Fade Out on Script 6

When I made my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days (which I was nowhere near completing at the end of 1001 days, but I am still working on), I made one of the items to have finished seven feature length first drafts. I'm one closer to my goal of 7 which--illogically so--seems like some magic number. When I hit 7 completely scripts I'll have learned something or mastered something or at least come up with one marketable idea. And in some sense it's true--I've noticed a slow but steady development of good concept and craft with each script. Nearly all of these projects have been documented in some way on this blog, but here's a recap. Cause I'm narcisstic.

1. The 4:05 -- My first script ever, I wrote it while living in England in my semester between my two universities. That sounds very romantic, and it was. I sat in pubs in the middle of the afternoon--drinking soda, mom and dad--writing on yellow legal pads, a hastily scrawled paragraph as an outline. I love this story, probably because it is my own, but it's not a fresh enough take on the coming-of-age romantic dramedy. It placed in the top ten screenplays at the University of Michigan's most prestigious writing competition, warranting some of the harshest comments I've ever received on a piece. I have a soft spot for this story but currently have little intention of revisiting it.

2. Making It -- A very terrible coming of age story. I didn't like it very much even when I was writing it, so if it's ok with you, we'll just acknowledge that this one happened in order to make it count for the tally.

3. Whatever You Ask -- 2007 Script Frenzy project. A romantic comedy with three male protagonists. Because I know so much about the male mind. While I was very excited about the idea when I was gearing up for it, I honestly don't think I've looked at it since I finished it. I have zero desire to revisit it.

4. Collapse/In Memoriam -- I wrote this script for my first screenwriting class. I wrote it for a friend. Since our second screenwriting class as a rewrite class, I took this script through a couple drafts. It might be good. I don't know. I haven't really looked at it since then. It's a story about death, and right now it's just so damn depressing. I'd need to figure out a way to make it more light-hearted without making it a Big Chill rip off (thought that would be a bit fitting). But after the flops that were Making It and Whatever You Ask, this script did good things for me. I again entered the Hopwood Awards and again placed in the top ten, where the comments were not AS mean as they were for The 4:05 [improvement!]. This script also got me into the master screenwriting class, where I wrote--

5. The Garden [Even Angels Swear] -- I can't really call it that, but I wish I could. This script is definitely my passion project script. I wrote it for my master class, had pages workshopped by Tom McCarthy and Pamela Gray, and spent many hours in my professor's office trying to make it work. I finished my third draft of it last summer. It was a shredding rewrite, and a fourth draft is definitely needed. I will get to it--I think I'll always return to this project--but I'm hesitant about how marketable it is. It'd be a big budget movie with strong religious themes and a real cliff hanger ending. I've got to make it phenomenal before anyone takes a risk on that.

6. The Exit Strategy -- Clocking in at 75 pages, this is the first feature length first draft I've completed since graduating in 2009. It's an incredibly personal project, though if I had to pitch it I'd say it's My Best Friend's Wedding meets Tiny Furniture. Meets Forgetting Sarah Marshall meets (500) Days of Summer. I wrapped it last week and am taking a break before diving back in for the rewrite. I have a couple friends who I know would be willing to look at it after I get it to the best I can by myself. And I have secret hopes for this script.

7. Found Footage Story -- My next project. Am I jumping on this bandwagon? Heck yes I am.

I remember after I wrote Whatever You Ask, I had this terrible wave of self doubt. I had written three scripts, and the last two were real bombs. But looking back I can see the gradual improvement [and this isn't counting the numerous ideas, loglines, shorts, first acts, pilots, and tv specs I've banged out]. They say it takes ten years. Or is it ten scripts? A million words?

Whatever it is, I'll get there. Eventually. Cause I just keep on typing.

Rejection 101

Rejection comes with the call to write. Here is my favourite rejection story.

At the University of Michigan, we have a prestigious writing award called the Hopwood. There's a different category for every type of writing possible, the judges are professionals, and they give away thousands of dollars to the winners. Arthur Miller won a Hopwood.

