The creative processes involved in writing a screenplay are as varied as the writers who work on them. In this video Oscar-winning screenwriter Dustin Lance Black—Milk,J. Edgar—takes us through his own process, from how he goes about researching to how he lays out scenes written on hundreds of index cards.
Infographic: John August's 11-Step Guide to Writing a Scene
A screenplay is made up of a lot of different pieces: acts, sequences, scenes, etc. Think of them as multi-sized blocks that you must stack, tear down, rearrange, and throw away until what you have before you looks something like a story. But before you can enjoy the tedious task of formation, you have to create these pieces, or blocks, from scratch. To help with this, screenwriter and frequent Tim Burton collaborator, John August (Big Fish, Corpse Bride), whose blog you should be readingreligiously, released a handy infographic/PDF of his popular post “How to Write a Scene” that gives screenwriters an easy checklist of 11 bullet points that helps guide them through the process.
Now, this is one of those resources I’ve always wanted to refer to when I write — a simple, easy to follow list that will help me to not only start the process of building individual scenes, but to generate more ideas for the story as a whole. But let me say this; people certainly work and create in different ways — some might find a checklist confining — but for those whose ideas are like a billion billowing 19th century locomotives careening thither and yon simultaneously inside our poor, squishy encephalons (*takes a breath*), August’s simplified guide on how to write a scene is a helpful tool.
We’ve shared the first page of the infographic below, which contains the first 6 bullet points — really questions that you should ask yourself when writing a scene, including basic things like what needs to happen and who needs to be in the scene. As you go down the list, however, namely on the second page, August gives you ideas on how to conceptualize scenes, like brainstorming and writing a “scribble” version.
Granted, this checklist isn’t the be-all-end-all on how to write a scene, and I don’t think that’s what August intended it to be. It’s the buoy out in the ocean; it might save you from drowning, but it won’t get you back on land. Furthermore, writing, like any art form, can’t be put inside a box, unpacked, and assembled according to a set of directions like a piece of IKEA furniture. The process of storytelling is different for everyone and every time. It can be complicated or simple. It can be the result of an overflowing imagination or a logical system of ideas. Whichever way you write your screenplays, we all write them one scene at a time, so it really doesn’t matter if you get there in 1 step (write it!) or 11.
I’d highly suggest trying out August’s checklist on a few scenes to see if it helps you, especially if you’re finding it difficult to even organize your ideas enough to get them down on the page.
You can download John August’s checklist in PDF form here, and if you want more, be sure to check out his full blog post.
38 Reasons Why Your Screenplay Isn't Getting Recommended by a Script Reader
The first audience for your screenplay (besides yourself) is a reader. Certainly, this reader can be a friend, a partner, a spouse, your mom — all put-upon by your request to read your script, by the way — but eventually, your script will find its way to a professional script reader. These script readersare the gatekeepers to the agents, managers and producers who may actually be able to help a screenplay become a movie. And one of these script readers recently created an infographic listing 38 recurring problems that keep screenplays from being recommended.
You can find the complete infographic here at its high-resolution, thanks to its creator, script reader and Reddit user profound_whatever. To make it (somewhat) more readable within the confines of our NFS post, I have split the infographic into two pieces. This first side gives you the overall demographics of the 300 scripts covered by this reader. Because this reader worked for five different companies, I assume the genre numbers were most likely affected by the preferences of each of those companies. Nevertheless, 300 scripts still covers a wide variety of genres (click for larger).
A few key data points jump out at me from the information above. First, not surprisingly, only 8 scripts out of 300 received a “Recommend,” which translates to only 2.67% of scripts read. Keep this in mind as you rewrite your current script and ask yourself if you think your script is better than 97-98% of the other scripts out there. Then make your script better than 99% of the scripts out there.
Also, female screenwriters make up only 10% of these 300 submissions, and that includes male & female writing duos. We’ve seen similar data before, but we really need to see more women writing screenplays, because these numbers are disheartening. Most likely as a result of such a male-dominated sample, a whopping two-thirds of these 300 scripts have male heroes.
More interesting to me than these demographics, however, are the recurring problems that this script reader found throughout these 300 scripts. Below are 38 problems that the script reader found repeatedly in scripts, listed in order of frequency (click for larger):
Let’s take a look at the 3 most common problems listed above.
