No one Likes To Read – Anything

William Goldman’s seminal book, Adventures In The Screen Trade, still completely valid even forty years later, made famous the line, “Nobody knows anything” to describe the business of making movies. Today’s insane up and down box office is proof of that. Hits that weren’t expected and superfilms that should have been hits crashing and burning show that the ideas for movies made at the highest levels of Hollywood don’t always translate to success.

So a corollary to Goldman’s ‘rule’ that perhaps explains some box office failures could be, “No one in Hollywood likes to read that’s why they don’t know anything.”

I got on a plane to go to a film set in Canada. A man sat across the aisle from me and put five, obvious movie scripts in that stretchy pouch. I was thrilled – here was someone in the business who I might be able to talk to over the six hour flight to Montreal. Studio executive, agent, producer?

He grabbed script one as soon as he was buckled in and started to read – sorta. He skimmed down the middle of the pages flipping them over like a maniacal short order cook making pancakes for a packed restaurant.

I didn’t engage him on the flight on this even though I really wanted to rant at his viciously cursory reading habit.

Now I know being in the business is different – you don’t read for pleasure – it’s a job. And the grind is horrible. For the most part, if you’re reading a novel you’re coming to it for the language, the style, the tone. Reading a script is more like reading Spark Notes – you just want the gist of it.

There is almost nothing more artificial than a script. It’s not a touchy-feely experience for anyone unless it’s so well-written that you must read it. I would promise you that no one takes scripts on vacation to read on the beach but books…that’s a different discussion.

So engaging anyone in any script is a massive undertaking of skill – you must compel that exec/reader to become immersed in your work like they were reading a great book. Not an easy task given how many scripts these folks have to read.

Leap Of Faith?

I can write and put a book up on Amazon myself – and I have – six to be exact with a seventh coming sometime soon. I’m completely autonomous in the content, how much I charge, and if I want to change something I just upload another version. And I get paid every time one of them sells.

There’s a tremendous satisfaction to all that that I just don’t get in scripts.

It’s easier these days to make a movie as an amateur, but it’s still a massive effort. So, once I write something that I think can sell – but it doesn’t – I suppose I could go the indie route and make it myself. But where then do I distribute my masterpiece? YouTube? TikTok? Thumb drives at Comic Con?

Scripts are a total leap of faith. At last count I’ve written over 150 scripts/TV pilots. Sold 34+ and had 17 made as a writer. If you do the math that’s about a 2% “success” rate. I’ve written six (7) books and had six (7th coming) – all of them – published.

Sure, it’s apples and armadillos, but my point is it is hard to get up enthusiasm for something that I may or may not ever sell. I love screenwriting, but it treats me at times like the man on the beach with the pot belly, zinced nose, and farmer’s tan – in other words, it ignores me completely and is a little embarrassed I’m even around.

The Narrative Thread

I don’t index card or outline. Never have. But I understand why anyone does.

There is something very difficult in staying connected to the narrative thread of any script’s story. I know that novelists use outlining to stay on track. This is the famous pantsers v. planners and I’m a pantser all the way whatever I write.

So, what helps? Structure; that bugaboo discussion that’s been going on since Syd Field wrote his book. Scripts are easier to write with a tentpole structure for some reason. Perhaps it’s just a length-issue, scripts being less pages and less dense, but I think because screenwriters have to think in terms of sluglines and scenes, getting disconnected from a storyline happens more because you’re basically chopping your writing up into little vignettes.

After a while, you learn you can’t think of any one scene in a vacuum – okay, some can be done that way. But for the most part every scene has to be connected and that’s a real skill set that has to be developed. My book on scriptwriting (Quantum Scriptwriting) describes an easier way to do this but I’ve never seen anyone else use anything like it.

In many ways, a script is like taking a journey in the dark with a flashlight and you can only see as far as the beam itself. That’s what it feels like even though that’s not what it actually is.

Under Pressure

You generally write a screenplay in the hopes of a sale and getting it produced. The main focus is selling, and that’s a lot of second-guessing at the time of creation and all the time you’re writing your cinematic masterpiece. Then, as often happens, you see a film or TV series that’s similar to what you’re writing and there goes your concept. X-Files destroyed my idea file because Chris Carter rolled out every concept I’d thought about. Then Fringe and Black Mirror. It takes a strong will to do something anyway after you’ve seen it on the screen.

