Thank God for the impact of the web on screenwriting, with a plethora of new options marketed to all screenwriters, rich or poor.

The list keeps growing by the day.

And of course you can still do a swell job by just using a solid text processor such as MS Word or similar.
So what are you using? You can select two options, in case you aren't wedded to any in particular.

Personally, I most often use Celtx and Final Draft, but the latter is my clients' choice, not mine. I much prefer Screenwriter (if I HAD to choose a paid package) or story development titles such as Movie Outline or PowerStructure.

We’ll be running this survey on a regular basis to track any trends.

____________________________________________

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Alternatively, open the ‘Share This’ banner by clicking on the link above the article.
Each Wednesday in 2010, TSD challenges you to a mini-survey that is in some way related to screenwriting or filmmaking. To suggest a topic, send Solmaaz Yazdiha a note and include the word “poll” in the subject field. The archive is here.

Uncountable are the screenplays where characters are constantly smiling, looking ‘lovingly’, expressing ‘dark anger’.

Some inexperienced writers are of the belief they can implant emotions into the brain of the audience simply by describing the faces the actors should pull. This is a fallacy.

By the time we are supposed to feel the emotion, you need to have done your work as a writer. The actors cannot save you here.

You want the audience to feel sorry for your character?

Don’t describe a sad face but rather create a situation that will make us feel sorry for the character.

Do this well BEFORE the actor expresses the emotion.

This explains why it almost never works when a character cries in the opening scene of a movie. We don’t know the character, we don’t get why they cry. We don’t care.

Of course there are exceptions.

Extreme cases, such as the loss of a child, instantly trigger emotions.

But did you feel for the old man crying at the beginning of SAVING PRIVATE RYAN? I didn’t. (Much later, we got it)

Did you feel for the friends at the funeral in FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL or for Lucilla watching Maximus die in GLADIATOR? Sure! We were all crying like babies.

Similarly, a love scene at the mid point or in Act Three can be fabulous; in the opening scenes it looks like soft porn.

Before an audience will go for an emotion, they will need to see a reason on the screen to feel it.

You can’t force it upon them. An actor purely acting out the emotion is soul-less.

And finally, believe it or not, I once read a live action screenplay in which the emotions of a bird were described. The writer must have been inspired by BABE. What can I say…

Animals – no matter how well trained – will NOT express feelings through performance.

So, with an exception for animated films, you cannot describe facial or other expressions with the intention to evoke an animal’s feelings.

If you must give the audience the idea the animal is happy, have humans SAY so. In other words, don’t write in action “The dog is pleased with the treat, he happily trots off.” but put in dialogue something like:  “Look how happy Fido is, he is wagging his tail!”

Bottom line:

Stop describing the faces of your characters. Show us the reason(s) why they feel a certain way.

And I will smile at you lovingly.

I believe that all the screenplays we write today must be flawless in terms of formatting and grammar simply because of the competition.

Everything counts.

And in my review of Mickey Lee’s great new story, The Other Side, which you really should read if you get the chance, I did a little bird-walking on this topic, and I thought it might be worth sharing with my blogger friends…

“SOAPBOX – We have a century of filmmaking behind us. It’s high time we collectively admit what we already know, that screenwriting has become its own art form.

I firmly believe that we are entering a new era where the next generation of screenwriters must write at a more heightened level of craftsmanship than ever before (because of history and competition and also) because if your film gets made and it’s popular, it’s inevitable that your script will hit the web and people will study your work and make judgments on your craftsmanship.

Screenwriters must write at a more heightened level of craftsmanship than ever before

You cannot make a good movie from a bad script. But it’s very possible (and easy) to turn a good script into a bad movie. And if that happens to you, if your script hits the web, you want people to look at it and maybe they’ll say (like they said of Shane Black’s The Long Kiss Goodnight), ‘hey, you know, the movie didn’t live up to the script.’

It’s not enough to have an idea and get a sale. In this day and age, you’re only as good as your last script, and you must deliver the storytelling goods every time you’re at bat.

When The Da Vinci Code came out with all of its endless talk and exposition, Akiva Goldsman was no longer written about as the great screenwriter who won an Oscar for A Beautiful Mind. In fact, critics just HAD to remind us that this was the dork who wrote Batman & Robin.