I first entered in spring 2008 with "The 4:05." I didn't win any awards, but I had gotten into the top ten so I received comments from the judges. I was looking forward to this. "The 4:05" is my darling screenplay, my first effort, and this was the first time I'd get academic/professional feedback on a screenplay.

I picked up my manuscripts and my comments from the Hopwood Room and found the nearest bench to dig into the comments. Two judges, two sets of comments. One set was tolerable. Critical, but not overly harsh.

I'm pretty sure my mouth dropped when reading the second set. I have never - in all my life - received comments like this before or have since. There's lots of great stuff, but this last paragraph is my favourite.

"In the end, we're left wondering why that story needed to be told. I think the writer was aiming for a small, intimate story about two people struggling with their own inner demons who find comfort, companionship and relief in one person who truly understands them, and accepts them for who they are now, not what they could be. Instead we end up with a slow, cliched, frustrating, anticlimactic story that plods along with no real structure or build. To make this script work, I think it needs better, more compelling characters who grow and change, much better, interesting dialogue, and more going on besides them together, talking in a vacuum."

Listen. I'll be the first to say that this script is far from perfect. No, the plot is not strong. The characters do, at times, come across harsh, I can see that. I did not know what the three act structure was when I wrote it. I think what gets me is that this script landed in the top ten, and in four paragraphs the nicest comment I got from this judge was what story they "thought" I was trying to tell. It was almost so harsh that I giggle a little bit when I read it.

But it was difficult - it's still rejection, right? Worst part - "In the end, we're left wondering why that story needed to be told." More than entertaining an audience, I want them to understand why this story is important, why they should feel a certain way, maybe even inspire them. To say something like that is to tell me I failed as a writer.

As with all rejection, you bounce back. I entered the Hopwoods this past spring with "Collapse." Again, I didn't win. Again, I got in the top ten. And again, I got some pretty harsh comments. But there were also some nice comments. Hopefully the improvement in the judges' response reflects an improvement in my writing.

As for those judges' comments, what did I do with those? I tossed them - right onto my growing stack of rejection letters.

Another one bites the dust.

I. I forgot my favourite part of filming last weekend. I got to "act" (being the trained actress that I am). "Join This Group?" is a mockumentary, and we take an investigatory spin at one point, "chasing" our uncommunicative subject down. So it's Saturday, just before noon, and we're at the intersection of two of our busiest streets in front of our uni's Union. There's a huge fundraiser going on across campus and an annual marijuana party called Hash Bash in the Diag and it's the nicest day we've had all spring, so there're probably double the people around than usual. Because the camera movement was a little tricky, we probably did about twelve to fifteen takes of me running after my friend, screaming, "Can you talk with us? Why won't you stop and answer a few questions? Hey!" I'd chase him into the Union, and then we'd stop and laugh and walk back outside. One time we came out of the Union and a woman was waiting there, looking confused, until she saw our camera. She said, "Oh, I see - you're shooting something." It was so much fun, filming out in the real world with people who had no idea what was going on.

II. I used the word "uber" in class discussion the other day, in my most academic class, in front of my most respected professor. I kept talking quickly hoping that she wouldn't notice, but I think some of the other students did.

III. This week I had two very polarized screenwriting experiences on Wednesday:

1. I submitted "The 4:05" to a contest here at school. I would like to win contests because I would like to pay for school. I got an email the other week saying that while it hadn't won, it had gone to "nationals" (what does that even mean? It was a university award - how do we go "national"? I think we figured out that it just meant top 10 or something) and if I picked up my manuscripts I would have comments from the judges. Well, that was kind of cool because at least I was getting feedback. So I went and picked them up and took a minute to read the comments.

I've never read such negative comments about most people's work, let alone my own.

I'm a little surprised my script didn't come back with holes in it from the judges' laser eyes. One woman went on and on about how my characters were weird and boring and my dialogue was stiff and force and the plot as paper thin and how the reader is left wondering why this story needed to be told. I'm really not sure what other negative things she could have said - I'm half convinced that she went to the thesaurus from the start.