The story begins too late in the script
As screenwriters, we don’t have much time or many pages to get our stories started. People don’t tend to watch movies for the setup, they watch movies for the story. The same is true for readers, a screenwriter’s first audience. Readers want to be engaged in a story from the beginning. They don’t want to wade through 50 pages before the story begins. I’m always looking for ways to work on those early pages to engage my reader in the story immediately while simultaneously laying the groundwork for what’s to come. It’s a tricky balance, for sure.
The scenes are void of meaningful conflict
This is a great way to determine if a scene needs to be included in a story. If a scene has no conflict, how are the characters challenged or changing at that particular moment of the story? Without conflict, a scene is most likely expository. One of the challenges I know I constantly face — and I imagine many other writers face, too — is weaving the exposition into a scene that is full of conflict without the audience feeling like they were just spoon-fed some exposition. Without conflict, though, a story can’t move forward.
The script has a by-the-numbers execution
This is one of the biggest reasons I am not a fan of so-called screenwriting gurus that believe all scripts have to fall into a specific formula. Yes, I agree that screenplays follow a specific structure, but hitting very specific beats on very specific pages can start to make screenplays feel like they are merely paint-by-numbers exercises. And if your script reads this way, not only is the reader bored, but the reader (and the audience) is already way ahead of your story because they have read or seen it all before.
As you can see, several other problems occur frequently among the 300 scripts covered by this reader, and I’m sure all of us screenwriters have dealt with several of these problems in our own screenplays as we rewrite them.
Thanks to Reddit contributor profound_whatever for taking the time to create and share the infographic about the 300 scripts, and for giving us permission to repost and discuss the infographic here on NFS. You can check out the original discussion thread on Reddit to hear directly from profound_whatever regarding this infographic.
Which of the 38 recurring problems listed above do you find when rewriting your own screenplays? What strategies have you developed to avoid running into these problems with your screenwriting? Share your experiences with us in the comments.
Having been a sales agent for the better part of my professional career, I’ve seen a lot of mistakes that filmmakers make when it comes to film markets.
5 Biggest Mistakes Filmmakers Make With Film Markets
In this video I cover the 5 biggest ones…and costly mistakes to avoid.
With AFM coming up, you’ll want to pay special attention here…enjoy!
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Histograms Explained: How a Simple Tool Can Help You Nail Exposure Every Time
Cameras these days come with a veritable plethora of tools to help you expose your images properly, everything from built-in exposure meters to zebras and false color displays. However, there’s one tool that is often overlooked, despite the fact that it’s available on nearly every digital camera today. The histogram. It’s an extremely simple tool, but when used properly, it can help you make sure that you never blow out your highlights again.
In this short excerpt from John Greengo’s CreativeLive course, The Photography Starter Kit, he talks about what the histogram is, how it works, and how you can use it to nail your exposures.
In short, the histogram is a chart, with the horizontal axis displaying all of the greyscale values in your image (with pure black on the left, and pure white on the right), and the vertical axis displaying the density of pixels for each of those greyscale values. Overexposure and underexposure can be judged simply by seeing whether or not the mass of pixels on the histogram touches either side of the display. In Greengo’s example below, you can see an example of a properly exposed image, an overexposed image, and an underexposed image, all with the corresponding histograms.
The consensus with histograms is that the majority of your pixels should be in the middle of the scale, much like the first example above. However, depending on how you intend to expose your image from a stylistic perspective, your histogram might look a bit differently. Here are a few examples from RED’s fantastic exposing with histograms post (which is definitely worth a read). First is an example of a bright “high key” image that is properly exposed, and the second example is a darker, moodier image that is also properly exposed. Both have the corresponding histograms.
There are a few drawbacks to using the histogram to judge exposure, however. Since it only gives you an overview of exposure by showing you the density of pixels, it can’t give you any specific information about which parts of your image are either under or overexposed. Tools like zebras, false color displays, and waveform monitors can give you very specific greyscale information about individual parts of your image, which in many cases, might be more useful.
With that said, for shooters who are on the run and need a quick visual overview of their exposure, the histogram is an absolutely fantastic tool that can prevent you from under or overexposing.
What are some of your favorite exposure tools? Do you regularly use histograms when you shoot? Let us know down in the comments!
