugar coma and sleep for hours, so you need actual sustainable nutrition. You need to stock up because...
- You're not leaving the house. "But I write better in nature," "I like my coffee shop," "I need an audience;" no, you don't. You're going to sit there, at your desk, on your couch or in front of that window that overlooks the lake until you are finished. Then, and only then, may you rejoin civilization and be among its people.
- Want it. None of this works unless you really want it. Want it like you need it, like it's the one thing that is going to give your life meaning. Okay, maybe not your whole life, but the next few months at least. Because you're going to be editing this thing for the next few months (don't think about that right now; just get it done).
That's pretty much it. I mean, I don't know; this could have been a fluke, but that is pretty much exactly what I did and it worked. Ultimately, and contrary to everything you've read up to now, I'm not actually advocating this as the one true way to go about it. I think what I'm saying here is I found a system that made sense to me and has brought success. Other systems haven't worked, this one did. Find your system. Figure out what works for you; just figure something out, because it's too important and you want it too much to just not write it.
Want it. Write it. Do it. My way - wait, no - your way. Yeah. Your way.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
And On the Third Day, She Had A Television Pilot
I just wrote a pilot. In three days. I don't mean I had an idea for a pilot, or I'm working on a pilot; what I mean to say is exactly this: I have a pilot. It's here, on this computer. I wanted to write one, I set aside time to write it and at the end of that predetermined time period it was written. Just like that. This leaves me with only one question:
How did I do this?
The great illusion about writers is that most of us who claim to be writers don't actually write. I mean, we write, of course we do; allow me to rephrase: we don't finish things. I can't tell you how many scripts I have saved on my computer with just a first act, or even two acts, and some seem to be completed but don't make any earthly sense. Finishing things is hard. Which brings me back to my question: how did I do this?
Let me set the stage. In October I had an idea for a television show. I threw it out to a few friends and even a couple strangers, all of whom seemed genuinely interested in this idea. So I stuck it on the mental shelf for January, because that's when you start new things you think to do in October. Plus I was finishing another project which was never going to get finished.
As an aside, it is okay to find yourself in the middle of a movie script going "there's nothing here" and just scrap it; don't waste your time and energy if it's not working. However, if you consistently find yourself doing this then you have a problem, and it is most likely with your story. It's not good, and nobody cares. Or rather, it's not good because nobody cares. If you don't care enough to finish, then why do I care enough to watch the thing?
And we're back. In January my previous project was still unfinished (spoiler alert: it will never be finished), so I decided to start brainstorming the TV show in February. February 1st, on the dot, I sat down and began laying the groundwork for what would become a detailed spreadsheet of information about this show, including a character list, broad Act outline, beat sheet and a Questions and Answers section (where I, you guessed it, asked myself questions that then I myself answered them).
Looking at my work schedule I realized that the last week of February was absolutely screwed, so to keep with my original intention of having a rough draft by March 1st I would have to write this thing soon. I had a three day window of nothingness, so I took it. I shirked every other responsibility, ate like a moron, still showered (I feel that is important to note since many writers don't feel that is important) and at the end I had the thing I most desired: my pilot. My beautiful, 74 page pilot (I know, I know; I'll cut stuff out in rewrites).
You know what else is crazy? This is the third day. Right here. Now. It's day three, I've already finished my pilot and I'm still writing stuff. I have got to get to the bottom of this! I mean, what the hell? Where was this...ever? If I wrote seven pages in a single day I'd be like "wow, look at you, you big writer genius," and for the past three days I've averaged about 25 pages. Twenty-five (25). Five and twenty.
If I can figure this out, if I can dissect and define the impetus to this seemingly impossible surge of literal energy then what can't I accomplish? I mean, literally speaking; I'm not going to go run a marathon or something, those people are crazy. It's just so strange that this uncontrollable feeling to write doesn't directly translate to the act of writing stuff. And when it does, I'm so baffled by it.
For the good of myself, and those like myself (generally speaking), I will identify and compose a list of contributing factors that I believe led to this great accomplishment (I sometimes wonder if real writers ever stumble upon this blog and then get really pissed when I talk like this). I'm going to figure this voodoo out! List pending.
How did I do this?
The great illusion about writers is that most of us who claim to be writers don't actually write. I mean, we write, of course we do; allow me to rephrase: we don't finish things. I can't tell you how many scripts I have saved on my computer with just a first act, or even two acts, and some seem to be completed but don't make any earthly sense. Finishing things is hard. Which brings me back to my question: how did I do this?
