A Devil costume would probably be more appropriate…

Oh, bloggy, I know I’ve been remiss in keeping up with you.  Please forgive me.  I am traveling to London in a couple of days to spend another Thanksgiving with VP Babs and CFO John and my hope is to provide brief-yet-regular posts during my time across the pond.  Between CineStory, the Austin Film Fest, and the American Film Market, the past five weeks have been incredibly busy, but also highly informative.  And this blog offers me a chance to process the wisdom being dumped into my grey matter.

I’ve also been taking another online screenwriting class in which I’ve been revising a script that is very dear to me: THE LEGEND OF DENNY O’DOYLE.  A coming-of-age story set in the 1950s and based on my Dad and his high school friends, the script was one of my first screenwriting efforts.  It’s drifted on and off of my computer screen for a number of years now, but I finally felt like it was time to take another crack at it.

One thing that’s been on my mind since attending all of these writer retreats and panels is the idea of “voice” and how one hones it so that it’s compelling and singular and keeps a reader leaning forward.  My voice has definitely evolved, but I still struggle with making it distinct yet organic.  As I’ve blogged about earlier, I’ve recently been sifting through drastically opposing feedback on AUNT MOLLY’S MELTDOWN, so I thought that script would be a good one to bring to CineStory last month.  One of my mentors there who read it expressed the primary note that my voice was inconsistent – she thought it needed to be weaved throughout the piece in a more cohesive fashion.  <SIGH>  Not what a writer wants to hear.  However, she suggested that the next time I rewrite the script, rather than simply tackle the sections that I think might need work, I actually TRANSCRIBE THE WHOLE THING from start to finish.  That way, even the sections that don’t need revising would still get a thorough kerplunking on the keyboard.

Of course, my extremely lazy proclivities dreaded the idea of retyping every friggin’ word, but I sensed she was onto something with this exercise.  And since DENNY O’DOYLE is on deck and also one of my earliest works, I figured I’d use that script as my first rewriting experiment.

So as I painstakingly revisit each and every description/line of dialogue/syllable, I am analyzing and wordsmithing even the “DLB-approved” scenes.  And guess what?  I tweak and finesse and change all of them – and I know I’m improving them.  I guess I’ve realized how a writer’s voice takes a while to evolve and I know I’m a much stronger writer now than I was when I started DENNY O’DOYLE.  So I need to do the hard work of injecting my progressing voice throughout the entire piece.

Is it a tedious process?  Absolutely.  But it’s also a critical learning tool for me and, hopefully, makes for a stronger script and better writing overall.  Because the one prevalent refrain you hear at all of the panels and roundtables and discussions is that it’s not enough to write good scripts.  You have to write great ones.  And why wouldn’t you want to do that?

The past four weeks have been exhilarating, exhausting, and very much writer focused.  While I was still processing the intensity of the incredible CineStory experience I found myself faced with the Austin Film Festival and Writer’s Conference, which took place this past weekend.  It was another whirlwind of panels, parties, and mouth watering Tex-Mex.  Like last year, I came away from the conference with writerly enlightenment and some wonderful new connections.  The conference offers panels on loglines, pitching, scene transitions, writing comedy, writing action, writing animation, writing as a woman, etc, etc, etc.  It’s a navy shipload of information crammed into four full days.

And then there are the parties.  Oh, the wine-soaked, ice-clinking, volume-eleven parties.  The AFF headquarters is at the historic Driskill Hotel, and the bar there provides a welcome late-night denouement after a vigorous day at the conference.  The room has an understated elegance to it – lots of gold and brown tones along with comfy leather couches – but it also plays to its home state in the form of paintings of Old West scenarios and a huge mounted steer head looking down on the bar’s merrymakers.  Here is where panelists and attendees would collect at the end of the night for a final cocktail and some more film discussion.  In the five nights I stayed in Austin, I don’t think I went to bed before 2:00 a.m., a true lesson in personal endurance since I usually had a 9:00 a.m. panel greeting me the following morning.  I guess the passion for cinema and writing is what fuels one to plow onward through the conference.

I will probably need to devote one more post to my experience there (and given that I created a four-part series on the AFF last year this is probably a relief to my bloggy readers), but I thought I’d at least share a few of the resonant comments I jotted down (albeit bleary-eyed) in my trusty notebook during various panels.  Here goes…

On LOGLINES: When you define your logline, you’re making a promise that sets up expectations that need to be paid off.  Come at them through character, setting, and obstacle.

