Is your fear of cliche killing your writing?

In this video I recently recorded for Scriptmag, I discuss the screenplay for Crazy Stupid Love and how you can engage with your cliches in a healthy way, in order to set your creativity free and and create the kinds of fresh and exciting scenes you dream of writing.

On this Thanksgiving Holiday, I’d like to invite you to take a moment to ask yourself the following question:

What are you thankful for in your writing?

So often, we spend our time criticizing ourselves, searching for what is wrong, and what can be improved in the words we write.  And certainly there is value in that part of the process.

But it’s important to remember that the real key to becoming the writers we want to be lies in identifying what we love.

When you identify on the things you love about your writing, you shift your focus away from the things you lack, and onto the wonderful gifts you already have.

In this way, you give yourself a foundation upon which to build, open yourself up to the opportunities in your writing, and invest yourself with the hope and excitement that will carry you through to the end.

So take a moment today, think about your writing, and write down the things you most love about it.

Think about your process.  What about it makes you happy?

Look at a scene you’ve written or a character you’ve created.  What do you most connect to?

What’s a line of dialogue you’re thankful to have discovered? A theme you’re thankful to have explored? A character you’re glad to have taken on a journey? Or an obstacle you’re grateful to have wrestled with and overcome?

Get specific about all the things you’re thankful for.  And then,  if you’d like, share some of them with us and with your friends by posting what you love about your writing to our new Facebook Page!

We’ll be thankful that you did!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Jake

100 RULES AND HOW TO BREAK THEM:

Rule #3: Be Careful Who You Pitch To

It’s a constant fear among young writers: finally coming up with that million dollar idea, only to have it stolen by some mustache twirling producer, some back-stabbing friend, or even worse, some untalented hack of a writer.

For this reason, scores of writers hide away their best ideas, terrified to share them with anyone for fear of losing them.

So, let me reassure you.

You don’t have to worry about anybody stealing your idea. Because somewhere out there in the wild world of screenwriting, somebody already has.

No, they didn’t sneak into your laptop while you were away and spirit off your precious Final Draft files. In fact, most likely, they’ve never even met you, or talked about your idea with you or anyone you know.

But if you’ve got an idea, there’s a good chance that there are at least 50 scripts with the same idea already circulating around Hollywood.

Who Invented Darwinism?

You probably haven’t heard of him, but during the same 20 years that Darwin was scribbling away on his revolutionary (and as-yet unpublished) Origin of Species, a guy named Alfred Russell Wallace was coming to the exact same conclusion.

Never imagining that he and the great Charles Darwin could be working on the exact same project, Wallace sent his short paper on the subject to Darwin, whom he’d never met, begging the famous scientist for some feedback before he sent it to the publisher!

Imagine Darwin’s horror at receiving Wallace’s paper—and you’ll understand why producers ask you to sign such insane legal contracts before they agree to read your work. There’s a good chance that somewhere out there, somebody else is already working on exactly the same project you are.

Ideas are a dime a dozen. But a great script is not.

When Darwin rushed his Origin of Species to the presses after reading Wallace’s paper, Wallace could easily have imagined that Darwin had stolen his idea. But Wallace had the exact opposite reaction. He and Darwin became good friends, and ultimately, Wallace would claim that his greatest scientific achievement had been prompting Darwin to finally publish his groundbreaking manuscript.

Wallace understood that it wasn’t the idea of Origin of Species that changed the course of science forever. It was the execution of that idea in a way that captured the attention of everyone who read it.

Similarly, it’s not the idea of your screenplay that’s going to make it sell. It’s the execution of that idea in a way that captures the essence of that idea, and translates it in a way that captures the audience’s attention.

All Writers Steal. And You Should Too.

Darwin and Wallace were not the first scientists to muse about evolution, nor was Shakespeare the completely original inventor of all his plays.

Romeo and Juliet was stolen from the Roman myth of Pyramus and Thisbe. Hamlet is just an update of an older play called The Ur-Hamlet.