Your screenwriting career really depends upon how well you adhere to what you know are the principles of great screenwriting, because once you get sales and climb to the top, you enter a world where there is no discipline, where people tempt you to abandon what you know and write shit for them, which will bomb, and then the world rips you apart and sends you packing back to amateurville.

Your screenwriting career really depends
upon how well you adhere to what you know
are the principles of great screenwriting

I certainly don’t need to explain that it’s a cold, vile, vicious world out there, and frankly, I find comfort in like-minded writer-friends.The constant back and forth in feedback, I push them to do better, they push me to do better, and we both stay focused over the long haul on what’s important about the art of storytelling.”

- Mystery Man

I’m famous yet anonymous, failed yet accomplished, brilliant yet semi-brilliant. I’m a homebody who jetsets around the world. I’m brash and daring yet chilled with a twist.

I also write for Script Magazine.

:: Christopher Nolan on what to expect from Batman 3

:: How to logline a dual plot story? John August helps.

:: Dick happy about Blade Runner (via Kottke).

:: Final word on the Oscars (and Karel agrees)

:: The North By Northwest shooting script for download

:: Charlie (and Donald) Kaufman’s Adaptation script

:: (we keep going…) The Shawshank Redemption script

:: Finally: Basic Instinct (for Forest Gump and MANY others, go to MyPDFscripts.com)

:: Hitchcock on Content vs. Technique (via Bill Martell)

:: To three-act-structure or free-form, that is the question.

:: Cultivating a following- writing for a TV series.

:: Advice: never send out your first screenplay.

:: Own up to your audience: your inciting incident.

:: What really goes on in act one?

:: Satire with a touch of truth: the Super Script

FINISH?

It seems significant that I would use the word ‘Finish’ in regard to games. As it’s the self-same word I would use for a book, it implies certain things. Chief among these implications are notions of linear Progression, Finality and Inevitability. For many game theorists these three concept terms are somewhat of an anathema.

Games are supposed to be non-linear, open-systems rather than closed ones, they are player-controlled and thus are distinct and apart from cinema and literature. Similarly, by nature of being player-controlled they are, in theory, without inevitability.

But there remains the fact that I ‘Finish’ games all the time and then converse with my gaming friends on topics such as “what did you think of the ending of…” knowing that there is commonality in the ending we all experienced. This tells us important things about games that perhaps position them far closer to cinema and literature than many may suppose.

This tells us important things about games that perhaps position them far closer to cinema and literature than many may suppose.

Despite player ‘choices’ and ‘actions’ the conclusion of a game is none the less pre-ordained. Just as a book or film a game has to be ‘authored’. There may be variations but even when multiple endings are available they are none the less pre-determined and pre-scripted. Are they really any different from alternate endings supplied as DVD extras?

Aside from being predetermined, game endings are also Inevitable. Leaving aside the idea that a player may quit and give up – which is no different to failing to finish a novel or walking out of a movie theatre – the player Will reach the conclusion as defined by the game’s creators. For all the threats of character death and dismemberment, failing and frustration, these only act in a temporal way, serving to dictate how long may take to finish not whether the player will or can finish.

IT’S INEVITABLE

So if games have inevitable, pre-determined endings and that they do not rely on ideas of ‘IF’ for ’success’ – what do they rely on?

If we look at long-form TV drama (whose dramatic duration, structure and complexity most closely resembles that of a narrative game – far more than the comparative shallowness and of feature film) the consistent is not as much IF a character/player will ’survive’ or ‘triumph’ (in whatever manner that may be) but rather HOW they do so?

The primary concern for the audience
subsequently is not so much IF Walt will escape
from his various predicaments but How…?

Take the superb American drama series Breaking Bad. An ordinary suburban science teacher is forced through illness (imminent death from advanced lung cancer) economic hardship and family pressure (a pregnant wife and a disabled son) to engage in the illegal activity of cooking crystal meth and entering the illegal drug trade. The character of Walt faces various trials and tribulations as he enters a world he knows nothing of as a classic fish-out-of-water narrative. The primary concern for the audience subsequently is not so much IF Walt will escape from his various predicaments but How…?

WHY?

There are many reasons for this perspective – particularly in character-drama – not the least of which being that the viewer is invariably aware that the season has numerous episodes still to play out and more whole seasons to follow.

