Affordable Coverage, Edit & Critique Service: August 2012

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

LEE CHILD DEBUNKS THE BIGGEST WRITING MYTHS

Like his famous protagonist, Jack Reacher, Lee Child is a bit of a rogue badass—especially when it comes to his thoughts on writing, and debunking popular writing rules.

In his ThrillerFest session “Tell, Don’t Show: Why Writing Rules are Mostly Wrong,” Child battled a few of the biggest writing myths out there, and explained what really keeps a reader reading until The End.

Show, Don’t Tell

Picture this: In a novel, a character wakes up and looks at himself in the mirror, noting his scars and other physical traits for the reader.

“It is completely and utterly divorced from real life,” Child said.

So why do writers do this? Child said it’s because they’ve been beaten down by the rule of Show, Don’t Tell. “They manufacture this entirely artificial thing.”

“We’re not story showers,” Child said. “We’re story tellers.”

Child said there’s nothing wrong with simply saying the character was 6 feet tall, with scars.

After all, he added—do your kids ever ask you to show them a story? They ask you to tell them a story. Do youshow a joke? No, you tell it.

“There is nothing wrong with just telling the story,” Child said. “So liberate yourself from that rule.”

Child believes the average reader doesn’t care at all about telling, showing, etc. He or she just wants something to latch onto, something to carry them through the book. By following too many “rules,” you can lose your readers.

Don’t Start With the Weather

“If the weather is what’s on your mind, start with it,” Child said.

Simply put, all-time great Alistair MacLean did it all the time. Enough said.

Suspense is Created by X, Y, or Z

For instance: Suspense is created by having sympathetic characters. More and more, Child said, this rule doesn’t add up. Case in point: In The Runaway Jury by John Grisham, Child said there isn’t a sympathetic character in the entire book—there are bad guys, and worse guys. Instead of sympathetic characters, the book is driven by what the verdict of the trial at the heart of the story will be.

“And that’s how you create suspense,” he said—it all boils down to asking a question and making people wait for the answer.

I'm pumped!

Child added that one thing he has learned throughout his career as a television writer and novelist is that humans are hard-wired to want the answer to a question. When the remote control was invented, it threw the TV business through a loop. How would you keep people around during a commercial? So TV producers started posing a question at the start of the commercial break, and answering it when the program returned. (Think sports—Who has the most career grand slams?) Even if you don’t care about the answer, Child said, you stick around because you’re intrigued.

Ultimately, he said writing rules make the craft more complicated than it really is—when it comes down to it, it’s a simple thing.

“The way to write a thriller is to ask a question a the beginning, and answer it at the end,” he said.

When he’s crafting his books, Child doesn’t know the answer to his question, and he writes scene by scene—he’s just trying to answer the question as he goes through, and he keeps throwing different complications in that he’ll figure out later. And that very well may be the key to his sharp, bestselling prose.

“For me the end of a book is just as exciting as it is for a reader,” he said.

Behind the Lines with DR: Screwed

Please read this piece by Doug Richardson.

Screenwriter, Doug Richardson, attended USC’s School of Cinema. After finishing college, Doug signed a two-year contract with Warner Brothers. In 1989 he garnered national attention when his spec screenplay was the first in Hollywood to sell for a million dollars. Doug’s first feature film, the sequel to Die Hard, Die Harder, was produced in 1990. He has since written and produced feature films including the box office smash Bad Boys and Hostage. To date, Doug’s features have grossed over 800 million dollars worldwide. Doug is crafting his fourth novel and writes a weekly blog sharing his screenwriter war stories dougrichardson.com.

Just a few months ago I was guest-speaking to young screenwriters at an L.A. film school. It was a theater stuffed with young alert faces. The future of American cinema spread out before me, all ears, hanging on my every word. Why? Because for some reason, I’m supposed to have learned a thing or two after a couple of decades of show biz success and survival. I was there to pass along some wisdom. That said, somebody asked me about “leave behinds.”

Wait. Speak up. What’s that, you ask?

A “leave behind” is something a writer might give the buyer after a pitch meeting. Usually a blurb or some kind of outline that reflects what the writer just spent the past twenty minutes drilling into the producer or executive’s ear.
The student asking the question was concerned that ending the pitch by giving away something written down was an invitation for the recipient to steal.

“Look. It probably hurts more to hear this than for me to say it,” I said. “But if you’re going to have any success as a writer in this biz, you’re going to get ripped off. That’s just a fact.”

Judging by all the gob-smacked faces, I may as well have stood up, flapped my arms, and squawked my affection for anesthesia-free colonoscopies.

