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ENOUGH,
ALREADY! [© Pamela Jaye Smith, 2002.
www.mythworks.net I know this is probably heretical and I could be run out of
Hollywood, forbidden to buy or sell any books, tapes, or programs on
screenwriting, and barred from ever having a gin and tonic at the Consultants’
Club, but I gotta tell ya-- sometimes it’s just time to quite rewriting and
let “Fade Out” be “The End.” You may have heard of Development Hell, where a story is
optioned (often for little or no money) and then undergoes a dizzying series of
rewrites at the behest of the producers, development execs, investors,
marketers, director, actor, the producer’s girlfriend.... You may actually have been or now be in Development Hell.
My sympathies. And my wishes
for a good speedy flow to approval, a green light and production. The whole situation is a sort of good-news bad-news joke.
The good news about this type of collaborative creative process is that
lots of people get to participate; the bad news is that lots of people get to
participate. More bad news is that
often some of them may not know much about story, or have a really different
idea from you about how the story should go. Writing scripts is radically different than writing a stage
play, which by the rules of that craft cannot be changed by anyone but the
writer. Not one jot, not one title.
The playwright types in “The End” and it truly is the end.
The novel is the creation of one mind, with some input from editors, but
less and less of that these days. Most
musical compositions are fairly solitary creations, except for garage bands,
musicals, and Chinese symphonies wrought by a People’s Committee.
Most fine art is the result of one person’s vision.
But by its very nature writing a script to be shot demands input from a
number of people who are concerned with budgets, schedules, market surveys,
ratings, talent availability, and all the other essential elements.
And that’s okay, up to a point. A committee is a cul-de-sac
down which ideas are lured and then quietly strangled. --Barnett Cocks The point at which it stops being okay is when changes are
being made just to be making changes or being made to give someone a sense of
participation, or being made to make someone else just another bit more money.
Often story changes are made by people who’ve paid other writers,
consultants or teachers to make suggestions and God forbid you should have
wasted your money. Too often those
changes may well follow the latest Hollywood fad but will not be organic and
won’t really help the story. We’ve all read scripts and seen films that look like
they’ve been assembled by Edward Scissorhands under the direction of a mob of
blind idiots. Sometimes you can map
out when there was a regime change at the studio, a new writer, or a new
producer by the way the tone of the story inexplicably shifts.
Often you just know there are missing scenes that bolstered a story point
but they got lost in the shuffle and are lying on the editing room floor.
Or these days, are languishing as bypassed bytes in an Avid machine.
And sometimes you can intuit that the writer went to a seminar and
learned the proper Hollywood format for a script and has forced the story into
that paradigm, whether or not it works for that story. The point is that if you get too caught up in the creative process
you may not end up with a creative product.
Let’s take a look at how that works. [The Fat Lady is
leaving her hotel.] The
Creative Process The
Mystery Schools teach that creativity is a four part process consisting of
tension-charge-discharge-release. This
pattern applies whether it’s the sex act, gestating a baby, planting a garden,
building a house or writing a script. The
first part, Tension or focus, is when purpose is set.
It’s your moment of inspiration, the moment of conception, planting the
seed. Part
two, Charge, takes the longest time and is when you build up the energy by
gathering in all the appropriate items to build the item, be it a baby, a
carrot, a house or a script. Here’s
where trouble most often sets in. People
fall in love with the process. They
enjoy being the center of attention. They get a charge from the thrill of coordinating or
controlling other people’s creativity. Part
three, the Discharge, is the delivery of the product. It’s the birth of the baby, the harvesting of the garden,
the completion of the house, the “Fade Out” on the last page of the script.
Part
four, the Release, is about relaxation. Take
a deep breath and get ready to start all over.
This is also the most dangerous phase because people can get off track
here since they are now without immediate purpose.
Think of post-partum depression or post-production blues.
