What is the reality of an agent’s role in your screenwriting career?

Our Hollywood insider, Steven Fernandez gives us the low down…

One of the many learnings I gained from my 4½ month sabbatical at LA was a reality check about what an agent delivers.  In my experience over there both Australian and American unsold screenwriters had harmfully naïve expectations about what agents do.

I should make one formal disclaimer however:  I am not an entertainment attorney, nor am I a seasoned expert on agents.  Therefore you should not be basing critical career decisions on this essay alone.  Seek the advice of others as well!

With that out of the way, I would like to confront head-on the most universal (and dangerous) wrong belief that unsold screenwriters have about agents.  The belief that they are going to be your career ‘daddy’.  That is, the presumption that once you have secured representation you will thence be ‘looked after’ and have all the business side of your occupation ‘taken care of’ for you.

If you learn nothing else from this essay, unlearn this fairy tale!

Get rid of the presumption that an agent will be your career ‘daddy’.

Firstly, at a fundamental life level, if you are not prepared to sit in the pilot seat of your life, then you’re not a genuine adult.  Quite frankly!  To surrender the pilot seat to someone else and adopt the view that that person will make all the ‘hard’ decisions for you is not just childish, it’s plain retarded!

That’s exactly how scamsters make their profits:  by counting on the smucks never asking many questions.  Leave your unquestioning faith for Sunday mornings – not your vocation or investments.

Secondly, an agent should never be seen as your boss.  Instead, they are your sales facilitator.  You are the CEO of your writing enterprise.  They work for you.  Not the other way around!

Now don’t get me wrong here:  By all means listen to what they have to say.  Chances are they have industry savviness that you should pay much heed to.  But never abdicate the executive decisions to them.  For example, if a studio or production company wants to do sodomous changes to your screenplay, then you make the final call whether to fold or walk away.  That is never a decision an agent should make for you.

So how do you approach an agent when you have yet to sell your first screenplay?

My advice is that you wait until a producer or production company makes a definite offer to either buy your screenplay, or an option on it.  If you think that is bad advice, consider life from an agent’s point of view.

An agent is paid by commission (15% being typical in Hollywood) and, just like any other salesperson, needs to close frequent and regular sales to take home enough net cash to pay rent.  Necessarily this means that they must represent a stable of high-value writers who each produce at least four screenplays per year.

For them to contemplate including a new writer into their client list, their bottom line consideration will be will this guy produce saleable product several times a year, year on year? If they are not convinced the prospective writer can be that productive, it simply is not worth their while having him as one of their regulars.  This is true even if the writer is unquestionably talented.

For example, if Jim has the talent to produce a Lord Of The Rings calibre story once a year, but that is the only screenplay he can deliver in the whole year, then Jim is a fifty-fifty prospect for most agents.  Purely on practical business cash flow grounds.

Do you now get why most agents are so hesitant to take on unsold writers?  Without a proven track record, it’s a big ask for any agent to take the risk.

That is why I advise you invest your time wooing a producer or production company first.  Once you have a definite buyer for your work then you can approach a mid-tier agency with real credibility. Don’t try to woo the agent first, because in that case you’ll come across as just another wannabe (which LA is full of).

The exception to this rule is when you are networking.  In which case, by all means chat and build rapport with several agents … So long as you make it clear that you’re not seeking any heavy favours or commitments from them at this stage.

Without a proven track record, it’s a big ask for any agent to take the risk.

Importantly, even when you have a buyer for your work, you still must be sensible and realistic with your demands on any agent.  Ask them for a ‘hip pocket’ deal.  ‘Hip pocket’ means that they’ll represent you for this one sale, but is not expected to ‘look after you’ thereafter.  (At least not yet.)  They get a quick extra injection in their revenue stream while you get the services of a professional.  It may not be your first choice arrangement, but it is a realistic ask for a first sale.  Also (and importantly) it forms the beginning of a business relationship that can evolve over time.  Certainly they will be more receptive of you on your next script sale.

If you are now wondering how on earth you are supposed to woo a producer without the benefit of an agent, the short answer is: by pitching well.  See my essay on pitching for pointers.

One last and very important thing:  no legitimate agent in LA charges you an upfront fee to sign up with them.  If you ever encounter one that does try to slug you, be assured that they are a shark and walk away.  That simple!

In summary, an agent is your savvy sales rep.  Nothing more, nothing less.

Steven Fernandez is a writer-director of short films and theatrical shows in Sydney, Australia. He is currently writing Human Liberation – an epic novel and screenplay package set in mythic ancient Greece.

In our series about screenwriting software, the people behind some of the leading titles contribute to this blog.

Our guest this week is Eric McDonald, CEO of Zhura.com.

While screenwriting is rarely credited as a driver of new technology, it certainly benefits from technical innovation.  Screenwriters have enjoyed continuous improvement in the tools that allow them to work more efficiently, from the typewriter to personal computers to niche word processors.

A new wave of technology is improving things again, fueled by distributed computing and ubiquitous Internet connectivity.

With the rapid proliferation and accessibility of the Internet, software providers are changing the paradigm in terms of how they develop and offer their products.  Rather than sell (or rather: license) you a piece of software that you install on one or two computers, they create software that runs completely online, which you access on an as-needed bases.

Think of software as gym equipment. As a health enthusiast, you could go out and purchase the best equipment available for use in your home.  If you are disciplined, you will use it for an hour or so every day.  Contrast that with getting a gym membership:  no lump sum payment, no equipment maintenance, cost of equipment is spread among users, and an opportunity to meet people with similar interests.    Success for a gym relies on providing a quality service to a motivated group who has the ability to get to their facility.

All of the elements are in place for software companies to provide their software on an as-needed basis.  It’s called Software as a Service (SaaS), and you are already using it.

If you access your messages through Gmail or Yahoo, or you use Facebook, Bebo, Flickr, or eBay, you are using SaaS.  Ever thought about the fact that you have never needed to  “upgrade” Wikipedia?  It’s just out there, always up-to-date and available when you need it.