The Big Lebowski steals unabashedly from The Big Sleep. And its main characters are not so loosely based on a couple of real life guys who were friends with the Coen Brothers.

And remember that great truck chase scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark? It’s stolen from an old movie called Stagecoach.

Great writers steal liberally from everyone and everything around them: people, places, history, events, novels, plays, poems, songs, art, and yes, even other screenplays.

They take these elements, draw upon them for inspiration, change, adapt, and repurpose them for their own writing, and in this way build upon the work of all the great writers who have gone before them.

Though they may have been inspired by the same sources, Romeo and Juliet is not Pyramus and Thisbe. Hamlet is not The Ur-Hamlet. The Big Lebowski is nothing like The Big Sleep. And Raiders of the Lost Ark could never be confused for Stagecoach.

That’s because no matter how similar the ideas they start with may be, it’s almost impossible for two writers to write the exact same script.

No One Can Write Your Script But You.

Translating an idea into screenplay form is intensely personal work, requiring thousands of intuitive creative decisions at every turn. And no two writers will ever make those decisions in the same way.

Even if another writer were to steal, stumble upon, or be gifted by the screenwriting gods with the exact same “million-dollar idea” that you are currently working on, the chances of them writing a script that’s anything like the one you’ve created are extraordinarily slim.

So stop protecting your writing. If someone thinks they can write your movie better than you can, tell them to go for it! And then go out and steal some good inspiration for yourself.

Why Darwin Almost Got Scooped.

Despite his 20 years of work on the subject, his fame and his reputation in the industry, Darwin was so afraid to go out and pitch his revolutionary idea that he almost got beaten to the punch.

This is the same mistake that so many young writers make, clinging so tenaciously to their ideas that they never have a chance to share them with anyone.

If you’re going to sell your idea, you’re going to have to pitch it. And if you want to figure out your script, you’re going to have to share your writing and see how other people respond.  Take a class.  Talk to your friends.  Share your writing.  Get the feedback you need.

My father used to tell me, you can’t catch a fish if your hook isn’t in the water. And the same thing is true for pitching. If you’ve got a great idea, then write the script, and start shouting about it to the world. Because that’s the only way you’re going to sell it.

The Difference Between Stealing and Stealing.

There’s a big difference between “stealing” someone’s idea and repurposing it for your own writing, and literally stealing somebody else’s script.

It’s rare that an experienced producer will actually steal a script from a writer. Anyone who’s ever produced a movie knows it’s much cheaper and easier to pay you for your screenplay than to defend a plagiarism lawsuit.

Nevertheless, the bad kind of stealing does happen occasionally, so there are steps you should take to protect yourself.

(please note that I am not a lawyer and the following does not constitute legal advice).

1. Always register your script with the US Copyright Office before you send it to anyone.
2. There is no such thing as a poor man’s copyright. You spent months or maybe years of your life writing the script. It’s worth paying the fee.
3. Keep clear records of everyone you send your script to, so you can prove they had access. Email is great, because it provides an automatic record.
4. Don’t send your script to the shady guy you met on Craigslist. Send it to real producers with established credits who know better than to rip you off.
5. Remember that WGA registration does not protect your copyright. It only helps in case of a credit arbitration.
6. Write the darn script!  You can’t copyright your idea, but you can copyright the execution.  So go out there and execute it in the way only you can.  Start today!

100 Rules and How To Break Them

Introducing my new series “100 Rules and How To Break Them!”  Each week, I’ll be analyzing one of the so called “rules” of screenwriting, and exploring both why they exist, and how to break them in interesting ways that make your writing better and your stories more powerful.

RULE #1 – WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW

One of the most misleading ideas in screenwriting is that as a writer you should “write what you know.”

On its surface, this is a brilliant idea.  After all, writing what you know means you’re a whole lot less likely to get into trouble in your writing—and even your fiction is a whole lot more likely to be rooted in truth.

As anyone who’s ever told a lie can tell you, building on pure fiction is like building on quicksand.

