"Story, Story, Story"

a published article by Craig Kellem

MY FAVORITE "TRUTH" ABOUT SCREENPLAYS: If the story doesn't work, then the script won't work. If at any given time, your reader is not wondering, "What's going to happen next?"-you're in trouble. My experience as a script doctor/script consultant is that 90% of all problems are story based.

Let me put it this way - you can have great characters, it can be funny as hell or dripping with heartfelt pathos, you can create terrific scenes, you can have all the juicy bells and whistles, but, if the story doesn't make sense, if it's off, if it's hard to follow, then the script is not going to work and you're D.O.A.

One thing that is very prevalent in the majority of professional scripts is that, at minimum they make sense. The reason? Perhaps these writers have been beaten up enough by producers and agents to fear the infamous and sorry words, "I don't get it." Perhaps after many bruises, they've made it their business to employ a little birdie who sits on their shoulder constantly whispering, ''are they going to understand this?" "How can I say this using fewer words?" "Is there a stage direction that will give it more clarity?" The ultimate test, "Would Uncle Charlie understand this after three Buds?"

These writers know the consequences of ambiguity. A producer spending his or her time desperately trying to figure what's happening is not going to be a friend in court.

WHAT'S A GOOD STORY? There are many definitions. Mine would be, "something that rings true, that's important and is worth telling."
It's also has to be ABOUT something. Even the silliest lowball comedy should have a reason to be.

"Of course," you may say.

Well, I've read plenty of scripts lacking theme and the experience is often equivalent to having had a big meal and still feeling hungry. Experience has told me that SOUL is missing.

STORIES ARE COMPOSED OF SCENES, perhaps a hundred in a given screenplay. They serve two purposes: to further the plot and also to provide intrinsic entertainment value.

Good writers slave over the creation of scenes, big and small. It's not enough that the sensational climax is intact, or that the heavy-duty love scene or the ultimate confrontation hit the mark. All scenes need to be layered, well crafted, deeply thought out, and should emanate from a place of both inspiration and sound strategy.

WHAT'S A BAD STORY? I heard this definition somewhere-- a bad story is a "long lie that after a while, even you don't believe."

How does that happen? How do well-intentioned writers end up writing long lies? It usually happens when we don't spend the time doing the spade work, when we haven't thought things through AND WHEN INSTANT GRATIFICATION TO GET THE SCRIPT FINISHED DOMINATES THE PROCESS.

Here's my theory on this,
--writers love to write and hate to prepare. Proof: go to any writers' building on studio lots in California. You'll find that writers are rarely in their offices unless they're actually writing something. The reason being: you don't get writer's "high" doing prep work, you get writer's "low." So they lurk in the hallways and "brainstorm" with their fellow discontents.

Reasons for hating prep work-

• We don't "get it" right away.
  
• We think that we should.
  
• It depresses us.

   

Besides jumping the gun on the actual writing, how else do writers get off track?

Some personal favorites: (not necessarily in order of importance)

• Wanting to be hip, they write their script in "lingo." Mumbles, half sentences, parsed words. They think they're being cool. Be cool. But we owe it to our audience to be understandable.
  
• Writers, who are junkies for violence, contraptions and tech/gimmickry often forget to tell the tale. There's an audience for hardware and fists but it must be mounted on the solid spine of a functional story.
  
• There are those who have the gift of humor. They write funny. But the joke is not enough. They have not taken the time to figure out the tale. Humor will only enhance a script. Whether consciously or unconsciously, the ball that the audience is following is the "STORY BALL" not the "joke ball."
  
• Often, a hot sounding idea just doesn't have the legs to be an entire movie. When this faulty avenue is pursued, all kinds of unpleasant things can happen. Stories begin to fizzle. I've read scripts where writers start new stories in the third act because they've run out of story in the second act. Doesn't work.
  
• Writers can be too truthful. Yes, that's right. Some writers feel that they must tell the whole truth and nothing but. They fail to realize that movies are not real life. Real life is filled with boring passages, repetition and ambiguity. A good story should seem like real life, and it may embrace the footprints of real experience, but it's shaped by theatricality. "Simple reality is not enough, you need a touch more."
  