“I know. Getting stolen from is supposed to be a form of flattery,” I continued. “But that’s a buncha crap. It sucks. It’s never fun. But it happens all the time.”

Okay blogfans. Here’s a SPOILER ALERT: If you’re planning to make a splash in show biz but imagine that it’s populated by characters from the kinder parts of Mary Poppins, please turn back now, don’t read on, and politely exit while whistling the opening bars to Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

To find success in the Land of Milk and Movies, writers must write, pitch, and sell. And if the writer is any good at his craft, there are wolves in sheeps’ clothing waiting to take a bite of your good work and sell it as their own. Like this one:
I was at lunch with a producer I’d come to know through one of my movies. Sometime between the entree and my third refill of Diet Coke, he began talking to me about an idea he had for a movie. Now, this “idea” was more like snippet of information about a special unit of cops serving in the NYPD. There were no characters and zero story. Just a thirty-second recitation of this particular cop detail and their dirty assignment.

Usually, I nod and say something like, “That’s a good start. Lemme simmer on it for awhile.”
Instead, during this particular slice of my day, I’d already grown bored with the lunch conversation and this guy’s nonstop tales of scamming sloppy supermodel seconds off his former boss’s conquests.

So keying off the producer’s faint description, I deftly spun a tale. Why? Because I’m a writer and that’s what I do. Making up stories has become second nature. In twenty minutes hence, I created two dynamic characters, three solid acts, and even a surprise ending.

Not that it’s always that easy. I’ll sometimes toil for years over half-assed ideas in search of a getaway car. And other times, stories arrive almost instantly like gifts from heaven, fully formed and barely in need of tweaking.

This was one of those days. From idea to characters to story to a perfectly pitchable movie before the check even arrived. The producer dropped his Platinum card, shook my hand goodbye, and promised to follow up with me the next day.

True to his word, the producer called me the following afternoon.

“So here’s what I did,” said the producer. “After our lunch yesterday, I drove over to Fox and sold that story I told you.”

“You what?” I asked, wondering if there was some kind of infection that had flooded my ear canals with crazy talk.

“Sold the story. Set it up as a development deal at Fox.”

“Without informing me?” I asked, incredulity raising my voice.

“No worries,” he said. “You’re on top of my list of writers for it.”

“Top of your list?” I’d quickly moved from incredulous to steaming. “Are you kidding me? I’m the only writer you can possibly do this with.”

“I believe you. And you’re obviously my first choice. But the studio’s gonna want to hear more than one take. That means a bunch of writers.”

“How dare you!” I shouted. “It’s my story! You had no right to sell it without me in the room!”

“Hey. It was my idea and I paid for lunch,” was all the asshole producer pretended he needed to say to settle the issue.

“And if I knew you were gonna f**k me over I woulda ordered more than the lousy Cobb salad.”

His logic was tortured and numbing. As if anyone with a willingness to flash an American Express card coupled with describing to a writer the distinctive features of a DeLorean awarded him the intellectual property rights toBack to the Future.

I was incensed then and, as I beat these words into a blog, I remain pretty peeved. But because I hadn’t had time to register the story with the WGA, I didn’t have a legal leg to stand on. The S.O.B. beat me to a defense by rushing from our lunch to the gilded gates of a movie studio with an open wallet. My only remedy was to gin my agent and lawyer into gang-calling the studio and, in all likelihood, the action would quickly devolve into such a who-came-up-with-what twist that the primary byproduct would be gallons of bad blood spilled between myself and the innocent movie studio. It was either that or lick my wounds, write off the unscrupulous bastard, and learn to keep my mouth shut.

It wasn’t first time I’d been stolen from. It wouldn’t be the last. Because the truth is that the job demands a certain measure of creative risk. These dangers must be accepted as potential job hazards. And no insurance policy or writers’ collective can totally insulate an ambitious word merchant from every cunning shark in the Show Biz Sea.

In the end, I probably could have fought my way into the studio and demanded my screenwriting services be attached the story. Yet something about beginning a movie project forged with an already malignant distrust for the producer made me too ill to put up a fight.

Smart businesses write off their mistakes, failed partnerships, and affronts of chicanery every damned day. Then they get up, dust themselves off, and move on to Plans B or C or whatever. Writers need to follow that example.

I have similar stories with happier endings that I will soon make blogworthy. But more often than not, stories about intellectual thievery usually end in more sting than bling.

Go forward and win!

Logline Service

I have been getting a lot of request for loglines. I give different prices . Since I have so many requests for this service, I decided to set a single fix price.

Logline: $5.00 Flat Fee

A synopsis or summery is required. It well be used to form the logline. The logline is just one line.