If you’re not careful you can go into a slough of despond from which it
is very difficult to extricate yourself. The
remedy for this is to begin working on the next project before you get to part
three of the project you’re on so that when it’s delivered and you come to
the release and relaxation phase you can truly release it, relax, celebrate the
completion and move gracefully and enthusiastically on to the next project. What
we’re talking about here in this article is people getting stuck in part two
of the cycle, why and how it happens and what we might do about it.
[The Fat Lady is riding in the limo to the Opera House.] When
we do it to ourselves: Perhaps
it’s part of our desire for immortality that sometimes we just can’t let go
of our created realities, i.e. our stories.
When it’s over it’s a little death of sorts, and not the French petit
morts, which is much to be desired. (Petit morts is French for the
‘little death’ of the orgasm.) Perhaps
it’s like parents at the first day of school: you just really don’t want to
let your precious child out into that cold cruel world. Those
who are perfectionists or Type A personalities all know that it can’t go out
until it’s perfect, so maybe just one more tweaking.... May I die like a dog rather than try to rush through
even one sentence before it is perfectly ripe.
Madame Bovary, Gustave
Flaubert Lots
of writers and writing partnerships are working out relationship issues under
the guise of their stories. This
can make for really fabulous scripts with lots of passion and psychological
integrity. Or... I once read a
script by a client who had just broken up with his girlfriend and the pages of
his script practically dripped venom, particularly when any of the characters
were talking about “so-called love,” sex, or “wimmen.”
This fellow usually wrote snappy dialogue and quirky scenes but his dark
mood had poisoned what was an otherwise good story. Don’t know if he ever did a re-write after he got a new
girlfriend, but boy, was that an example of art imitating life. Some
script consultants deal with this psychological aspect of writing and can help
people resolve the issues and move on to another story or partnership. But
remember what Francois Truffaut said when you’re tempted to work out your
inner angst through stories: “Airing one’s dirty linen never makes for a
masterpiece.” [The Fat Lady is
making her way to the dressing room.] When
others do it to us: Development hell is mainly caused by everyone even remotely
involved seeming to embody what Lucifer is said to have said by John Milton in
his Paradise Lost, “Better to reign in hell than serve in heav’n.” Everybody wants to validate their position and justify
their job. In order to do this they
must make a significant contribution to the project.
In order to do this they need to show a changed character, an altered
scene, a revised plot progression. Some of the most invasive entities are fellow writers,
producers, and investors. This can
happen whether or not they are paying you to change your story, since what some
of these folks offer is the opportunity to see your story on the screen. Unfortunately there seem to be some unscrupulous people in
this world who will take advantage of others and charge them lots of money to
make suggestions about their stories, which may or may not be valuable.
Fortunately most of the story consultants I know are very ethical and are
truly dedicated to helping you perfect your art through their tools of the
craft; but you would always do well to keep both an open mind and a skeptical
mind about anyone who’s offering you commentary on creativity, for a price.
It is, after all, a subjective thing and the very best artists, as time
has proven, are often those who go against the common wisdom. In researching this article I also came across a lot of
ludicrous and pitiful stories about writing and rewriting for supposed
supporters and funders. Note the use of the word “supposed.” Turn that hero into a heroine?
Set the story in 18th century France instead of 21st
century Mars? It’s too dark,
let’s make it a comedy instead. Hey,
no problem. Right?
Right.... Particularly these days when independent films are all the
rage and there is a real democratization of creativity, many people who have no
idea how to actually craft a story are exec producing, funding, and even--
gasp!-- directing and writing scripts. The
good news about this is that we can get some pretty innovative, fresh and quirky
ideas. The bad news is that
sometimes they’ve no idea about what or how to write or how to turn their
ideas into something that’ll work in the visual media.
But they have the money. Maybe.
And they want another rewrite. And
so.... There’s
a very large space between concept and reality and it’s usually occupied by
money. [The Fat Lady is
garbed in her breastplate, And
yet – the Director’s Cut: There
are times when we can be grateful that people didn’t let go.
Depending on what you think about the re-do, a number of major motion
pictures have had a second go-round that may finally embody the director’s
intent, as opposed to the suits’ and marketers’ intents.
