Saturday 27 September 2014

A Free-Written Article About Why Free-Writing Is Better Than Planning

Free-writing is a creative exercise writers invented to “free their minds” once they realised that the 60s effectively got them nowhere. It involves frantically spewing words on to a page without stopping or self-censorship, and seeing what unique ideas manifest themselves. I’m about to invite you to glimpse into my unconscious mind, as I time myself for 10 minutes to try and formulate some sort of cohesive argument as to why free writing isn’t a complete waste of time. After my time is up, I’ll correct any spelling or grammatical errors so you don’t need to hire a cryptographer to decipher it...

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Right, so, free writing. Let’s talk about you. Well, obviously first thing I should mention is that I can’t type as fast as I can think because that would be ridiculous and there would be like hundreds of documentaries about me and I wouldn’t really have to worry about writing articles like these. Anyway, I didn’t really think of any actual points coming into this argument so I’m sort of making it up as I go without stopping, which is incredibly hard. Still, this is the sort of spontaneity that you could say films and stories lack these days, as everything is planned to death before any kind of script is even started. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but being so over-prepared that your story basically becomes a checklist that you’re ticking off maybe just makes things a little too formulaic. Why are people afraid of stories becoming looser with their execution? Like if, say, a dragon showed up in the middle of Downtown Abbey. It’s set in the olden days so I’m surprised one hasn’t showed up yet to be honest. Maybe that was a bad example / joke, but you get my point, right? People can see twists coming a mile off these days because we’re all so used to the formulas, so just throwing in a complete curveball – something that would come of free-writing – would really make your piece stand out. The critics would probably call your alien invasion of Eastenders laughable, but it’d certainly get people talking about your work, etc. Anyway, I think I’ve made that point. Let me try and think of another. Oh man, I’m definitely stalling right now. How about a magnetised donkey with shotguns for a mouth? There we go. That was a curveball, I think. No idea what provoked that one. Damn, I thought I’d have more to say. Maybe I’ll talk a bit more about why planning sucks. Well, I suppose movies that have been planned for years, designed around the idea of intelligently discussing a topic, even if indirectly, tend to come under closer narrative scrutiny, like Inception. I know I mentioned Inception in my previous post, but think about it – there have been more plot holes found with Inception, a complex blockbuster that tackles dreams in a convoluted but entertaining way, than, say, a really simple movie, like Shrek or something. I dunno if there have been plot holes found in Shrek, in fact, I can imagine there are a bunch, but when everything is generally simpler, people tend not to focus on the narrative so much, and holy crap, I only have one minute left. Right, so, to summarise. Gosh, what were my points again? Planning over-complicates and the spontaneity of free-writing allows for some fun narrative curveballs, but I suppose, in hindsight, this article may have proven that planning does have it merits, in that little of this made sense. If we can take one thing away from it, it’s that magnetised donkeys with shotguns for mouths are quite a cool idea.


James Cottle, after studying Scriptwriting for 4 years, is now an embittered real life freelance writer, and seeks to unlearn everything he knows. But he needs your help... Follow him on Twitter @Jxmxsc and share this blog to help spread his anarchic plight for reform amongst the writing masses.

Wednesday 24 September 2014

4 Times When Writers Don’t Want to Admit They Found Inspiration

Writers want their brains to be like Google – scouring endless realms of compiled data and catalogues of human experience to provide this weird thing called “inspiration” as and when it is needed. Truth is, your brain is more like Bing – misdirected, sparse and, all in all, a little disappointing. After all, what is “inspiration”, if not the cranberry juice upon which our creative sugar rushes are fuelled? Writers often cite music, dreams, photographs, personal experience, yadda yadda, as the birthing pools of their ideas, but the truth, would you believe, is exponentially more icky.

1) During Intimacy

Let’s face up to the truth here – who hasn’t ever thought, during times of sexiness with a partner of equivalent sexiness, “Man, this right here is like some sort of sexy movie or something! Like The Notebook or Drive or Star Wars. Not the prequels though. Not that this is light incest. That would make me Han Solo. The one who DEFINITELY shot first. Hope I don’t shoot first-“...? I digress. Maybe just pay attention to that first sentence.