Software manufacturers are well aware of the benefits that a SaaS platform provides their business:

While none of the traditional screenwriting software providers currently offer products that run online, several new companies provide solutions that are just a mouse click away.  Each of these sport slightly different features and interfaces, so that the consumer can select the one that best meets their needs and goals. Early to market were Plotbot.com and Scriptbuddy.com, which provide basic industry-standard formatting.

More recent alternatives include Scripped.com and Zhura.com, both released in 2007.  Both provide the familiar “tab” and “enter” keystroke shortcuts, and  import/export from popular off-the-shelf software.  Zhura has also added community features and the ability to collaborate in real time.

Security is always a concern when working online.  Zhura, as well as other SaaS companies, believe that the overall security of an online solution is unmatched by desktop solutions.

Statistics show that one out of five hard drives will crash in their lifetime.  We’ve heard horror stories of people who have lost everything on their hard drive, only salvaging files that they had at some point sent through email, since they could log on to re-download.  Guess what, that email program is SaaS, with online storage.

Statistics on stolen laptops are staggering – 2000 are stolen daily in the United States.  It takes far less sophistication to grab someone’s laptop from a coffee shop than it does to crack into your online bank account (SaaS) service.  Online security, even more so than convenience and features, may be the most compelling reason for a transition to SaaS.

Internet data solutions are so plentiful and cheap, companies now routinely run their data centers on multiple, redundant servers, and perform daily backups.

There is an exciting new generation of software being deployed over the Internet.  It requires no installation, no upfront cost, no maintenance, and enables features that were unheard of as little as three years ago.  As these solutions find their way into specific areas such as screenwriting, they offer compelling and exciting new opportunities for consumers.

Unfortunately, they only make your screenwriting experience simpler, you still have to write the story!

In a series about screenwriting software, some of the main screenwriting software titles out there will contribute an article to The Story Department.

We open the series with Mark Kennedy, CEO of Celtx.

“Just a few days ago, we released version 2.0 of the Celtx software.

A lot of people don’t quite get what Celtx is about. I guess people see things from their own perspective. If they are screenwriters, they see a screenwriting application, if they are filmmakers, they see a pre-production package, if they are storyboard artists, they see a media application, if they are comic book creators, they see a new tool to help them make the same. And so it goes, each person seeing in Celtx what is useful to them in their own pursuit of creativity.

Don’t get me wrong. That’s all fine by us. In fact, that’s what we hoped would happen. That people would derive their own benefit based on their own needs. We always figured that there were, are, as many different ways to create media as there are users, so we tried to make the Celtx software as flexible as possible.

Thing is, no matter how they work, whether following traditional bottom up approaches to developing their story, or employing non-linear methods, most every media creator uses a lot of the same tools as the next person. It comes down to Story – characters, a situation, and locations.

You see a lot of references these days about the trend towards “convergence”, the merging of many different media formats – film, game, audio – the re-purposing of one media format for adaptation to another format. This in our view, is only describing what has always been the case. Artists have never been afraid to try new forms; to apply, and expand their skills beyond the confines of a single type of media.

Very few, if any, of the existing media software offerings seemed to recognize that fact, choosing instead to pigeon hole users in to one type of media, and through the use of proprietary file formats, and rigid work flows, preventing those same users from expanding beyond their initial canvass.

This, ultimately, is the opportunity we saw – to provide media artists with a tool that would be as expandable as they wanted it to be. One that let them easily re-purpose their media to other formats, and re-purpose their data to other applications.

What was needed was a universally accepted tool. A platform. Whatever you want to call it. But a way for any and all media creators to use one system that supported all of their requirements and let them collaborate without worrying about data formats, and incompatible technologies. Making media is hard enough without being frustrated by files that won’t open or technologies that limit creativity.

This is why Celtx is open source and uses only open standards. It ensures maximum flexibility and a common platform that all media makers can use.

Being an open source software application, Celtx is open to anyone to integrate their own technology in to the system. Just recently, another company developing a script writing offering had indicated that they are developing a tool that ties in to the Celtx software.

That’s the whole idea. To make Celtx the default system for developing media regardless of the specific application you are using to create different aspects of their project. Once saved in a Celtx Project, the media is unassailable, re-purposeable, convertible, and sharable by all.

This usually begs the question of how do we make money from all of this? What motivation do we have to make Celtx a success (other then for altruistic reasons)?

The growing use of web services is an undeniable, and unstoppable trend in the technology business. Every company developing technology sees the writing on the wall. The future is in selling web services that augment the desktop environment.

When the cell phone industry first got going in Europe, everyone agreed (with the help of some gentle persuasion from the regulators) to a common standard. The risk was that without a common standard everyone would go off madly in all directions, balkanizing the cell phone environment in to a myriad of networks, none of which would talk to each other. The result would have been very bad for users.

Instead, an open standard was promulgated, and everyone rushed to innovate off that open standard, introducing new hand sets and new technologies to gain market share. Nokia became one of the best in the industry at being the first to market with new innovations, gaining more and more users. The rest, as they say, is history.

This is what we hope for Celtx – that it continues to establish itself as the open system for creating and sharing media. We may have invented it, but we don’t own it, any more then Nokia owns the 3G cell phone network that they have so successfully leveraged.

The new Celtx Studios is our first commercial offering based on the open standards Celtx software. It is designed to provide media creators with web based access to their media projects, including optimized archiving for sub-versions, collaboration features and the ability to create protected web Previews.

The same offering, or one similar to it, could be developed by anyone using the open source code of Celtx to achieve their goal, just like the Nokia competitor, Ericsson, has also developed new cell phone technologies that work on the same system as Nokia’s.

One open system, many offerings based on that system, all benefiting users. That’s the promise. That’s the future.”

-Mark Kennedy
CEO Celtx

National Screenwriters’ Conference 2009: Kenny – Plumbing the depths
by: David Tiley
Screen Hub
Thursday 26 February, 2009

Before opening a completely charming discussion with Andrew Knight about the writing of ‘Kenny’, Clayton Jacobson produced some very sobering numbers.

Kenny cost $500,000. By the time the film returned $5m, he was still $250,000 in debt. When it made $8m, his investors started to get a return. He has still not seen a dollar. As he said later, if he had cleaned toilets for all those hours he put into the film, he would have doubled his income.

