Look, I’m not trying to inject the world’s writers with a healthy (read: hearty) dose of crippling paranoia - Writers have that in spades anyway. But if we all took a moment to really consider the intentions of the person sat next to you (or lying on the adjacent sofa, if that’s a favourable configuration), the one you call your “writing partner” may be plotting something far more sinister than your latest pseudo-intellectual slasher horror. Maybe not the M word or the K word or even the Q word, but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be Gary-Busey-In-A-Mankini Scared right now.
1) They Know About “Getting Rid Of Things” Creatively
Let’s say, hypothetically, that your writing partner is a demented psychopath, hypothetically. Whilst you slurp away on cheap store-brand coffee, staring at your joint script notes and looking for potential stories, they’re sat there watching you. You’re their first line of validation, in charge of their fate. They aren’t thinking about the script – they are thinking about the ramifications of your reaction to the script. So, hypothetically, they play out certain “scenarios” in their head...
It sounds morbid, but you need only look at the hundreds of crime shows out there, each with hundreds of episodes, each with a dozen or so theories as to how the victim was “disposed of”, whether it be poisoning-made-to-look-like-something-else, an elaborately staged suicide or just a simple “goat / cliff” affair. All of these were thought of by writers, putting themselves in the Doc Martens of demented psychopaths who they have created. Guaranteed, there’s a crime show out there that’s had an episode about a writer struggling to deal with rejection. Now my hypotheses don’t seem so ludicrous...
2) They Can Enter Your Mind
You know that amazing creative flow you get, where you’re happily bouncing ideas off of another writer, to the point where you start finishing each other’s sentences? That definitely means you’ve stumbled upon a winning idea, right? Wrong. Your writing partner has goddamn psychic powers. Every second, they are learning more and more about you, compiling data into their mental Excel spreadsheet, and cataloguing it for future exploitation. That way, when your discussion about your Act 2 Turning Point gets a little heated, they’ve got the ammunition to burn you alive.
Now you see that your suggestion to have “Protagonist #1” lounging around in their underwear after a brutal romantic rejection says far more about you than you’d like (not that it’s an example I’ve mentioned in past articles or anything). You’re starting to regret letting your fellow scribe into your house for today’s session, as further clues to your psyche lay strewn around the living room – your quirky heart-shaped cushions, pictures on mantelpiece turned face down, an empty box of Kleenex on the coffee table, Les Miserables on DVD... They now know far more about you than you know about them, and that’s a dangerous game in this industry.
3) The “Discussions” Are Becoming “Debates”, Which Are Becoming “Arguments”
It’s possible at this stage you’re thinking, “This doesn’t apply to me! I have a great working relationship with Killian! We agree about practically everything, especially that he has a funny name!” – This only means you’re in even more danger. A healthy split in opinion is natural, given how everyone has unique tastes, so if they are agreeing with you about practically everything, there’s three possible explanations: 1) They’re spineless, 2) They’re romantically interested in you, or 3) They’re going to explode all of their opinions all over you in a frenzied bloodlust, something often characterised in TV by the spineless, overly-romantic types.
If you are both disagreeing about stuff regularly then that’s good, as it means your violent reckoning will just come a little later. People like to claim that “there are no wrong answers” in the brainstorming stages of development, but when your partner suggests “Alien Ducklings” in an early meeting and later, during the 7th draft, becomes fixated on working them into your gritty Western, the problem is exponentially exacerbated. From the moment you spurn his idea, you’ve made an enemy, and that enemy is a ticking time bomb.
4) They Are Probably A Better Writer Than You
I’m not saying that you’re not amazing, but these are competitive times that we writers live in, and, frankly, if you’re facing competition as early as the ideas phase then there is simply nothing sacred within the profession to call your own. Ask yourself – Do you really think that your writing partner will keep your name on the title page if they have been instrumental in your sudden, mysterious disappearance? Your embittered ghost will be forced to haunt the movie theatre where the seminal “Ghost Croc VS Inter-Dimensional Mallard” plays on repeat without your name in the credits.
Even if your partner does keep you around for another draft or two (script, not drink), you’ll have to bear their subtle smugness and inherent “talent” when they come up with the film’s winning twist (turns out the Mallard was also a ghost). You may not admit it, but this deflates you as much as it inflates them, fuelling the confidence with which they’ll eventually stage your “goat / cliff” accident. At this stage, your partner is a God in comparison with you, and you’re now left with no choice but to even the playing field. Especially because...
5) They’ve Noticed All These Things About You Too
Like I said at the start – all entirely hypothetical...
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.
James Cottle, a Scriptwriting Mega-Scholar™, is now a real world Freelance Writer, in between intense bouts of Script Reading. Follow him on Twitter @AntiScriptBlog, like Anti-Scriptwriting on Facebook, and share this blog if you want his opinions on your work to be completely unbiased. This is an advice blog that doesn't always provide advice, but is nevertheless a forum for entertaining writers - James is not liable if you misinterpret his very mixed messages. New posts every Saturday!
Saturday, 4 October 2014
Wednesday, 1 October 2014
The Female Character Paradox - Why Every "Solution" Leads to More Problems
I’m going to shock you like a sadistic sentient potato clock
– writing female characters is not hard. Or, at least, not any harder than
writing male characters. If you have been raised with even the slightest appreciation
for women’s significance within society, then, honestly, there shouldn’t be an
issue. But for many struggling scribes, there is. This is not due to a lack of
respect though – it’s more to do with their points of reference, i.e. other
movies / TV, rather than reality. Therefore, many writing gurus offer “quick
fixes” and “story solutions” that, I’d wager, don’t particularly hold up under
scrutiny.
