Monday, August 20, 2012

Simplify It!

Outlining is great. I mean, it's essential and important and a truly great outline is the precursor to a great screenplay. I really believe that, I do. However, outlining has to stop at some point. You can't just outline forever. Well, duh; why even say that? Because if you're anything like me, you easily get caught up in your own outlining, so much so that looking back at all your tables and bullet points and charts and graphs you'll see that you've basically outlined five million different versions of the same movie and now you don't know which one you're actually trying to write.

Too. Many. Choices. Not enough writing.

There comes a point where the complete muddle that is your outline has to be simplified. You have to cut that massive outline monster down at the knees. You can't take on a giant all by yourself, and try as you might instead of starting to actually write a screenplay you'll just end up making the behemoth even bigger.

You have to simplify it.

Among the many tables (I love tables - I just love them) that I use to outline my script I always have a tab entitled "Getting Weird." This is where the outlandish and crazy and really unsustainably insane ideas go for my script. The really strange "what ifs." Of all the fun I have outlining, this page is the most useless. Or is it?

Or. Is. It...?

This is where, after realizing the story was running off without me, I decided to completely simplify the story - strip it down to the barest version possible. I mean, really really primitive stuff; bring it all back to a skeletal representation of what I want it to be. And it turns out that simple is actually much, much better. It's clear. It's focused. It has room to get better.

And that's the thing. The first draft is not going to be brilliant, it's going to be a skeleton. Not even a fully grown human skeleton, but some kind of neanderthal, hunched over, slack-jawed, drooling, mouth breathing idiot blueprint. Second draft, stand that thing up straight, shut that mouth. Third draft, add some flesh, some muscle definition. Fourth draft, fifth draft, skin and hair and lips and eyebrows and dimples. I mean, if it's a dimple kind of movie, otherwise maybe a cleft in the chin or a sinister smile or something like that.

Simple first. Good later. Great lastly. If you're lucky. Wait, no; great if you work hard.

Work hard, then.  

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Making Choices...Wait, No...Making the Right Choices...No...Hmm...Making the Best Choices for Your Screenplay...Wait...Hmm...

Choices are hard, in general, but even more so when considering works of fictional creativity. You could do anything, say anything, make anything happen. It's too much; it's overwhelming. Add to that the pressure of knowing that these choices will ultimately render your work worthwhile or a complete waste of time. One elemental wrong turn, one misguided plot twist and all that hard work is just...sigh...a learning opportunity.

The pressure is nearly paralyzing. It's hard to accept that making the wrong decision is better than making no decision at all because making no decision is so easy and making the wrong decision will likely be the result of hours upon hours of creative anguish.

Also frustrating: the fact that it is so easy to identify wrong choices in other people's stuff. It sticks out like a sore thumb and almost immediately you're like, "oh, man, there it is right there. That's where you went wrong." Yet this is almost impossible to do with your own stuff with the same measure of certainty. There's a reluctance that comes from the knowledge of all the blood sweat and coffee drinks that went into the making of that stupid wrong decision - and now I'm supposed to undo it? I think not. I think I'll just keep it and fix a few other small things that will hopefully help mask the fact that this element (and possibly the story as a whole) just doesn't work.

Being at the very beginning of the creative process with this new script, I'd like to identify the holes as soon and as quickly as possible to avoid spending countless misguided hours writing a steaming pile of refuse. I'd like to apply what I've learned from reading other's steaming piles of...hard work. But how? Hoooooow!?

I have some ideas:

1. Clarity. What is happening here? Can you put it into a couple of sentences, or is it more complicated than that? Because if it's impossible to sum it up, then I don't think clarity is your strong suit with this one.

2. Characters. Is there someone to love, to hate, or is everyone just kind of interesting? Because kind of interesting isn't going to cut it. Someone to root for or against, that's what you need here. You can add more dimension in rewrites, but if they're lukewarm to begin with then why bother?

3. Consistency (yeah, we're going with all C's here). When you lay this whole plot thing out, is there something actually happening at every stage of the game? Is everything that happens pointing to an eventual goal? Are these things that are happening getting more interesting as the story goes on, is something building here? Is there some reasonable idea of what two outcomes we may end up with (the good one and the bad one)? What if the bad one? What then? How bad is it?

I guess another way to look at this is through the eyes of the audience, their expectations. Ideally, the thought life of your audience should go something like this:

Movie begins:
"Oh boy, I'm so excited about this movie. Based on the logline under the poster I have a clear idea of what I'm in for."

10 minutes in:
"Wow, that was a cool beginning. I really like what's his face. He seems cool."

15 minutes in:
"Whoa, that's a curveball. What's his face's whole world is upside down right now. This changes everything. What now?

25 minutes in:
"Well, it won't be easy but it appears what's his face has a plan, a clear goal, and a clear set of friends to help him accomplish this near impossible goal. I think that one girl likes him, and because she is likable and interesting I hope that goes well. Clearly, this will end one of two ways and I am clearly rooting for the positive outcome."

50 minutes in:
"Well, I now have a clearer understanding of these characters; they are not as simple as they at first appeared. There seems to be a definite plan now and clearly these are the steps for that plan to be successful. Failure at any stage of these steps will mean certain failure all together, but the plan looks as if it will juuuuuust work. Also, things are heating up between that girl and that guy and it would appear that nothing could change that. Everything looks good."

75 minutes in:
"Okay, here we go. Final stage of this plan. Everything is in place, so I expect this will work."

80 minutes in:
"Whoa! Did not see that coming. That changes everything. Shoot, is this even going to work now?"

85 minutes in:
Oh geez. This isn't good. There is just no way, no way this is going to work. Dang it! I don't want this to happen this way, but there is a clear logical explanation as to why this is a likely turn of events. This is terrible. I feel crushed for these characters."

90 minutes in:
Wait, I thought they were done for. Could they actually pull this off?

91 minutes in:
Oh my god, they're going to do it! I think they're going to do it!

95 minutes in:
They did it!! I can't believe it! Of course, the solution was there all along! This is clearly the best possible imaginable outcome, even though I had previously only considered two other possible outcomes. How clever!"

100 minutes in:
"Awe, that's sweet. Oooh, that's cool. Awe, true love really does conquer all. Haha, funny moment."

As credits roll:
"That was awesome. I'm telling all my friends about this movie. And that one line, haha, I'll be saying that for a long time."

Roughly, that's it right there. Just make people think those thoughts at approximately those moments, and you should be golden.

Easy. Super, totally, absolutely easy.