On PITCHING: Hit the shape of your film in terms of the three-act structure.  What is the wish fulfillment for the audience?  With more outlandish concepts, sell the familiarity first in terms of characters and then reveal the concept.

Screenwriter Pen Densham on the Writing Process: “Overcoming one’s doubt, one’s inertia is the key to the writing process.  Ask yourself, ‘Why do I want to write this?’  You’ve earned the right to make the mistakes in getting the story out of you.”

Screenwriter Terry Rossio on Breaking In: “You have to make JAWS before you make SCHINDLER’S LIST.”

Producer Lindsay Doran on the Psychology of Storytelling: “Positive relationships trump positive accomplishments.”

And now comes the fun part where I put the advice to use!

Yes, it’s good to be home!

Every year, the screenwriter’s organization CineStory hosts a script contest from which a small group of writers are invited to attend a four-day writer’s retreat.  I think I learned about the organization on MovieBytes.com – a few writers weighed in on a message board to praise the retreat, so my interest was piqued and I entered the contest.  Little did I know then what a privilege it would be when BENEATH THE SURFACE placed as a semi-finalist and qualified me to attend the retreat.  Nestled in the gorgeous mountain town of Idyllwild, California, the retreat took place this past weekend and felt like a summer camp for screenwriters.  More importantly, the information learned and relationships formed will benefit me for the rest of my career.

Like the Austin Film Festival and Conference, the CineStory retreat offers a number of informal panels that feature working industry professionals talking about what they do and offering advice on how to navigate the crazy business of show.  But the CineStory experience only has about forty-five participants in total, making it so much more intimate than Austin.  I also got to sit down with three separate “mentors” for an hour-and-a-half each to talk about my scripts.  A manager and a producer read AUNT MOLLY’S MELTDOWN and offered me their respective opinions on what is working and what needs work in the script. (As it turns out, Aunt Molly and I will be spending more dedicated time together in the near future.  Despite its good performance in some contests, there just isn’t any “there” there yet.  Yes, that’s my highly-technical writerly analysis of the feedback.)  And my one-on-one on BENEATH THE SURFACE was with an incredibly smart and insightful working screenwriter who went through the script page-by-page to go over his invaluable notes.  He was complimentary about my writing yet also challenged me to amp it up even more.  His criticisms were accompanied by suggestions for solutions – or, at the very least, got us both brainstorming over possible solutions.  How exciting to be creatively collaborating with someone who knows his stuff!

Ultimately, though, the heart of why CineStory is a triumph is because of the people who participate in it.  Not only are the organization’s administrators fun and nurturing people, but the mentors are so generous in giving us their time, energy, and imagination.  And my fellow writers were exceptionally cool and talented, too – I’ve established some great new friendships and outlets for feedback and encouragement.  At the end of the weekend, one of them thanked CineStory and the mentors for providing a safe creative space for us – I thought that was a lovely way of putting it.  Sometimes it’s hard to remember why we pursue this challenging and often demoralizing business, but at its essence it’s because we love telling stories.  And the retreat and those who participate in it serve as a reminder that there are honorable people out there – both the successes and those who are still making their way – who will always support and inspire good storytelling.

Monday was another bipolar day in the life of my screenplays.  I received some…shall we say…challenging coverage from a manager (or, in reality, the manager’s assistants) on AUNT MOLLY’S MELTDOWN and HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF.  Out of four possible grades – excellent, good, fair, and poor – both scripts received an overall grade of “FAIR”.  Which translates to “PASS” in terms of this particular manager taking me on as a client.  Now, I’m obviously used to the rejection, but it’s usually wrapped in “It’s just not for us” verbiage. (Also known as, “It’s not you, it’s me.”)  In other words, I can walk away disappointed but still feeling like my writing made a good impression (if not good enough).  So to see FAIR across the score board, with some brutal commentary accompanying it, was pretty dismaying.  Especially considering that these two scripts have been solid performers in high-profile contests.  AUNT MOLLY’S MELTDOWN just landed in the top 10% of this year’s Austin Film Festival Screenplay competition out of over 6,500 submissions!  HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF made it to the top 10% of the PAGE International Screenwriting Awards!  And, damn it, I’m proud of them.