I'm not really fussed, though. It made me a little hesitant about letting my screenwriting professor see it, but when I thought about it, sure this story needs a lot of work, but I'm willing to do that. Because, unlike that judge, I do see a story worth telling. And I'm the writer, so I get to make that call.

2. I finished my Current Draft for screenwriting class. I also found a better title. I can definitely see how I've improved as a screenwriter since "The 4:05" and all the lessons I've learned. We all stood up at class and dropped our scripts on the table - ah, the sound of completion. My screenwriting professor suggested taking the entire summer away from this script, but I just don't see the time. I am taking at least a week and a half away from it, maybe two weeks. Then we'll see.

And there's Script Frenzy to be thinking about.

IV. Apparently I'm a music sell out because my favourite song is "Drops of Jupiter."

Tonight I'm taking drugs to make sure I sleep through the night.

I went to the eye doctor today because I'm finally getting contacts, yay! I go to a lot of doctors when I come home. Like a health pit stop. And I was sitting in the chair, waiting for my eye doctor to come check my eyes, and I was looking at the walls for good reading material and low and behold, there's a whole poster of eye disorders. This is not just an eye doctor trend. Why is it that doctors like to freak their patients out by plastering all the things that can go wrong all over the walls? Scare tactics, I think.

My 11-year-old brother read The 4:05. I had to explain to him what "o-d-e-d" meant, but he said he liked it, even though they ended up "like in love and stuff." I ate lunch while he sat at the table and read the last twenty pages. Usually I don't like watching people read my stuff but seeing him so focused on it made me sorta proud.

Artists are generally very proud people. We're enlightened, you know? We have truth and wisdom and revelations on life to pass out, and boy are we misunderstood. Tortured artists, starving artists, underpaid, living in cardboard boxes artists. Suffering so that truth can reach the masses. Yes, we are pretty pompous sometimes. Usually, though, it's a subliminal thing. And if it manifests itself, it usually is an us-them complex of artist-normal people who have real jobs and friends and families that we're jealous of. I mean...

I don't have a lot of established pet peeves in life. One of them is when cars pull into the crosswalks at stop signs even if they can't go yet just so that you won't bother them by walking in front of them. Laaaa-ame. But even more than that, I hate writers who get pompous with other writers. Ok, there's obviously a hierarchy when it comes to writing. There are those who have been writing longer than you have and those who have been writing less. There are those who are better than you and those who are worse. And secretly, it's true, I think I'm better than most of my peers and I pander to those who I know are better than me. But at the same time, there's this sense of we're all in it together. Except for those people who like to step on the little new guy.

I was checking out the Wordplay forums the other day, and a very basic question was asked. So basic, even I sniggered at it a little. But some of the responses surprised me. Recently too, I've been looking for good resources on querying (if I'm ever going to cross off "pitch The 4:05 to Adam Brody" off my 101 list, I'd better do it right), and some of the attitude in posts and comments surprises me. There is a strata of elitists in the writer's community, and they just add bad blood all around. I think my main problem with elitists is not the derisive tone, they way they sniff at new writers who haven't mastered the craft yet, their cynicism and aloofness. I think it's the way that the make writing out to be more than just hard work. Because truly, there are two types of elitists. There are those who are elitists because they think they've put in the work and the younger generation thinks it won't need to, and there are the elitists who think they're better because they're "compelled" to write, their lives are over if they don't write, and if you don't feel that way then who are you to dare dream of yourself as a writer.

Relax, guys.

Writing is hard work. That's all. The more you work at it, the better you are. You'd *better* like it because you're going to be spending a lot of time doing it. And I hope you feel like either you or other people are becoming better people because of your writing (nobody gets into writing for the money). But all this stuff about being "thrown into the darkest depression if I don't write"? Get off your high horse. Don't make the poor excite new kids feel bad because they don't have a disciplined writing habit yet. These people try to make writing something more magical and mystical than it really is. And the really bad thing? They use their *emotions* about writing to turn people away. They say that if you *don't* feel overjoyed whenever you sit down to write or if you don't feel like writing is as important as breathing, then you aren't meant to be a writer.

