“…the horror builds … an unusual creature … well written … above average … there is much to like here.” Faeries gets some lovin’ from the SlamDance judges panel. Faeries, possibly the best unproduced horror screenplay about pack hunting, echo…
“Compelling, terrifying, disturbing, beautifully written.”
We’ve recently submitted the as-yet-unproduced Faeries horror screenplay to a few competitions, and just got the first set of coverage notes back. We think we did pretty well, and it only makes us more confident about the script.
This is from the WildSound Screenplay Competition. We appreciate their kind words!
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Have special effects finally gotten so accessible that indie spectacle filmmakers can focus on story?
The short film Plot Device was put together to showcase the new Magic Bullet Suite 11 from Red Giant. So yeah, it’s a “gee whiz look at the affordable but awesome FX extravaganza” whose primary aim is to highlight the software.
But it goes a step beyond that, and includes some great acting, a fun story, something of an arc, and a truckload of homages that are lovingly included (my favorite: The simple fact that he’s barefoot throughout the story).
On one of the many screenwriting forums I frequent, a screenwriter posed the question “Did this producer steal my screenplay?”
Good question. Here’s the story.
Making the sale
It seems the writer was approached by a producer who was interested in one of her screenplays. They swapped a series of emails, exchanged several versions of a sales contract, and arrived at a purchase agreement. Yay for her.
The screenwright delivered her screenplay via email, the producer delivered the agreed upon sum. Again, Yay for her.
But the final contract didn’t arrive with the payment. In fact, neither the screenwriter or the producer signed a hard copy.
Why too much detail destroys screenplay description – and pisses readers off
I just finished slogging my way through another script as a judge for a screenplay competition.
Yes, slogging. It was painful. It was boring. Frankly, I couldn’t finish it. I gave it a “pass”.
Because the writer gave me too much description.
Exactly how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop
The screenwriter told us just how many steps a character took to cross a room (11), whether the couch was on the right or the left of the doorway (left), how many seconds a dog barked (5), and precisely how much space is between the lights in an alleyway (30 meters). I learned that the kitchen table is rectangular, and how big it is (approximately 33 inches by 60 inches).
I wanted to shoot myself in the head. For the record, this is not how you want to make your reader feel.
People watching may be the best way to hone those sub-textual writing skills.
So I was standing in CVS looking for a father’s day card for my son (note to self: There are no father’s day cards from dad to son-who-is-a-dad) and of course I wasn’t the only person who’d put it off perilously late.
To my right, a woman and her teen daughter scanning the rows of leftovers.
Enter screen right: A third woman, tension radiating from her clenched up little form like heat waves on a hot tarmac.
Another “regular guy” wants to be a superhero. Will this trend ever end?
“In this heart-warming family comedy, average accountant, Dennis Sullivan, is assigned to the account of a young widow and her son, a boy fascinated with a TV hero known as “Man America”. Taking an instant shine to the kid, Dennis visits The Imagination Superstore, where he tries on the ‘Man America’ costume. When he leaps from the dressing room to thwart a robbery, he embarks on a journey more complex than he ever could’ve imagined.”
I’ve already shared a list of six “regular guy superhero” movies, from Kickass to Zebraman. And the list just gets longer …
Liver cancer and comedy prove a perfect match.
Live Your Dream Or Die Trying
At 35, comedian Steve Mazan learned he was dying of liver cancer. So he did what any sane person would do: he dedicated the next year of his life to earning an appearance on The Late Show with David Letterman.
Or “Why Social Media is like a bad tattoo”.
Okay, that’s hyperbole. But I relearned a lesson recently.
If you’re a budding screenwriter, an indie filmmaker, an aspiring or established anything, social media should oughtta be part of your life. It’s where we make professional connections, build our brand, spread the word and mebbe, just mebbe, start careers.
Are you doing it right?
First, a related story.
Last month, we were interviewing for someone to manage our online marketing. We had one excellent prospect, who interviewed well. He had worked in online marketing for a large name corporation, but had spent the past 18 months doing other things. Understandable. The past 18 months have been tough on everyone. But he was ready to get back into the game.
After the interview, and while contemplating the next round, we did a little Googling. Of course we found his Facebook page, a Twitter feed, and a blog. In the bio section of the blog was this:
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 made your fiction writing awesome, all the flowery language, the detailed descriptions, and lengthy internal dialogues are anathema to the script. That two page treatise on your protagonists 1970’s 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, the industry tells us, your descriptive passages must remain simple, clear, minimalist. Describe ONLY what the viewer might see (with a few exceptions) and eschew Literary flourish (as well as directorial specifics – but that’s another discussion).
Play a little telephone
I often tell people: Imagine you’re watching an awesome movie (your movie is awesome, right?), and you’re on the phone with a friend. You’re describing to them what’s happening, while it happens. In fact, try it. Turn on the TV, call a friend, and see how it feels to really try to keep the story moving real time… 1 minute per page, 90 pages for 90 minutes.
Here’s what happens when you insist on being Literary on the phone: