You Had Me at Page Four

It doesn’t require a Masters in Creative Writing to know that you have to grab your audience’s attention in the very beginning. When people flip through the books at Barnes & Noble, they don’t say, “The first page is boring, but I think I’ll spend $19.95 on this thing anyway because maybe, hopefully, the other 99.5% of the book doesn’t suck too.”

And in movies, the opening scene has to be, well, awesome, or what’s the point? If you can’t make the first four pages great, what does that say about the rest of the film?

Last night, my husband and I went out to the movies for his birthday. There wasn’t anything playing that we really wanted to see, so we went to 21 and Over, a comedy about college kids and a debauchery-packed night of drinking. The critics’ reviews were terrible, but the fan reviews were pretty good, so we gave it a shot.

It turns out, all the fans who reviewed it were 14 year old kids who think anything with people getting drunk and the word “fuck” in it is a stellar movie.

We did something I haven’t done in years: we walked out. At page 4. The opening was so poorly written that we figured the rest of the movie didn’t have much of a chance. We snuck into Identity Thief, which was just starting in the other theater (also not an award-winner, but it wasn’t total garbage.)

As written by Michael Hauge in his explanation of Story Mastery, “The opening 10% of your screenplay must draw the reader, and the audience, into the initial setting of the story, must reveal the everyday life your hero has been living, and must establish identification with your hero by making her sympathetic, threatened, likable, funny and/or powerful.”

Here are examples of some movies have opened:

Varsity Blues: We learn about Mox and the football culture of the town

Four Weddings and a Funeral: We learn about Charles and all the weddings he has to go to

Never Been Kissed: We learn about Josie and how she’s never been kissed

Heartbreak Kid: We learn that Eddie wants a woman.

13 Going on 30: We learn that Jenna isn’t happy with who she is

Bridesmaids: We learn that Annie wants to feel good about herself, but keeps putting herself into situations that get her the same bad results.

An example of a great opening (in my humble opinion).

American Psycho:

This opening not only illustrates almost exactly who this character is, but it sets the tone of the whole movie and its bizarre humor amidst creepy character details.

Considering all of the above, I wonder if my opening to my new script is as good as it should be. This script has three main characters, so I’m using the first 12 pages or so to spell out the situation each one of them is in. While the beauty of American Psycho’s opening is in the words, the beauty in Office Space‘s opening is in the visual:

I think I frequently rely too much on the words for description. This subject really should be its own separate blog post. Food for thought. Back to work.

Know What You Write

When I was 13 I wrote a poem about an old woman. I shared it with my boyfriend who also considered himself a poet. He said to me quite seriously, “Do you know this woman? Do you know what it’s like to be an 80 year old woman? You should write what you know.”

“Writing what you know” is not a novel idea invented by Alex. However, I’ve never forgotten him saying that.

I’ve written many things I didn’t “know”. I’ve written plenty of main characters who are men, plenty of married people when I wasn’t married, people with children when I didn’t have children, and other lifestyles I didn’t “know”. And that’s fine. I mean, if no one wrote what they didn’t know there wouldn’t be any zombie apocalypse movies, right?

There’s also the kind of “writing what you know” when the part you really know is in the subtext- for example, “Big Love“, though not written by Polygamist Mormons, was written by two gay men who said they understand what it’s like to be ostracized in your society, like the polygamists living in the HBO show, because they have lived their lives as homosexuals in a not-always-accepting world. (RIP “Big Love”. We miss you.)

But I recently read that the Writers Guild of America claims that only 27% of their film writers and only 19% of their television writers are female. So what kind of service am I doing to the screenwriting industry by writing main characters who are male? What service am I doing if I don’t write the true female experience? (Men try to, but sorry Judd Apatow, your wife isn’t the only woman in the world.) And as Mitt Romney (though thank God not a screenwriter) said: he knows what women of America need because his wife talks to him.

So my new script, for which I’ve been writing the outline for weeks, is finally ready for page 1. And this one, though intentionally catering to all over-age-13 crowds, speaks the female experience that I understand best: the married one, the mother one, the overworked one, the struggling one, and the hopeful one. (And no, Sarah Jessica Parker is not starring in it and you won’t be left wondering, “I don’t know how she does it!” – though in its defense, was in fact written by a mother of two.)