Some of the best quotes about writing by some of the most talented authors is about how hard they find it to write - sometimes down right unenjoyable.

Writing is a craft. It takes time and it takes work, and in that aspect, I can almost respect the people who are experience elitists. Sometimes I think they disregard people too quickly just because they're new to the game, but I can agree with them that I will get better the more I write, the more work I put into it, the more I practice. But these people who make writing an obsession? They just need to get a life. These people take it to seriously. Hitchcock was famous for reminding his cast and crew, when things go a little tense, "it's only a movie."

One of my favourite quotes about writing is from Zach Helm, who wrote Stranger than Fiction, basically slamming "pompous artists" because they will sacrifice life too much for art. If you really feel that way, fine. But don't go around telling other writers that they aren't really artists because they aren't obsessed like you. All writing is is sitting down and working. Anyone can do it. I don't know why you would if you didn't love it, but anyone can.

My allergies are causing me much pain. Please pass the Bendryl. I want to pass out.

"You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club." - Jack London

"People on the outside think there's something magical about writing, that you go up in the attic at midnight and cast the bones and come down in the morning with a story, but it isn't like that. You sit in back of the typewriter and you work, and that's all there is to it." - Harlan Ellison

Paranoid Writer Syndrome

I have very recently realized what a nervous writer I am. The thing is, writers are all a little bit mental. We all have our varied neurosises, which are, of course, endearing, and the one I will focus on today is our disinclination towards the Current Draft.

You see, the Current Draft proves what absolutely inadequate writers we are. Any previous successes can be admired and future ideas can be refined into idols, but the Current Draft, well, that's what matters. And if you can feel that with each key you press on your keyboard, your story becomes less inspired, more cliched, and flatter than the paper it will be printed on - well, that sort of dread doesn't just go away. The problem with the Current Draft is that it proves we are Talentless Hacks.

I wrote a screenplay last summer. I even sent it off to the Nicholl competition last week. And as I was working on it, I was happy to notice one thing. I Liked It. I really, truly enjoy the story of The 4:05. I would be happy to work on it for years, rewriting it incessently, grinding my teeth against unnecassry but enforced changes, watching it on the big screen. It's a story I am proud of. And even one of the shorts I've written since. It's been through two drafts and received some criticism from a screenwriting student more advanced than I, and I can see myself working on it until it's perfect and pursuing its production by All Means Necessary (there's a scene with an outdoor wedding that might be a little tricky). So past scripts, ok, I Like Them and future ideas, well, I'm all geared up and excited for Script Frenzy. I spend waaay too much time gabbing on the message boards and dreaming up ideas for my poster, because I'm afraid if I do any really planning, I'll get bored with my idea before we start (another neurosis, Pre-Writing Burn Out). So past and future scripts, I Feel Good about.

It's this crappy thing I'm working on right now that's killing me.

I needed something to write in between the Nicholl competition and Script Frenzy, and I was bored with shorts, so I just picked one of my three feature ideas and just determinedly plugged away at it. Since this week, I've gotten it up to 28 pages. Not bad at all. I'm done with Act I, I think. The Thing That Is Bad, though, is the fact that I pretty much feel nothing for this story at all. Maybe I'll get attached to Act II. I have some good ideas. But that's like the Idolization of Future Ideas syndrome. Of course they're Good Ideas! I haven't written them yet!

What if The 4:05... what if it was - a Fluke? Writers don't get very many indications of Talent. All we have are those people who we force our manuscripts upon, and if they aren't legally bound to give us the thumbs up, they probably don't want to hurt our feelings anyway. Even if they genuinely, truly liked it, a writer will go crazy from the words "It was good" because what does that indicate, really? "It was good" gives no idea about Talent. And that is what matters in this business. You have to be talented enough to craft a story that enough people connect with that a script reader will give a Pass on it, a development producer will meet with you for lunch, someone will sign you, executives won't sign another writer to replace you, stars will connect with the characters, a director won't mangle it (too much), an editor won't splice it, distributors will buy it, theatres will show it, and thousands of people will spend their hard earned 8 dollars on it, just to ensure that you will get another shot at conjuring the magic that worked once. I know I've missed a whole bunch of people along the way, forgive me.

