Oh story, where for art thou?

As a writer I am often pitched ideas for possible stories. Some days, like today, I hear the kind of story that makes my blood boil...and I know for certain there's something special about this one; it's the kind of tale I can devote hours, days, weeks, even years of my life to.

And other times I'm tossed back into that old 80's commercial, wondering, "where's the beef?"

So how do you know when you have a story that is not only worth the time investment to write it, but also worth the time of the cast and crew needed to bring it to cinematic life?

I could be flip and answer simply, "you just do." And while that may be true, it's not an answer that actually helps anyone. So here are some of the questions I ask myself when considering whether or not to tackle a story idea and attempt to capture it in script format; hope it helps you:

1) Is this a story that MUST be told?
2) Does this story stir strong emotions? For example, does it bring tears to your eyes? Or does it make you seethe with rage? Are you laughing so hard you may wet yourself?
3) Do you want to tell others about this story? Do you find yourself already sharing shards of this story with others?
4) Do you daydream about this story?
5) Do you armchair cast this story?
6) Can you hear the characters beginning to regale you with their story, clamoring to jump out of your head and onto the page?
7) Do you see the trailer? Or the opening shot? The closing shot? That clip that will be shown during the Oscars ceremony?
8) Is this a story that you can live with for the next two years of your life?
9) Is this a story that YOU must tell?
10) Will you sleep if you don't tackle this tale?

Hope this list helps you. It's just helped me. I'm finally ready to turn down one story idea. And I accepted the other story pitch the moment I heard it, only a couple hours ago; now here's hoping the originator of the tale will want to work with me too.

Can You Write a Character Reference for Your Characters?

I'm working on a script. No surprise there. And I'm also writing a character reference for a colleague that's due next week. And the thing I'm realizing is: the two are remarkably similar.

Okay, so my character reference has to be two pages, while most of my TAGS (or the character descriptions) are a few sentences at most, and only a few words for secondary characters, if even that. Though when I'm working on longer projects, from feature film specs to spec teleplays, I develop well-rounded character descriptions that can include everything from a character's favorite color to what influenced him in his childhood to make him the adult he is today.

In the colleague reference, I have been asked to detail the past few years of accomplishments and the reasons why I am nominating this person for an award. In collecting all my information, I have been asking and answering similar questions that I do when developing a character: what is her motivation? How did she get to where is she is today? What does she hope to achieve next?

I've even looked into the small details I know about her, things that will make the nominating committee understand that I know this person about as well as one can know a colleague (and, I'll admit, a friend). And hopefully, with my carefully crafted words, I will elicit empathy for her, and persuade them to pick her among all the nominees to be honored.

It is this empathy I am also hoping to evoke with my audience for my characters. Whether or not you agree with my character and his actions, you can still feel an empathy for his situation and his choices...as long as I've done my homework and gotten to know that character as well as any author can know those she writes about.

So...how well do you know your characters? If you can write each of them a two-page character reference, then I'd say you're on the right track.

Carving Away the Excess to Discover the Story

Today I met with a fellow female film artist to help her find her story. From her long, intriguing narrative we carved not one, but three possible shorts. More than that if you count the twists and turns that can be added to any one of them. It was gratifying to participate in the process, and to discover that somehow I innately knew the steps to take to coax the story forward.

All we needed was some blank paper.

As she talked I jotted scene after possible scene down, each on a separate sheet of blank recycled paper. Once we carved away the myriad of details from her memory and research, and blew away the dust, we found the story that she wants to tell.

Of course it's not done yet. This is just the beginning. Or rather it's my beginning, and her continuation on this long journey. Art is more than just a final work; it's a process.

So don't fret if you haven't yet found your story. Begin carving away at the tale scene by possible scene. At the end of the process you may just find yourself as fortunate as we were today when we discovered that one third of our scenes will likely make it to the next stage: the script outline.

Do Your Characters Have Something to Say to Each Other?

I'm writing a stage play for two characters, each with equal and opposite goals. Neither can stand the other. So I put them in a room together. And I'm trying to determine what keeps them each in that room. I have two possible answers; either will work. But my real question is:

Do they have something to say to each other?

My follow-up question:

Is it enough to sustain the storyline and keep the audience intrigued for ten or so minutes?

And finally:

Is it compelling and dramatic?