However, he was determined to follow a film through the entire process, from idea to audience, and experience all the details in the middle. He is glad he did this, and learnt a lot, but he wants a fee for service in the future.

Andrew is an experienced comic writer and producer himself, and he brought a knowledgeable eye to the clips, the Jacobson touch, and the craft of comedy. Again and again he reiterated the same point – that the comedy works because it carries an exquisite sense of detail.

Indeed, Clayton acknowledged that the film is a mass of details driven by an underlying theme.

Here are the stages in the development of the project:

1. The Jacobson family assembles a gallery of fabulous characters with a fine sense of the vernacular. (His grandfather, for instance, ran a carnival, and the family lived for years in the big tent after it became unfinancial.) In a film mad family, the children are named after characters and actors. Raised on Jerry Lewis, Clayton sees Midnight Cowboy when he is fifteen and the skies open up.

2. Clayton goes to Swinburne, cleans toilets to pay for the course, graduates in 1984, ends up in high end commercials, develops many friends, writes extravagant features that have nothing to do with life.

3. Younger brother Shane runs a business doing lights for big shows. One day he imitates Ray, an old toilet plumber, and Clayton is fascinated. It sticks in his mind, and liberates in him the ability to write (O cliché! O wisdom!) what he knows about.

4. For months he collects lists of assets – dozens of connections, insights, lines, quirks and resources. Mates who can act, gear that is available, stuff that can go in the film, places that inspire him. Stories he is told. All to take him further than the limited world of his imagination.

5. Inspired by Paul Harris at the St Kilda Film Festival, they use a bunch of experimental rushes as a the basis of a 47 minute mockumentary.

6. They show this to the poo people, who supplied trucks, equipment and support, along with material from Shane. They are enchanted and want a feature film. They even want to put the money up. Clayton can’t see an extended version. Then they tell him about the toilet cleaning convention in the US, and it opens up for him.

At this point, Clayton made many decisions about the script. The first fifteen minutes is all about cramming scatology into the film, so the audience gets tired of it and happy to move on. We, the audience, see Kenny in his disregarded role, plodding on optimistically and decently doing a job we all need, and look down on. We are the antagonists in the film, it is our journey too.

He is driven by the desire “make the audience secretly love every character in the film” which means he gives space and emotional journeys to small sidebar stories and people. This is about an overwhelming ethic. He takes something crucial from Jerry Lewis – his ability to undercut humour with sudden tragedy, and then move on quickly.

He deals with the underlying melancholy of the characters and their crappy social tragedy by giving them an almost unshakeable sense of optimism. Bad things happen but they stay positive.

The film is built around a dual journey – we learn to respect and love Kenny, while he doubts himself. Moves into a crisis, goes to America, resolves the crisis – but it comes back. We want him to respect himself, but that is becoming less and less possible. The crisis is resolved because his father gives him some acknowledgement, and because he decides to reject the desk job which takes him away from his fundamental identity.

He plotted the film around the various events which the real company had, up to and including the trip to America. He invited ideas and talked incessantly about the projecte and its story, refining it as he saw how others responded, sometimes having them tell the story back to him. He recruited actors, mostly in his family – even his pestiferous brother in law who wanted to be in the movies, and developed a simple philosophy of performance: get people to exagerrate themselves, and use their own memories.

He plotted the emotional development in detail, and how the audience responded. He is an editor, and was keenly aware of set ups, and the way the audience can be placed on its feeling journey. This is very important – he managed the viewer’s knowledge of the characters very carefully.

He knew the script thoroughly, and would tell the actors what they were doing on the same day. He mined their knowledge of dialogue, and capacity to improvise. But he always knew the crucial lines and moments that had to be delivered exactly. Again and again, the right details.

Over six months, they shot the basic story, and over the next year they went back to the same events, for additional shots, to put in particular characters, to create atmosphere or simply reshoot.

Then Clayton went into the editing room until he just about went insane. With money, risk and family chaos layered on top.

He is now working on a web series called Mordy Koots: Blazing Angels, Clouds of Fear. Google as the project develops.

David Tiley
David Tiley is the editor of Screenhub, and can be contacted at editor@screenhub.com.au. or 03 9690 6893.

editor@screenhub.com.au
http://www.screenhub.com.au

http://www.screenhub.com.au/ | For Australian screen professionals

Republished with permission

But as you’re asking about dialogue, here are some principles that I have observed in great screenplays. And yes: more often than not when writers draw the attention to their dialogue, the story doesn’t work.

These twenty tips are not exhaustive, there are probably another ten major principles and fifty equally valid minor rules of thumb. And each has probably been breached beautifully at some point in great movies.

Feel free to add more or argue any or all of these in the comments.

1. it should never – even remotely – smell like exposition.
2. it should support the subtext, the characters’ secret objective(s).
3. its grammar should be organic and deficient, not perfect.
4. its semantics should be meticulously shaped.
5. it should be composed to support the scene’s intended rhythm.
6. it should not sound theatrical unless the character or genre warrants this.
7. lines should get shorter, punchier towards the end of the scene.
8. different characters should have different ‘idiolects’.
9. long dialogue should be broken up by characters’ responses, action etc.
10. avoid talking heads: give characters ’something to do’ while speaking.
11. strong lines mostly deliver their ‘beat’ at the very end.
12. dialogue shouldn’t open nor end scenes (the latter not a hard rule).
13. characters shouldn’t tell each other what we have already seen.
14. no parentheses unless the line doesn’t work at all without.
15. when a character asks a question, don’t answer it directly.
16. numbers should be spelled out in full.
17. characters should not say exactly what they feel (except in PP2).
18. only use in-jokes, innuendo etc. if the audience understands.
19. avoid tongue-twisters, clever dialogue or lines that stand out.
20. avoid dialogue that only great actors can deliver credibly.

The last two clearly show this is all about spec screenplays by writers who still need to prove themselves. Once you’re up there, you set your own rules. And even then, there are exceptions. Look at the dialogue in Juno. It draws so much attention to itself that some thought those first couple of minutes were borderline indigestible.