On to page 1 – see you on the other side!

It’s Not Lice, It’s Confusion

I was the kid in school who never wanted to proof their test before bringing it up to the teacher. I was the kid who as soon as they got to the last line of their essay, they just hit print. I used to have a writing partner who could never let go of a script – he would do rewrite upon rewrite upon rewrite, never believing it was finished. Me? My script is done when I get to page 100.

Okay, in all seriousness, I’m not that sloppy of a writer anymore. Now I proof, I outline, I revise and revise. But it’s in my nature to say, “Are we done? Good. Onto the next.”

I’ve been working on this outline now for a couple of weeks (note: Robert McKee says your outline should take months, but he’s a blowhard windbag so whatever.) I wanna start writing. I don’t know what to do next with my outline, so I want to say, “Are we done? Good. Onto the script!” But I don’t want to get lost writing the script. So my question is…

When is your outline done?

My feeling? Your outline is done “enough” when you can write your entire script without once having to look up at the ceiling, scratching your head. (note: there is nothing wrong with looking up at the ceiling scratching your head when you’re searching for specific words, phrasing, or dialogue. But there should be no looking up at the ceiling, asking yourself “where do I go with this now?”)

Anyway, that’s just my opinion.

Bur I sit here, in the cafeteria of my local Whole Foods, looking up at the ceiling, scratching my head, and asking myself, “Can I start the damn script now?” I guess I’ll know when I get to page 50 and I know (or don’t know) where to go next.

You Don’t Have Writer’s Block- You Just Didn’t Finish Your Outline

Working on an outline for a new script. Think Kristen Wiig, Amy Poehler, and Anna Faris.

I listened to a teleconference seminar on structure last week that was really interesting. It went into detail on the 15-minute segment method practiced by most Hollywood screenwriters. For those who are unaware, this is a process that divides your movie up into 8 even segments (i.e. if you have a 120 page script, each segment will be roughly 15 minutes.) Each segment has its own purpose, and its own rise and fall. Following this structure is a great way to lay out your script, avoid the second act slump, and more importantly, writer’s block.

As the teacher of the seminar said, “You don’t have writer’s block- you just didn’t finish your outline.”

Here is a (very) brief breakdown of the 15 minute segment method:

1. Setting up the story
2. Entering a new world
3. Learning the new world
4. The first major obstacle
5. Things fall apart
6. The hero hits rock bottom and the villain achieves his or her goal
7. The hero takes on the villain’s allies
8. The hero confronts the villain

For people like me who write comedies, these breakdowns of action movies are sometimes a little difficult to translate into comedy-speak, but its doable. For example: “Things fall apart” in Bruce Almighty actually means “Bruce starts getting everything he wants.” I know, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but once you start overanalyzing a ton of comedies (like I’ve done these last few weeks, including Bridesmaids, 13 Going on 30, Bruce Almighty and Horrible Bosses) it starts become clearer.

By the way, overanalyzing movies is a great way for you to simultaneously appreciate the movies more and become totally sick of all comedies all at the same time. (If you ever feel the need to read a scene-by-scene play-by-play of any of those movies, oh yes, I’ve got it in MS Word.)

Some people can write without an outline, but most people (including everyone I know) can’t. I want my outline so perfectly laid out that by the time I open Final Draft, the thing is practically written for me already, and “writer’s block” is a virus I’m immune to.

Mika Brzezinski (and other female stereotypes)

I need to talk about Mika Brzezinski. Mika is a co-host on one of my favorite news shows, “Morning Joe” on MSNBC on channel 714 (MSNBC in HD, baby.) Almost every time she addresses any of the men on the show (and they’re all men, except for her) she makes biting comments like, “Can we answer this honestly?” or she rolls her eyes at Joe Scarborough, or she talks under her breath. She also sides, unnecessarily, with women, as though just because you’re a woman you’re right, or just because you’re a man, you’re wrong. I believe that she believes she is an example of a powerful, successful, and confident woman for others to emulate. Hey, she wrote a book on the subject. But I believe that she is an example of a self-hating woman who is terrified of her aging body (though she’s a very attractive woman) and puts up a front against men as though being against men is what’s going to make women stronger.