So, despite how desperate the situation is for the character the viewer unavoidably knows that it’s not a question of IF. We watch to see the HOW; experience the solution-finding and circumstance-shifting that will (inevitably) allow the character to continue to progress.

Likewise in a game, the player unavoidably knows that ‘dying’ is simply a case of re-spawning and trying again, it has no consequence for ‘IF’. Indeed there are rarely narrative consequences for ‘dying’ at all and when there is they are largely inconsequential to the end result of ‘finishing’ the game.

This leads us to consider what non-linear in narrative gaming really means? On the surface it simply suggests that there is no pre-defined order of events. But this does not of itself mean that there is No beginning and No end. Non-linear doesn’t mean Non-progressive.

NON-LINEAR?

A game by it’s very nature must have a Beginning and an End and so there is linear progression. Even if there are multiple start points and multiple end points there is still unavoidable movement between a Point A and a Point B. Non-linear in gaming simply suggests that the order in which the steps are taken from natural beginning to unavoidable pre-defined end, has controlled flexibility.

And yet even this idea of a small amount of non-linearity is flawed as there is no modern computer game yet created that doesn’t require and insist on imposing certain events at particular points. In almost any major game the non-linear sections are simply the narratively inconsequential ones. The player may go directly to the next pre-determined and completely linear event or faff around with smaller events in whatever order they like before moving on to the progressive, linear ones.

Dare I be so bold as to suggest the idea of Non-linear in gaming is a myth altogether? Even so-called Sandbox games (GTA, Oblivion, etc) have a completely linear, pre-defined spine-structure to them that the player must and does follow (short of giving up). The non-linear illusion is in the busy-work, side-quests and preparation time that may or may not be spent before moving through the pre-defined linear phases.

Dare I be so bold as to suggest
the idea of Non-linear in gaming
is a myth altogether?

So if non-linearity is a myth, game endings are pre-determined and (short of the player giving up) completing the game is inevitable Why do we play..? For the same reason we watch long form TV drama – to experience the How…

What makes us play through to the finish is not so much a desire to see IF the player can be ‘successful’ (a test of skill more in line with sport than cinema) but rather to see and, moreover, experience How that end is arrived at?

BALANCE

So, we watch the character of Walt from Breaking Bad walk into a bad ass drug dealer’s apartment with total subconscious confidence that he will survive and triumph (because there are still 2 episodes yet to go). And in watching we worry, fret and feel dramatically tense not for IF he’ll survive but HOW he is going to turn the tables? The trick to crafting this kind of drama as a screenwriter is to strike a delicate balance.

On one hand the situation must be dire enough that the viewer can’t envision how the character can possibly survive/triumph? Yet on the other, when a solution/escape/victory is achieved, it is in such a way that, despite having not been foreseen, seems wholly plausible. Such dramatic situations are distinctly Aristotelian, the classic Reversal of Fortune, a feeling state for the viewer simultaneously startling yet (should have been) predictable as they slap their foreheads and remark “Bugger me, of course. I should have seen it but I didn’t until it happened!”

The trick to crafting this kind of drama as a screenwriter
is to strike a delicate balance.

Here Breaking Bad provides a perfect example of just this. The character of Walt – an ordinary man pushed to the edge by circumstance – marches into a violent drug dealers den to demand money. Seemingly a suicide mission. How will he triumph and escape? Then, when Walt holds up a handful of what we believe to be drugs, says defiantly “that’s not crystal meth” and throws it the floor creating an almighty explosion, we are immediately reminded of the key element we have forgotten.

Walt on the outside is a frail and sick middle aged man, but his secret power is in his mind and his knowledge of chemistry. The thrill of the scene is not in seeing IF Walt will escape but rather experiencing HOW he turns the tables. The clever craftsmanship of the scene is in the fact that the inverting event is entirely plausible, but not easily predictable.

EVALUATION TOOL

How this idea connects to gaming, and may be used to understand why too many games become dull and mindless, is to evaluate whether the game is relying on IF rather than HOW? I would suggest that shallow, un-effecting game experiences come when the emphasis for the player is framed on seeing IF the player can survive, IF they can get through? Whereas truly engaging games accept the premise that success is inevitable (because the player can and will re-spawn/re-start at will) and instead frame their drama and tension aesthetics around HOW the player might get through, the solutions, surprises and circumstances that may by open to them to explore? In this mode a real and tangible currency of engagement is shaped by the questions of What strategy will the player use? What unexpected things may happen? What skills will they employ? And, more importantly, What ethical judgement will they exert? What personality will they embrace in their actions?

