FATAL FLAWS OF THE NOVICE SCREENWRITER


Most of you are just beginning your screenwriting journey.  It will be a long haul and there will be much to learn; hopefully, with the aid of this site, you can draw a few bits of knowledge from my experiences and avoid some of the obstacles and dilemmas I have come up against.  I’ve read dozen of screenplays by budding writers over the last few years, and in my opinion, a vast majority of those scripts were nowhere close to being ready to be read by any of Hollywood’s power-brokers.  Oddly enough (or perhaps not so oddly), these scripts all suffered from the same fatal flaws.  What follows are some of the more egregious pitfalls and ways to avoid them.  Again, I do not purport to be a “guru”—and trust me when I tell you no one believes William Goldman’s famous line, “Nobody knows anything” more than I do—so if my modus operandi works for you, great.  If not, it’s up to you to discover a groove you feel most comfortable in.  Use what works and toss the rest.  That’s exactly what I did.  With that said, let’s take a look at…

The Non-Visual/Dreadfully Dull Story

Yes, I’ll agree that some wonderful movies have been made from scripts that were less than visual.  Diner is one title that comes to mind; the fabulous Sleuth (one of my all-time favorite films) is another.  Sadly, these type of films are few and far between.  It seems a majority of producers nowadays are more interested in a visual script than a script with compelling characters and intriguing storylines.  In other words, you’ll probably have an easier time selling a script about an ex-Navy SEAL avenging the death of his wife, than you will a coming-of-age tale of a troubled boy who grows into the man who becomes a SEAL.  I’m not saying you shouldn’t write a low-key, character-driven story (Napoleon Dynamite), or a two-character, one location, gut-wrenching thriller (Hard Candy), because you should…but only if you can turn it into something that will hold an audience’s attention for 90 minutes.  Unfortunately, this low-concept/high-entertainment combination is something most new writers seem not to understand.  Yup, I’ve come across some awfully listless storylines in my time.  Not to say some of those stories weren’t worthwhile, it’s just that most were 45-page stories poured into a 110-page script!   It’s the kiss of death when your script conks out on page 40 or 50 and the remaining pages are basically filler (i.e., characters who wander around doing very little, saying very little, entertaining us even less). 
I’ve also read a number of scripts where it’s obvious the writer has issues/baggage from his or her past and the script is being used as a cathartic release.  Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that; lots of great movies have been made from such beginnings.  But I can’t tell you how many scripts I’ve read where the main character spends a good chunk of the story moping around, trying to figure out why their life is a mess.  Believe me, there’s nothing duller than 100 pages of, “Nobody loves me!  I’m a loser!  I have no life!”  So, if you need to pour your feelings out, talk to a psychiatrist.  Or write poetry.  Otherwise, nobody really cares. But if you absolutely positively must write about your problems and/or issues, at least make them entertaining (i.e., Kissing Jessica Stein, You Can Count On Me, Antwone Fisher, or The 40-Year-Old Virgin).


Front-loading the Script with Too Much Information


This is when the first 10-15 pages of a script is comprised of huge blocks of dialogue and/or description, imparting everything we’ll need to know, in order to fully understand what the ensuing story is about.  The last thing any development executive, producer, or agent wants to read at the start of a script is large blocks of text.  Remember, at the start of your story, it’s perfectly fine to give the reader/audience information—but just enough to keep them guessing a bit, wondering what’s about to happen next.  That’s what’ll keep ‘em reading your script/watching your movie!


Mixing Too Many Genres

Action/Adventure, sure.  Sci-Fi/Action, sure.  Sci-Fi/Thriller, sure.  Comedy/Drama, definitely.  But please tread carefully if you go beyond these tried-and-true mixes.  I critiqued a script once that was a sci-fi/comedy/drama/musical/western.  Space ships, guys wearing six-guns, dancing and singing, laughs, tears—ugh!—a real confusing mess.  Sure, go ahead and experiment; just don’t go too far overboard.  When you become a big-time scribe, then feel free to reinvent the wheel.  Another script I critiqued was supposed to be a Pulp Fiction-type hitman comedy. (C’mon, Pulp Fiction has been done—and believe me, you’re not Quentin Tarantino.)  Problem was, this script wasn’t funny.  Bigger problem, it wasn’t entertaining in any way whatsoever!  In the penultimate scene, one of the hitmen storms into a house, rapes a woman, blows her brains out, then goes into the next room and blows away her small children.  Yeah, real funny.  I’m still shaking my head at that one.  Know your genres.  Be consistent.