Screenplays

Critique: $50.00 Flat Fee, Discount fee $42.50

Includes evaluating the basis elements of a script

Introduction

Development

Climax

Conclusion

Character development

Mid point development

Critiques also provide suggestions for improvements and enhancement.

Payments are made by Paypal or cashier check by mail.

Other services are at regular price.

Query Letters: $25.00 Flat Fee

Editing: $45.00 Flat Fee

Evaluating formatting to industry standards

Spelling, grammar, punctuation, sentence structure, etc.

Turnaround time:
Editing: 2 weeks
Critique: 2 weeks

Query Letters: 2 weeks

Feel free to contact me at ahicks4298@q.com or ahicks4298@msn.com.

Feel to call me at (360) 696-4298. Ask for Frances.

Film script format, writing film scripts, screenwriting services, coverage service, screenplay formatting margins, screenplay writing, screenplay format example, Search terms: screenplays, screenwriting service, edit and critique service, writing screenplays, screenplay format, loglines, query letter, film scripts, movie scripts, screenplay format, screenplay synopsis, script synopsis, treatment, proofreading service for writers, novels, writing services, fiction writing, film script format, writing flim scripts, screenwriting service, coverage service, screenplay critique service, screenplay format margins, screenplay writing, screenplay format example, free writing tutorials, script consultant, screenwriting jobs, film production companies

Aug. 29, 2012 Free Chance To Submit Your Screenplay To Producers & Agents

Go forward and win!

Logline Service

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Interview: "Total Recall" Screenwriter, Mark Bomback

“It’s not a remake,” screenwriter Mark Bomback says of the new film Total Recall, starring Colin Farrell, Kate Beckinsale and Jessica Bielwhich releases in theaters August 3. It’s a film basked on the Philip K. Dick short story about a man who realizes a memory has been imbedded in his brain but now he doesn’t know what is real and what isn’t.

“This is a futuristic Bourne in a sense,” says Bomback, who originally shied away from taking the job to write this movie. He wasn’t sure if what the producers wanted to do made any sense. He remembers telling them he didn’t think he was right for the job. “The original film did a really good job of telling that story,” he says he told producers. Bomback also added that the 1990 Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sharon Stone film of the same name was considered a cult classic among fans of the sci-fi genre. Big shoes to fill. Schwarzenegger-sized shoes.

But when Bomback heard that director Len Wiseman (Underworld: Evolution) wanted to do something different, he was intrigued. Intrigued enough to jump on board the project only a handful of months before they started shooting. What a crazy ride that must have been?

Listen to the interview!

Monday, August 27, 2012

Ask the Expert: Does This Script Make Me Look Fat?

Question: Why should I get professional feedback?

Honesty or flattery? Tell me what you want baby, what you really, really want.

We all want, need, crave validation. But when it comes to script coverage or a professional consult, expect some criticism. Be eager for it. In fact, be grateful. That’s where you’ll learn.

The fastest way to convince me you’re a novice is by refusing to accept that your screenplay could be imperfect. Professional writers are eager for input. That doesn’t mean they don’t want and need kudos. Trust me, they do. But they are every bit as hungry to learn what doesn’t work. Beginners tune out all but the compliments. If all you want is to hear, “Oh baby, you’re the best I’ve ever read,” spend your money on a call girl, not me.

Criticism leaves a bitter taste in everyone’s mouth, but professional writers learn to love feedback. They have enough experience to know that a script is a way of communicating and a fresh pair of eyes is invaluable. It forces them to answer tough questions, defend an idea or discover a solution. They welcome the challenge because it strengthens the story. In this relentlessly collaborative medium, if you can’t take input, you’re out. No working writer ever screamed at me, “You mean if I don’t change this one line my script isn’t going to sell?!”

My job as a producer and my approach to a consult is to give writers a fresh perspective and constructive feedback. What’s on target, what’s missing the mark and how to make every aspect work together. My goal is to make your script the best possible version of the story you’ve set out to tell. So how can you convince me that you’re a “serious amateur” hungry for feedback that will make your work better?

Don’t React Right Away

Back in the day, story notes at Disney were known for two things. First, being staggeringly lengthy and second, an aura of profound politeness while telling a writer what to do. The phrase, “Perhaps we should consider discussing” was invented to be the spoonful of sugar that made the medicine go down.

Convoluted as it may be, there’s something to be learned here. Spend some time mulling over notes. Sure, you know your script inside out, have rewritten it countless times, but could there be some truth here? You don’t have to agree with everything someone has to say, just know that somewhere in there is something for you as a storyteller to learn.

