This rebroadcast brings some questions from working writers still fairly early in their careers, looking to move up in the world.
I am a working writer. I’ve sold two pilots, gotten a freelance episode of a high-quality one-hour drama, done some comic book gigs, and just sold a feature with myself attached to direct at a production budget of $3M. I’m in my early thirties and have been at this a couple years.
My problem/question is: I feel like I have hit a wall with respect to my sense of story. I feel like most of my success has been gotten on a combination of ability-to-pitch, charisma and the ability to turn a phrase inside a scene. But I have this real weakness when it comes to knowing what the right scenes are in the right order. I can put two people in a room and have them riff to the extent that my story supports this kind of loose, Kevin Smith-esque writing.
But I know that if I want my career to go to the next level, I need to improve my understanding of story and plot.
So I guess I have two questions…
1) Any ideas on how to do this on an intermediate/advanced-level? How can I go from a “B” understanding of story/plot to an “A” understanding of story/plot?
and
2) What are your thoughts on how to keep making breakthroughs in the quality of your work when you are at an intermediate/advanced level? Do you feel like you are constantly improving? How do you keep improving?
— Scott
Los Angeles
You’re already the envy of most of the readers: you’re a working Hollywood writer. So congratulations, and don’t dismiss what you’ve accomplished. I’m happy to hear you attribute it your skills (pitching, wit) and not pure dumb luck.1
So let me offer some good news. The stuff you’re not especially good at — story, structure, plot — can actually be learned. If you were writing in for advice about how to be funnier or more charismatic, I would have probably let your email sit in the growing folder of unanswerable questions, because those are pretty much inherent qualities.
My advice for you is to dedicate one day a week to disassembling good movies. Take existing films (and one-hour dramas) and break them down to cards. Think of yourself as an ordinary mechanic given the task of reverse-engineering a spaceship. Figure out what the pieces do, and why they were put together in that way.
Here are the questions you need to ask about each scene or sequence:
As the audience, what am I expecting will happen next?
What does the character want to do next?
Is this a good moment to let the character achieve something, or knock him back?
How long has it been since we checked in with other character and subplots?
What would have happened if this scene had been cut? Or moved?
By asking these questions about other people’s movies, you can take some of the pressure off.
When it comes to your scripts, it might be worth writing something that’s deliberately outside of your comfort zone, a script that doesn’t let you rest on your scenework. Because to answer your second question, yes, I think you can keep making breakthroughs in your writing, but only by challenging your preconceived limitations.
I’m currently writing my first period movie, my first stage play, and my first stage musical. Part of the reason I’m enjoying them is because they scare the be-Zeus out of me. I’ve passed on some more obvious projects that I’m sure I could have written competently simply to stretch a little more.
Yes, I’m deeper in my career than you are. And my flitting from genre to genre has probably hurt me in some respects. But a career isn’t one script, or ten, it’s the years of your life. You’re working. Your ability to turn clever phrases won’t go away. So you’re right to focus on the areas you think you can improve, if only to increase your confidence and enjoyment of the career you’ve chosen.
I am a newly-working screenwriter. Mostly indie stuff, a couple of writer-for-hire and low-budg re-write jobs; and I’m proud to say I just sold my first script to an indie company. I just wanted to a) thank you for your site; and b) ask if you could give any advice for writers in my situation. Guys who pay the bills with writing, but are not yet repped, or working on any huuuge deals. What a realistic next step could be…
–Joe
Los Angeles
Right now, you’re exactly where a lot of readers wish they could be: working in Hollywood. Based on what I could glean from IMDB, you’ve made a short that won awards, and you’re working on one or two low-budget movies. It’s a very good beginning.
There’s no one perfect next step, but over the next year I’d recommend you do the following:
Decide who you want to be. An indie filmmaker like Sofia Coppola? A top-shelf screenwriter like Scott Frank? Or a multi-media industry like Kevin Smith? No, you’re not allowed to say “all of the above,” because none of these people would have gotten where they are if they had tried to be someone else. It’s fine to pick anyone as an aspirational figure, as long as it helps you focus on how you should be spending your time.
Make sure you’re doing your absolute best work. This sounds obvious, but when you’re on your fifth rewrite for producers you don’t respect, it’s hard to put forth 100%. Do it anyway. Trust that the universe will in some way reward you for that brilliant scene, even if the movie never gets made, and the check bounces.
Work on getting an agent and/or manager. No, it’s not crucial, especially if you’re trying the indie route. But regardless of your path, they can take your short and your scripts and hopefully set up meetings with more studios, producers and production companies. I don’t often recommend query letters, but in your case they might be a good idea. Basically, the letter would say that (a) you won these awards; (b) you’re working for these producers; and (c) you’re looking for an agent to represent you because you have just written such-and-such project.
Continue to write, obviously. Seek a golden balance between art and commerce: write the most commercial story that you care very passionately about.
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🗣 Have ideas for future topics (or just want to say hello)? Reach out to Chris via email at inneresting@johnaugust.com, Mastodon @ccsont@mastodon.art, or Threads @ccsont@threads.net
Luck accounts for a small but not unimportant part of success in screenwriting, or any career. Being ready to be lucky, and what you do with that good fortune, is a big part of how a career goes. I was lucky to get into my film school — I honestly didn’t know how competitive it was. I was lucky that Tim Burton happened to be looking for a project when Spielberg dropped off of Big Fish. And, of course, I was lucky to be born in an upper-middle class family in Colorado.