An Unlikable/Unredeemable Main Character


Not long ago I critiqued a script where the main character was a con artist.  She suffered some trauma as a child and grew up with only one goal in mind—to cheat the world.  So we follow this snotty, cold-hearted witch for 100 pages, as she rips people off right and left.  Um, tell me again why I want to spend 90 minutes of my life watching a character I thoroughly dislike?  “But Jim,” you say, “there have been lots of evil characters we’ve loved.”  Yup, you’re right.  Take Alan Rickman’s character Hans Gruber in the classic Die Hard.   Yes, he was a bad guy—a killer and a thief—but he had style and a sense of humor.  We hated him, but we loved him.  (To this day, I still quote more Alan Rickman lines than Bruce Willis lines.) 

Look at the cast of characters in Pulp Fiction.  Barely a single good guy in sight.  Vince is a scumbag, Jules is a scumbag, “The Wolf” is a scumbag, and brother Marselles sure ain’t gonna win any Good Citizenship awards.  But we like these people.  They’re entertaining and complex, and we sure don’t mind hanging with them for 160 minutes.

Baddies aren’t just mindless drones, they have shading and character.  So, if you’re gonna make your characters bad, make them great-bad.  Make us love to hate them!

 

 

 

 

 

 

On-the-Nose Dialogue

In other words, don’t tell us exactly what the characters think or feel.  For instance:

JOANNE
I don’t love you anymore. 

ROGER
Why, Joanne, what are you saying?

JOANNE
I want out of this marriage.  I’ll call a divorce lawyer first thing tomorrow.  I suggest you move out.

ROGER
I’ll move out first thing in the morning.

You could rewrite that as:

JOANNE
It’s not working, is it?

ROGER
Not for lack of trying. People change, I suppose.  I just never thought we would.
(a moment)
I’ll stay somewhere...until we get things worked out.

JOANNE
(a smile)
You were always the considerate one.

And here’s another one:

Jane, Frank, and Ken react sadly to the death of their friend Josephine.  Frank sobs like a baby.

JANE
This is awful.

FRANK
She’s gone.

KEN
I’m so sorry for your loss.  It’s so sad she got on the wrong side of the law.  She had so much potential.

Frank grabs a bottle of vodka and drinks.

KEN
Take it easy on the booze, friend.

FRANK
It’s no use.  Without Josephine, there’s no living.

JANE
Look, I know it’s bad.  If you can’t take it, please get help.  Don’t do anything crazy.

Ouch.  If that’s not on the nose, then what is?  (And no, it wasn’t from a comedic script.) Find ways of imparting information without nailing it on the head (i.e., subtext).  Again, it’s perfectly OK to be a little vague, a little mysterious, and keep the reader/audience guessing a bit.  So, you could rewrite the above as:

KEN
I’m sorry, Frankie.  Sorry for the mistakes she made.  Sorry for what she’s putting you through now.

Frank reaches for a bottle of vodka.

KEN
That’ll only make it worse.

FRANK
Without her, how will I --

KEN
You will.  Jane and I will help.  I promise you that.  Just no crazy stuff...okay?


Robotic Dialogue

For example:

JOHN
I do not think I want to go to the theater tonight.

MARY
Why do you not want to go to the theater?

JOHN
I just do not want to go.

MARY
So I have to go alone?

JOHN
You can take your sister. You said you have been wanting to take her.

MARY
Yes, maybe you are right. Maybe I will call her.

People just don’t talk in this stilted, robotic manner.   When appropriate (which is most of the time), it’s okay to use a contraction.  So, instead of… 

Do not, use don’t.
Is not, use isn’t.
You have been, use you’ve been.
You are, use you’re.

With this in mind, here’s how I might rewrite the above exchange:

JOHN
I don’t think I’ll go to the theater tonight.

MARY
Why not?

JOHN
I just don’t want to go.

MARY
I have to go alone?

JOHN
Take your sister.  You’ve always wanted to take her.

MARY
Yeah, maybe I’ll call her.


Show, Don’t Tell

I’ll often read descriptive passages like this:

Tom and Frank walk down the street together.  They are best friends.  Frank was also married to Tom’s sister at one time.  Right now Tom and Frank are angry with each other.