This principle stands across genres of gaming. Whether it be the platformer puzzler of Braid where the much celebrated Reversal-of-Fortune ending is pre-determined and yet the thrill is in HOW the player manipulates time to get there.

Engagement is generated by detailed exploration, by
questions posed, by circumstance and problem solving exhibited;
not by end results or finishing points.

Whether it be a stock standard First Person Shooter such as Half Life or Fear where killing bad guys is inevitable but the experience is in the HOW of determining the manner by which bad guys will be dispatched – be it sniping from a distance, all guns blazing frontal assault, or surreptitious sneaking around avoiding contact altogether.

Whether it be large-scale RPG’s like Mass Effec and DragonAge where victory ‘saving the realm’ is inevitable but the game experience is forged by how skill-points are assigned to shape the avatar’s persona, how strategies are executed and how relationships are built between characters. Just as with long-form TV drama the experience of engagement is generated by detailed exploration, by questions posed, by circumstance and problem solving exhibited; not by end results or finishing points.

WHY CARE?

So in the end what’s all this about and why should screenwriters and filmmakers care?

My contention is really very simple. Rather than assuming games are unique, special and outside of traditional understandings, it is far more useful to look for the consistencies and similarities between games and other forms of cinema.

The similarities tell us more about what’s unique and special in gaming than the differences. Understanding the similarities allows us to see the trajectory of games as a branch extending from the known into the unknown, rather than the ignorant stumbling in the dark that goes on when games are viewed in isolation.

We have more than a century of understanding about cinematic storytelling, 2,000 odd years since Aristotle laid foundations of narrative and engagement; this is knowledge which is as much – if not more – about the human condition than it is about the aesthetics of screen media. It would be arrogant to disregard that understanding in an effort to reinforce games as unique and special. And by working from the common stem of understanding dramatic tension we prop open the door to bring that wealth of knowledge held by screenwriters and filmmakers into the gaming fold.

Cinema can really only be defined as the ‘art of the moving image’ and as such Gaming is Cinema; just another means to create and experience narrative through moving pictures. As screen-writers we should be looking to embrace gaming from a foundation of what we already know about how screen-stories work. We may find there is more common ground than we think.

—

Mike Jones has a diverse background in screen media, writing and academic research. He has nearly fifteen years experience in technical production and has written widely on screen industry trends, penning more than two hundred published essays, articles and reviews along with three books for students of screen media. Currently Mike is Lecturer in Screen Studies at the Australian Film TV and Radio School.

photo credit: RebeccaPollard (Gamer)

photo credit: h.koppdelaney (Journey)

Writers Digest Books, Cincinnati, Ohio. 2000.

118 pages. ISBN 0-89879-974-0 Amazon Price: US $4.35

THE AUTHOR

In 1986 “Witness” won the Academy Award for the best Original Screenplay. It also won awards from the Mystery Writers of America and the Writers Guild of America and was named in the Guild’s Top 101 Greatest Scripts. It was the first screenplay written by Pamela Wallace and was rejected many times until purchased by the producer Edward Feldman when Harrison Ford agreed to star in it.

Wallace had published a number of novels, but says she “was a novice screenwriter who happened to capture ‘lightning in a bottle’.” While her co-writers, husband Earl Wallace and his writing partner William Kelly, were experienced television writers, Wallace was not, so she decided after “Witness” to learn the nuts and bolts of the craft of screenwriting. “You Can Write a Movie” is the result of a ten year education.

THE IDEA IS KING

She begins with a memo from Jeffrey Katzenberg, one of the three owners of Dream Works, that he wrote when he worked at Disney. He told studio executives what they should look for in a screenplay. In essence he said, “The idea is king”. Stars, directors, writers and special effects can influence the success of a film, but these elements only work if they serve a good idea. The screenplay must be based on an entertaining, emotionally compelling original idea. This idea must then be translated into a riveting story by showing a central character who goes through a transforming experience with which the audience can relate.

Films that generate a strong return on costs are generally low budget productions with a basic concept that appeals to a wide audience. She gives the example of “The Full Monty”, which cost $3.5 million and was the top revenue-to-cost movie of 1997.