• Writers run short on patience and begin to contrive, often throwing in something sensational or salacious. The temptation is very keen to "fill in" when you run short on solid ideas. But as someone once said, "the moment you throw something in that doesn't belong in the story solely for the sake of appealing to some imagined reader, who you think wants a bit more sex or sentimentality, at that moment your story dies a little and becomes more of a lie."
  
• Another unhappy staple of disaster is the protagonist who goes through Hell but never seems to break an honest sweat. This happens a lot. Intense pressure on your hero in an atmosphere of conflict will help keep your story mobile and entertaining. Keep checking to make sure that this in fact is happening.
  
• "Petty" misunderstoods, sloppy "little" mistakes and misdemeanors which will soon add up to felonies and rejection.

There are additional pitfalls. Many writers just haven't developed the skills to properly execute a script (yet).
Examples:

• Gross exposition, particularly in the beginning of the script where most of the exposition normally is slotted.
  
• Lack of economy. There are many writers who think that they have to tell you everything about everything. Great ideas get buried in massive verbiage. Notice how economically written most pro scripts are. Less is usually better.
  
• Writing "on the nose." (ie: stating the obvious)
  

WHERE DO GREAT STORIES COME FROM?

Certainly not from willfulness and marketing schemes.

It comes from the best part of you.

Author/teacher Julia Cameron puts it this way, "Art is an act of tuning in and dropping down the well. It is as though all the stories, painting, music performances in the world live just under the surface of our normal consciousness. Like an underground river, they flow through us as a stream of ideas that we can tap down into ...when I teach screen writing I remind my students that their movie already exists in its entirety. Their job is to listen for it, watch it with their mind's eye and write it down."

The above reminds me of this little axiom---"No persistent image should be ignored, especially if it touches you."

Ghost and The Sixth Sense obviously came from a ferocious spiritual consciousness.

Thelma and Louise emanated from a passionate feminism reflecting both rage and reality.

The Godfather was born in a hot place from a writer who knew the terrain. It obviously both fascinated and repelled him.

What are your inspirations? What do you know about?

Now the real work begins. Where do you start? Where do you end? What happens in the middle? Who are the characters? Ask yourself, how can I tell this story really well? How can I create scenes that are as memorable as the overall story I'm writing? How willing am I to resist actually writing the script until I'm ready?

Some may disagree with the notion that the story in a screenplay is always the "thread" that carries the day. I understand. A recent e-mail that I received reflects the nervousness of those who fear that the "rules" of story structure might inhibit their creativity.

"I have have been reading a lot about structure lately. There sure are some conflicting schools of thought. What I was wondering was...Do you think that every screenplay absolutely, positively has to have some kind of act structure capped off with a suspenseful ending? Or, is it enough if you take the reader into the world of the characters, show life from their POV, and how they react to one another, ending with their stories simply having been told? (of course in the most entertaining way possible)"

So the real issue may be this--Is unconventional storytelling and the traditional "rule" of story structure mutually exclusive? I think not. What I really believe is, if you play your cards "right" you can have it both ways. But, deft story planning must be part and parcel to the equation.

Creating story is (among other things), an act of organization. There are other organizational prerequisites for writing a script, all of which lead back to story management.

The pool - (squirreling). Most material comes to us in fragmented images. You have a notion, perhaps the main concept. Maybe you have a few scenes in mind -The Big Moment, The Showdown, The Climax. Let's say that you're also beginning to get a sense of your characters. But, at this stage of the game, there is usually a preponderance of holes and spaces. There is work to be done and, in this "neighborhood," the devil's definitely in the details.

My advice, start slapping down your ideas on index cards. Take your time. Scenes, pieces of scenes, possibilities for scenes - jot them all down. Put them on the wall. Live with them, tweak, adjust, hone and develop them. Co-exist with their incompleteness. Be content with your work in progress.