The point is, with the Current Draft, you can't be too sure you have that Talent. It's like training to be an economist without being sure if your supply and demand theories are right, training for desert fighting when you could be at war in the mountains, practicing the harp without hearing other harpists, building airplanes without knowing if the fact that you put in square windows is a bad idea (it is, by the way). Cameron Crowe once said that making a movie is like trying to catch lightning in a bottle. Screenwriting is no different.

And I'm just praying that it will rain.

Maybe if I write about screenwriting, I'll become a screenwriter.

This week I mailed off a script to the Nicholl Fellowship competition, run by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. The guys who do the Oscars. This contest is *the* contest for amateur screenwriters. The $30,000 prize is nothing to sneeze at, but I think the thing that everyone really covets is the week-long trip to Hollywood where they introduce you to a lot of important people and let you go to lots of fancy dinners with your fellow star-struck and still dirt poor screenwriting winners.

Unfortunately, getting my script out in the mail was kind of a big hassle. I've decided I don't function well unless there's an abnormal amount of stress in my life. The night before I needed to mail out the screenplay I decided that Celtx formatting wasn't going to cut it for the Nicholl competition. Mind you, these people have accepted *handwritten* submissions before, and Celtx is only off by about half an inch with its dialogue margins and its type is a little too large, but I become a perfectionist in the worst of times. So that night I spent four hours reformatting into Word - and I didn't even finish. Transferring my script into Word also showed just how many typos my screenplay suffered from, though, so it wasn't a complete loss.

The next was May 1, the day it had to be post marked. I thought I would have enough time to perfect it and print it out to send it from our local post office by 5:00 pm. Imagine me, 3:30 on the bus back from New York City, stuck in traffic and frantically working on my laptop deleting superfluous returns, praying that my battery didn't die. Luckily, my aunt had tipped me off to a 24-hour post office back in New York in case I didn't make it in time for the Jersey post office. So when I had finally printed off my 78-page screenplay and squeezed it into the envelope at 7:30, it was back to the bus stop to go back into New York. A bus came pretty quickly, though I was almost denied entry because I had an open soda (I managed to hand it off to some nice man exiting the bus. Who says Jersey people aren't sweet?) but can you imagine letting something like that stop me? I wish it had, in retrospect, as I apparently boarded the local bus and was treated to an hour long scenic route into New York. On the plus side, now I know all the romantic spots to take my dates to impress them with the beauty of the New York skyline.

The 24-hour post office is only about ten blocks from the Port Authority. I must not walk downtown a lot at night (does 9:00 really count as night in the city that never sleeps?), but though I don't consider myself a girl who is easily unnerved, I'm not sure what I would have done if I had needed to take a side street off 8th Avenue. Creepy. Apparently, lots of people need the 24-hour service, because when I got there, the line almost stretched half the length of the building. I was in line for 45 minutes. On the plus side, I managed to engage the people around me in conversation. The guy behind me was about to graduate in film from the only other college I applied to along with Michigan. Crazy, I don't know big Hunter is or if we would have run into each other, but we could have been friends instead of random strangers in line at the post office.

Eventually, I managed to mail off my script. I think, though, that I could have just used the self service machines in the lobby to get the May 1st postmark. It's ok. I'd rather have my peace of mind.

My chances in this competition are slim. Around 5,000 people competed last year for 5 fellowships. But I still feel that even entering the competition was a big step. And it helped me finish The 4:05. I can completely put it aside now and start work on something new. I have a couple of features I'm tinkering with, but I'm most looking forward to June's Script Frenzy by the same people who do National Novel Writing Month. That's the month I leave for my summer job, though, so I'll only have 20 days to write a script instead of 30.

Like I said, I think stress is just a necessary part of my life...