A BAD IDEA

The reverse of a good idea is a bad idea, and one of the worst ideas in the film industry is low stakes. Wallace goes right to the source to find why screenplays are rejected. “I’ve asked several people in the film industry […] what they feel is the single most common reason why a screenplay is rejected. They all agreed that it was simple: what was at stake in the story simply wasn’t compelling enough.”

Not only must the stakes be high, but the theme must resonate with the audience. “The biggest difference between a great film and a mediocre one is the depth of the theme.”

Wallace develops this idea in her discussion of subplots. “The plot,” she says, “carries the action of the movie; the subplot carries the theme.” She even invents a word to emphasise this point. “A subplot dimensionalizes a screenplay, making it more than just a linear progression of the plot.” In “Witness” the subplot is the romance between the two main characters. This makes the hero, John Book (Harrison Ford) vulnerable, sensitive and open to change.

The biggest difference between a great film and a mediocre one is the depth of the theme.

Romance has universal appeal, and Wallace points out that most commercially and/or critically successful movies have themes with universal appeal. “There’s something deeper than the plot that touches an audience’s heart and mind. The audience identifies with the characters or situations, usually because most people have had that same experience or wish they could have it.”

THE LISTS

While this is not a screenwriting-by-numbers book, there are a number of excellent suggestions. Wallace identifies:

• 4 fatal flaws in a premise.
• 6 strong elements in a premise.
• 9 fatal flaws that will kill the movie.
• 6 questions to ask when you have written your treatment.
• 18 things you must know about your character.
• 4 aspects of character.
• 11 questions to ask about the main character.
• 6 steps to create a character.
• 7 questions to ask about structure.
• 5 types of conflict.
• 8 questions to ask when blocking a scene.
• 4 components of scene design.
• 3 major mistakes in writing dialogue.
• 6 keys to good dialogue
• 4 signs of bad dialogue.

Her discussion of a character’s defining moment is very interesting. “One of the most insightful lessons I ever learned about characterisation is this: There is a defining moment in everyone’s life, usually when we are young, and often involving our family, that defines us for the rest of our lives.”

There is a defining moment in everyone’s life.

Her chapter on structure is a concise summary of “The Hero’s Journey”, the template she used for “Witness”, and provides an excellent breakdown of the various plot points.

ACTORS SPEAK: DIALOGUE

Wallace sought advice from actors when discussing dialogue and their observations make interesting reading for screenwriter.

Says Stanley Tucci: “I was encountering a lot of scripts where the dialogue seemed imposed upon the characters. It didn’t come from the characters – it was the writer stuffing these words into their mouths and they were forced to spit them back out again. Trying to act them was tortuous.”

I write for it to sound good when it’s said.

And from Billy Bob Thornton: “Sometimes words look really good on paper. They’re flowery, intense and just look great and when you read them, it’s like, ‘Wow, that’s beautiful’. But then as an actor you try to say those words, and they don’t sound right. So when I write I don’t try to make it look good on paper. I write for it to sound good when it’s said.”

CONCLUSION

“You Can Write a Screenplay” is a concise, very readable book about the art of screenwriting that provides a wealth of tips and advice. Wallace has had an interesting career. She won an Academy Award with her first screenplay, spent ten years studying the craft she had already mastered, and has now produced a book for other screenwriters to share. The result is an excellent guide to the art of screenwriting from an industry insider who has a shiny gold statue on her mantelpiece.

- Jack Brislee

Jack Brislee is a business broker and property developer by day and a screenwriter by night.
He has written 12 scripts, one in pre-production in the UK and one in pre-production in South Africa.

He collects and dissects books on screenwriting.

And it works so well. By the time we hear the names mentioned, we are already wondering about them.

First we see the stranded group realize their situation, dumbfounded. Then they start interacting and some characters clearly take the lead. Only then do we slowly find out their names.

The writer waits for the audience to beg for the characters’ names.

This makes sense: by the time we really want to know the characters’ names, there’s a good chance we’ll remember them.

How often does it happen you’re watching a movie, you start wondering about a character’s name and it turns out you’ve missed your opportunity, because it was mentioned early on – and then never again?

Inexperienced writers often introduce their characters’ names without putting any thought into it. Or not at all.

I remember reading a screenplay where the main character had been around for NINETEEN PAGES  before the name was revealed. There was no sensible reason to withhold the name for that long.