Blade Runner, Close Encounters, and Apocalypse Now Redux come
to mind. I’ve
heard stories that director Sam Peckinpah was notorious for not being able to
let go. Supposedly he’d keep
reworking the material, do a jillion takes on a scene, edit and re-edit a
sequence until the studio demanded a final cut.
Fans might call that simply seeking perfection at all costs.
See The Wild Bunch for a fine example of holding on paying off. The game isn’t over till
it’s over. [The Fat Lady is
on stage.] How
to tell it’s happening: You’ve
worked for hours getting all the interlocking details of a scene sequence just
right and the next day your writing partner bounces into the meeting with
“exciting new ideas” sparked by having just seen a movie, or read a book on
writing, or gotten feedback from someone else.
I know a couple of writers who, in reaction to this situation, forbid
themselves from seeing films while they’re working on a new script. Another
way to tell you’re not listening to the Fat Lady singing is that you’ve just
written “13th Draft” on the title page and wonder if you should
re-register it with the WGA.
I’ll be back.
Terminator Or
perhaps that producer who has a free option now wants just a few more tweakings
for a potential investor, or a slight rewrite to plump up one of the minor roles
for an actor she may be able to access. But
most telling of all is that you have not received any money for the rewrites you
are doing. Then,
perhaps you are being paid to rewrite but there is no sign the story is actually
moving closer to being produced. Watch
the movie Mistress with De Niro, Danny Aiello and Martin Landau and see
if it’s like looking in a mirror. [The opera
proceeds and, to quote a post card about opera, Letting
go and moving on: Remember
that no matter how perfect it is, if it’s a script, then there are going to be
many multitudes of changes from your pages to the screen.
It is a collaborative medium, after all. Go
back to your original seed thought. After
any number of rewrites your original concept may have been revised and rewritten
out of all recognition. Sometimes
it’s helpful to go back and read your very first draft.
See what it was that so sparked your interest.
Plug back into that initial inspiration that yanked you out of bed at
three a.m. or almost caused you to crash on the freeway as you jotted down those
seed thoughts. In many people’s legends of previous Ages, the first is
seen as a Golden Age and it goes downhill from there.
Whether it’s the Hopi, Hindu, Mayan, Greek or Teutonic we humans have a
tendency to see where we are as less fabulous than where we were.
Sort of a “grass is greener” of the time line. Oddly enough this doesn’t seem to apply to scripts, where
we tend to keep tinkering, assured somehow that the mere act of tinkering is
bringing about improvements. Often,
yes, it does, but too many times the core inspiration gets lost in the
tinkering. If the grass truly is
greener, get over there and eat it or smoke it. What
does “right” or “good” or “perfect” look like?
In military terms, you have to know what victory looks like so you’ll
know when you reach it and can stop expending precious resources.
Is it getting it down to one hundred and ten pages?
Is it timing your turning points to fall exactly at pages ten, thirty and
ninety? As the author, you get to choose. Up to a point of course, and then the buyers and the audience
choose. But until that point it is
your job as an artist to decide when to say with a flourish, “Finis.” In
the Wisdom Teachings there are two kinds of magic: ceremonial and creative.
Ceremonial magic is just moving around the stuff that already exists (a
la Development Hell). Creative
magic is bringing entirely new things into existence.
The thrill of doing magic, any kind of magic, can often dull our ability
to recognize when something really sparkles and when it’s just okay. The
next time you’re involved in a rewrite, see if you can discern whether it’s
ceremonial or creative magic. Are
you just moving around the bits but not substantially changing anything, or are
you truly making significant and hopefully positive alterations? Just
as some of the finer things in life are an acquired taste (caviar and scotch
come to mind), you can also train your mind and imagination to recognize fine
writing. These days it’s
relatively easy to access screenplays of films.
Read the winners, and not just the award-winners since so much of that is
politics. Read the ones that have
become classics and/or that made tons of money. Read the ones that are hits in other countries.
And
please, for goodness sake, read some actual literature!