Masterclass in Lighting from Oscar-Winning Cinematographer Dean Semler
Over the past few weeks, we’ve talked about lighting a few different times. First we shared a perspective onlighting Hollywood films from renowned gaffer, John Higgins. Then we wrote up a post about methods forimproving your daytime exterior lighting. All of these posts have some helpful information, but lighting is such an expansive craft that it takes constant study and practical application to improve your skills. Today’s post: a masterclass in creating artificial firelight from the Oscar-winning DP of Dances With Wolves, Dean Semler.
One of the hardest parts of cinema lighting is using our artificial lighting technology to re-create the incredibly complex things that natural light does. There are several natural light scenarios that are harder to replicate than others, however. Re-creating fire light is one of them. Here’s Dean Semler, who won the Academy Award for his cinematography onDances With Wolves, as he talks about how to light the interior of a teepee, and sell the notion that it is being lit solely with natural fire light. This video is a bit old and low in resolution, but the information is absolutely invaluable. Check it out:
What I absolutely love about this video is that it walks you through the process of lighting the teepee, and the characters in it, from several different camera setups. It doesn’t take a “one size fits all” approach to its lighting, which is certainly one of the things that many young filmmakers try to do.
In order to maximize the tonal and emotional resonance of each shot, Semler subtly manipulates various lighting techniques, such as using large, soft sources for his close ups, and using a combination of Tota lights and natural fire light for the wide shots. And even though the lighting in each setup is different from each of the other setups, it all cuts together and maintains the same aesthetic. It’s truly masterful work, and something that we can all learn from.
One of the constants through all of Semler’s lighting setups, however, is the fact that he uses flicker boxes in order to create the realistic flicker of the fire. Unfortunately, flicker boxes might not be an affordable option for low-budget filmmakers. But worry not, because there are certainly low-budget alternatives that can look just as good. Perhaps the easiest way to achieve these flicker effects on a budget is with several cheap dimmers being quickly manipulated by several different people. Another cheap alternative is to throw some CTO on the reflective side of a flexfill and have someone move the flexfill around somewhat erratically to create a sense of light flicker.
What do you guys think of Semler’s lighting techniques? Have you ever needed to re-create firelight on a set? How did you do it?
This 30-Minute Video Is the Most Fun You'll Ever Have Learning About Composition
There are many aspects to the art and craft of cinematography. There is a technological component to it, of course, and that’s something that we talk about frequently. However, most people agree that it’s not the equipment that is used, but instead, how it is used that determines the efficacy of a given cinematographic piece. Of the many artistic facets of the craft, perhaps the least understood is composition. Many of our most coveted compositional techniques and theories come from history’s greatest visual artists, and they are entirely fascinating and useful once understood. Unfortunately, learning about them can be about as interesting as watching paint dry. Luckily, the following video on composition is not only informative, but it’s also, dare I say, entertaining.
First and foremost, it should be noted that this video focuses on the theories and techniques of creating contrast and using contrasting visual elements within the frame to draw the viewer’s focus to the correct place. It focuses very little on some of the compositional techniques that we’re taught in film school, like the rule of thirds and the golden ratio. More than anything, it’s a tutorial that’s largely geared towards graphic designers and motion graphics artists, but the information here can be directly applied to photography and cinematography composition.
So without any further ado, here’s a 30 minute Division 05 masterclass in using contrasting visual elements to create compelling compositions:
Ultimately, there’s a whole lot to learn about cinematography from this quirky tutorial, even if the tutorial itself isn’t cinematography-specific. Like any type of visual artist, it is the cinematographer’s job to control what the viewer sees in the frame and when they see it. Using contrasting visual elements to draw attention to various parts of the frame — which is best done with lighting and by using compositional techniques such as leading lines — is one of the most powerful tools at a cinematographer’s disposal.
Additionally, it’s important to note that film, like many of the other visual arts, is a two-dimensional medium that tricks the human eye into seeing three-dimensional space. Cinematographers can use the tools at their disposal (cameras and lighting) in order to further emphasize that concept and to create compositions with a tremendous amount of depth. Again, lighting is incredibly important when creating depth within a composition, and sculpting characters and objects with light is the name of the game when it comes to manufacturing cinematographic depth.
What are some of your tips and tricks for creating contrast and depth of composition? Let us know down in the comments!