In LOST, the names are also revealed naturally, i.e. in situations that make sense, e.g. characters introducing themselves.

The other extreme is dialogue such as this:

In natural speech, people hardly ever mention each other’s names.

Of course there are exceptions, e.g. when things get emotional. So the right time to introduce a character name would be in a situation where a character is trying to get another character’s attention. Look at the same scene again:

Admittedly, it’s not the most inspiring example but you get the point.

An inevitable sign of growth in a new writer – and we all go through this arc – is in the area of trusting the reader.

Newbies who haven’t developed the discipline of trusting the reader tend to over-explain simple things in the action lines or they over-explain obvious reactions in characters or they indulge in on-the-nose dialogue to convey obvious emotions we all know that particular character is feeling.

Over time, you’ll learn that you only need to explain something once (or not even explain it at all) and then move on because you know very well that your readers are with you, will get it without needing your help, and will appreciate you more for trusting them and moving forward. An example of this might be, like on pg 62, you mentioned that the gang saw “an ocean of trees.” Okay, great. But then you had to add, “Absolutely no sign of civilization, whatsoever.” Yeah. We got that with “ocean of trees.” Let’s move on. Do you see what I mean?

I also mentioned characters indulging in on-the-nose dialogue to convey obvious emotions we all know that particular character is feeling. This brings to mind the moment after Kevin sees [his best friend] Josh [kissing his girlfriend] Emily, and he’s all pissed off and he later tells everyone off. Well, we’ve seen this a billion times before. We all know exactly what Kevin’s thinking and feeling, and it’s moments like these where a writer has to find ways to show us something totally unexpected from a character.

What if he didn’t tell them off? What if he embraced Josh? Why would he do something crazy like that? What if, when Emily kisses him, he doesn’t push her away but pulls her in, and I don’t know, has angry sex? You lower interest by having characters play out in ways that are totally expected and you make people more engaged when they do the opposite.

Also -

You should also consider multiple setups in one scene. I’m a believer inhorizontal / vertical storytelling. I think a writer should work hard to give the audience a smooth, seamless, and efficient setup to the story. You establish many things in as few scenes as possible to quickly move us down that horizontal plane of storytelling. That is, until you get to those vertical moments, which is the reason we’re all there to see that film and the time when the story could slow down or briefly stop. In an action movie, it’s the action sequences.

In a comedy, it’s the big gut-busting moments. In a horror story, it’s the suspenseful moments of horror. So when you finally get to those moments, like when the engineer transforms and you have Angie on her way to see him, that’s when you should slow down, focus your creative energies in dragging out the suspense to excruciating levels.

I recently posted a murder scene on my blog that was actually written by Alfred Hitchcock from an unproduced screenplay. One murder scene took up 12 pages. Mind you, it wasn’t the greatest murder scene ever since Psycho but it was fascinating to analyze. It wasn’t about getting a murder scene done quickly in order to move the plot forward. It was about the EXPERIENCE of the murder scene.

It was about the characters and the question of “will he or won’t he commit murder” dragged out to excruciating levels.

That’s what horror does.

And I think almost all of your scary scenes, which were good, could have still been dragged out longer, could’ve been more intense to heighten the EXPERIENCE for the audience.

It’s not about volume of scares but quality of suspense.

- Mystery Man

(From a TS script review of mine.)

I’m famous yet anonymous, failed yet accomplished, brilliant yet semi-brilliant. I’m a homebody who jetsets around the world. I’m brash and daring yet chilled with a twist.

I also write for Script Magazine.

Is this a memorable movie?
Is it memorable for the right reasons?

I’d love to hear your comments.

I have serious doubts whether most people who voted for the Best Original Screenplay actually did read it. It may be a truly gripping movie, I didn’t think the writing was exceptional.

As to its Best Picture win, by my standards great movies can be watched over and over again. I have serious doubts whether this is such a movie.

Was it ‘important’? In the sense that it is a sign of our times, that it makes a statement about war? Then what was the statement? The quote at the beginning about how war is a drug?

Then the statement has not been heard. Only a very limited audience has seen the movie and it surely won’t make a big difference for America. In that sense, the movie failed.

Again, I have serious doubts whether Oscar will change this.

Very keen to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Karel

_______________________________

With thanks to Sol.

Feel free to give your feedback in the Questions and Comments below.

Enjoy!

Karel