Perhaps you should consider thinking about that.

Scratch the Itch

I had the great fortune of beginning my career in development working for the writing/producing team of Raynold Gideon and Bruce Evans. They wrote STARMAN, STAND BY ME, MR. BROOKS and tons of assignments. They’d been in countless notes meetings with producers and studios. And they’d worked both sides of the desk, giving and receiving notes. Their words of wisdom? “Scratch the itch.” Simple yet profound.

Don’t do what we say, do what we mean. Get at what’s really bothering the note giver, not merely what they’re complaining about on the surface. What’s the underlying problem? “The second act lags.” Should you slash and burn or are we yearning for more action?

Scratch the itch, baby.

Take a Walk in My Shoes

I’ve put in my 10,000 hours and read pretty close to 10,000 scripts by my latest calculation.

I read like an industry professional. That means I’m built for speed and efficiency. I read fast, and I have a staggeringly high reading comprehension. What got me in trouble in 3^rd grade reading circles for being so far ahead that I’d lost the place of the group ensured my survival as a development exec.

We stop reading slug lines within the first 15 pages. If you want us to know where we are, describe it in the description.

We quit reading character names by the end of Act One. So yes, each character should sound distinctive.

If these are your only methods of conveying where we are and who’s who, you’re sunk.

This is how professionals read. Period.

“It’s not me, it’s you.”

Please believe me when I say the problem lies not in my reading but in your writing.

I’ve helped launch a few writers’ careers. I remember one very quiet writer whose first project I set up. It was a wonderfully wacky offbeat comedy with a fresh spin on a familiar paradigm. This guy was beginning to develop a voice. We were pretty excited about working with him and even tried to get him an open assignment on another project of ours. But he was a soft-spoken fellow, as I said, and didn’t exactly set the room on fire in a pitch.

We were meeting in our offices, going over our producers’ notes on the draft before turning it into the studio. I was pushing pretty hard on one point in particular – something I insisted didn’t make sense. The writer was adamant. It worked. I insisted some more. And then something astonishing happened. He yelled at me! Right there, he unleashed all his frustration and yelled. Didn’t I understand that the entire point of this scene was based on a minor reference earlier, symbolized thus and such and all added up to his big point?

I was shocked.

I was thrilled.

I sat there for a moment. And then I said quietly, “No I didn’t get that.” Not until he explained it. And I’d read the script many times. “This is great!” I exclaimed. “So now, my challenge as a producer is to figure out how to get you in front of every audience at each screening of the movie so you can explain it to them.”

It went a lot more smoothly from there on. And the writer went on to have a pretty big career.

If you’re ever explaining, know for certain that you’re in trouble because means it may be in your head, but it’s not on the page.

Writers vs. Readers

Don’t expect us to agree with your writers group. Nothing personal, but what do they know? They may have spent four days with McKee, but how many scripts have they read? How many projects have they taken into studios? How many breakfasts, lunches and drinks have they spent learning what other people in the industry are looking for?

Chances are, they’re your friends; they’d rather not tell you that you look like a hippo, or they’re busy admiring their own ass. Meaning writers’ feedback for other writers is all too often laden with iffy or irrelevant ideas. They’re imagining the story as if they were telling it. Or they’re trying to make themselves feel superior. My job is to help you get the best possible version of your story.

The Courage of your Convictions

Yes, I may have just claimed that industry professionals are more infallible than the Pope, but now I’m going to play Devil’s Advocate. While for the most part, most of us do know better most of the time, when it comes to your story, well, it’s YOUR story. If you’re positive about what you want to say with it, then you must have the courage of your convictions.

Professional writers might not always agree with every morsel of wisdom that tumbles out of my mouth, and honestly, I don’t want them to. I’m happy to debate, discuss, spitball and play out alternatives. That’s where the very best work comes from.

Stand up for what you believe in. Just remember, it’s your job to make it work.

Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff, Sweat the Small Stuff

Back in the olden days, when scripts existed on paper, aspiring writers wasted an incalculable amount of time on how many brads a script should have. It was fodder for heated debate on internet sites. What a waste of time and energy. As if it would get your script read any sooner or taken any more seriously. For the record, as someone who sustained more than one brad injury toting around stacks of scripts: a) two and b) not the cheap ones.

Page count. Yes, this is everyone’s current obsession. Granted, if I see a script that’s 133 pages, I know there’s a problem. If a screenplay is 83 pages, I know there’s a problem. But honestly, if I’m reading 133 pages of a great script, it’s well worth my time. And odds are, I’m more likely to find a terrific story in 133 pages that need to be tightened than in 83 pages where the writer hasn’t dug deep enough.