One of the things covered in my classes is concept and how best to bring that to fruition. But invariably, someone will say, “I saw that in <blank>” and I can see the student’s spirit being crushed.

Above The Noise

I asked my students why they thought screenwriting was so hard and most echoed a lot of what I have here. But one comment stood out about being fresh.

A friend, producer Clark Peterson calls that “rising above the noise.”

I watched Uncle Buck recently because I needed a comedy and that popped up. While some may think that writer/director John Hughes was doing the same schtick over and over again, I would disagree. Sure there’s stuff that’s familiar in all of his work – in all comedies – but there’s also subtle and not-so-subtle differences that make his work unique and that was one reason he was successful.

Buck has real soul. The character is a bit familiar, but the big heart and spirit of the titular character was perfect. Hughes was unlike many of his genre in that he delivered on the laughs but gave us real pathos. He loved his funny people. John Candy was the laughing clown whose makeup masked real tears. No one has really been as unique as Hughes since.

The Blacklist exists to celebrate scripts that Hollywood hasn’t made for whatever reason. It’s a repository of unique voices that perhaps the market at large isn’t ready for, but there’s a recognition that the material is top notch and unique.

Movies like The Imitation Game, 500 Days of Summer, JoJo Rabbit, and The King’s Speech all got their start as scripts that were well-received, but rejected initially for production for whatever reason.

Trust, Fam, being unique is hard, hard work and even then you don’t always get the gold star.

Derivative Much?

To play devil’s advocate, there’s also my world, not a world of red carpet, high-minded or arch/art-house material. But if you think it’s easy to write a B-movie, try it.

Here’s the mandate: low budget, familiar but not boring, bullet-proof dialogue so the actors don’t struggle much, exciting, suspenseful and about a dozen other whamos while delivering on genre conventions without being totally derivative or cost prohibitive.

It’s a surprisingly tall order. I’ve salvaged (script doctored) half a dozen features and sold a bunch more because I perhaps see what others don’t, and can make those mandates real. Of course, I also love B-movies and would almost choose to write those over anything else including a big tentpole movie.

Tremors, Attack the Block, Dog Soldiers, Paranormal Activity, The Descent are all amazingly entertaining and successful movies, with solid thematic overlays BTW, that no one would have nominated for an Oscar. And, buddy, they’re hard to write because delivering on genre conventions without making your audience laugh in the wrong places or put them to sleep it very, very difficult.

It’s Always Difficult

The maddening thing about writing is the more you it do the harder it gets. That’s true of any writing but in scriptwriting it’s almost supernaturally difficult. There’s always some ruler you’re using to measure yourself because you see something like Stranger Things or Ted Lasso suddenly pop up on streaming, and you think, “No way could I have written that better – or even as good – and probably worse. I suck.”

The Greek chorus of self-doubt in your head is screaming your inadequacies as you crawl broken back to the laptop and try to replicate other’s success. Unless you then push yourself harder, up your game, steel your resolve, your next script will die the quiet death of recriminations. Many, many start a screenplay, fewer finish it, and still less actually sell anything. Not exactly a formula for joyous success.

It’s A Skill And An Art

So, the last thing to say is that scripts are hard to write for all the reasons listed, but for the same reason books, art, music, dance – even building a brick wall – are. Screenwriting is both a skill and an art that requires you to put in the time, take the body blows, and re-emerge better and stronger.

My martial arts Sensei used to say there’s three levels to what we were studying: primitive, mechanical, and spontaneous where everything you learned over a period of years (primitive, mechanical) finally coalesce into an art form (spontaneous) bolstered by the repetitious hours you’ve put in.

There really are no shortcuts here. It takes what it takes as the cliché goes. Putting in the time is the only way to become both skillful and artistic. That’s why it’s so hard.

Now I’ve avoided this the entire article but it needs said:

Writing a script isn’t really that difficult; writing a good script – well, there’s the rub.

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