So how do we film all this?  WE CAN’T!  This is all stuff you might read in a novel.  It doesn’t belong in a screenplay.  If Tom and Frank are best pals, show us by their playful brotherly antics.  If Frank was married to Tom’s sister once upon a time, then that’s something you can impart via a brief bit of dialogue, or (in another scene) a wedding photo of Frank and Tom’s sister.  If Tom and Frank are pissed off with each other, then that’s something you can show with some angry looks and brusque dialogue. Or, for another example:

Sidney sits alone at the counter, eating oatmeal.  He is anxious –- a disorder stemming from an abusive childhood.

As written, the anxiety disorder portion of this description is something we can’t film.  If we can’t film it, the audience won’t know about it.  You could impart this information by showing Sidney wringing his hands, or sweating profusely when he’s in a crowd of people.  Then you could have a bit of dialogue later when he talks about hating his father for what he did.  You don’t have to nail it on the head with dialogue like, “I hate my dad for molesting me.”  No, just a few choice words that clue us in that something went terribly wrong in Sidney ’s childhood.  The reader/audience will be able to connect the dots.  So…if we can’t SEE or HEAR it, don’t write it!


In Late, Out Early

Most novice screenwriters have a tendency to write fatty script.  By this I mean scripts that contain action and/or dialogue that do nothing (or very little) to progress the story.

Let’s say you have a dramatic story about a middle-aged married couple—Tim and Arlene—and they’re on the verge of divorce.  They go out to dinner to discuss their marriage and what can be done, if anything, to save it.  Here’s one “fatty” way the scene could be written:

INT. RESTAURANT – NIGHT

Tim and Arlene enter, step over to the HOST.

TIM
Two for dinner, please.

HOST
Certainly, sir.  If you’ll just follow me...

They follow the Host through the restaurant and to a table in a quiet corner.

HOST
Here you are.  Your waiter will be right with you.

TIM
Thanks so much.

The Host moves off.  Time and Arlene get comfortable at the table.

TIM
You always liked this place.

ARLENE
Yes.  They make a fabulous Greek salad.
 

The smiling WAITER steps up.

WAITER
Good evening.  I’m Paul.  I’ll be your waiter this evening.  Can I start you off with a cocktail?

ARLENE
I’ll have a white wine, please.

TIM
Make it two.

WAITER
Certainly.  Thank you. 

The Waiter moves off.  Tim and Arlene look about the restaurant, doing whatever necessary to avoid each other’s eyes.  Then finally...

TIM
Arlene...

She looks at him.

TIM
Remember when we first met...and how you laughed at every little thing I said and did?

ARLENE
You were always so funny.

TIM
I haven’t heard you laugh in a long, long time.

ARLENE
Life becomes so much more serious the older you get.  Sometimes, laughter is a luxury.

Tim looks at her a long moment, then...

TIM
It’s over, sweetheart.  We both know it.  We just haven’t wanted to admit it.

The Waiter returns with two glasses of wine, sets them down.

WAITER
Have you decided?

TIM
What’s on the specials board tonight?

WAITER
Tonight we have the red snapper with cream of broccoli soup.  We also have the pasta primavera.  Both are quite excellent.

TIM
Thanks.
(to Arlene)
Honey...

ARLENE
I’ll have the Greek salad.

WAITER
Excellent choice.  For you, sir?

TIM
The primavera sounds great.

WAITER
Very good.  Thank you, sir.

The Waiter moves off.  Tim and Arlene turn their attention back to each other.

TIM
You can have everything. 

ARLENE
Tim –-

TIM
Please, Arlene.  You deserve it.  I want you to be happy and secure.

ARLENE
Tim, you know I make good money.  I really don’t think –-

TIM
No, Arlene, please.  I want it this way.  You’ve given me fifteen glorious years.

Arlene looks deep into his eyes, lovingly.

ARLENE
It has been glorious, hasn’t it?

OK, so that’s your scene.  A good portion of it is unnecessary and can easily be cut.  After all, do we really need to see Tim and Arlene enter the restaurant, chat with the host, walk through the restaurant, be seated at their table?  ABSOLUTELY NOT!  Why?  Because none of that stuff does anything to progress the story. Here’s one way you could trim that scene:

INT. RESTAURANT – NIGHT

Tim and Arlene are seated in a cozy corner booth, both doing whatever necessary to avoid each other’s eyes. 

