The somewhat bleak tone of the previous post elicited a perfectly reasonable question in the comments:
"John, what's the appeal of being a screenwriter as opposed to a print fiction writer? If the two are evenly matched for difficulty (in breaking in, in making a living at it, etc.), it seems like the novelist has much more autonomy and creative control. Does anything that makes it to screen ever approximate your vision of it? Doesn't it bug you to have to work with so many other people just to come up with a script, and then you hand it off to so many other people to do with it whatever they will?"
Heck yeah. I believe it's in the second chapter of Adventures in the Screen Trade where William Goldman explains that screenwriting is the only art where you will never, NEVER see your idea expressed as you wish. And that will, eventually, drive you insane.
But as Andy Cosby said, we write movies because we love movies. We love those pictures up on that big screen (or on the little glowing one in your living room). We love how they make us feel, and we want to be a part of it, want to help other people feel the same way. We don't wind up in this craft because we wanted to be writers, went down the list of options and arrived at "Screenwriter". Whatever little itch that's scratched when a novelist gets a piece of writing just perfect, that little itch that makes you chase your art, we get that itch scratched in other ways.
I remember the first time, in a Cosby script, I typed "EXT. ROOF". Showed up on the Tuesday, walked onto the soundstage --- and there it was. They'd built the roof of the house. Full-scale, sitting there on the soudstage. Bill Cosby as walking around on the roof, looking off into the fake Queens horizon. I can no more explain the little spike of pleasure I received from that moment than an addict can explain the nuances of his heroin ride.
The times an actor's found something in a line or character, something which expands on your idea of who this person is ... or makes a choice to express this character in a way which is far more illuminating than anything you thought of ... that's when the idea of a collaborative writing art pays off. Michelle Forbes told me what (in her mind) Miranda Zero did at the end of each day, and it was quantum levels more interesting than anything I could have come up with. But then you build on that, back and forth, forging something new and delightfully unexpected.
I'm a screenwriter instead of a prose writer for the same reasons my friend Lisa spent 15 years of her life studying violin instead of tuba. That's her instrument for her art. I love writing with the intent that actors will eventually speak these lines, with the nine thousand layers of execution, sub/meta/ur-text and intent inherent in that knowledge. I love writing a good action line -- one of the reasons I get a decent amount of work, I'm convinced, is that I spend a fair amount of time on the prose style of my scripts. I love solving a problem within the structure of the screenplay, much as a poet finds both limitation and freedom within the structure of a sonnet. I love discovering that little telling moment, made even more so because I'm anticipating how an actor will deliver it or a director will shoot it. I love writing a joke that will only work when spoken aloud. I know, because I've felt, the difference in effect between reading a description of something and the chest-punch of seeing it on screen while lost in the emotionally open, hypnogogic alpha-wave state of viewing images. I love sweep and scale, I love imagining these images and vistas up on the big screen ...
I suppose, what it boils down to is that I love the way good film or television makes me feel, and I want to be part of that. I want to try to master the process of evoking those emotions, telling those stories -- frankly it comes down to the root of all storytelling regardless of form: I want to somehow touch the inner minds of strangers. Add it all up, and somehow it worked out screenwriting was the way for me to do that.
One of the few things I still use from my Catholic school education are the ideas of vocation and avocation. Your vocation is your calling, your avocation is what you do for a living. They don't necessarily have to be the same thing (and often aren't). What I'm cautioning beginner writers about in the previous post is that, just like them, I know that writing is a vocation. But you cannot, must not forget that it is also an avocation, and that we must carry our skills from the real world, our practicality, our work ethic into our calling.
17 comments:
I write TV because (a) I can support myself writing TV while it's all but impossible with books and (b) people actually watch TV, while very few people read books. I want my stuff out there. I don't tell stories for myself any more than I talk to myself. TV is the dominant medium of storytelling in our time. I would be a novelist if this were the 19th Century. I would be a playwright if this were the 17th Century. I would be a poet if this were Classical Rome. I am a very bad playwright, so it's just as well I'm living now.
