So, What Do you think?
By Michael Gill

One of the more astounding facets of writers I’ve observed over the years is asking for a critique, coverage, feedback, a professional opinion, even paying script analysts, then completely disregarding the advice they receive. It’s somewhat like seeing a doctor, who in turn provides a diagnosis for a mild or even serious condition, and ignoring the fact that you might need further treatment.

Before you get up in arms, consider that all writers, at one time or another, fall victim to this same trap.

There is a great deal of advice floating around from other writers, writers’ groups, agents, producers, readers, etc. Some of it is technically and creatively solid. Discerning the ones you should actually listen to is sometimes more difficult than it might first appear. It has to do with a comfort level each writer must establish for himself or herself.

For the technical aspects of screenwriting, some listen to Trottier, while others follow the letter of the law from Goldman, McKee, Fields or Deemer. Formatting is often left to a computer program (Final Draft, ScriptThing, etc.), or freeware/shareware templates for Word (certainly the more economical way to go), yet the chat rooms on the internet still pick up their fair share of "what’s the correct margin for this or that?" and the inevitable series of "How Do I’s."

I lived in Colorado for a little over ten years and when I wanted to see a movie, I would check out the reviews of one particular columnist at one of the local papers. This reviewer and I were clearly polar opposites when it came to our respective tastes in movies; reasons to like or dislike a film, plot strengths and weaknesses, performances from leading and supporting actors, dialogue, cinematography, and on down the line. If the reviewer liked a film, my thoughts of it were less than favorable and vice versa. But, there was a level of trust or perhaps it’s better described as a divergent constancy of opinions. I knew what to expect from the reviewer and then I would move rapidly in the opposite direction.

Here’s the rub...you are not your own worst critic. It’s a noble thought but completely unfounded. You will always be at least a little partial to your own projects. It’s human nature.

As a writer, you owe it to yourself to seek out honest reviews from individuals whose opinions are valuable to you, AS A WRITER. Chances are, Mom and Dad are going to love whatever you put down on paper. They are your parents. It’s their job. Will they provide an accurate assessment of your screenplay? Remember all that refrigerator art from first and second grade? Probably not.

There are all kinds of websites and hard addresses geared toward providing feedback. Some of them are free and some will cost you all the money you’ve made since you graduated film school, while others float inconspicuously in the middle. Beware - Cost is not a barometer of good, solid feedback.

I know of quite a few writers who use the eye of their agent, manager, fellow writers, trusted friends or those who are English teachers or librarians, even spouses (yes, some are honest, possibly to a fault while still encouraging), not only for the purpose of catching typos and grammatical snafus, but as a gauge by which a writer can measure the value of their work. For clarity’s sake, value is defined here as the degree to which a screenplay meets or exceeds "expectations." In the land of Hollywood, "value" and "expectations" fluctuate constantly.

If you’ve written a comedy and no one is laughing as they read, you may have dropped the ball.

If you’ve written any genre and the reader, with the turn of the final page asks, "What’s it about?" it’s safe to assume - you missed the mark.

For screenplays, there is more to it than just grammar, laughs, or a point. I have read some wonderful scripts that were wholly and completely uncinematic. The story was solid, the characters finely and delicately portrayed, dialogue economical and honed to a crisp razor edge, and a narrative well crafted. But there was something about them that just screamed "NOVEL!" I’ve written one of those myself. It wasn’t necessarily wonderful, but it was certainly out of its element as a screenplay. Unfortunately, I reached that conclusion shortly before the agent who requested it, but after it was already in the mail.

Why do writers dismiss advice and constructive criticism? I honestly don’t know. Maybe because they just don’t want to hear the honest answer to the literary equivalent of "Does this outfit make me look fat?" Maybe it’s pride? Maybe the critique requires a complete overhaul of the story and characters, or worse ~ abandoning the script altogether. I’ve failed to heed advice or criticism in the past, and it cost me on one occasion in particular, the details of which I won’t go into here.

The advantage writers have over, say - actors, is that when a producer turns down a screenplay, it’s not personal. It’s not about you. They don’t even know you. It’s about the script. I know great guys who can’t write their way out of a paper bag. I also know screenwriters working in Hollywood who are the biggest ***holes you’d ever care to meet. But they write and they write well. When a producer or casting director turns down an actor it has got to feel personal (too tall, not tall enough, too short, too thin, not thin enough, accent, no accent, too ethnic). You name it. Often, new writers take critiques far too personally.

How does a writer overcome this? They should realize that, with very, very few exceptions, they are too close to the project every step of the way to detect and banish flaws. It also helps if the writer understands that he or she does not know everything there is to know, about screenwriting or anything else. That doesn’t mean you take the word of every Tom or Dick in Hollywood. I am advantaged by having a wife who doesn’t let things slip and also a long time friend who happens to be honest while still encouraging.

Some helpful items are:

Personally, I’m of the mind that studios should have a "Paid Jerk" (that being the official title). This antithesis of a "Yes Man" would be on a five or ten year assignment with a studio and his or her job would be to research as necessary and shoot holes in movies prior to and during the process, without having to worry about his or her job or relatively modest salary. The Paid Jerk would sit in on script reads, watch the dailies with the director and producers, and pretty much be involved in every aspect of the film making process as a voice of reason, although the title would still be Paid Jerk. Suggestions could be as simple as "That doesn’t work," "Does that sort of thing really happen?," "You went too far with that one," "They didn’t have those back then," to "Don’t let a child yell out ‘Yippee’ in a film – ever!" You don’t have to think too hard about movies to realize that some studios could really benefit from this addition to their staff.

So, if you know of a studio that could use that kind of criticism, give them my name and e-mail address. For a relatively modest salary, I’d be more than happy to accept the position.

In short, don’t be too hard on yourself. We have people to do that for you. And don’t ever be afraid to Listen. You might just learn something truly valuable to your career.

Have at it and good luck.

This article originally appeared in the American Accolades Newsletter, 2000.  Reprinted with author's permission.

Michael Gill is a screenwriter, freelance writer, poet and artist. If you wish to contact him, send e-mails to boshent2001@yahoo.com.

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