One
of the main complaints about current Hollywood fare is that there are no
stories, just recycling, special effects, and ‘sound and fury, signifying
nothing.’ Read the classics of
all cultures. The screenwriter of the current Jennifer Aniston film The Good
Girl said in a radio interview he had read old works about repressed women
and wanted to make a modern Madame Bovary. Read the myths of many cultures (and be amazed at the
striking similarities across time and place).
Read Shakespeare. Read from
the NY Times bestseller list, the Nobel, Booker and Pulitzer literature
prize lists. Read, read, read. One
thing you’ll begin to see when you are reading lots of different works is that
there are thousands and thousands of ways to be creative.
A fear we often have is that we won’t be able to write anything as good
as what we’re working on now, so of course what we’re doing must be done
perfectly. After all, you’re only
as good as your last whatever. Reminding
ourselves that there is a wealth of ideas into which we can tap and from which
we can draw relieves the pressure somewhat and makes it easier to let go of the
one we’re working on. And on, and
on. The
end of perfection is somehow less terrible than the end of imperfection.
You don't have that awful sense of having wasted precious possibilities. [It’s the last
act, the Fat Lady sings, Getting
others to move on: Ask
for money to do the rewrite. Members
of the Writers Guild needn’t worry about this, but for those freelance
writers, there’s nothing like the prospect of spending money to determine the
seriousness of a producer’s intent. And
besides, if they don’t have the resources to pay you for the story and your
writing talent it’s highly unlikely they’ll have the resources to produce
the project, or even to wine and dine prospective financiers, stars and studios.
Why waste your precious time and talent with people who are only playing
at producing? This
is not to say that just because you’re getting paid for it that doing endless
rewrites is now okay. Often it’s
time to simply say to the producer/agent/partner/investor-- “Enough already!
Let’s take the next step.” Often
when you’re in development on a project it’s difficult to move past the
so-called Ring-Pass-Not and go from story creation and reworking to marketing.
It’s a huge step out of that safe secure self-created world of your
story and “how we’ll produce it” into the critical, difficult, unwieldy
and uncontrollable world of the marketplace.
No wonder we’d rather do just one more pass on the story.
But, that doesn’t really get it any closer to being produced, now does
it? There
is a great story about Alexander the Great, Macedonian prince and conqueror of
the known world back in 330 B.C. +/-. For
years Gordius, the king of Phrygia, had his royal wagon fastened to its yolk
with this really complicated rope knot. An oracle had once stated that whoever untied the Gordian
Knot would rule Asia. Many would-be
rulers had tried, but the Knot was way too complicated and it stayed severely
tied. Then cocky young Alex came
along, heard the story, pulled out his sword and simply cut through the Knot.
(And he did go on to rule lots and lots of Asia until his untimely death
at age thirty-three.) The
same story is told slightly differently in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan,
where Captain James Tiberius Kirk, when faced with an insoluble dilemma during
his training at Star Fleet Academy, cunningly rewrote the rules and won the day
in the now-famed Kobyashi Maru maneuver. By
taking a stand (this is presuming of course that you honestly think and feel the
script is really good) you may be able to supply that strength and courage to
others to take the next step. Part
of reclaiming respect for writers could well be for more writers to stand up for
their art and craft. I have a
friend and client who’s a very successful writer of many produced and popular
motion pictures who says, “You just go into a meeting and let them know that
you know what you’re talking about and that for the most part, they
don’t.” Hey, it works for him,
maybe it can work well for the rest of us, too.
Besides, as we all well know and are so often told, ability plus
confidence carries the day. [It’s
over, go home.] In
conclusion So,
enough already! Wrap it up, get over it, get on with it. Don’t delay. Jump right in. Go for it. Carpe diem! Carpe scriptum! For
more information on this topic, buy the seminar tape “Plato to Play-Doh”
available on the websites: http://Hollywoodnet.com/Mythworks/index.html and
at www.mythworks.net See more of Pamela's articles at http://Hollywoodnet.com/Mythworks/index.html |
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