Diablo Cody got away with it.

Each principle above is a challenge in itself. That is why often at the very end of your development, when you are tantalisingly close to the final draft, a ‘dialogue pass’ helps making sure every line and every word hits the mark.

Beginning screenwriters can’t always judge whether their own dialogue really works. That’s why it is essential to have a professional do a final polish of your work before you send it out, even if the story works.

Then again, you can avoid all the hard work as tip #20 holds the easy solution to all your dialogue problems.

Just spend an extra ten million on your cast.

Commercial common sense will tell you: yes, you should.

Robert McKee says: “Tell the truth.” (see the previous post)

McKee means: your story needs to reflect your worldview. If you contradict whatever you believe in for the sake of commerce, you will fail. During his Arthouse seminar, he gives the example of Bergman’s THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY, where Bergman forced an ending upon the story in which he didn’t really believe. The story didn’t work, McKee says. Even the great Bergman couldn’t go against his instinct.

The discussion about happy endings is not exactly the same as the discussion about arcs. Protagonists without arcs have starred in films with tremendous success (see the reference to Mystery Man on Film in the previous post).

Although writers with a positive world may have more success in connecting with a large audience, I believe that talented and skilled screenwriters can create stories that work, irrespective of their worldview.

First-timers will have a harder time.

Here is the dilemma: to break in, you need to write something the market wants to see. Yet you’ll have a better chance if this first spec screenplay is written from the heart. You need to tell the truth.

My advice to beginning screenwriters: see how different genres allow to make different statements about the human condition without compromising the chances of success. Horror, crime and satire are darker genres than romance, adventure or kids movies.

Finally, to illustrate McKee’s point, below is a transcript of his introduction to THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY for British television.
______________________________________

Robert McKee: I saw my first Bergman film in Detroit, Michigan when I was 15. It was The Virgin Spring, a tale of revenge for rape and murder. Next came a comedy, Smiles of a Summer Night. After that Brink of Life, a social drama set in a maternity ward, Monika: A Teenage Love Story, Hour of the Wolf, a psycho-horror film. Bergman was like a one-man film studio bringing a fresh eye to many genres and by word of mouth filling cinemas everywhere. But then in the sixties he became a creature of the critics. They treated his films as intellectual crossword puzzles and drove the audience back behind a barricade of critic-speak � symbology, metaphysics, alienation � until it was impossible to watch a Bergman film without the feeling that you were taking an exam. And that�s where he stands today, on a pedestal, intimidating, distant, watched only by a tiny circle of cineastes. I think that over the years we forgot what the early audiences instinctively knew � above all else, Ingmar Bergman was a master storyteller.

Bergman�s difficult. Not to understand, but emotionally tough. He shines light into the darkest corners of life. He asks us to empathise with complex characters who, although very human, are not particularly loveable. Then he spins his stories over an emotional rollercoaster, taking us on a quest for the truth, truth that explodes the little lies that make life comfortable. To watch a Bergman film you have to be willing to invest all your humanity, to open yourself up, to care about life so much you want to know the truth though heaven may fall. It is not intellect Bergman demands so much as courage.

Bergman�s also difficult because he explains nothing. He doesn�t force his ideas into the mouths of his characters. Like Hollywood he tells stories visually, writes naturalistic dialogue and layers his meaning in the subtext. Unlike Hollywood his films are not tales of wish fulfilment, telling seductive lies about how everything works out for the best.

1a: The Film

�for now we see through a glass, darkly:
but then face to face; now I know in part;
but then I shall know even as also I am known

The ’setup’ is often a complete sequence in which we see the ‘Ordinary World’, the protagonist’s ‘normal life’, an area of the story that by its name and nature risks to be a dull stretch. We see the life of the main character before the overwhelming event that marks the real start of story.

For the solution, we go back to a lesson from Alfred Hitchcock.

Remember the difference between surprise and suspense? Surprise is when a bomb suddenly explodes. Suspense is when we know there is a bomb, and it can explode any moment.

The Inciting Incident is our first story explosion.

How do we make our audience hang in there until it explodes? By foreshadowing the Inciting Incident. By creating anticipation.

Create strong anticipation during the story setup by foreshadowing the Inciting Incident.

DIE HARD: While John McClane argues with his ex, we see bad guy Gruber et al. preparing their actions. Worse is yet to come for John.
JAWS: Swimmer Chrissie is crab meat by the time we meet with hero Chief Brody. We know the reported ‘missing person’ won’t be seen again.
TOUCH OF EVIL: In the classic opening shot we see a bomb planted on a car, it ends on the explosion. This marks Vargas’ (Heston) call to action.
OMAGH: Terrorists from the Real IRA plant the bomb that will later cause carnage in the Northern Irish town, and kill the hero’s son.
E.T.: In the opening scene, an alien is left behind on earth, 12mins later it will disturb the life of little Elliott.
THE UNTOUCHABLES: Capone’s hitmen bomb a pub and kill a girl. In the I.I., her mother calls on Eliot Ness to stop the violence.
BLADE RUNNER: At the end of the Voigt-Kampf test and before we meet with Deckard, we see replicant Leon shoot his interviewer.

Note that these examples show the foreshadowing of an Inciting Incident of such a magnitude that it would not just disturb the hero’s life, but anyone’s under the circumstances. In other words, we don’t really need a lot of exposition or setup to understand that this Inciting Incident will stir the pot.

This approach may not work with just any story.

Most stories will still need you to first set up the protagonist’s character before introducing the Inciting Incident, just because the impact of the Inciting Incident is specific to that particular character.

First we are fully immersed in the life and world of Truman Burbank in The Truman Show before the appearance of his father on the street will be seen as a major event.

We need to know the character – and flaw – of Stu Sheppard in Phonebooth before we fully get how important it is when some stranger seems to know all those secrets he has been carefully hiding.