>>>I remember the first time, in a Cosby script, I typed "EXT. ROOF". Showed up on the Tuesday, walked onto the soundstage --- and there it was. They'd built the roof of the house. Full-scale, sitting there on the soudstage. Bill Cosby as walking around on the roof, looking off into the fake Queens horizon. I can no more explain the little spike of pleasure I received from that moment than an addict can explain the nuances of his heroin ride.
Harlan Ellison wrote of a similar thrill, watching a candle roll across the floor of a set to light up some drapery. I think he wrote that for an episode of Burke's Law.
I knew the long odds. I knew the level of commitment needed. I knew dues would need to be paid. I knew it probably would all come down to luck. What I didn't know is what to do when I got to Hollyweird. No two people break in the same way, so how do you start out? To make a long story short I got into reading and just started reading for Sundance. You can check out my blog to see how my first year here went. I think a lot of it is putting yourself in a position to be available for an opportunity.
one of the reasons I get a decent amount of work, I'm convinced, is that I spend a fair amount of time on the prose style of my scripts.
Curious what you mean by "prose style" in your scripts? Shane Black-school of jokes-within-the-description? ASCII porn embedded in every other line of dialogue?
ASCII porn, bingo. No, just trying to make the action lines vivid without being overdone. Describing the actual action in cinematic ways without choreographing. To me a big part of how the reader "sees" the tone of the movie without visual cues is through the tone and rhythms of your script style.
You make it sound easy. One of these days, we'll all have to pester you to post a script snippet so we can see an example of how it's done.
In the meantime, fear the erotic power of ASCII. (.) (.)
Reading this thread and your comments regarding both 'Lost' and 'Global Frequency', I figure this is as good a place as any to ask a question that's always bothered me: What's the obsession writers have with killing off their characters simply for shock value?
The Lost and Buffy writers seemed to take particular glee in letting it be known that 'someone's going to die!' way in advance of the actual event, with the result that the actual death itself always seemed like an anti-climax.
It seems odd to take such pleasure in this, since I've always thought that one of the main reasons shows and movies crash and burn is that the characters fail to connect with the audience: We simply don't care what happens to them.
In killing off a well-liked character, I always feel the forth wall being broken down. It's the Wizard of Oz effect - I see the writers behind the curtain slapping themselves on the back, saying "They never thought we'd do that!" and I'm instantly taken out of the story.
I gave up on 'Lost' after the Artz death. It's one thing to flounder along for a season with no direction, (for I was burnt by 'the X-Files' and 'Twin Peaks' and can recognise when 'The Writers Don't Know What's Happening Either'), but to rub the audiences' noses in the fact seems like excessive arrogance to me, especially from a show that's actually resorted to 'Amnesia as a Excuse to Hide Information from the Audience' in the Year 2005.
Is it just me? What's your take on this?
Great post, John!
Homefrontrado said...
"What's the obsession writers have with killing off their characters simply for shock value?"
Killing off main characters, if done right, can be very rewarding for the audience. Unfortunately, it's usually done very poorly (In the case of Artz in "Lost," it was pretty obvious that when they introduced him as a "main" character so late in the season that he was going to end up playing Ensign #5 on an Away Mission.).
The reason (good) writers off main players is to make the audience understand that no one is safe. Usually, when we watch a show that centers on a specific group of characters, we know that no matter how dangerous a situation they may be in, they're going to make it through no matter what. That takes away a lot of the suspense. But if you know that no one on the show is safe, that ANYONE could die at any moment, it makes those perilous situations genuinely suspenseful.
That was one of the great ideas John had for GF. No one was going to be safe. When the audience understands this, the dangerous situations carry weight. The audience can actually watch the scene NOT KNOWING if the y're going to make it. And that just makes the story that much more fun.
Or like on my show, HAUNTED, when the viewers tuned in at the regularly scheduled time to find that the entire cast was gone, replaced by the World Wrestling Federation. Beat that twist, J.J. Abrams!
By the way, you owe me a leading man.