Let me set the stage. In October I had an idea for a television show. I threw it out to a few friends and even a couple strangers, all of whom seemed genuinely interested in this idea. So I stuck it on the mental shelf for January, because that's when you start new things you think to do in October. Plus I was finishing another project which was never going to get finished.
As an aside, it is okay to find yourself in the middle of a movie script going "there's nothing here" and just scrap it; don't waste your time and energy if it's not working. However, if you consistently find yourself doing this then you have a problem, and it is most likely with your story. It's not good, and nobody cares. Or rather, it's not good because nobody cares. If you don't care enough to finish, then why do I care enough to watch the thing?
And we're back. In January my previous project was still unfinished (spoiler alert: it will never be finished), so I decided to start brainstorming the TV show in February. February 1st, on the dot, I sat down and began laying the groundwork for what would become a detailed spreadsheet of information about this show, including a character list, broad Act outline, beat sheet and a Questions and Answers section (where I, you guessed it, asked myself questions that then I myself answered them).
Looking at my work schedule I realized that the last week of February was absolutely screwed, so to keep with my original intention of having a rough draft by March 1st I would have to write this thing soon. I had a three day window of nothingness, so I took it. I shirked every other responsibility, ate like a moron, still showered (I feel that is important to note since many writers don't feel that is important) and at the end I had the thing I most desired: my pilot. My beautiful, 74 page pilot (I know, I know; I'll cut stuff out in rewrites).
You know what else is crazy? This is the third day. Right here. Now. It's day three, I've already finished my pilot and I'm still writing stuff. I have got to get to the bottom of this! I mean, what the hell? Where was this...ever? If I wrote seven pages in a single day I'd be like "wow, look at you, you big writer genius," and for the past three days I've averaged about 25 pages. Twenty-five (25). Five and twenty.
If I can figure this out, if I can dissect and define the impetus to this seemingly impossible surge of literal energy then what can't I accomplish? I mean, literally speaking; I'm not going to go run a marathon or something, those people are crazy. It's just so strange that this uncontrollable feeling to write doesn't directly translate to the act of writing stuff. And when it does, I'm so baffled by it.
For the good of myself, and those like myself (generally speaking), I will identify and compose a list of contributing factors that I believe led to this great accomplishment (I sometimes wonder if real writers ever stumble upon this blog and then get really pissed when I talk like this). I'm going to figure this voodoo out! List pending.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Dropped Phone in Toilet, Hoping Rice Will Fix (UPDATED)
So, my phone is in here:
Because I dropped it in here:
[toilet photo not found; probably disgusting anyway]
If my life is a screenplay, this would be the "dark night of the soul" bit.
UPDATE: 1/28/13 at 2:54pm
It lives! My phone is restored, everything works, the laws of physical science do not apply. How is this possible? Let's look at a step-by-step of what went down:
Wednesday: Dropped phone in toilet. Freaked out, but did not cry. Shoved phone into bag of rice (half wild rice, half Uncle Ben's instant).
Thursday: Heard my phone receive a text message, pulled it out of rice to find that it was indeed receiving alerts, but the touch screen was not responding. Shoved phone back into rice bag, began planning my life as a wandering nomad incapable of communicating with the world around me.
Friday: Watched a few YouTube videos of toilet phone people chronicling their attempts to revive the device, one of which advocated putting the phone up to the vacuum hose to suck the water out before putting in bag of rice. Thought the kid was stupid, followed his advice anyway.
Saturday: Touch screen is working, phone looks fine. Still too scared to move it out of the magic rice, so left phone in there for another day.
Sunday: Phone works. Took out of rice for the whole day, used with care. No problems.
Monday: Phone still working. Siri still stupid as hell, but phone working. Mind blown, fundamentals of science and technology tumbled.
Only one question remains: what else can a bag of rice fix? Have we explored this item to its full potential, because it's no good as food (rice is completely pointless as a food; it's like the sand of food). The next time anything around me breaks or malfunctions, I'm shoving it in a bag of rice; in fact, I might as well just start preemptively storing everything I own in bags of rice. What if it heals ailments? Aching feet? Bag of rice. Carpal tunnel? Bag of rice. Trick knees, tennis elbow, acne, wrinkles - I'm just going to start bathing in the stuff.
To rice!
Because I dropped it in here:
[toilet photo not found; probably disgusting anyway]
If my life is a screenplay, this would be the "dark night of the soul" bit.