Even in most of the seven examples above, between the foreshadowing near the opening of the movie and the actual Inciting Incident, the screenwriters make sure they build on the gravity of the I.I.’s impact:

- in Jaws, Chief Brody is relatively new in Amity so he may only have limited authority when he asks to close the beaches.
- in Touch of Evil we learn that Mr. and Mrs. Vargas are still honeymooning, so Mike is not really prepared to take on a case.
- in Omagh we see how close father and son Gallagher really are, before the son dies in the bomb attack.
- In The Untouchables, the domestic scene at the Ness home shows a dedicated father Eliot, so he is the right person to respond to the distraught mother later on.

I am speaking with Michael about his career, his teaching and his first visit to Australia in May of this year. With apologies for the poor audio quality of the telephone recording.

[display_podcast]

Karel: Terry Rossio, co writer of ALADDIN, PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN and SHREK, says you are “the only screenwriting instructor who might be truly wasting his time because he should be writing screenplays instead.” That’s my first question: Have you ever felt like you were wasting your time?

Michael: It’s very generous of Terry to say that. We first met when I did a special event as part of the American Screenwriters Association conference where I interviewed Ted Elliott and him. It was just when SHREK was in theatres. I gave a one hour lecture about SHREK and then they came on stage and we did a Q&A. They said later they appreciated that everything I had talked about was exactly what they intended when they wrote the script.At the time they were in the midst of writing Shrek 2 and weren’t real happy with the direction things were going, and people not appreciating their approach to it, which the studio ended up using anyway.

I really don’t think I’m wasting my time as a consultant. My strength, and my passion, is for working with writers and filmmakers, empowering them to get their stories on the page and on the screen, either by working with them one-on-one, or through my lectures, books, DVDs, articles, etc.

Karel: Have you ever written a screenplay?

Michael: Some time ago I made a stab at writing a screenplay, and it was OK, but it really wasn’t where my passion was. I just have so much fun doing what I’m doing.

————

Karel: How would you position yourself among the known screenwriting teachers?

Michael: Good question… How would I position myself? Well, first of all I’m somebody that has been around now a long time. There are a few of us who are sort of regarded as the front guard, or the old guard.

There’s me, there’s Bob McKee, there’s Syd Field, Linda Seger, Chris Vogler, John Truby, Kathie Fong Yoneda, a couple more that I’ve probably forgotten. So I think that gives us all a certain cachet. We all have books; we all have reputations and so on.

As far as lecturing goes, we all seem to have different things that we kind of enjoy doing. Linda goes to a lot of festivals and does a lot of work outside the US. I don’t do so much outside the US and I don’t do so much lecturing as her or Chris or Bob McKee. The trip to Australia, is the first time I will have come to Australia to give a seminar or to do a workshop, so that is a bit different.

I think of that whole group I mentioned, I’m the one that does the most coaching. Linda writes a lot of books. Chris, is working for Paramount, and he travels to Europe a lot to lecture and collaborate on projects. But I think I’m the guy who is primarily a script consultant

————

Karel: In your view, are there any contradictions between the various story theories?

Michael: In my experience, all those people that I mentioned, Bob and Syd and Linda and Chris and John, we all have our own approach to story, character and structure. And I have yet to find anything significant about which we disagree. It is just a different way of getting at the founding principles of story developed by Aristotle, and probably even before that.

That’s why I wanted to do the DVD of The Hero‘s 2 Journeys with Chris Vogler. He uses Joseph Campbell’s model, a mythical model for approaching story. I think it is wonderful, and I think his work is among the best out there. He and I don’t really disagree on the core principles of story, we just have different approaches, so we can sort of make fun of each other and argue about that.

I will say that there are a lot of myths about screenwriting floating around, and some are perpetuated by other lecturers. Myths like ‘if you live outside LA you don’t have a chance’ or ‘it’s not what you know, it is who you know’. It is important to know people, but you can get to know people. There are ways to network and contact people and get them to read your script and you’ll get to know them.

There are a lot of things like that, that I disagree with, but not the principles that I hear espoused by the top screenwriting teachers, or by the successful writers that I work with.

————

Karel: We know you from your books and DVDs but what keeps you busy most of your time?

Michael: I primarily do three things: I consult with writers, directors, producers, filmmakers and storytellers of all kind; I’m invited to lecture to lots of different groups; and I write — books and articles and so on. And of course, I have DVDs and CDs of some of the lectures that I give.

Karel: You seem to have a lot on your plate. How do you organize your day?

Michael: In a typical day, the majority of what I do is the consultation. I get up in the morning and I read a client’s script, and take extensive notes on that screenplay.

Later that day, I have a consulting session with that client, either in person or by phone. If it’s the first time we’ve talked, that might take up to three hours. If it’s an ongoing client, our session is closer to one and a half or two hours.

Then I might have another session with a writer who has outlined changes they plan to make as a result of our previous sessions. I might have a third coaching session with one of my clients who wants to get my guidance on their writing process, or on their pitch. And in between, I talk to prospective clients, write articles, prepare for lectures, add information to my web site and newsletters, and answer emails.

And after I’ve been in the office for about twelve hours, I’m done! And then my wife and I will have dinner and watch television or a movie. And that’s pretty much it. Glamorous, isn’t it?!

————

Karel: Which are your favourite TV series?

Michael: Well right now there are two new series that may not yet be playing in Australia. The season is kind of truncated because of the Writers Guild strike here. But there is a half-hour series on HBO called In Treatment, which I love. It’s on six nights a week. Gabriel Byrne plays a psychologist, and each episode shows him in therapy with one of his clients. The series is set up so every Monday we see the same client as we saw the previous Monday, just like it would be with a real therapist. So Monday nights are about a young woman, and Tuesday night it’s about guy, and Wednesday nights it’s a teenage girl, and Thursdays a couple. Then Fridays the shrink goes to see his own therapist and talks about his own problems. It’s just talking heads, just two or three people in a room doing therapy. It’s based, I think, on an Israeli series, and it’s brilliantly written and wonderfully performed.

My other favourite series so far is Terminator: The Sarah Conner chronicles. I was a big terminator fan and they are doing some interesting new things with that franchise.

Karel: What is your favourite classic movie?

Michael: When I hear the term ‘classic’, I think in terms of pre-1950. I don’t think of movies from the 70’s on as classics in the same way. I guess you would have to regard The Godfather as a classic film. But when you say classic, I think of black and white, Hollywood in its heyday. And then I think without exception it would be Casablanca.