She makes successful women look like their stereotype: bitches who bitch.

Why do I care? Because she gives us a bad name. On the show, she is resentful, irritated, and a know-it-all. And as a woman, I want her to buck the f*ck up. Cheer up, Mika: it’s not all that bad. Be the example for other women- don’t be what men hate about women. Show us that successful and powerful women are a good thing to have around- not something with a chip on its shoulder.

A few years ago, I helped run a sketch comedy show on the Internet with 5 men. I was the only woman. It was a real challenge for me to feel heard, feel respected, and feel needed, particularly because some of the men had very strong, unforgiving personalities (not you, Mick- you’re lovely). And occasionally I became a bitch because it was the only way I knew how to keep up and feel like I was an equal player on the team. But in hindsight, I wish I used something far more powerful and influential than my attitude… something all women should have in their arsenal… an asset that can get women the real success they want: confidence.

Mika, you don’t need to roll your eyes, or snip at Joe, or talk under your breath to John Heilemann or Donny Deutsch. You’re a beautiful, well-educated, intelligent woman. And hey, if Sarah Palin can look herself in the mirror every morning, then darn it all to heck, so can you.

How Doing Your Taxes Can Give You the F*ckits

Just finished putting together all of our income, expenses, etc. and emailed it off to our accountant. Done.

However, the IRS (and our accountant) is going to look at the ledger and say, “How are their expenses so much higher than their income?” Well, Mr. IRS Agent, we’ve had a financially complicated year. Between our car needing a heart and kidney transplant, me losing a couple of my internal body parts to a malfunction in my reproductive system, sending our older child to preschool for the first time, buying over $11K in gear and supplies for our business, all while losing our biggest client halfway through the year, can make for some uneven numbers in one’s taxes.

But today is Friday, and you know what that means? It’s a whole new day. Better yet, next Tuesday is the start of a whole new (tax) year. And I’m working on the (final?) revision of a kick-ass screenplay. Oh yes, that’s right- Kick. Ass.

My point? Just because 2012 looked like shitonastick, doesn’t mean you’re not going to be a superstar in 2013. Just because you couldn’t get a boyfriend last year, doesn’t mean you won’t get married this year. Just because your house blew away with some b*tch-of-a-storm named Sandy doesn’t mean you aren’t going to get it all back this year.

And just because you didn’t make a whole lot of money doing what you really love this year, doesn’t mean you won’t be taking Donald Trump out to dinner this year just so you can tell him he’s a douchebag.

Secrets, Secrets Are No Fun (but great for inspiration!)

I think it was in The Artist’s Way where I read that you shouldn’t tell people about the spiritual work you’re doing for yourself as their reaction may burst your bubble. Everyone has an opinion about this and that, and sharing with them something as intimate as your spiritual growth (particularly if you know a lot of scoffers) can stall your momentum. The same goes with creative inspiration. Last night I had a great idea for this new project I’m working on. I had been having a difficult time wrapping my head around this new script, as I didn’t know where to go with the story. But last night I figured it out.

Excited, and having an always-supportive husband, I shared it with him this morning. I said, “I figured out what I’m going to do with this script!” And I told him. But as soon as the words began coming out of my mouth, I heard how terrible they sounded. Boring. Dumb. Direction-less. I said, sort of fishing, you don’t like that idea, do you? He replied, “Nope!”

Crushed. Knowing myself, I usually would have taken his “nope” and ran with it all the way into a different career. But this time, I knew better. I realized I haven’t finished the new idea yet. It needed more thinking, more work. It’s a great idea, but it wasn’t ready to be shared… even with him.

I mean, if Picasso had gone to his buddy and said, “Hey amigo, I’m gonna paint a whole bunch of shapes and colors that make people and places look all retarded and shit. Whadda ya think?” His buddy probably would’ve said “nope” too.