Finding your descriptive voice in screenwriting
Screenplays aren’t Literature.
If there’s one core screenwriting truth you’re supposed to learn as soon as possible, that’s it.
All the stuff that makes literary fiction writing awesome, all the flowery language, the detailed descriptions and lengthy internal dialogues, are anathema to your screenplay. That two-page treatise on your protagonist’s 1970s wardrobe and its roots in a painful high school career fraught with bullying and inattentive parents? Fuggedaboudit. What got you gold stars in creative writing will get you tossed at page one by an intern at insertprodcohere.
In screenwriting, your descriptive passages must remain simple, clear, minimalist. You should be describing ONLY what the viewer might see (with a few exceptions) and eschew Literary flourish (as well as directorial specifics – but that’s another discussion.)
But what’s that look like in practice?
Play Telephone
I often tell people to try this exercise:
Call a friend, turn on the TV, and narrate to them what’s happening onscreen while you’re watching. Keep pace with the story — really try to keep moving in real-time as it unfolds.
If your tendency is to be a little too flowery, a little too Literary in your description, here’s what it’s going to sound like:
“He steps into the room… architecturally, it’s post-modern, with Louis XIV undertones. It’s like that place in California, Hearst Castle. Highbacked chairs that look like they’re carved from some long extinct Brazilian hardwood, a portrait of Michael Jackson on the wall, not scary HIStory Michael Jackson but classic Beat It Michael Jackson. The carpets are clearly antique and his steps are silent as he… oh crap. He’s gone… I think he stole something, but I didn’t see what it was. Hold on, I’ll back up and check…”
You, being too Literary in your descriptive narration
Yeah, you’re too late. The action’s moved on, your character is in another room, and you’re struggling to keep up.
On the other hand, if your descriptive narration is clear, minimalist, and visually focused, it’ll sound more like this:
“He steps into a fancy office. He sees a jeweled LETTER OPENER on the desk, slips it in his pocket, and he’s gone.”
You, being succinct with your descriptive narration
You’ve done your job. Just like the character, you got in, you got out.
Never make your reader reach for the remote.
So Where Is The Art?
These succinct screenplay stylistics might not feel terribly creative.
If you, like me, came to screenwriting from narrative fiction, the challenge of learning to reign in the Literary and focus on Scientific Empiricism presents an interesting creative challenge. It’s a new editing skill, a puzzle, a fun new rubric within which you need to find creative ways to tell your story.
But eventually, you’ll master the technical framework required for screenwriting. You know where the SLUGs go, you’ve learned to embrace the present tense, you’ve abandoned your penchant for internal monologue, and you might begin to feel a little creatively dissatisfied. You’ll begin wondering how to introduce your personal voice back into your work while sticking to the “rules of screenwriting.”
As a screenplay consultant and contest judge, I’ve seen my fair share of technically competent scripts. They follow the rules, and get the job done. But they can feel clinical.
And I’ve also seen scripts that are somehow more engaging while staying on the rails… they’re conversational and engaging, Stylistic while remaining “on task.” It’s like having the movie told to you by the most interesting person at the party, that charming raconteur who tells great stories while also knowing how to get right to the point.
“He turns around and sees this GUY, huge, not fat huge but linebacker huge, no neck, and fingers like sausages. The guy looks pissed, and he’s clearly searching for someone in the crowd.”
You, being the conversational life of the party in your screenplay
Now, Style (with a capital “S”) can’t supersede the screenwriting tenet of direct simplicity. It’ll be an interesting challenge learning to introduce enough of your Style to create a personal voice while avoiding the hyper-specificity of extraneous detail that slows down the real-time pace, and readers hate.
So think about yourself at your party-schmoozing best — when you’re really “on”, and you’re engaging people with a great tale. Find that voice, find that fun, interesting, succinct storyteller… and let her tell your story.
Watch Your Language…
Don’t be a potty mouth.
If you’re like me, and you’re wrapped up in telling a great story to interested friends, you might have a tendency to lean into some non-party-appropriate language*. If you’re the type to fall into a profanity-laden screed, that’s fine with your buddies over beers. But when you’re talking with strangers (and the reader who’s going to pass judgment on your screenplay is a stranger) you run the risk of offending.
I’ve seen a few of these lately, and they go something like this:
“He turns and sees TERRY, a huge fuck, dumb as shit, can’t count past six without takin’ off his shoes.”
You, getting maybe a little too comfortable in your storytelling voice
Obviously, it’s okay for your characters to swear if that’s the kind of movie you’re writing. I’m no prude, and my characters swear all the time. But when you swear in the left margin narrative, that’s YOU (the writer) swearing at ME (the reader). You have to be more creative than that… and it’s just smart business (don’t forget it’s a business) to mind your manners in the company of strangers.
(Also note my use of “takin’” in the above. Your description probably shouldn’t include dialect… contractions, of course, are fine, but save dialect for dialogue. And even then, tread with caution. More on that another time.)
…Unless You’ve Earned It
There are writers who can get away with it.
Successful, established writers like Kurtzman and Orci, for instance.
Their script for Star Trek has no instances of “fuck” in the dialogue… it’s not that kind of movie. Yet they use “fuck” 35 times in the description… because they’re setting a pace and a mood.
“And he STOPS. They all do. A fucking FACE is now on their VIEWSCREEN. A ROMULAN FACE — the FIRST OFFICER of the Narada, whom we’ll come to know as AYEL.”
Kurtzman and Orci in “Star Trek”
I have three things to say about that.
- I’m willing to bet they already had the job and weren’t going to lose it because of a “fuck”.
- It’s an opinion.
- And I may come around. Or not.
But the point is, you’re not Kurtzman and Orci. You haven’t earned that latitude, that level of recognition within the industry, or grace from your reader.
So, can you tell your story without swearing at – and potentially offending or at least kicking out of the story – a reader who is a total stranger?
I’d consider it.
How Much Style Is Enough?
Enough but not too much.
Balancing a dash of Literary Style with textbook scriptwriting is tough to do. First and foremost, your description has got to be in service of to-the-point declarations of action and character. Too much personal flavor threatens to put Style before Function.
So be selective about where you inject it. Maybe focus on primary character introductions, descriptions of dramatic settings, or pacing your plot-critical set pieces. And always be mindful of its impact on pace.
If it hurts the pace of reading, it’s wrong.
In other words, when in doubt, err on the side of utilitarianism because in the end, standard screenplay stylistics reign supreme.
Make Me Say Ooh!
When it’s right, it’s oh so right.
As a reader, it’s a treat to read something that not only subscribes to format, that not only has a story structure and functions at a pace that keeps me turning pages (which are the most basic responsibilities) but that is somehow more than just “serviceable” in its read. Screenplays that have some finesse to the art of wordplay in it are the ones that make me say “Ooh, nice turn of phrase” while reading, and in the end have me saying “Yeah, that was a good read, this person can write”. **
Hope that helps. Keep at it.
As always, good writing.
* I guess I should say ‘professional party’. We swear at my house all the time. Especially during parties. But I don’t do it in professional company where I don’t know the taste of the people I’m schmoozing.
** As per usual, there’s a level of subjectivity to this, and we’re talking in the end about my personal preferences when reading.
This article was referenced in the “Advanced Screenwriting” course at SNHU; Timothy “TJ” Barkwill, Adjunct Faculty
Chip Street - Writey Guy 