Now, wait for your subconscious to create new ideas. When the subconscious begins to take your artistic intentions seriously, it will begin to deliver additional ideas and insights. This is a great place to be. A good sign is when it starts to flow with such velocity that it begins to dominate your affairs. Like when you're driving your car and your mind suddenly begins to flood with goodies. The ideas are potent. You don't trust your memory and the risk of forgetting terrifies you. So you find yourself tearing apart your glove compartment, desperately searching for a piece of paper and a pencil while trying to steer at the same time. You're lucky if you find an edge of a road map to make your creative deposits, but it is worth it because you're flowing. Holes begin to fill in. Scenes start to grow and take form. You're moving!

Now, there are scenes and there are scenes. Let's talk about this. Scenes serve two purposes: to further the plot and also to provide intrinsic entertainment value. So, it's essential ON A CONCEPTUAL LEVEL to "load up" your intended scene to such an extent that when you finally get to write it in your script, it will be next to impossible not to write it well. This is because you're now working with a stacked deck.

An example of what I'm talking about (ie: a "transitional" scene which evolved into a humdinger) was in the movie City Slickers when Billy Crystal and the boys were riding back to the ranch. As stated, what could have been just a "filler" scene was not (because the writers waited for the extra magic to hatch). So the idea was born for the guys not only to make the trip back but also to do something really interesting. What resulted was an effective and potent chat in which they described the best and worst days of their lives. What a fine concept. They confessed to each other, bonded and fascinated us all at the same time. The "punch line" of the scene was when one of them told a touching story and concluded that what had happened on that particularly significant day amounted to both the best AND the worst day of his life. My point here is that a scene this well conceived would be difficult not to write effectively.

Here's a litmus test for scene creation: Do you have a better idea or a better way to do it? Is there any way you can tweak it, make it cuter, turn up the heat, spruce it up? Anything else you can pack into the scene?

And, ask yourself this: Could I show this scene to someone, on its own, and feel confident that it will "work" on its own intrinsic merit." If that's not the case, then you need to work it over until you can.

So, you have an idea and you are working on the "pool." The bank is beginning to bulge. What's next? How about sprinkling the projected scenes over our old friend, the three act structure. What belongs in the set-up? (Act one) What fits into the actual telling of the story? (Act Two). What scene should be placed in the "how it all turns out" portion? (Act Three). Also, can act two be divided into two acts to give it even more shape and direction?

Why all of these routines and road signs? That's easy. Screenplays are big and unruly. You can get lost in their breadth. Three or four acts help to ground it, make it more bite sized. Additionally, it also gives you at least three moments in the script that are going to be extra climatic (ie: the end of act one; the end of act two (part one); the end of act two (part two) etc. Finally, it gives you something to go for. (For this reason TV movies can be much easier to write than features because they require seven acts (that's six act breaks - plot twisting, climatic, breathless moments to look forward to). Think of each of them as an oasis.

Now what, - break it down even further. If you were designing the Empire State Building, you would have separate plans for every component of the building. The plumbing, the electrical system, the elevators. Each would be carefully designed in a linear fashion. How could it be any other way? If elements were not clearly defined, individually planned and developed, disaster could strike. Same with a screenplay.

So let me teach you a card trick of the index variety.

Let's say that you have a pretty good sense of your story trajectory. And your scene inventory is bulging with juicy possibilities (you've waited patiently for optimal growth). But you're loaded with subplots, tangents, "runners" (ie: very short subplots) and the like. And you're not sure it will all hang together. It's massive. It's hard to fully comprehend the totality of your creation.


Suggestions:

1. Break up your story into individual (sub) stories via cards. (blue cards for the "A" story. Green cards for the main subplot and so forth) (note: story overlap at this stage is fine)

2. Now, for each story, write down the main plot points. (ie: a subplot might use nineteen cards; a "runner" four; the main story thirty etc).

3. Now each story is layed out, sporting its own individual "spine."

Now the test: Look at each story on a microscopic level. Does it have a beginning, middle and end? Is it fat or skinny or just right? Is it balanced? Does it have a surprise or two? Does it have a pay-off? Has it fulfilled whatever thematic idea you're going for? Can you tell the story to someone clearly, confidently and without their eyes glazing over? Is it ready?

The magic of index cards is that LESS is better. Writers often resort to hearty rationalization during the difficult period of preparing their script. The are surrounded by so much material that, when difficulty arrives, they always have their "greatest moments" to fall back on. Thus, it can be both healthy and delightfully frightening when you take your story down to the level of naked plot points. No hilarious jokes inhibit your clarity. You don't have those five "can't miss" pages to admire and soothe you.