If you’ve cut out all the adjectives and articles to make your script a “fast read,” you don’t have a clue as to what a fast read is. And you’ve made my reading experience miserable. I’ve read the same screenplay both with and sans the “little” words. One version had charmingly quirky characters and a unique setting that gave it an off-beat appeal. Other painful. Lack sentences. Not flow.

Words count.

Deep down can say you’re truly looking to make your work better with coverage or a consult? Or are you spending $$$ to get encouragement? Everyone eats up compliments, but can you be equally hungry for the bite of criticism? I get queries all the time from writers boasting that someone read their script and said “excellent writing” or “this is a rich story.” Unless they said “Great idea for a movie. I wanna nearly kill myself to get this puppy made!” it doesn’t mean a thing.

You look positively anorexic.

Can I get you a doughnut?

A producer who’s sold to all the majors, Barri Evins created BIG IDEAS to give aspiring screenwriters what it takes to break into the business, teaching techniques she uses with professional writers. The Big Ideas Screenwriting Seminar gives you an insider’s perspective, shows you how to create stories that ignite interest and develop screenplays faster than ever before. Includes Barri’s mentorship for a year. Consult info here. Barri will be a panelist at theScreenwriters World Conference.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Bestseller Thriller Writer Ann Rule

Bestseller Ann Rule had a heck of a journey to becoming a writer—something she never really wanted to be in the first place. “All I ever wanted to be was a police officer,” she told the crowd in her ThrillerFest session “How to Stalk a Serial Killer and Tell the Gruesome Tale: All You Need to Know to Write Great True Crime.” “The one thing I knew I didn’t want to be was a writer.” Rule thought it was all too hard—heck, you’d have to rewrite what you already wrote.

As a kid, she would visit her grandpa, who was a sheriff, but to see him she’d have to go to the jail. There, she was given the job of bringing prisoners their meals. From an early age, she was fascinated by crime—not thehow, but the why.

Oh, how thrilling.

“I think that we come to our genre naturally,” she said.

Following her passions over the years, she took any ridealong with law enforcement she could get. Attended classes. Got an associate’s degree in criminal science.

And along the way, she began writing, collected innumerable rejections, and penned pieces for true detective magazines, which she realized could pay the bills.

“You have to write about what you know about,” she said.

Back then, not even her children slowed her down. “Unless the kids were actually fighting on top of the typewriter, I could keep writing.”

And then there’s the famous story that led her to her first book, her breakout The Stranger Beside Me.

Her brother had committed suicide, so she decided to volunteer at the crisis clinic in Seattle. The clinic paired volunteers with work-study students. At night, they’d be locked up in the building all alone together. Her partner was a psychology student getting paid $2 per hour.

His name was Ted Bundy.

After his crimes became apparent, Rule attended Bundy’s trial, and the rest of the story is history, amazingly documented in The Stranger Beside Me.

Her writing passion went on to encompass documenting the suspects and victims involved in crimes, and describing their lives before their paths crossed—along the lines of Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood.

In her presentation, Rule pointed out that pros are always saying that you only have a 1/10 of 1 percent shot at becoming a professional writer. But she decided that she was going to be in that 1/10 of 1 percent.

“You can’t let the naysayers make think you can’t make it, because you can,” she said.

If you want to be a true crime writer, Rule said the best thing you can be is immensely curious. And, you should go to trials—something anyone can do. From a life spent in courtrooms, here are Rule’s tips and etiquette for doing just that.

You can usually get a press pass, but there’s often a deluge of writers trying to obtain one. Rule calls the prosecutor’s assistant.
Study the witnesses, watch the jury, and soak up the entire experience.
Try to obtain the court documents from the court reporter or the prosecutor, or purchase them.
Observe the other reporters in the room, and analyze what they’re doing.
If you’re sitting out in the hall with potential witnesses, don’t ask them about anything. You can comment on the weather or the courtroom benches being hard, but “Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth pretty shut.”
Don’t take newspapers into the courtroom.
Know what you’re getting yourself into. “You don’t want to start a nonfiction unless you’re really in love with it, and usually you want a go-ahead from an editor.”
Absorb detail. “When I’m writing a true-crime book I want the reader to walk along with me.” Rule describes the temperature, how the air feels—“I think it’s very important to set the scene.” As far as the writing, you can novelize, but keep all of your facts straight.
Don’t use the real name of a rape or sexual crime victim in your writing. (Though Rule has written about a few who have asked to have their names included.) As Rule said of her subjects at large, “I always care about my people. And if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing.”

Go forward and win!

Logline Service