UPDATE: 1/28/13 at 2:54pm
It lives! My phone is restored, everything works, the laws of physical science do not apply. How is this possible? Let's look at a step-by-step of what went down:
Wednesday: Dropped phone in toilet. Freaked out, but did not cry. Shoved phone into bag of rice (half wild rice, half Uncle Ben's instant).
Thursday: Heard my phone receive a text message, pulled it out of rice to find that it was indeed receiving alerts, but the touch screen was not responding. Shoved phone back into rice bag, began planning my life as a wandering nomad incapable of communicating with the world around me.
Friday: Watched a few YouTube videos of toilet phone people chronicling their attempts to revive the device, one of which advocated putting the phone up to the vacuum hose to suck the water out before putting in bag of rice. Thought the kid was stupid, followed his advice anyway.
Saturday: Touch screen is working, phone looks fine. Still too scared to move it out of the magic rice, so left phone in there for another day.
Sunday: Phone works. Took out of rice for the whole day, used with care. No problems.
Monday: Phone still working. Siri still stupid as hell, but phone working. Mind blown, fundamentals of science and technology tumbled.
Only one question remains: what else can a bag of rice fix? Have we explored this item to its full potential, because it's no good as food (rice is completely pointless as a food; it's like the sand of food). The next time anything around me breaks or malfunctions, I'm shoving it in a bag of rice; in fact, I might as well just start preemptively storing everything I own in bags of rice. What if it heals ailments? Aching feet? Bag of rice. Carpal tunnel? Bag of rice. Trick knees, tennis elbow, acne, wrinkles - I'm just going to start bathing in the stuff.
To rice!
Saturday, January 19, 2013
An Unsolicited and Probably Unnecessary Commentary on the British TV Show Robin Hood
Let's just get one thing out of the way here. I watch this show:
So, now that that's established and we're all clearly over it, I shall commence with being very particular about why I feel jilted. And I do, very much so, feel jilted. Oh, and I hardly have to say it but if you plan on watching this show and potentially enjoying it, then read no further because I will ruin that for you.
#1 Problem: this guy. I hate to point fingers, but this is Robin Hood? This is the same problem I had with Legend of the Seeker (trust me, it's as painful to write that as it is for you to read it); you pick these men to play mythical larger-than-life heroes and they look like underwear models. I don't mean the big burly Hanes models either, I mean the half-emaciated, Calvin Klein, should-be-carrying-a-shot-tray-at-a-gay-bar kind of body construct. What is with the British and these small leads? And I could overlook this size issue if the character itself were spot on, but not even that feels right. Robin Hood defied a kingdom, raised an army out of nobodies, lured people to live with him in the woods (now this is sounding creepy); women wanted to be with him, men wanted to be him - it takes a very specific set of criteria to inspire this kind of worship: charm, charisma, a cool head in dangerous situations. This Robin Hood spends most of his time with this pained look on his face or shouting at whoever is in front of him. Seriously, he shouts a lot in this show. He shouts at Maid Marian, and he's supposed to loooove her.
#2 Problem: Maid Marian. I take particular issue with shows that use female characters as indecisive ninnies who manage to screw everything up and are in perpetual need of being rescued. To the show's credit, they tried to represent Marian as an independent fighter with a heart for the people when they made her the Night Watchman, but even then she could barely make a food drop without creating problems for Robin and the gang. And for the love of god, just have the woman make up her mind. Yes, love triangles are interesting but they're also lazy writing, and I'm glad that women are given this free pass to change their minds ad nauseum and no one dares say a word about it, but sometimes women just know who they want to be with and they make that happen. Her reasons for staying in the castle and the constant buttering up of Sir Guy were shoddy plot work at best.
#3 Problem: The bad guy is waaaaay hotter than the good guy. Sir Guy looks like he could kick Robin's ass three ways to Sherwood and still have time to dry clean his pleather. Seriously, runny eyeliner and all, this Sir Guy character is impossible to root against. Maid Marian sees this dude every day in the castle and she's still (mostly) loyal to Robin? I don't think so. Not buying it.
#4 Problem: Not buying this one, either. Maybe it all comes back to my not really seeing the attraction of our lead outlaw, but Maid Marian is cold for maybe two minutes before Robin gets hot and heavy with Isabella who turns out to be bad so he sort of settles for Kate? Um, no. Here's what you don't want to see: A dude get married. In that same episode that dude's wife is murdered. In the next episode that dude is kissing another chick. Within five episodes that same dude is kissing yet another chick. And the way it happened was just a mess. Kate joins the gang. Much likes her, Alan does not. Clearly, so clearly, this is Alan's girl. Instant chemistry between those two characters; you can see it a mile away and yet they throw her on Robin. It's so forced. She's like "Robin, I like you," and he's all "You do? Oh, well, okay; yeah, this could work." Come on.