Wait, wait. I think we're all missing the most important concern here, which John mentioned in his post - what does Miranda Zero do in the evenings? Decapitate daisies? Trawl her 1001 operatives for a soulmate? Torture and kill her Sims? Cry?
My own belief is that she has had lifelong insomnia and watches CSI and Law & Order reruns. Like me.
Oh, you might get a laugh out of this Andy: Here in Australia they just started screening ‘Haunted’, Friday Night, 9 pm. I wish you could see the promo for it – a bigger pile of hyperbole I’ve never seen. It’s called ‘Channel Ten’s New Hit Series!!!’, and they actually use the tagline ‘Before Matthew Fox was Lost… he was Haunted’. (Lost airs on a competing network here). So somewhere in the world at least, it’s considered A Hit. I wonder how the viewers will respond when it abruptly ends in a few weeks.
Roguesdoole, this is where our views diverge, strictly from a Viewer’s POV. A Death To Prove How Serious The Situation Is / How Evil The Antagonist Is’ is a staple of bad action films, and Star Trek. (‘Ensign No-Name! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’)
I believe viewer’s watch a show wanting the characters to succeed. The idea of expecting us to invest our time and interest in a character to see them fail at the last moment doesn’t increase the suspense or make it ‘fun’, it just invites a backlash of ‘I can see you pulling the strings and trying to manipulate me’, and ‘If the writer treats their characters so flippantly and doesn’t care about them, why should I?’
It worked for Hitchcock because the audience went in knowing his style, and expected to be manipulated. ‘Psycho’ works because of the smooth transition between protagonists. Hitchcock has us both intrigued and emotionally invested in the character of Norman before Marion meets her end, and we want him to succeed at his goals, (not fully realizing their significance until the end).
The death of Artz on Lost was just a joke, and deflated any suspense the following ‘Wages Of Fear’ inspired-section might have held for the viewer by giving us a ‘release’. Boone’s death earlier in the run failed at shocking me because there was a definite order of importance to the cast, and he’d already struck me as Expendable. By the end of the first season I’d come to the conclusion it is easily one of the worst written show’s I’ve ever seen, (and coming from someone who grew up watching Knight Rider and The Dukes Of Hazard that’s saying something).
Characters are a combination of both writing and acting, and when both converge well the character him/herself is enough to hold a viewer’s attention. We want a fascinating character to survive purely so we have the opportunity to learn more about them. It’s a great hook to keep us tuning back in.
Well, yes, Homefrontradio, but you're looking at two of the very worst, most manipulative examples in recent television memory.
The "character may die" thing, when properly executed, evokes suspense, which is sorely lacking in most American television. Suspense is a tool to engage an audiene in an inherently disengaging, passive medium, and therefore can evoke real emotion when properly done. That line is thin, and there's room for abuse, sure, but to those of us toiling away in the flooded US television market, it's the stultifying safety and lack of any dramatci evolution in the show which is the problem. Sadly, some writers have taken a dramatic tool which should only be used with the greatest of care and turned it into a marketing ploy. I've had the same problem with mainstream comics this year, by the way.
Agreed. The recent spate of 'they're dead / no they're not!' in recent comics has seriously made me question the supposed maturity of the medium and whether I should be embarrassed to be reading them or not.
I've never thought of things from the point of view as a writer as to how constricting a show's format can be, since television (and comics) frequently deal with the illusion of change to their characters.
If the standard sitcom format bores me senseless as a viewer, how does it feel for the poor writer who has to somehow make it work?
I remember watching the pilot episode of OZ - we followed John Seda throughout the whole episide (it may have been a two episode arc, it's been awhile) thinking he was the hero of the show - and he was killed, killed horribly - I was taken completely by surprise and it drove home a point - that on that show, no one was safe. I loved the unpredictability of it.
I also remember the death of Buffy's Mother - a good example of when it's done well, it can really work. For all the killing done on that show, they handled that specific death far differently and showed the effect the death had on everyone.
It certain does get done badly, but as John pointed out, when done well, it can be quite shocking.
They did something very similar with the pilot episode of THE SHIELD, and it worked amazingly well.
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