But as I’ve learned so unequivocally in this business of show, you have to take the bad with the good.  And at least there was some good news to counter-balance the bad news received on Monday.  BLACK SEA ROSE (also a top 10%-er at Austin this year) received a read request from a well-respected, award-winning production company.  An awesome agent I used to work with during my days at Nickelodeon (she represented a few of the writers on my crew) kindly forwarded a query letter to the company on behalf of me and co-writer Jill and, lo and behold, within fifteen minutes of her sending off the e-mail, we got the read request.  Exciting news for a project that’s been years in the making and a bit of comforting salve on my bruised ego.

A House of Hope, indeed.

But don’t think I’m getting cavalier about my work.  I know there’s always room for improvement and when my eyeballs can view the aforementioned coverage again, I will absorb it with a cooler, more rational, solution-oriented mind.  Plus, I’ve got the CineStory retreat coming up next weekend, which should get the analytical creative gears oiled up and churning.

Good or bad, I must keep moving FORWARD.

I know you’ve all been on the edge of your seats wondering what other script I’m bringing to the CineStory writer’s retreat, so here’s the update: I’ve decided to proffer AUNT MOLLY’S MELTDOWN for serious inspection and reflection. (Yes, yes, you can once again enjoy a peaceful slumber at night now that you know my decision.)  Considering the two sets of opposing feedback I received on the script a few weeks ago, I figure it will be helpful to get an expert opinion on what steps might be taken to create a more uniform reaction among readers (preferably of the “I love it!” variety) without turning the script into another bland, by-the-numbers romantic comedy.  What I love about Molly is that she is a flawed, not-always-likable character…and I want to keep her that way.

Imperfect People

Since I had to turn in the script to CineStory in advance of the retreat, I decided to give it another thorough review to get it reader-ready.  As you may recall in my 8/9 post, I recently received two sets of notes from a successful production company here in Los Angeles.  Reader #1 was not as enamored with AUNT MOLLY’S MELTDOWN as Reader #2 seemed to be.  Some notable excerpts: Reader #1 – “…the writing rests its weight pretty heavily on some bad habits…”; Reader #2 – ““Aunt Mollys Meltdown” is a very enjoyable script with strong characters and witty dialogue.”

Overall, both sets of feedback were detailed and specific, clearly indicating that each reader gave AUNT MOLLY’S MELTDOWN a comprehensive analysis.  And while Reader #1 was tough, he was also right about a lot of things. (Yes, I know for certain Reader #1 is a “he” because the production company inexplicably included the names of both readers.  Lucky for them I’m not a vengeful writer-type, huh?)

One area that seemed to be particularly annoying to Reader #1 was my formatting:

“There are also a large number of formatting issues.  This includes a bizarre tendency to indicate the subject of referral in the parentheticals of dialogue.  For example, “(re: the coat)” when the character is talking about an in-scene coat, despite the dialogue itself making the subject perfectly clear. This happens quite often.  Speaking of parentheticals, there is an incredibly large amount of actions placed in parentheticals.  There is a slight tendency towards armchair directing through camera descriptions.”

Well, Reader #1 is absolutely right.  I pored over the script, ready to eliminate any and all superfluous parentheticals and acting directions, and eliminate I did.  THREE PAGES WORTH!!!  Good God, I had no idea I fancied myself to be such a Deirdre Lynn Coppola.  I really do try to keep my screenwriting as economical and efficient as possible, but there are times when I can’t seem to help myself in guiding the way I think a line should be delivered.  Or I’m overly specific regarding “who” is on the receiving end of a particular line of dialogue.  Good writing is clear writing and too many parentheticals muddy the cause and bog down the read.  The exercise with AUNT MOLLY’S MELTDOWN reminded me that there are always areas where I can improve and I have to stay open to the critiques that come my way.

Let’s leave this to the professionals, shall we?

A couple of months ago I learned that BENEATH THE SURFACE was a semi-finalist in the CineStory Screenwriting Awards.  Founded in 1995, CineStory is all about nurturing undiscovered talent.  As their website states: The aim is to provide a supportive environment in which screenwriters can push their creative boundaries while discovering practical steps needed to elevate their skills to a professional level and become a working writer.  Out of over 500 submissions, BTS landed among the top twenty-five scripts, making me eligible to attend the annual CineStory Writer’s Retreat that takes place at the end of September.  Sign me up!  The great thing about the retreat is that in addition to meeting other writers like myself, I’ll also be engaging with a group of industry professionals – writers, producers, agents, executives – who will shower us with their expertise and advice.  In fact, each participant is paired with a “mentor” and we’ll be spending three 90-minute one-on-one sessions with them.  CineStory is giving us the option to bring two projects to workshop at the retreat so in addition to BENEATH THE SURFACE, I thought I’d offer up my science fiction thriller MALFUNCTION.