Things might look so much easier for awhile, but pretty soon one fabrication piles upon another until you’re spending all your time trying to keep your story from from collapsing on itself.

Writing what you know makes things so much easier.  Rather than reinventing the wheel, you get to focus on something you know profoundly well, conjure it for your audience, help them to connect with it, and take them on a journey in relation to it.

But of course, if great writers truly only wrote what they knew, some of the greatest works of fiction would never have existed.

I think it’s safe to say George Lucas never spent much real time “a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away”.  Nor were JRR Tolkien or Peter Jackson ever abducted by Gandalf.

You don’t have to be a serial killer or an FBI agent to write “The Silence of The Lambs”.  You don’t have to be a mobster to write “Goodfellas”.  And you don’t have to be a pet detective to write “Ace Ventura.”

As writers, we know on some level that our job is to invent.  We are creators of fiction…  So how are you supposed to write what you know, when you’re conjuring a world you never lived in, or a character whose life you’ve never experienced?

The trick with writing what you know is not to write what you know literally—it’s to write what you know emotionally.

George Lucas may not have known Darth Vadar—but he was deeply connected to the idea of the force.  That’s what makes the early movies so powerful—and its absence is what makes the later movies so easily forgettable.

JRR Tolkein may not have dwelled in middle earth, but he clearly understood the nature of addiction:  the irresistible urge to put on the precious ring of power—even knowing that it draws the dark lord closer.  And the way the end of that addiction—with the destruction of the ring by the ultimate addict, Gollum, also means the end of the age of magic, and the beginning of the age of man.

What a great writer does is not simply to write the literal truth of what he or she knows.  What a great writer does is to translate what she knows into a fiction that tells the truth even more powerfully than the literal truth ever could.

Check back next week for the next article in the “100 Rules and How To Break Them” series.  

The Vampire Cowboys’ new play, THE INEXPLICABLE REDEMPTION OF AGENT G, is more than just a hilarious genre bending, kick-ass-ninja-stage-fighting, comic book romp.

It’s also a profound look at what it means to find and follow your voice as a writer, the inexplicable questions of identity and the challenge of telling a true story in a truthful way.

Theatre’s Answer To ADAPTATION

The process of adapting a true story into a form that really captures its essence is one of the most challenging tasks of any writer.

In AGENT G, playwright Qui Nguyen wrestles for the third time with a reinterpretation of his first play, TRIAL BY WATER, the critically reviled “true-life” melodrama of his 9 year old cousin’s journey from Vietnam to America– during which their boat was lost at sea, and the passengers, including Qui’s young cousin, resorted to cannibalism to survive

Feeling that he has failed to capture the essence of the story in his earlier attempts at the play, Qui (who is also a character in AGENT G) attempts to reinterpret the story Vampire Cowboys style– complete with the theatre company’s requisite kick ass stage combat, ninja chases, hilarious genre shifts, and a musical showdown with Qui’s hero, the legendary playwright David Henry Hwang.

In wonderful and surprising ways, this comic reinterpretation leads Qui closer to the “true truth” of the story than any of Qui’s more serious early attempts.

What Does It Mean To Tell The Truth?

At each step of the way toward this “truthful” telling of the story, Qui finds himself confronted by his characters, his fans, his mentors and even his wife– each of whom have their own ideas of what the play should be, and each of whom he desperately wants to please.

As Qui strips away the layers of smoke, mirrors and self deception to find his real story, he’s forced to confront what it really means to be a writer, and what it takes to look honestly, and fiercely, at one’s own writing.

In his attempts to write a “commercial” piece, build the story around his hook,  please his teachers, emulate his heros, impress his audience, honor his cousin and to answer the well-meaning, but misguided notes of people who didn’t really understand his writing, Qui comes to realize that he abandoned the essential truth that brought him to the story in the first place– not just in this amped up, tongue in cheek, action hero reinterpretation of the story– but also in the “true story” melodrama he was once so proud of.