But don't worry BBC professionals, this amateur writer has got it all worked out for you. Take these notes, give it five years, then relaunch the series and watch the ratings soar. Trust me: I watch a lot of TV.
First, this is your new Robin Hood:
This guy played Archer, Robin's half brother, for a few episodes in Series 3. He's got the build of a Robin Hood, a way better outfit, and he's super witty. Most importantly, he has a killer smile and he doesn't shout. NO MORE SHOUTING!
The Sheriff. This guy is a genius. It wasn't really fair that he should slave away at catching Hood for two whole seasons and then he's benched until the end of series 3. No, you keep him all the way through. Also, he looks a bit like Billy Joel. Just saying.
Much is probably the most underutilized character in all of TV history. He's funny; I'd much rather spend time with him than the former Robin Hood (that guy was always so tense; always shouting). And to not give him a chick is just cold. I know he had that one episode, but come on. Kate and Much, way better match. Think about it.
Why did we wait until series 3 to bring out Prince John, because he was amazing (and then he just disappeared again)? This guy was a complete psycho. Thoroughly entertaining.
 |
| It's British, it's costumes; I can't really resist both of those things together. |
But don't worry BBC professionals, this amateur writer has got it all worked out for you. Take these notes, give it five years, then relaunch the series and watch the ratings soar. Trust me: I watch a lot of TV.
First, this is your new Robin Hood:
 |
Next, I need to see way more of these people:
The Sheriff. This guy is a genius. It wasn't really fair that he should slave away at catching Hood for two whole seasons and then he's benched until the end of series 3. No, you keep him all the way through. Also, he looks a bit like Billy Joel. Just saying.
Much is probably the most underutilized character in all of TV history. He's funny; I'd much rather spend time with him than the former Robin Hood (that guy was always so tense; always shouting). And to not give him a chick is just cold. I know he had that one episode, but come on. Kate and Much, way better match. Think about it.
Why did we wait until series 3 to bring out Prince John, because he was amazing (and then he just disappeared again)? This guy was a complete psycho. Thoroughly entertaining.
Isabella. Come on. Best character ever. Way better than Maid Marian, blows Kate out of the water. Take a hint from Sherlock and draw out the sexual tension between her and Robin to the bitter end, and then don't blow her up; get them together.
In addition to the above changes, I would like to see the following: Little John gets his family back, Will and Jack return for finale, more archery contests (duh!), more clever forest traps (I want people falling into leaf-covered pits, being strung up in nets, arrows released by tripwire, Robin's merry men swinging from more trees), Sir Guy lives (did you see him in North and South? Go watch that. It's great), and either completely eliminate the Maid Marian character or give her a freaking spine. Seriously, so annoying.
I'm finished.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Stuck In The Second Act
Ugh...
Don't get me wrong, I'm delighted to be stuck anywhere in the writing process since it is confirmation that I am at least in the process of writing something. And to someone who has no motivation beyond the inner need to create stories, having no promise of economical or even social gain from said stories, to be involved in the act of writing is almost a miracle.
For the fifth time I am writing the first draft of my alien script, and through shear force of will this is the draft that makes it all the way. Is it the best possible scenario for these characters? Is this plot the greatest I could must? I have no idea. But I like it, and through the editing process (which I am trying hard not to think about due to its paralyzing effect on my creativity) I hope that this will eventually be the best version of this current version.
First drafts are exciting - they're like this anything-goes kind of storytelling. You put something down and you're like "that's not very good," or "that's much too far-fetched" and it's okay because you know you have months and months of exhaustive rewrites ahead of you in which to fix these problems. Go for the gusto, veer from the outline, make implausible statements and then follow them up with incongruent character action. Why not? it's a rough draft! Fix it later; consequences don't exist here!
As much as the editing process can hamper your creativity in this early stage, it should also remain a tiny reminder that you can't just do whatever you want in this script and expect there to be something worth saving at the end. I made an outline for a reason, and even though for the most part I have wholly abandon that outline, I still must keep in mind that my self of two months in the future would be very grateful to my self of the present if I'd try and keep it as close to a set course as possible and avoid going off the deep end.
But going off the deep end is so fun! It's almost what makes writing the stupid thing worthwhile in the first place. Why not go off the deep end? Aren't there too many movies out there who just play it safe, making themselves predictable and worn and dated? It's expected of us now, to go to outlandish extremes to create a story that entertains and enlightens. No one wants what they expect from a movie, they want surprise twists and unforeseen turns - things happening that their minds couldn't possibly have conceived possible!