My point is, couples often find themselves in different romantic contexts over the course of their relationship, and some of these haven’t found their way on to the silver screen yet. Sorting out dirty socks in the steamy laundry room, offering up the last succulent wing from a KFC bargain bucket, being chased by a feral possum across the Torquay coast line... Writers need only look at these nuggets of romantic gold, and stories practically write themselves around them (I’ve already called dibs on the possum).

2) Watching Other Movies
                     
This may seem like a no-brainer in terms of citing inspiration, but let us take a moment to dissect why referencing other movies may actually be detrimental to your magnum opus. Say you get hit by a hot money-making idea whilst watching a film – for instance, “imagine if they added zombies to this version of Pride and Prejudice" (totally a thing that’s happening). Ultimately it means that you’re not really paying attention to the movie you’re watching, which perhaps suggests that it isn’t that good to begin with (sorry Austen), and arbitrarily hybridising with a polarising concept isn’t exactly creating anything new or original.

Maybe inspiration hits you much long after you’ve watched the movie, like a troublesome Jager hangover. Still, telling people that your new Heist movie is inspired by Heat and Point Break, just means that it’s, well, a Heist movie. Telling people your new Heist movie is inspired by The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Ghandi just means that’s it’s... I don’t even know. I’m just as guilty of this, having referenced movies THAT I HAVEN’T EVEN SEEN BEFORE, which essentially is the same as saying “title’s good and people seemed to like it – let’s make some fat stacks”. We’re all culpable, without facing the reality of what we’re actually saying. So, rather than suggesting writers don’t admit to this, I’m 100% advocating that they shouldn’t.

3) During Excretion

Told you things would get icky. Look, as a species we’ve set ourselves certain standards of living, that, other than at music festivals and in gypsy campsites, we adhere to. Our default reaction to any waste that falls out of our bodies is either indignant disgust or childish amusement. It stands to reason that many of us don’t want to spend our time on the old bog dwelling on what we’re actually doing, as it would either gross us out or make us laugh maniacally in our cubicle like we’ve discovered a simple recipe for plutonium.

So, as a coping mechanism, we let our minds wander. This is a unique, Zen-like state fuelled by deeming your current context as unacceptable - a powerful motivator for escapism that can’t be as easily orchestrated by free-writing or mind-altering drug consumption. You’re entombed in a cell of your own making, where you don’t need to feel the eyes of the outside world judging you, because, in your heart, you know that they all have to do the same thing at some point. There is no equalling the liberation felt when you discard your waste into the wild, only to have it replaced by a career defining idea. An idea that you’ll probably tell people you had while watching Taggart.

4) When You Simply Don’t Care About Anything That’s Happening Around You

Notice how this section isn’t called “Boredom”. Boredom is a toxic concept. People who get bored are fundamentally boring people who try and involve you in their boredom, like some sort of reverse peer pressure. What I’m talking about is just not being in the moment. Like when you’re on holiday, and your family keep saying “look at that amazing view from the top of this hill we spent two days climbing!” and you’re just like “meh”. Not because you’re bored though. It’s because you’re picturing an amazing battle between Giants and Gods happening in the valley below you, as is your way.

The reason why writers don’t tell people that they get their ideas this way is because it isn’t exciting. Writers are storytellers, and sometimes explaining how you came to find your idea can be more exciting than the idea itself. People don’t want to know about the time you were dribbling fromage frais down your dressing gown in front of Loose Women, wondering if there was any meaning to it all, before you came up with the next Inception. £25 says that’s what Nolan did. He might not admit it, but his eyes tell a different story...

James Cottle, after studying Scriptwriting for 4 years, is now an embittered real life freelance writer, and seeks to unlearn everything he knows. But he needs your help... Follow him on Twitter @Jxmxsc and share this blog to help spread his anarchic plight for reform amongst the writing masses.

Saturday 20 September 2014

4 Alternative Ways to Make Your Physical Script Stand Out

It’s no mere industry fabrication that Professional Script Readers constantly have a Kilimanjaro worth of scripts to sift through on a daily basis. Add your own latest compilation of “World-Altering” pages into the mix, and, just when the poor bibliophile thinks they’ve reached the top, they’re confronted by yet another waste-of-a-good-tree’s worth of paper to feign interest in. Perhaps it’s in honour of all of the tortured Script Reader souls out there that I propose these alternative ways of presenting your physical script, so that they may not be met with years’ worth of built up contempt, but instead a sense of mild confusion, at the very least.