I'm writing specifically for a production next spring. It's a subject I've flown to Maryland to investigate. After an intriguing interview with a fellow who has worked in Baffin Bay along the Arctic Circle (as well as numerous other cool places around the globe) this is the story that most sticks with me. It's probably not the story he'd first tell you if you asked him about his adventures in Nunavut. But I find it intriguing. And disturbing. And even quite dramatic. Well, it's dramatic when I twist the basic story into a fictionalized "based loosely on real life" tale.

Still, if I choose this as my story for a short play that will be stage read at the Audi in Concord, NH, and later produced in Boston (part of my Granite Playwrights, Ink writing group's workshop-to-production series this spring and summer) then I have to care about my characters enough to spend several months with them. And enough to make you, the audience, care about them.

So while I strive to answer my own questions, I invite you to explore your characters. It's not enough to find their individual voices, you've got to compel us to want to stay and listen to them. Good luck!

How important is writing everyday?

Very.

And that's what I've been up to. Which is why my blog posts have fallen off considerably. A tip a week. What's so difficult about that? Apparently everything.

And so I'm back. After meeting an important deadline yesterday. And with no time to dive into the rewrite of my one-act play "Hills Like White Baby Shoes" (title still subject to change), I decided it's high time to return to the tips.

But you didn't surf here to read about my difficulties in keeping up my blog. You have your own procrastination issues to resolve. After all, here you are: reading me, when you should probably be writing.

Am I right? You know I am.

How do you face the blank page each day? Or the next chapter, the next act, the next scene? When the page is blank--when I'm beginning a new project or starting over an old one from scratch--I like to begin with a warm-up write. Sometimes it's a 60-second or two-minute free write exercise: a vomit of words from brain to fingers to page. From the insignificant stuff like, "I don't know what to write...what can I possibly write about next?...which story do I really want to write next?" to the occasionally brilliant. (Notice how I have no examples of this illusive occasionally brilliant prose.)

When it's the next scene or act, it's "easy." I re-read what I wrote the day before, or even from the beginning of the screenplay or stage play, and I continue from there: writing as fast as I can to keep up with my characters' voices when I'm lucky enough to hear them, or placing them in situations that further the plot, seeing what their reactions are, and writing that, kind of like following rats around a maze and recording their actions and words. If rats could speak, that is.

So there it is: this week's tip. Write everyday. So what are you waiting for? Write on!

How important is story?

Very.

Once you've lured us into a darkened theatre, it's your job to entertain us. Unless you specifically advertise that, "No Storytelling Shall Take Place, Only Pretty Images and Disconnected Themes," you're wasting our time. Or at least mine.

I've attended a number of film festivals, screened several independent filmmakers' films as potential movies to use in my classes and workshops, and watched countless hours of films in theaters and in my living room. And if there's one thing that drives me crazy, it's trying to determine the story when the filmmakers clearly had no clue what their narrative was.

Which means that we have a job to do as scriptwriters. We need to tell a compelling story about our character. Returning to an earlier post, we're examining what our character wants and what she'll do to get it. And we're not just tossing random obstacles in her way, but weaving in an equal and opposite-minded antagonist whose own goal will make it difficult or potentially even impossible for our protagonist to achieve her mission.

We also need to know what's at stake; what is the character willing to give up in order to chase her dream? There better be huge risks, or you may bore us. Please don't bore us.

So, how important is story? You tell me. But please make it interesting.

Show, Don't Tell

What does this really mean?

Consider that we're writing for a visual medium, and answer this: would you rather have one character tell another character about an accident that just happened, or would you like to see that accident unfold on the screen? You can substitute accident for another event, and you still have the same idea. Do you want to be told how two lovers met, or do you want to see it happen?

In my Introductory Scriptwriting course at the University of New Hampshire at Manchester, each student is required to pen a dialogueless short screenplay of one to three pages. There's no better exercise than to write an all-visual script. It's also a strenuous task.

For playwrights, the challenge tends to be how to describe what's happening in the scene. For novelists and even short story writers, the difficult task is often how to reduce the amount of description while writing on the page what will occur on the screen once the script is filmed.

If you want to try this, you might attempt to write a scene between two people who each want the same thing, but only one person can have it. Want more specifics? Fine: Two seven year olds. Twins. One brand new bike. What will each do to get the bike?

Here's another exercise: try to take a scene from a favorite story and write it without dialogue. I'm picturing the fence-painting scene in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. How can Tom get the other kids to paint the fence for him without using any dialogue?

Finally, stop and notice next time there's a scene in a film where no dialogue is exchanged, yet the story is clearly advanced. Or did the lack of dialogue not work? If not, why do you suppose that is?

Until next time, write on!