1) Write Them As A
Man First
This is the tip that bothers me the most, cropping up in various reputable advice blogs, as well as a few rather boring dreams. Ordering you to build a male character from the ground up and then just swap the names and pronouns is the equivalent of saying “write your giraffe character as a gecko first, because geckos are far more relatable”. What’s even the point of turning them into a woman at that stage when they possess zero inherently female attributes?
This is the tip that bothers me the most, cropping up in various reputable advice blogs, as well as a few rather boring dreams. Ordering you to build a male character from the ground up and then just swap the names and pronouns is the equivalent of saying “write your giraffe character as a gecko first, because geckos are far more relatable”. What’s even the point of turning them into a woman at that stage when they possess zero inherently female attributes?
I get that we’re exposed to men (not like that) on our
screens far more regularly because they’re prime sources of conflict (e.g.
competitive rivalries, selfish tendencies, terrible hair, etc.), but women,
whilst not making up the majority of war criminals, murderers and schoolyard ruffians,
are arguably FAR more interesting, because of the conflict they face almost everywhere they go, every day of
their lives.
2) Give Them A Flaw
Flawed characters are relatable, because we are all flawed
(except maybe me). That’s not the issue here. Notice how I said “A Flaw”, as
in, singular? This reductive method of characterisation might stand up in the Teletubbies
(e.g. the metrosexual one and then the other three), but a single flaw doesn’t
endear us to characters in modern narratives. Why? Because the writer uses that
flaw to death, making what originally seemed to be a kooky quirk into an
insufferable stain upon the narrative table cloth.
Bottom line – We don’t want to see a character making the
same mistakes over and over, because it’s more fun to see them making new
mistakes when they finally think they’ve learnt something. Common singular flaws
I’ve noticed attached to female characters are – controlling, nagging,
obsessive, insecure, bitchy, psychotic, narcissistic, dumb, slutty, incompetent,
etc. Look at that list and remove the ones you think could be applied to a male
character. I’d bet that all the remaining ones involve how women apparently treat men. Whilst I’m not saying some of
these singular traits should be completely abolished, because there’s a tiny
degree of truth within them, blending them with other more rounded flaws can lead
to more realistic depictions.
3) Make Them
Infallible
On the flip side, some would say that avoiding these flaws
will ultimately make for a more likeable female character. While all your male
characters are screwing around, getting into trouble and bonding over their
shared experiences, the female character who is just simply better than the others (often “the voice
of reason” or “the straight woman”) barely faces any resistance, and glides
through the obstacles, putting all the others to shame. Overcoming obstacles
easily doesn’t make us like you... We want to see people put through the
ringer, struggling with all their might against [INSERT ANTAGONISTIC FORCE
HERE], because we’re masochists like that.
I’ve had the pleasure of knowing some truly amazing women in
my lifetime, which, considering that women outnumber men in the global
population, isn’t a stretch to believe. Also unsurprisingly, I’ve longingly pined
over a select few, practically worshipping them through my thick rose-tinted
spectacles, wondering how I could ever match up to such paragons of humanity. The
reality, of course, is that they’re not perfect, and their side of the “love
interest” coin is not just a case of her “waiting for the right guy to swoop
her off her feet”. I tried the feet swooping thing before, and it definitely
didn’t go down well.
4) Give Them
Narrative Agency
This is actually a good piece of advice that, more than
anything, suggests a flaw in the manner in which we tell stories. Say you’ve
got a killer concept about a serial killer who only kills people conceptually,
and now you’re building your characters into the story. You come to your female
lead, most likely the one to somehow make it to the end, because everyone else
is just slightly more inept at living than her. Now you’re told to “give her
narrative agency”, suggesting that, up until this point, the story has been
happening, and that, up until this point, she’s been just sort of... there.
Your character, no matter what gender, needs to be making
things happen, rather than have things happening to them. That’s Writing #201 (#101
is to be able to spell affectively well). All too often, this advice is
interpreted as “give the woman the key to unlocking the man’s hidden potential
and overcoming his final obstacle”, or “kill the woman so that the man is
scarred forever, even after he succeeds”. This is really just furthering the
man’s story through the woman, rather than having her actively changing the
balance of power, either for better or worse.
5) Write Them Without
Gender Being A Factor
It’s clear that point #1 was probably the most useless
example on this list, and, in fairness, to the writing community, we’ve tried
to offer a gender-less approach as a solution. Just writing “characters” is
definitely a strong way to build story, as they operate as the breeze-blocks upon
which your fictitious conservatory is constructed. But to completely remove gender from the equation is omitting a
fundamental proportion of what makes a person a person.
Think of a truly great iconic film character from the
endless passages of time, male or female. Now, in your head, flip the gender of
the character. How much does that change the story? It probably won’t seem to
be much at first, but think of the way the other characters react to that person.
Think of how that person might change their approach to overcoming obstacles. Think
of how we, the audience, would see that character. Think of how they’re never
going to give you up, never going to let you down, and how I just rick-rolled
you in your mind.
So what’s the
solution?
I guess the point of all this is to say that there isn’t a
single method of “fixing” a female character, in the same way that there isn’t
a single method of building a male one. It really all comes down to not
spending your time worrying about it, and writing what feels natural to reality
rather than what you’ve already seen in the media. If you’re not a fan of
women, then don’t bother writing. Ever. Now, I don’t pretend to understand
women, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know what they can be like. Interested to
hear your thoughts on this, ladies. Call me...
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, 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...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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 wont 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.
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