1)     Different Fonts and Sizes


Look, I love Size 12 Courier as much as the next guy, but after weeks on end of staring at its archaic form, everything starts to blur until all you can see is the grinning face of Buddha, winking at you like the (presumably Italian) Pringles face. Several hundred pages of this font at a time isn’t summarised into a Beautiful Mind-esque montage of floating words and numbers – it’s a long, often arduous, affair of fading dreams and increasing irritability.

Every font comes with its own reputation and meaning, so imagine mixing it up depending on the genre or the scene you really want to push. Rather than waste a page awkwardly detailing where your characters are putting their hands during intimacy, slap the reader across the eyes with a bold, six word proclamation in
IMPACT – “THEY MAKE OUT AND LIKE IT”. Maybe your blissfully naive supporting character talks entirely in Comic Sans? Or you lampshade your inherently boring bits with a splash of Times New Roman? The possibilities are as endless as they are pointless.

Just beware of using Windings.
Readers won’t have as much patience as you to translate this.
      
2)     Print on Coloured Paper

What does black text on a white page say about you? Nothing. The colours alone suggest sheep, let alone the sentiment. Consider what white text on black paper would say to a lonely reader on a cold Monday morning – “Wow! This writer must be loaded to afford printing this! I should represent him and get a piece of that disposable ink income!” Go a step further with a seasoning of colour, and who knows, they might not even need to read the damn thing.

The ramifications of this chromatic revolution in the industry are endless. Scripts could be colour-coded depending on what director they’re intended for – a deep grey for the morally ambiguous Scorsese, the bluest blue for the pathological downer Lars von Trier, and how perfect would brown text on brown paper be for Michael Bay? It’d certainly be a step up from the bog roll he’s been relying on up until this point.

Of course, if you’re not prepared to invest your pot noodle money into coloured paper stock, chances are you won’t want to invest your pot noodle time into the next suggestion...

      3)     Handwrite Your Script

Reliable sources (Google) inform me that Bionic Wrists are totally a real thing, which absolutely makes this a viable option for anyone fearful of impending Repetitive Strain Injury. A typed up, printed script will not reflect the blood, sweat and tears you pour into your storytelling (DISCLAIMER: This blog does not advocate writing in blood), as every scribble, spelling error and stray eraser shaving tells even more of a story than your mere words can.

Perhaps you’re thinking it’s a little dangerous giving this cave-dwelling creature you call a Script Reader such a profound insight into your damaged psyche? That’s fine - just get one of your subservient friends to ghost write it for you, in exchange for a pre-agreed upon reward (definitely don’t mention the word “contract” at any point), like a nice meal or two months of life drawing classes. Bear in mind, they should definitely have better handwriting than you, and pushing them to write more than 15 hours a day may cause them to go a little “REDRUM” on your ass.

If you’re hardcore enough to attempt it alone, however, be sure to have that Bionic Wrist on standby. I mean, what else are you going to use it for?

      4)     Draw Pictures

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then you can easily knock out your two hour long feature film in about 20-30 fun doodles instead. You wouldn’t even have to colour them in (your coloured card should do that for you) before you place your hard-hitting anti-Socialist political drama in the hands of a Reader who might just be starting to hate the alphabet. I’d wager it’d brighten up their day so much that they’d take it home and place it on their fridge door, right in between their shopping list comprised entirely of cheap pasta meals and their council-ordered eviction notice.

It stands to reason that film, being a visual medium, relies on visuals (and, to a lesser extent, mediums). So if you’re artistically challenged, how about calling upon that subservient friend again to render your profound story in pretty water colours? Word of warning, they may only be capable of drawing nudes after those classes you previously gifted them, but maybe that’s exactly what your PG animation about road safety needs to catch a producer’s eye.

It may be at this point in development that you want to cop out and turn your overly-demonstrative masterpiece into a comic book. This works even better, as Marvel will definitely buy the rights and find a way to cram you into their expansive film universe anyway.

James Cottle, after studying Scriptwriting for 4 years, is now an embittered real life freelance writer, and seeks to unlearn everything he knows. But he needs your help... Follow him on Twitter @Jxmxsc and share this blog to help spread his anarchic plight for reform amongst the writing masses.