In more recent times, certainly Chinatown, certainly The Godfather. Those are sort of easy, because everybody puts those on the list. But I think any list of great movies would have to include Sleepless in Seattle, Shrek, When Harry Met Sally, L.A. Confidential, and a number of Woody Allen movies – but probably most of all Manhattan.

To be honest, it is an impossible question. There are so many movies that I love, so many movies I think are just wonderful. I actually hate the questions because I know I’m gonna forget to mention a movie that is just very close to me. And there are more coming along all the time!

————

Karel: Do you watch a movie every day?

Michael: No, I probably watch on average about two movies a week, maybe three. But I watch television too, because I also consult with television writers, plus I’m a fan. I mean there are certain TV series that I really like, so I watch those. And I watch videos, and I go to the movies about once a week.

Karel: Do you have any favourites that don’t follow the principles you teach?

Michael: Oh yeah, yeah. There are a number of movies that I think are wonderful, that I generally don’t talk about when I lecture. The reason is: I want people to understand the core of what I consider the essential principles of story and structure and character arc and love story and eliciting emotion. So the examples I use are ones that follow the formula – if you want to call it that – so they can strengthens a writer’s understanding of it.

No movie breaks all the rules, but great movies often push the envelope, or they take liberties, or they fit into a niche that is less commercial.

So people regard Annie Hall as a great romantic comedy. But the basic formula for a Hollywood romantic comedy involves deception – a character with a compelling goal is lying about something to get it, then she meets someone and falls in love, but the person doesn’t know that the hero is pretending to be somebody she’s not, as in Working Girl or Tootsie or The Wedding Crashers. Or maybe the hero is just lying, as they are in a Sleepless in Seattle or Sideways. In any case, there is almost always deception, and always a happy ending.

Annie Hall doesn’t have any of those elements. It is more like a dramatic love story, but it’s so funny that it is regarded as a romantic comedy. And it doesn’t have a happy ending. Woody Allen is pretty much allergic to happy endings because he sees love affairs and relationships as finite. So he breaks the rules, but it’s still a great movie.

Another example, one of my all-time favourite movies and one of the great screenplays coming out of Hollywood in the last twenty years, is The Shawshank Redemption. It certainly follows rules for creating empathy, and giving characters visible goals, and developing character arc and theme. But it doesn’t follow a common structure. Instead it uses a three-stage structure. We see the hero in one period of time, then we jump ahead quite a few years, see them again, jump ahead, and see them a third time. That structure is used by When Harry Met Sally, by Steel Magnolias, by Driving Miss Daisy, by numerous other movies. But those movies are a very small percentage of the movies Hollywood makes.

So that’s not a typical film, yet it’s also a great screenplay.

Here’s the way I usually say it: you can break the rules only after you know the rules so well that you can honestly say, “I will elicit more emotion, and create a better emotional experience for the audience, by pushing the envelope rather than following the formula.”

When writers get in to trouble is when they say, “I don’t believe in formula, I’m just going to ignore the rules and tell whatever story I want to tell.” Those movies rarely work.

END OF PART ONE

REPLICANTS, SCREENWRITERS AND DOGSWhen last year the restored BLADE RUNNER screened in Sydney in all its 4k digital splendour, I was present at the Cremorne Orpheum, on the hunt for story weaknesses. It didn’t take me long. After fifteen minutes and thirty seconds, I put the scalpel aside and thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the film, i.e. Act Two and Three. (For Premium Subscribers, my brief analysis is here.)

This year the Coen brothers snatched the top Oscars despite issues with the ending of NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN. I won’t add to that discussion but if you would like to read some incisive thoughts, check out this article on the Mystery Man on Film blog.

Long before the Coen brothers won their first Oscar with FARGO, they had established themselves as favourites of the Cannes film festival with a Golden Palm for BARTON FINK. I have watched it a few times since and I still enjoy its Faustian slant, the flamboyant performances of Michael Lerner and John Goodman and the wonderful production design.

Why could BARTON FINK never appeal to a mainstream audience? It is about a screenwriter. But more importantly, the end of Act One makes a promise, then Act Two doesn’t deliver. Variety wrote at the time:

“After a little more than an hour, the pic is thrown in a wholly unexpected direction. There is a shocking murder, the presence of a mysterious box in Fink’s room, the revelation of another’s character’s sinister true identity, three more killings, a truly weird hotel fire and the humiliation of the writer after he believes he’s finally turned out a fine script.”

In essence there is nothing wrong with ‘a wholly unexpected direction’ but the problem is: no new promise is made. What do I mean by that?

The end of act one shows us what the protagonist’s objective is: Fink wants to write a screenplay. It promises a clear direction for the film. Once the murder is introduced, Fink doesn’t really have a clear objective and the story suffers from that. The film as a whole survives because of the exquisitely funny references to the real world of Hollywood in the 1940’s, the sensational performances, the amazing sound design etc.

Recently somebody mentioned WAG THE DOG (1997) to me, written by Hilary Henkin and David Mamet. In my memory, this movie was a hilarious touch of genius. Upon re-viewing, I was dumbfounded as not much of the exhilaration from ten years ago had survived for me.

Again, problemo numero uno: Hollywood behind the scenes. No matter how important we believe the workings of Hollywood are, no-one cares.

Secondly: no matter how clever, genuinely funny and genuinely TRUE the premise – don’t trust your president when he goes to war, the story is preaching to the converted. I don’t believe one single vote was gained or lost because of this film.

The core problems with this film lie on a pure story level. It seems Robert De Niro is the protagonist, his objective: fix a potential presidential scandal. Then we shift to Dustin Hoffman. His objective: stage a war. Soon, however, it appears neither are really facing any seemingly unsurmountable obstacles. Problems are solved as quickly as they arise.

Ultimately the film industry outsider is left with a self-indulgent, unsatisfying and uninvolving story. Mamet’s dialogue is brilliant but this is not the type of film I can watch more than once without an element of disappointment.

Whatever I may say about WAG THE DOG, the fans will rightfully point at the film’s respectable BO figures. Oh well. Star-power saved the dog.

