The Story is Still the Story...
And don't lose sight of it...
If you love drama and character studies, I would not write feature scripts. I would write for TV. I would write a novel. Both of those give you more space to explore character and neither requires the stakes and urgency movies do…
This quote is from a post by Carson Reeves at ScriptShadow, a useful place to glean insights on screenwriting, whether you agree with them or not. And although I’m not sure Carson is exactly right in this instance, I’m not sure he’s entirely wrong, either.
As someone who started by writing novels and then backed his way into screenwriting, it is—without a doubt—a steep learning curve and rough transition. For a novelist, a screenplay has to do so much in such an economical space, it feels like trying to fit two weeks worth of luggage in an overnight bag. There is definitely more time and real estate to explore and digress in a novel than the modern screenplay allows, or the modern studio executive has the bandwidth or patience for.
Let me be clear, I’m specifically addressing the kind of screenplays I write—spec series pilots, series episodes, and spec feature films. These screenplays are generally going to be read cold by an agent or executive looking to buy or develop a new project. That means talent has to be attached, financing has to be found, and a platform (network, cable, streaming, or theatrical) has to be secured. That also means a lot of eyes on your work, many of whom you’ll never have the opportunity to talk with; there will be few if any chances to explain or debate your vision or your choices. Thus, the work simply has to stand on its own—propulsive, entertaining, and memorable, with voice and heart.
When I started writing screenplays, I was able to get my hands on tons of successful examples, in a way that used to be much harder to do. And while it was good to have such a rich reference library, a whole bunch of roadmaps, it also proved daunting. Some screenplays were written by directors themselves, others were later-stage production drafts; others were so idiosyncratic or singular in voice and tone (Shane Black’s Lethal Weapon, or Walter Hill and David Giler’s Alien, come to mind) that they weren’t the best guideposts for how a screenplay should be written or styled. But I think it’s easy when you’re learning to write a screenplay to focus on the form and all the supposed “rules;” all the things you CAN’T DO, the how and why a screenplay looks and reads the way it does, and for the longest time, that was what I was most concerned about—
How to write the perfect screenplay, rather than how to write a really great film.
So, while I agree with Carson that a screenplay certainly needs to lean into Goals, Stakes, and Urgency (GSU), it still needs great characters. A screenplay is merely the form and structure for a film, and that film is really just your story. And that story still needs to be propulsive, entertaining and memorable, still has to voice and heart, and that means it does need really strong characters. I just think it can do that without sacrificing the latter for the former.
To some extent, I think screenwriting can even force you to be a better writer—or at at least a more economical one—because you carefully have to weigh each and every word of dialogue, every line of description. You have to evoke all that characterization and emotion without some of the “crutches” (digressions, internal thoughts, monologues, etc.) we have as novelists.
Late last year I started working on a spec feature film screenplay I call Ouroboros. It’s a high-concept commercial thriller with a tech/horror edge, and I spent a lot of time pouring through my screenplay archive, looking for comps, seeing how other writers tackled scenes. More specifically, since screenwriting is still not the most “fluent language” for me, I still tend to over-index on all those supposed “rules” around style/structure/format, not unlike producing music (see last week’s post!), where you can get so dialed into finding the perfect synthesizer patch or room reverb, you lose track of the overall song. So, even though I should know better, I ended up falling down that rabbit hole with my first couple of drafts of Ouroboros. And those drafts were…fine…more than perfectly competent examples of the screenwriting craft. They followed all the “rules,” looked professional, read well, hit all the appropriate marks on white space and act breaks and page count…but…but…as noted by a couple of screenwriters who read them for me, the story itself was…kind of inert…almost as cold and clinical as the subject matter.
The sort of character work and emotion and “heart” that is so much easier for me to find on the page in a novel—and to identify when it’s not there—fell through the cracks of my perfect screenplay scene intros and act breaks.
Basically, I had plenty of form and substance, not enough voice and heart.
So, that’s what I’ve been doing the last month or so; redrafting Ouroboros as a really good film/story and not just a well-executed screenplay.
A propulsive, entertaining and memorable story, with characters we care about.
One thing I’ve learned from all the screenplays I’ve read is that much like finding your voice as a novelist, you have to find your voice as a screenwriter. Sure, there are “rules,” but they are pretty mutable. In fact, if your voice is strong, if your story is good, if you’ve created characters that are easy to root for, and the whole thing is entertaining and memorable, then the “how” matters a lot less, and “perfection” (whatever that is) doesn’t matter at all.
However, as a practical matter (!) here are some feature film screenplays I do return to again and again. As you track them down, you’ll see they vary wildly in approach, in style and some instances format, but they are all examples of both wonderful craft and great story—
Minority Report (Scott Frank)
Out of the Furnace (The Low Dweller) (Brad Ingelsby)
Training Day (David Ayer)
Michael Clayton (Tony Gilroy)
Margin Call (J.C, Chandor)
Doctor Sleep (Mike Flanagan)
Dune Part 2 (Jon Spaihts & Denis Villeneuve)
Ex Machina (Alex Garland)
The Revenant (Mark L. Smith)
Here are some TV/series examples—
Yellowstone (Taylor Sheridan)
Mare of Easttown (Brad Ingelsby)
Ozark (Bill Dubuque)
Chernobyl/Last of Us (Craig Mazin)
Here are some book resources I’ve found useful at various times—
Write To TV (3rd Edition) (Martie Cook)
Making a Good Script Great (3rd Edition) (Linda Seger)
The Screenwriter’s Troubleshooter (Emmanuel Oberg)
And other than ScriptShadow, here are some websites and a podcast that I check in with—
So, a little bit of an epilogue—
Now that I’ve had a screenplay actually produced, I’ve seen how the words we write on the page are translated onto the screen. I’ve learned just how important that screenplay truly is, how it is the roadmap for everyone making the show or film. So, it does need to be clear, and it should (to the extent possible) be an easy read and actor friendly. Watching actors wrangle dialogue that seemed so smart and beautiful on the page but proved to be a tongue twister live (particularly when they got to do it again…and again…and again) was an interesting experience, and forced me to re-frame how I thought about long dialogue runs and monologues.
A screenplay is a story for a film but also a map for film making, and that’s what makes the things so hard to pull off successfully, but so gratifying when you do.
Although I suggested “the rules don’t always matter,” here are a few thoughts/ideas/tricks I try to keep in mind when I write my screenplays, all cribbed from different places. However, I try not let these undermine a good story —
Goals/Stakes/Urgency
8/4/2: If you can say it in 8 words, try to say it in 4. If you can say it in 4, try to say it in 2.
Don’t get cute, just be clear.
White space is nice space: make the read look smooth, easy, and inviting.
Third Down: Hold description to three lines or less.
Touch Down: Try to set up act breaks and scene endings so they fall at the end of a page.
Table Read: Read all dialogue out loud, preferably with other people, because someday, some one else—if you’re lucky—will!
And all other things being equal (they’re not), every scene is principally characters talking about what they’re going to do next…
As always, feel free to—
This is fantastic advice.