Following The Truth Of Your Own Story

As Qui strips away the layers of art and artifice that obscure him from the story he truly wants to tell, he reminds us that writing is not a paint by numbers process of “filling in the beats” of your outline, but a mystical and complex journey through countless rewrites, reimaginings, and reinterpretations of what the real story might actually be.

He reminds us of the dangers of the wrong way turns of misguided feedback and the challenges we go in getting to truly know our characters, our stories, and ourselves each time we approach the blank page.

And most of all, he reminds us the mysterious and inevitable process which with each draft slowly draws us closer to the truth of our own story, our own voices, and our own inexplicable redemptions.

February 7 – March 4, 2012

At THE BECKETT THEATRE
Theatre Row
410 West 42nd St (Btw 9th & 10th)

Here’s a guy who really understands how to get in touch with your creative mind. Watch the video and learn:

• How rewriting from memory can be better than editing from the page.

• How to create space for your writing within the hectic schedule of your everyday life.

• How the real work of writing happens without any conscious thought.

• What’s wrong with most writing classes, and how you can protect your creative process by seeking out teachers who appreciate and understand the way your creative mind works.

Recently a student asked me the following question:

Can I write a synopsis/storyline, complete with time era, scenery and plot for a movie, and have someone else develop the characters and dialogue?

This is essentially what producers do in Hollywood.  But it’s very, very hard for young writers to sell movies this way.  And it’s even harder to actually develop a script that captures the spirit of your idea in the way you imagined it unless you’re writing it yourself.

The Long Road To Development Hell

As much as we all dream of the magical writer who can sweep in from the sky and make our ideas come to life, if you know much about the development process in Hollywood, you know this hardly ever works.

Hollywood is full of great ideas.  And producers spend millions of dollars paying professional writers to turn these ideas into scripts.

But no matter how glowing the writer’s past track-record, scripts that are generated this way are rarely successful.

Projects end up being written and re-written by dozens of writers, and seem to get worse with every re-draft.  These scripts end up languishing in what producers like to call  “development hell,” that eternal purgatory of screenplays that will never be made.

Create The Script You Really Want

It’s a safe bet that if writing someone else’s script is this challenging for a million-dollar-a-script writer in Hollywood, it’s certainly going to be even harder for the young writers you can afford to hire as a young producer.

Most writers do their best work when they are writing from the heart, exploring themes that are resonant for them, and discovering their character’s journey as they write it.  Not when they are “painting by numbers” and filling in the gaps of someone else’s story.

So most likely, if you want to see your project come to fruition, you’re going to have to write it yourself.

Take a class.  Grab a pen.  Sit down, and start searching for your character.

Tell the story you wanted to tell, as only you can tell it.

You’ll be happy that you did.

Read the whole Feedback series:  Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

It’s a simple fact.  Writers don’t like most of what they write.

And they don’t like most of what they read either.

Writers can be like rabid bloodhounds, ready to sniff out every flaw in a screenplay at a moment’s notice.

This isn’t your fault.  Countless years of English teachers, writing groups, screenwriting books and well-intentioned writing professors have trained you to approach a project in this way.

The problem is, when it comes to the creative process of writing, all that sniffing around doesn’t necessarily help.

In fact, if you’re on the receiving end of that kind of feedback, you probably know what it feels like to be the bird in the bloodhound’s jaws.

Not exactly inspiring.

How To Talk About The Bad Stuff

Whether the project is a fully developed work of art, or little baby script in need of some tender love and care, chances are that without any effort at all, you can uncover about 1001 different things that you would like to change.

But if you want to actually make a difference, your notes are going to need a context.

As counter-intuitive as it may sound, the first step in talking about the bad stuff is to begin by thinking about the good stuff. [...]

Read the whole Feedback series:  Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

All writers give and receive notes all the time.  We give notes to our friends, our colleagues, our writing buddies, and most importantly to ourselves.  We receive notes from producers, directors, teachers, agents, friends, family, and fellow writing students.

But how many of these notes actually help?