But it's all a trick, isn't it? People want to be surprised, but satisfied at the same time. It's easy to surprise an audience (aha! They were all dreaming the whole time!), but to make the surprise meaningful, to allow the audience to lean back and say "ah, of course! I should have seen that coming." To be delighted with surprise, not hoodwinked; that's the tricky part. And that's why second acts suck.
Second acts are the breeding ground of setups and payoffs. You're paying off those little setups from the beginning, just to prove to the audience that you know what you're doing, but mostly they are for the purpose of setting up your big finale, which will show the audience that not only are you a genius, but you know exactly what they want to see and you're going to give it to them even before they realize it's what they want in the first place.
Read the audience's mind, realize that what they want isn't really what they want, figure out what they really want instead and make that happen. It's just that simple.
And the second act is where it happens. A good second act has all the answers, only you don't know it until the very end. It's a forecast of what is to come, without it the beginning can't be justified and the ending just wouldn't make any sense. It's the hardest, takes the longest, and in the end is the most rewarding part of the whole darn thing.
This is not the time to give up and move on to another project; this is what the whole thing is for. Press on, move ahead, don't stop believin' and after months and months of daunting, crippling and soul-crushing rewrites that second act will all be worth it. The whole script will be worth it. To you. And maybe no one else, but don't think about that right now.
Don't get me wrong, I'm delighted to be stuck anywhere in the writing process since it is confirmation that I am at least in the process of writing something. And to someone who has no motivation beyond the inner need to create stories, having no promise of economical or even social gain from said stories, to be involved in the act of writing is almost a miracle.
For the fifth time I am writing the first draft of my alien script, and through shear force of will this is the draft that makes it all the way. Is it the best possible scenario for these characters? Is this plot the greatest I could must? I have no idea. But I like it, and through the editing process (which I am trying hard not to think about due to its paralyzing effect on my creativity) I hope that this will eventually be the best version of this current version.
First drafts are exciting - they're like this anything-goes kind of storytelling. You put something down and you're like "that's not very good," or "that's much too far-fetched" and it's okay because you know you have months and months of exhaustive rewrites ahead of you in which to fix these problems. Go for the gusto, veer from the outline, make implausible statements and then follow them up with incongruent character action. Why not? it's a rough draft! Fix it later; consequences don't exist here!
As much as the editing process can hamper your creativity in this early stage, it should also remain a tiny reminder that you can't just do whatever you want in this script and expect there to be something worth saving at the end. I made an outline for a reason, and even though for the most part I have wholly abandon that outline, I still must keep in mind that my self of two months in the future would be very grateful to my self of the present if I'd try and keep it as close to a set course as possible and avoid going off the deep end.
But going off the deep end is so fun! It's almost what makes writing the stupid thing worthwhile in the first place. Why not go off the deep end? Aren't there too many movies out there who just play it safe, making themselves predictable and worn and dated? It's expected of us now, to go to outlandish extremes to create a story that entertains and enlightens. No one wants what they expect from a movie, they want surprise twists and unforeseen turns - things happening that their minds couldn't possibly have conceived possible!
But it's all a trick, isn't it? People want to be surprised, but satisfied at the same time. It's easy to surprise an audience (aha! They were all dreaming the whole time!), but to make the surprise meaningful, to allow the audience to lean back and say "ah, of course! I should have seen that coming." To be delighted with surprise, not hoodwinked; that's the tricky part. And that's why second acts suck.
Second acts are the breeding ground of setups and payoffs. You're paying off those little setups from the beginning, just to prove to the audience that you know what you're doing, but mostly they are for the purpose of setting up your big finale, which will show the audience that not only are you a genius, but you know exactly what they want to see and you're going to give it to them even before they realize it's what they want in the first place.
Read the audience's mind, realize that what they want isn't really what they want, figure out what they really want instead and make that happen. It's just that simple.
And the second act is where it happens. A good second act has all the answers, only you don't know it until the very end. It's a forecast of what is to come, without it the beginning can't be justified and the ending just wouldn't make any sense. It's the hardest, takes the longest, and in the end is the most rewarding part of the whole darn thing.
This is not the time to give up and move on to another project; this is what the whole thing is for. Press on, move ahead, don't stop believin' and after months and months of daunting, crippling and soul-crushing rewrites that second act will all be worth it. The whole script will be worth it. To you. And maybe no one else, but don't think about that right now.
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