Remember that one?

Back in February I proudly declared that I finally finished the first draft of MALFUNCTION.  Ah the relief and satisfaction that comes with completing a 100+ page screenplay.  At the time, I figured I would wait a week or two before revisiting the script to start the rewriting process.  Well, that stretched out to six months until I finally reviewed my draft last week to see what kind of shape it’s in for CineStory.  Trusty red pen in hand, I curled up with a hard copy of the script, prepared to make a few general notes and changes so that I would have a presentable first draft.

Ah, naive, naive Deirdre.

Let’s just say for a sci-fi thriller, MALFUNCTION was light on the sci-fi and even lighter on the thrills.  I realized about halfway through my reading of it that there was no way in hell I would be bringing this screenplay to the retreat.  No, the surgery required for this rewrite is too brutal and bloody to inflict upon a mentor.  In fact, I’m not convinced the patient can even be saved.

A quick side note: when the movie LIMITLESS came out last year, I was actually a little worried that MALFUNCTION would be too similar to it.  In LIMITLESS, Bradley Cooper’s character is a down-on-his-luck writer who stumbles across a secret drug that gives him super-human capabilities.  MALFUNCTION showcases a troubled Chicago cop on the brink of losing his job, who suffers a serious head injury during a local softball game.  After he recovers, his mediocre work performance improves dramatically, but are these heroics a stroke of luck or a sign of the supernatural?  Well, after reading MALFUNCTION I realized that I have nothing to worry about…because LIMITLESS is a far smarter and far more exciting film. (Seriously!  See it!)

No malfunctions here!

What’s at the heart of MALFUNCTION’s malfunction?  What is the script’s fatal flaw?

I have a passive main character.  I know it sounds like Screenwriting 101, but my troubled Chicago cop spends most of the film reacting to what’s happening to him rather than driving the film forward through his behavior and choices.  At least when Bradley Cooper realized the power of the drug he was taking in LIMITLESS, it compelled him to seek it out more – to the point of addiction.  Dangerous addiction that placed him in life-threatening situations.  Unfortunately, when you have a relatively inactive main character, it’s hard to feel that the stakes are high – or that there are any stakes at all.  The result: who cares?

Wake me up when something happens, DLB.

Such a bush league mistake.  But a good reminder that while certain scenes may stand on their own and clever dialogue might be speckled throughout, the “whole” should attempt to equal the sum of its parts.  Alas, I’ve built MALFUNCTION on a foundation of sand.

So what am I bringing to the CineStory retreat?  You’ll just have to wait for the next entry! (And that final attempt at creating mystery and suspense as I sign off on this bloggy post is still more engaging than MALFUNCTION.  Trust me.)

So fresh on the heels of my post about subjectivity, I got to see it IN ACTION in regards to one of my scripts!  Recently I had the chance to submit my quirky romantic comedy AUNT MOLLY’S MELTDOWN to a production company that has a pretty decent slate of film projects.  I sort of forgot that I even submitted it until an e-mail arrived today to inform me: “Unfortunately, after due consideration, we have opted not to pursue the project any further.  Despite some real strengths, we just do not have the enthusiasm to warrant taking it on.”

Fair enough.  It was a nice, respectful e-mail and the sender wasn’t kidding about the “due consideration” given to the script.  For this company provided two sets of reader feedback and, boy, were they thorough!  I received numerical grades and comments evaluating TEN different categories, including originality, dialogue, formatting, etc.  It was clear to me that each reader had given my script a comprehensive review, but I was again reminded of the subjectivity of the process given their respective conclusions.  Here are a few notable samples…

OVERALL thoughts

Reader #1: This script begins poorly, with a first act that is full of redundant narration, an ill-advised frame narrative device, flip-flopping characterization, and contrived plot devices.  However, once it moves past the troublesome first act things pick up significantly.

Reader #2: “Aunt Molly’s Meltdown” is a very enjoyable script with strong characters and witty dialogue.   It is a well-written script about a woman who returns to her hometown in the middle of an emotional meltdown and finds herself helping raise her two nieces.