The smiling WAITER steps up.

WAITER
I’m Paul.  I’ll be your waiter this evening.  Can I start you off with a cocktail?

ARLENE
I’ll have a white wine, please.

TIM
Make it two.

WAITER
Certainly.  Thank you.

The Waiter moves off.  Then finally...

TIM
Arlene...

She looks at him.

TIM
Remember when we first met...and how you laughed at every little thing I said and did?

ARLENE
You were always so funny.

TIM
I haven’t heard you laugh in a long, long time.

ARLENE
Life becomes so much more serious the older you get.  Sometimes, laughter is a luxury.

Tim looks at her a long moment, then...

TIM
It’s over, sweetheart.  We both know it.  We just haven’t wanted to admit it.

A poignant moment between them.  Then...

TIM
I want you to have everything. 

ARLENE
Tim –-

TIM
Please, Arlene.  You deserve it.  I want you to be happy and secure.

ARLENE
I make good money.  I really don’t think –-

TIM
Arlene, please.  I want it this way.  You’ve given me fifteen glorious years.

Arlene looks deep into his eyes, lovingly.

ARLENE
It has been glorious, hasn’t it?

The Waiter returns with two glasses of wine, sets them down.

WAITER
Have you decided?

Tim looks up at the Waiter, manages a thin, rather sad smile.

TIM
I don’t think we’ll be staying.

OK, so it’s not Casablanca —but you get my point, don’t you?  Trim your scenes; keep only what’s absolutely necessary to forward the plot, story, motivations, etc.


Characters Sound the Same

Always remember who your characters are.  Think of their ages and their backgrounds.  Some young dude who grew up in the projects and sells crack, more than likely won’t speak the way a middle-aged Manhattan attorney speaks.  For instance:

Fred, a 60-ish lawyer, emerges from his Mercedes Benz.  A Mugger jumps him, shoves a knife in his face.

MUGGER
Awright, you $%#^$%#, gimme da money!

LAWYER
Yo, dude, is this a stick up?

MUGGER
Shut yer &$^%#$$ lips and gimme da %&$%#$^& money, man! And gimme that shiny watch too!

LAWYER
Man, this just ain’t right! My momma gave me that watch!

...or the reverse can also be applicable:

MUGGER
Pardon me, but would you mind handing over your wallet?

LAWYER
Oh, would this be a stick up?

MUGGER
Why yes, it is. Do forgive the intrusion. And oh, can I have your watch, too, please?

Or in this scene: 

MOMMY puts her SON in his tiny bed with the SpongeBob sheets.

MOMMY
Now dear, I want you to be a good little boy and do what your babysitter tells you.

SON
But Mother, I don’t understand why you must always leave me alone with that woman.  She smells just awful!

…or this:

In a courtroom as the Judge admonishes the Suspect.

JUDGE
Look, bub, keep yer trap shut.  I’m the Judge ‘round here, see?  I make the rules, see?  Do what I say or I’ll stick your %#$&#% 
rear end in a cell for a thousand years!

Again, always remember what type of character you’re writing for…and give them an appropriate voice.


Superfluous Description

Can YOU spot the superfluous description?

Fred takes a seat in a purple chair.  He glances at his moderately expensive watch, notes the time.  He pulls a large, black comb from his right-side pocket and combs his reddish-gray hair.

Unless it’s pertinent to the storyline, we don’t care what color the chair is, we don’t care how much his watch costs, we don’t care about the size or color of his comb, we don’t care which pocket he pulls it from, and we couldn’t give a rat’s rear end what color his hair is.


Lazy/Dull Description

INT. BAR – NIGHT

It looks like a typical bar...

What does “typical” mean?  Is it an upscale bar, like one you’d find in Beverly Hills ?  A sleazy bar you’d find down by the docks?  

INT. MANSION – DAY

It looks like the house from the TV show Dynasty.

Ugh.  Please don’t reference other movies or old TV shows.  I’m not saying give us an entire page of description, but give us the essence of the setting—a thumbnail image of what your specific location looks like. 


Repetitive Description/Action

A while back I read a script where the main aspect of character description was the verb smiling.  Yup, there was quite a lot of smiling goin’ on.