How to Create Characters That Feel Like Real People
Story is, at its core, a metaphor for how to live. We live vicariously through the characters we see on the page or the screen. So it follows that if you’re creating characters, they should be as real as possible. That is, of course, easier said than done, and a weak or unbelievable character can kill a screenplay or movie regardless of the plot (experimental film excepted). So what can be done? For writers, an understanding of psychology and human nature are vital in order to see people as they are, making it possible to make up people who are more like people than like characters.
Freud casts a long shadow over western culture. To paraphrase a famous quote, all modern psychological theory is but a series of footnotes and reactions to Freud, who, along with William James and other pioneers, posited the existence, and importance, of the subconscious in human motive. Interestingly, the plays of Shakespeare, which feature acute portrayals of psychology, are among the most enduring and popular, both then and now (especially in the age of psychoanalysis, and he was writing hundreds of years before).
Freud’s work was picked up by artists, who saw in the unconscious an analog to the “madness” revered by the Ancient Greeks; even the arch rationalist Plato said, roughly, that anyone who tried to write a poem without being a little off was not going to write a good poem. So what does this mean for us, as writers? Well, odds are you are doing this (that is, crafting characters psychologically) without thinking about it; but frequently, we writers have no idea that we’re doing what we’re doing, and even worse, why we’re doing it.
E.M. Forster, the British novelist, spoke of “flat” and “round” characters. According to him, each had their place within a story. The flat character is the two-dimensional man or woman who has no inner depth. They say things because that’s what is needed, not because they need to say them. A round character is, like a human, a mess of contradictions, a human being full of contradictory desires that pull the story along, and if they are drawn correctly, they can seem more real than the people we meet in the street. Knowing all this, then, why do so many screenplays feature characters who seem to do nothing except move the plot along?
Is this Id?
The Id, according to Freud, is the monster that lurks within us, all desire and selfish need; think Alex in A Clockwork Orange. He is, by all objective standards, a monster, yet we identify with him because Kubrick, and Malcolm McDowell, make him into the most alive character in the film’s world, where everyone else is a lifeless, drab caricature. A character driven by Id does what we cannot, and lives in a way that we cannot. Hence, the appeal of the villain. Tony Montana is another example of a socially irresponsible dude who is also a hero to millions. But where Kubrick subverts the narrative and has Alex triumph (implicating the audience in a way not found in the novel upon which the movie is based), Oliver Stone’s screenplay does what audiences demand, which is to show that the Id, unchecked, will lead a character to no good end.
A character driven by their Id, primarily, is actually not that complicated, closer to flat than round. They want things, and they take them. They work, but when we add other dimensions, characters become more than just surrogates, they become us.
Super Ego, Maniacs, & Conflict
Freud posited that in order to keep the Id in check, people develop a superego, which acts as a sort of authority figure/policeman. And what is the basis of drama? That’s right. Conflict. We cannot do what we want to, all the time. Think about this in your own life. What we want, versus what we can do, is a huge part of our day to day experience. It makes us human, and giving your characters these conflicts is vital. So create a character who is in conflict with their id and you have instant conflict. And an interesting character. A character who has an active id, yet finds themselves in conflict with their superego and ego (or, in a vast oversimplification, the conscious part of our personality).
Another thing to consider is that many times, writers tend to use themselves as a model for the main character in the work they’re writing. This is normal, but can sometimes lead to being too easy on the protagonist. And that is not a recipe for an interesting story. Have you ever read a story where the main character went through the story, confronting problems which, while vexing, were easily solved? Did that story captivate your imagination? Odds are, no.
Think about your own life: when all is well, you tend to adhere to the status quo. After all, why mess with a good thing? But the foundation of narrative is drama, and drama is trouble. Story is nothing more and nothing less than the universe out of balance, and the attempts to set it right (whether successful or unsuccessful. And the universe out of order can be anything, but it has to be bad, because only if it’s dire will the crucible of circumstance burn away all the niceties of a character’s external self and leave the core; that means that your character has to undergo the worst thing possible, and then something even worse than that, and so on; how they react is the story. Have you ever been writing and found yourself surprised by a character’s actions? Then you’re on the right track.
Why So Serious?
Modern, western people are not, in general, super happy. Which is weird! Because we live longer than we ever have, the average middle-class person in western Europe, the U.S., or any part of the so-called first world, provided with an average income has a standard of living better than any medieval king (to list but a few boons of the modern age: indoor plumbing, heat and air conditioning, refrigeration of food, vaccines, far less threat of violence in daily life, etc.) And yet, we are not a happy lot. In fact, humanity is more alienated and miserable than ever. So if you’re happy, well, you know, you should, like, get with the program.