Thoughts on STRUCTURE

Reader #1: Has some significant rough patches starting out.  The script is wrapped in an ill-advised frame narrative in which the protagonist’s niece recites a fairy tale version of the story.

Reader #2:  The structure of “Aunt Molly’s Meltdown” is very well done, hitting all the right beats at just the right moments.  The story is bookended with a narration from Elise presenting Molly’s story as if it were a fairy tale, providing a memorable and unique framing device.

Thoughts on PACING

Reader #1: The protagonist’s transformation from career woman go-getter to lazy, self-absorbed drunk is sudden, unsatisfying, and unbelievable.

Reader #2: The pacing in “Aunt Molly’s Meltdown” is swift and breezy.  The strong pace keeps the script engaging from beginning to end with a well-timed inciting incident and without dull sections.

Thoughts on WRITING ABILITY

Reader #1: The writing in this script carries some wretchedly bad habits and hits them repeatedly.

Reader #2: The writing is very strong and engaging.

DLB THOUGHTS

Now, granted, I’m using the extreme opinions expressed as my examples; there were areas where both judges were more in sync with one another.  But I think this feedback illustrates why the writing process can be so infuriatingly indecipherable.  So much of it comes down to individual taste.  For what am I to make of the notes given above?  Is my narrative framing device “ill-advised” or “memorable and unique”?  Is Molly’s transformation “unsatisfying and unbelievable” or “swift and breezy”?  Should I be striving to fix my “wretchedly bad habits” or proud that I wrote a “strong and engaging” script?

Oof, my head hurts.

I don’t get it either, Neala!

I do think the truth lies somewhere in between, and I appreciate that the feedback offered was extensive and thoughtful.  Clearly, both readers read the script and each did an articulate – if at times brutally frank – job of expressing their opinions.  Now comes the part where I percolate on those opinions and decide which ones need attention and which ones I’ll choose to overlook.

Like the readers themselves, I can only go with my gut and react to the feedback that resonates with me.

I had three horses in the race.  I was feeling good, confident.  After four years of trying, I thought 2012 might finally be my year.  The Nicholl Fellowships in Screenwriting was established in 1986 through the Motion Picture Academy and it’s pretty much considered the brass ring of all screenwriting competitions.  Every year the organizers sift through thousands of unproduced scripts in the hopes of finding a handful of writers to whom they award a $35,000 fellowship, along with the expectation that the anointed fellows will write another screenplay during their fellowship year.  However, its rewards are not just financial.  Because the contest is so widely respected throughout the industry, it offers immediate exposure to the lucky winners.  Heck, it’s a badge of honor to even have a script place as a quarterfinalist in the contest.

So with three scripts in the running, scripts that have been pored over/rewritten/finessed-to-the-last-comma, scripts that have done well in other contests, surely at least one of them might squeak through among the almost 7, 200 screenplays entered and place in the quarterfinals?

Yeah, the problem with entering three scripts in a contest is that you set yourself up to be rejected three times.  And such was my Tuesday night.

Let the pity party begin!

According to the “P.S.” notes at the bottom of Nicholl’s very well-crafted rejection letter, BENEATH THE SURFACE got two positive reads from those that judged it.  And BLACK SEA ROSE (co-written with my pal Jill Reilly) placed in the top 10% of all entries!  And yet HUNGRY LIKE THE WOLF, the script that received two positive reads from Nicholl last year and is a current quarterfinalist in the PAGE Screenwriting Awards and has generally been my strongest contest contender to date, didn’t even warrant a “P.S.” this year.  Hmmmmmmm…

I held a brief pity party and entertained the stream of lovely, supportive e-mails from friends and fellow writers reminding me of how SUBJECTIVE it all is.  And you know what?  They’re exactly right.  It is all so utterly and sometimes painfully subjective.

Just like Hollywood.

Now I’m not saying I can’t revisit these scripts and try to make them better and stronger; there really is no end to the finessing that can be done.  But I also have to keep getting my work out there – to contests, agents, production companies, etc. – and hope that they land on the desks of people who spark to them and gets excited about them and might be able to DO SOMETHING with them.

I know those people are out there.

And, hey, *I* am one of those people since I’m producing BENEATH THE SURFACE, right?

I’ll turn to Ray Bradbury for final inspiration as I plow onward: “Living at risk is jumping off the cliff and building your wings on the way down.”  I’m definitely doing some wing-building this year.