He smiled.  She smiled.  They smiled.  They were all smiling.  Smile, smile, smile.

I’m serious.  Virtually every page of the script had at least one instance of someone smiling.  There were some pages where you could find six or eight variations of “smile”!  So I told the writer, “You need to find other ways to convey characters’ feelings/emotions.”  A few months later I did another critique for this writer, a different script, and this was the predominant descriptive term:

He frowned.  She frowned.  They frowned.  They were all frowning.  Frown frown frown.

ARRGH!! 

  

Unnecessary “Bits of Business”/Over-describing the Action

Every so often I’ll read a script where the writer takes great pains to tell us every move the character is making—as if this will make the scene more interesting.  For instance, one script I read had one character, John, talking on the phone.  Here’s how it went:

JOHN
(on phone)
I shouldn’t put so much pressure on you.  It’s just –-
 
John’s eyes widen

JOHN
What?  Are you okay?


John stands.

JOHN
Yeah, sure, I can meet you tomorrow.

John paces.

JOHN
Are you sure you don’t want to meet now?

John sits back down.

JOHN
Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.

John hangs up the phone and sits for a moment, thinking.

Let’s see…John is the only person in the scene, yet the writer found it necessary to tell us his name at every available opportunity.   And what’s with these silly directions?  Without changing the dialogue, here’s one way I might rewrite it:

JOHN

(on phone)
I shouldn’t put so much pressure on you.  It’s just --

(concerned now)
What?  Are you okay?...Yeah, sure, I can meet you tomorrow....Are you sure you don’t want to meet now?...Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.


He hangs up, drops into a chair, deeply worried.

There…it's easier to read and it takes up a lot less space on the page.  Here's another example:


Joe walks into the room and looks around.  He scratches his nose, then he scratches his chin.  He turns slightly, looking at the desk.  He rests his left hand on his waist, then cocks his head slightly to the right.  Then he pulls out a pack of cigarettes, pulls out a cig, puts his right hand into his pocket and retrieves a lighter...

We don’t need to know every single movement a character makes.  If it’s not absolutely pertinent to the scene, CUT IT!


Roundabout Description/Action

It tends to get awfully confusing (and frustrating) when your descriptions take one step forward and three steps backward.  In other words, when a character in your script does something, write it in the order they do it.  So instead of:

 
Joe sees the desk after he walks into the room.  He pulls a gun from the desk drawer after spotting the note: “Gun in top drawer.”


Write it something like this:

Joe walks into the room.  He sees the desk.  Then sees a note pinned to it: “Gun in top drawer.”  He moves to desk, opens drawer, retrieves a Smith & Wesson 45.


The Unnecessary Parenthetical Direction

You don’t need to explain how every line is to be read, or what action should take place as the line is read.  For instance:

COP
(pointing toward road)

Didn’t you see me over there?

MAN
(looking down road)
No, I didn’t.  

COP
(loud, annoyed)
I was parked right in front of you!

MAN
(cowering)
Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to...

COP
(shaking his head)
You guys are all alike.

MAN
(letting his breath out)
I know.  I’m so ashamed.

And I love this one:


JANE
(angrily)
I HATE YOU!!

If you set up your scene/characters/dialogue properly, that should be sufficient to tell us how the line should be read.  For instance:

A hulking behemoth of a man crashes through the wall.  He stands there, glowering, narrowing his red-hot, steely eyes at the two cops.

BEHEMOTH
I’m gonna kill you.

See how you the action sets up the context of the dialogue?  No parenthetical description is necessary.


Overly-specific Character Description

Don’t get bogged down with describing characters’ physical details.  As an example:

Joe is 32-years-old, medium height and a little overweight, with blonde hair and blue eyes.

There’s usually no reason to let us know the exact age.  This is especially true with peripheral characters who make a brief appearance in your script.  Just tell us Joe is “early-30s” and leave it at that.  However, if you’re introducing a character whose precise age is pertinent (i.e., small children), then tell us those ages.

Also, we don’t necessarily care what a character’s height and weight are.  Sure, if it’s some big fat slob and we need to know he’s a “5’6”, 300lbs. tub of goo,” or if we have to know he’s “portly” or “rotund,” or “skinny as a toothpick,” then fine.  Otherwise, don’t overly concern yourself with such detail.  As for hair and eye color, unless that’s a specific plot point, we don’t care (and it limits casting choices).  Here are some other examples of overly-specific descriptions:

A COP (about 40, with a mustache, and wearing dark sunglasses) barrels up to the scene and pushes back the crowd of onlookers.