The reasons for this are manifold, but the theme of the century has been alienation, and alienation stems from a lack of coherence; the modern world is confusing, and story is no longer able to guide us, at least in a profound way. Art depicts life as disjointed; we are not connected to each other or to our work (writers excepted), and we worry constantly. I think it has something to do with the fact that the central fear, the main motivating factor in every human being, is a fear of death. It is the one universal experience that is a total mystery, and without the comfort of religion to explain things, people are left adrift in a world where science and consumerism become the new faith, and yet they are unable to provide any comfort to the vast majority of people, who, as Freud said, depended on religion.
Add to this the mechanization of death (WWI caused shockwaves in the arts that can still be felt; that nightmarish conflict gave us surrealism, Dada, and what we think of as the avant-garde, as well as the modern world.) In literature, it delivered the protagonists of Hemingway, conflicted and numb, and Camus’ The Stranger, totally alienated from himself and experience. Film noir is a direct descendant of this new attitude towards life. No longer were things clear. In this new world, we have infinite choice, and infinite freedom, but also an infinite responsibility for the meaning (or meaninglessness) of our lives.
Modern characters, no matter the conflict of their story, were wrestling with the mystery of death and finding no peace. It follows, then, that one could say every story is a metaphor for death, and, since the invention of nuclear weapons and the possibility of total destruction of the species, a certain nihilism has crept into human affairs. God’s apocalypse was replaced with man’s, and again, this absurd situation, that we could bring about our own annihilation for no reason other than some twisted logic, was too much for the psyche to bear. Which is why the one movie that captures the insanity of the situation so well is Dr. Strangelove, another Kubrick film. He realized that in the face of such insanity, the only reaction was insanity. You can’t play the apocalypse straight. But I digress.
It can be useful, when writing, to use the techniques of Stanislavski, the great Russian actor and teacher and exponent of “sense memory,” the practice of not acting a scene, but living it, through careful reconstruction of sensory detail. Interestingly, Stanislavski was not influenced by Freud so much as a 1910 book called The Psychology of Emotions(the link points to an online copy), written by one Theodule Ribot. There are parallels between Freud and Stanislavski, though. The superego can be compared to Stanislavski’s “superobjective,” or the overriding goal of a character that, more than anything, guides them. The Id could also be seen to find its place in the “subtext” of a work, as the hidden emotions of the character, the words behind the words, so to speak.
Before Stanislavski’s methods made their way into the mainstream, film acting was more of a surface affair; in Hollywood, you can see the change in performance happen almost overnight, when his indirect disciples, Marlon Brando and James Dean, brought a new form of “realism” to the screen; at the time, it shocked audiences; today, anything else is considered hopelessly hokey. Some people even think that this sort of technique is dangerous for the psyche, because of the danger that an actor can plumb too deep, to levels where they are (to complete the metaphor) out of their depth.
In a sense, you have to be heartbroken to write heartbreak; that doesn’t mean crying, but it does mean remembering what it feels like, in all its dimensions. And you have to have the fearlessness to throw your character into the pit of life; classic, favorite characters are ones who confront life, wrestle with death, go toe to toe with the big questions, even if the questions are posed sideways, as metaphor (which is usually the case). Every obstacle is more than itself; each one stands for the “big” questions, and the story you’re telling is, in the end, nothing more or less thanthe story of the character wrestling with these obstacles and revealing their true selves in the process as they progress towards their goal (and the end).
Our lives are stories. The more we learn to see what motivates us as the protagonist in our lives, and the more we interrogate our motives, the more realistic our characters will be. We say, in figures of speech, that a true thing “resonates,” and that falsehoods don’t ring true;a truth is something you can’t ignore, a ringing bell. And if writing is a way to find out who you are, then the more we know about ourselves, the more likely it is that the people we write will be more people than characters.
Omar Kardoudi
The creative processes involved in writing a screenplay are as varied as the writers who work on them. In this video Oscar-winning screenwriter Dustin Lance Black—Milk, J. Edgar—takes us through his own process, from how he goes about researching to how he lays out scenes written on hundreds of index cards.