If you want to learn to give notes that actually help, both to yourself and to your fellow writers, there are two things that you absolutely must remember:

1)  Don’t try to fix anything, just concentrate on sharing your experience.
2)  Begin with what works.

When you begin your feedback with criticism, you can be pretty sure that the writer won’t hear a thing you say after your first sentence.  Inside their heads, their own private monologue will take over, subjecting them to a level of criticism you wouldn’t bestow on your worst enemy.

If you start with the bad, they’ll never hear the good.

On the other hand, when you begin with what works, you help a writer to see the potential in their writing, and open the doors that make moving forward possible.  At that point, the writer will follow you anywhere– and be able to process even your most brutally honest criticism in a way that is helpful and productive. [...]

As I discussed in part 1 and part 2 of this series, writing is a highly intuitive process.  When notes take us away from our organic connection to our scripts, they tend to do more harm than good, no matter how helpful they may seem.

Whether you are a professional writer, or just picking up the pen for the first time, you’re going to have to deal with notes all the time.  From producers, from actors, from directors, from other writers, from family, from friends, and even from yourself.

And guess what.  You’re going to need them.

A New Approach To Feedback

If you’ve taken a class with me, you know that to succeed as a writer, you must learn not only how to give feedback, but also how to receive it.

Writers need to develop a filter between themselves and “good advice”, allowing the helpful stuff in, and filtering out the brilliant ideas that aren’t going to help you, before they can sway you one way or another.

The First Step

Whether you’re giving notes to another writer, or revising a draft of your own writing, the first step of this process is letting go of your desperate desire to immediately “fix” the screenplay, and instead to focus on communicating your experience, without judgment or advice.

Knowing how to give and receive feedback is not only vital to discovering your voice as a writer.  It’s also an invaluable tool in communicating with yourself as you evaluate your own writing.

In tomorrow’s article, I’ll be discussing the elements of truly helpful feedback, and the questions you can ask yourself to help you discover them.

As I discussed in yesterday’s post, it’s easy for most writers to identify a obviously terrible note.  The real danger occurs with the ones that often seem to be the most intelligent.

The Danger of Other People’s Ideas

If you’ve ever been part of a certain kind of writing group, you know what I’m talking about: the feeling of being blown back and forth from one brilliant idea to another, until you have no idea what you’re actually writing anymore.

For all the conscious thought writers put into their screenplays, writing is an organic, intuitive process.  And when we lose that instinctual connection to what we are writing, our scripts tend to fall apart, no matter how brilliant the ideas we are serving.

And yet we NEED help.

We need feedback.  We need classes.  And we need teachers.

So what the heck are we supposed to do?

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post, in which I’ll be introducing a new approach to feedback that can change your whole experience as a writer.

Enjoy your holiday weekend!

When I finished my first screenplay, I did what any self-respecting screenwriter does.  I sent it to my mom.  She read the script, and called me gushing with pride.

For about half an hour, my mom waxed poetic about every nuance of the script: the story, the imagery, the profound metaphorical qualities.

She only had one question.  Even though it all “worked”, she was a little bit confused about why the characters were saying certain dialogue to each other…

“EXT. STREET – DAY” for example.

That was when I realized I was in trouble.

She thought the slug lines were dialogue that the characters were speaking them to each other.

And she loved me so much, she actually enjoyed it!

Good Notes And Bad Notes

As good as it feels to receive praise (and sometimes even helpful advice) about our scripts, we have to be extremely careful about who we take feedback from.

Very few people actually know how to write a script that works.  And though I like to tease my mom, the truth is that much worse notes have been given by countless screenwriting teachers, development executives, and well-meaning professional writers.

Whether it comes from a big time producer or a loving family member, it’s fairly easy for writers to recognize an obviously bad note.

It’s the helpful ones that are truly dangerous.

As Writers, We Desperately Need Feedback On Our Work.

But when writers try to solve each other’s scripts, they usually end up doing more harm than good.

Over the next week, I’ll be adding a series of posts about how to give feedback, not only for other writers, but also for yourself.   Make sure to come back and check them out.