PAGE RANK FOUR!

The Story Dept.’s Page Rank has gone up a full notch and I’m now in the company of such excellent PR4 blogs as The Unknown Screenwriter and the above mentioned Mystery Man on Film.

If you have the Google Tool Bar installed, you can see a white/green strip indicating the PageRank of the page you are visiting. It is usually located in the top middle of your page, under the address bar.

Last year, the world of SEO was turned on its head when millions of web sites saw their Page Rank drop. OZZYWOOD Films was one of the victims, sliding from a respectable Rank 4 to an okay 3.

In all fairness and humility, this web site may be on par for PR with Mystery Man and UNK, but no need to say yours truly will have a long way to go to deserve equal status with these boys.


THE LAW OF DIMINISHING RETURNS

Your second draft is the easiest of all. Why? Because the first draft is so bad each problem sticks out like a sore thumb. It is full of great ideas, but the execution stinks. To your editor/consultant it will be instantly obvious what needs fixing first. Hence, improving your story massively, immediately is actually a breeze.

On the other hand: the final draft is the hardest. Almost everything is as almost good as you can get it. Still, those few minor details that need fixing, jeopardise the entire rest of the script. Not only is it technically challenging, you aren’t quite sure which one is the right move. You can’t see the wood for the trees any longer.

Worst of all: after a long development you are so worn out you may be sick of this script and want to move on. You will need all the support and encouragement you can get, from your producer, your editor, your mum and dad (or wife and kids).

To move from draft one to two, it really takes only basic to intermediate skills. To move from draft eleven to twelve, it takes tremendous craftsmanship, talent and arduous persistence. Early on you will get heaps of great tips and advice from your story/script editor; towards the final draft more and more decisions will be yours: here is where your instinct comes into play.The comforting factor: it is often no longer a matter of working or not working, but of good or great. At this stage, you might have also shown the script to a few industry people, who should be encouraging you to run the last mile.

NEXT POST

With Michael Hauge’s Australia tour in May, I’ll be publishing a podcast and interview transcription, in conjunction with Inscription.

Also:
- Movie structure breakdowns (Premium)
- RATATOUILLE’s deleted scene
- Why the ‘3 Act Structure’?

Nafa – Choctops Meeting: 18/2/08

(Report by John Haly,
Thank you to Tony Chu)

Karel -a Belgian producer and script consultant – founded OZZYWOOD Films and The Story Department (which is a unique Australian blog and online resource for screen story theory). Karel headed production and programming at London’s Digital Broadcasting Company and was a film buyer for CANAL+, (Europe’s largest pay TV service). He was the host for a movie show for MTV Europe. His production credits included two short dramas, a documentary and a feature film. In post-production, he has a short animation and a feature film. As a script consultant, he has clients both in Australia and overseas. Of interest to Nafa members, he also runs regular workshops on script writing. A notable fact is that the 2007 nominees and also the winner of the Australian Writer Guild Monte Miller Award were Karel’s clients. Accordingly, if you are a script writer, you will, indeed, be well advised to pay particular attention to his views on ‘What our industry needs is a Story Revolution’.

Karel began by delving back into his personal history stating that he had started in Radio as a reporter who would phone in initial reviews of films for night radio - a far cry from the online internet reviewing of films of the contemporary culture. His first venture into a screenplay dates back to 1989, although he admits to abandoning that path because of early criticism by an established script writer. His next attempt was twelve years later, and he promptly lost the first draft.

In 2001, he moved to Australia where he co-produced a documentary and then a short film, but the last didn’t go anywhere. The next film was “Aerosol” which was dispatched to, and was selected by a few film festivals, but won no significant prizes. As a consequence, he then contemplated a change of direction and began studying and reading in an effort to get new insights as to the creative writing process.

The author at the top of his reading list was Robert McKee. McKee’s book, ‘Story’ is considered by some as the “screenwriters’ bible”. When purchasing the software for screen writing called ‘Power Structure’, he was offered at a reduced price a DVD called ‘The Hero’s 2 Journeys’ which was promoted as extremely enlightening material capable of educating writers and which revealed the template upon which the vast majority of successful stories and Hollywood blockbusters are based. Michael Hauge and Christopher Vogler’s DVD opened Karel’s eyes as it offered a unique insiders’ understanding of the ways screenplay structure, character, and theme must combine to be successful.

Karel became aware of the sad fact that there seemed to be little by the way of ‘Story Education’ available in Australia. Michael Hauge’s principles were applied in advising writers of script plays. With the aid of AFC funding, it became possible to produce a following accompanied by good results. He educated writers that the structure of writing was important, particularly from the perspective of Character. His insight centred on the question: Where does drama happen? He emphasises that it is not in the visualisation of the story, but the subtext beneath the story that good scriptwriting lies.

The fault to which many writers fall prey is that of visualising the scene as they are writing, thus thinking in terms of pictures. As it is a visual media up with which we end, we must keep in mind into what it is that a visual story latches in the minds of the audience – for example, that of ‘Desire’! The question that ought to be at the centre of your script should focus on the desires and objectives of your characters because film ‘hangs together’ with the emotions of “Desire”.

A frequent criticism of Australian films is that they have weak protagonists, (i.e. those without will power). If you give your protagonist a visible goal with a desire and will to get there, then you are more likely to engage your audience. The essence of Michael Hauge’s proposition is that you need a character who has a visible goal with a clearly defined end-point.

Karel recalled the Columbia University educator, Frank Daniel, who was noted for his development of the sequence paradigm of Screenwriting. Frank’s conception of a good protagonist was ’somebody who wants something badly and has difficulty getting it.”

Karel turned to the audience to ask, ‘As a screen writer what is your primary goal?’ After a few financial and entertaining replies, someone suggested ‘to tell a story’. Karel then asked, ‘Why are you telling that story?’ Quoting Michael Hauge, his answer was two words, ‘elicit emotion’. In order to do this, there are three things with which a screen writer can play. 1. Character, 2. Desire, 3. Conflict.