This process is like looking at yourself in an unflattering mirror on a bad hair day. You're looking at your B story. It has seventeen scenes. Each scene is described in only a few words There's no fat to inhibit the exam. It either works or it doesn't. YOU CAN SEE IT!!"

After launching this process, you will have various horizontal arcs of each and every story, large and small draped proudly on your wall, subject to scrutiny and adjustment. Like a general you get to inspect your troops, lined up, out in the open, readiness or lack there of apparent. Your whole movie will be in front of your eyes. And you will be able to see it as if you had x-ray vision. The brown cards are Joe's story; the yellow cards are Joanne's and the "runner" is on the white cards that you threw in. And there's the act breaks--tent poles indicating plot twists -beginning, middle and end. What a sense of orchestration and order.

Some may balk at the lack of literary Bohemianism to this approach. But is a philharmonic orchestra leader lacking in artistic acumen when she/he examines the arrangements of the string section, and then the brass section and so forth. I think not.

Story maladies can dramatically affect the potential of a screenplay; they're definitely the usual suspects. When a producer sits down to read the script and something is wrong, dollars to donuts it's story related and could have been prevented by deft preparation and scrutiny on the assembly line.

Once you have all your ducks in order, the big moment has arrived. It's time to put all of the cards together in one big train.

There's your movie!

(A tip, make sure each story is on different colored cards so that you can see how each story lays out individually within the train).

Now, there is one other great asset to this approach. Once the script is written, if something is not working, you have a blueprint to access in your hunt for clues, a real opportunity to find a fault in the original design. What an asset this can be in identifying the culprit.

It will pay off.

The following, Sonny Corleone's story from the Godfather is an example of an individual arc.

Sonny
--During the wedding reception, Sonny notices some men copying license plate numbers in the parking lot. He becomes furious and approaches them, then realizes that they are FBI agents and he can't make them leave. He spits on their car, and on his way back to the party he grabs their camera and smashes it, then throws them some money on the ground.

--Sonny whispers into the ear of the maid of honor, Lucy, then walks away. She follows a minute later. Sonny's wife turns around and realizes that he is gone, and looks dejected. Meanwhile, in the house, the young girl follows Sonny upstairs. The Don tells Tom Hagen to get Sonny. Tom knocks on a door, and inside we see Sonny having sex with the girl. Tom tells him to come down and laughs.

--In the meeting between the Family and Sollozzo, Sonny slips up and show his enthusiasm for the dru deal. After Sollozzo leaves, the Don scolds Sonny for being so stupid.

--After the Don has been shot, Sonny gets a call at home telling him that Tom Hagen has been captured and that he will return with Sollozzo's new proposition, and Sonny is advised to listen to Hagen.

--In a meeting with the caporegimes and Mike, Sonny tells Clemenza to kill the Don's bodyguard, Paulie, for betraying the Don.

--We learn that Sonny has started a war by killing Bruno Tattaglia in retaliation for the attempts on his father's life.

--In a meeting with Mike, Tom, and the caporegimes, Sonny tells Mike about Sollozzo's offer to meet with him, but says that he doesn't want to negotiate any longer. Mike offers to kill Sollozzo and McKluskey.

--Sonny leaves Lucy's apartment, kissing her on the way out, and is followed out of the building by several bodyguards. He goes to pick up Connie at her apartment, but when he arrives he sees that Carlo had been beating her. Sonny becomes irate and runs out of the apartment. He drives to the bookmaking operation that Carlo runs and beats him mercilessly in the street.

--Sonny's mother hands him the phone with a crying Connie on the other line. Knowing that Carlo has beat her again, Sonny runs out of the house and speeds away, followed by bodyguards in another car. He is gunned down at a tollbooth in an obvious ambush.


Published in two parts in
ScreenTalk - The Journal of International
Screenwriting Vol. 1, #6 -- 1999 and
Screenwriting Vol. 2, #2 -- 2000.
http://www.screentalk.org/ezine.htm)
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