The best way Karel can find to illustrate this is simply through the examples of successful films, which is what he uses when he runs his workshops. Irrespective of whether it is a Mainline or Arthouse movie, they all follow the same structure. The film ‘Die Hard’ deals with a man seeking to stop the criminals. ‘Jaws’ relates to a man’s desire to stop the Shark. Consider an Oscar winning Arthouse movie: “The Lives of Others’ where in the first half, the protagonist desires to expose the director while in the second half, he wishes to protect him.

As a screenwriter, you need to structure the desire. (Characters need structure in their desire). Your audience needs to know in the first act what that desire is. Your character also needs to resonate with the audience, exhibiting his or her human flaws. It is the flaw that holds the need of the protagonist. In ‘Die Hard, while desiring to stop the criminals, his flaw was that he was afraid to tackle the criminals who held his wife hostage. In the “The Lives of Others”, the protagonist changes his mind mid way. Audiences expect to perceive this desire, even if it is not spelled out.

As Aristotle distinguishes: a whole is that which has a beginning, a middle, and an end. In the beginning, the audience is introduced to the setting, the characters, their situation,/conflict and the goal they desire. In short, something happens, unexpectedly, which defines the story to come. To paraphrase Aristotle, ‘A beginning is that which does not itself follow anything by causal necessity, but after which something naturally is or comes to be’.

In ‘Die Hard’ the building is stopped while John McClane goes up to the highest floor to get a bird’s eye perspective and think through his options. He says to himself, ‘Think, think, think’. [KS: The exact same words are used by Woody in Toy Story 2 after Wheezy is taken away.] The initial plot point of confusion [KS: In the Hero's Journey the 'Mentor' stage, 'Refusing the Call'] shifts to the derivation of a plan and new plot point – an event followed by a reaction. Something happens, a plan evolves and the pursuit of activity begins and continues all the way to a resolution.

Karel advised that as a Script writer you should ask yourself, ‘What is the reason this story is being told?’. As for Karel himself, he was sitting here talking to us because he was strongly motivated by the desire to see a revolution in the way Australian Script writers create stories. He proclaimed, ‘Make sure there is a connection between yourself and the story you are telling. There is a requirement to want to connect to an audience.’

It is in the tribal ethos of ancient days that the storyteller tells stories relevant to their tribes. They are told not only to get the message across, but also to create such impact that the stories are repeatedly retold to subsequent generations of that tribe. It is important whether you be scriptwriters or producers or directors, that you choose the scripts that can best tell the story.

Be aware that the contemporary tribe of humanity is being conditioned by the way a story is being told in film and theatre. Be conscious of writing structure as it is entering an arena, a tribe, a society that is accustomed to perceive in a specific manner. Don’t be dismissive of the formula for telling the story in film just because you want to be ‘different’, or because your audience has been conditionally seasoned, even if they are not consciously aware of being told a story with a definite style.

Karel moved on to seek to discredit a few commonly held myths. The first one is that writers should rush out and buy specific Screen Writing Software such as ‘Final Draft’. In the first place, there are plenty of free alternatives out there for Microsoft word templates, [KS: Celtx] etc. Primarily, it initially tempts you to write in scenes, when it is the story you first need to relate. Reading scripts to get the format right as a pre-requisite encourages the visualisation of scenes when first, you should be concentrating on the story. Try watching a movie, break it down and decode it yourself rather than reading or writing a script (story first, script last).

The next myth concerns language. Some writers love flowery prose. Question yourself as to whether your objective is to write something that only reads well, or do you wish to write a story of substance? Identify: where is the story? Do you have a character with a desire? Where is the conflict in the story? This, as your primary guideline becomes the focus of the storyline.

The next myth concerns Log Lines. (A Log Line is a brief summary of the film, often providing both a synopsis of the program’s plot, and an emotional “hook” to stimulate interest). Karel confessed for a long time that he believed that the Log Line was the last thing you wrote after the script and synopsis. He is now firmly convinced the opposite is true.

If you want to know more about the importance of Log Lines go to ‘The Unknown Screen Writer‘ and ‘Mystery Man on Film‘. These will help you to use correctly the Log Lines – a procedure the importance of which cannot be overestimated. These are the selling lines of your film which you must know before you start writing. Formulate a Log Line of: who is your character? What does the character want?- and- What is the obstacle(s) in his way? Try to compose your log line by writing it down as soon as possible as this keeps you in focus. That great idea that pops into your head during the writing! Does it fit into your Log Line? If not, put it aside because it has no place in your story. Keep it for your next script.

Karel then suggested that the biggest mistake people make in the attempt to sell their scripts is to dispatch them too early. Sending and then resending draft versions is the quickest way to ensure that the people reading the dispatched articles lose interest. By resending a newer, updated version of the script, you are admitting to the producer or director that you sent them a previous script that you well knew wasn’t ready.

Following on from that theme, Karel pointed out that formatting the script is not important until you have the story written. As Art Arthur said: ‘Don’t get it right, get it written!’ Once it is written in the final draft, THEN there are formatting rules to which you need to comply. It is then that those slug lines, script punctation and the absence of typos needs to be scrupulously addressed.

Karel noted that studies of the Australian Government Feature Film Funding have shown that only about 19 out of some 419 films actually made money. He impressively expressed the point that our essential requirement was to think about the market. Again, he reiterated the need for writers to understand and act on the principles espoused in “The Hero’s Journey”.

Despite the perception that both Germans and Australians possess an inherent hero phobia, explore the successful films in our own industry, and that, in itself, will disabuse any such notion.

At this point, Jeanie opened the floor to questions. These included ones concerning the cultural differences between countries when it came to making films. This, in turn, raised the topic of our anxiety of being commercially successful. Questions about breaking the rules for film structure returned a reply of: ‘how about mastering the ‘Rules‘ first BEFORE contemplating breaking them- not the other way around.

Tony concluded the evening by thanking Karel for his contribution. Karel spoke privately to people as they approached him and eventually the evening broke up, as actors, producers and director’s networks chatted on before being kindly ejected by the Bar Staff wishing to close. Some of us spilled out onto the sidewalks to continue our conversations till the passing night drew us to the consideration that we should be homeward bound.