Do we really care how old the Cop is or that he has a mustache?  No!  Just write something like this:

A BURLY COP with Ray Bans barrels up and pushes back the crowd of onlookers.

Here’s another:

 A TRASHMAN (57, overweight, with long, slick-backed hair) picks up the trash bag and tosses it into the back of the truck.

Instead, just tell us:

A greasy TRASHMAN hefts the trash bag, slings it into the rear of the truck.

As with describing your setting, just give us the essence of the character and let the director and/or the casting director work their magic.


Continually Repeating Character Names

You have a scene between Sally and Joe.  No one else.  With that in mind, tell me what’s wrong with the following:

INT. MOTEL ROOM – NIGHT

JOE is seated on the bed.  A knock at the door.  Joe gets up and opens the door, and SALLY is standing there.

JOE
Sally?

SALLY
The agency sent me.

Joe and Sally shake hands.

JOE
Come on in.

Sally steps in.

JOE
Have a seat.

Sally sits on the edge of the bed.

JOE
It was two hundred, right?

SALLY
Right.

Joe pulls out his wallet, liberates two hundred dollar bills and hands them to Sally.

SALLY
Thank you.

JOE
So, should we get down to business?

Sally gives a nod...then Joe pulls a Monopoly game from under the bed.

JOE
I get to be the thimble.

We know who’s in the scene, so why do we have to see both character names so often?  You could rewrite as:

JOE is seated on the bed.  A knock at the door.  He gets up and opens the door, and SALLY is standing there.

JOE
Sally?

SALLY
The agency sent me.

They shake hands.

JOE
Come on in.

She steps in.

JOE
Have a seat.

She sits on the edge of the bed.

JOE
It was two hundred, right?

SALLY
Right.

Joe pulls out his wallet, liberates two hundred dollar bills and hands them to her.

SALLY
Thank you.

JOE
So, should we get down to business?

She gives a nod...then Joe pulls a Monopoly game from under the bed.

JOE
I get to be the thimble.


Name Consistency

Be consistent with character names in your descriptive passages.  For instance, if you have an apartment manager character and her name is Mrs. Joyce Jones, don’t refer to her as Mrs. Jones in one scene and Joyce in another.  This also pertains to the name slug.  I’ve read many scripts where two names were used for one character…in the same scene.  For instance: 

Mrs. Jones looks at the crack in the wall.

MRS. JONES
You got a crack in the wall.  I’d better call the repair guy.

Joyce leaves.

It’s either “Mrs. Jones” or it’s “Joyce.”  Pick one and stick with it.



Flooding Your Story with Toooooo Many Characters

This is when you have characters who show up for a brief appearance, then completely disappear, never to return.  I once did a critique/evaluation on a script that had a total of 38 characters—all speaking parts.  Only 15 of them had any actual importance to the plot.  Many characters could have been combined.  So, ask yourself: Do I really need six cops for that scene?  Do I really need the waitress coming in to lay down the check?  Remember, it costs money to hire actors, so get that cast list down to a manageable level.

Also, it’s usually not a good idea to front-load your script with an abundance of characters.  If I’m on page 5 and I’ve been introduced to twelve characters, there’s probably gonna be a problem.  Let us get to know the main character(s) before you bombard us with secondary and peripheral characters.



Character Names That Sound/Look Similar

Several years ago I was hired by a New York City producer to do a rewrite of a political thriller script he wrote.  As I read through his initial draft, I kept getting confused.  I wasn’t always sure which character was speaking, or which character was in the scene.  Why?  Well, because so many of the names looked and sounded similar.  Here’s a sample of names from that particular script:

Felicia
Alicia
Patricia
Stephen
Stephanie
Dennis
Denise

There’s a million names available (go buy a baby naming book and you’ll see what I mean), so choose names that are individually distinct.



Numbered
Characters

It can be annoying experience reading a script that looks like an accountant’s balance sheet.  For instance:

Cop #1 looks at Cop #2 and they turn their attention to Suspect #1.  Cop #1 confers with Cop #2.

COP #1
You think he’s the guy?

COP #2
Dunno.  He sure looks suspicious to me.

COP #3 half-drags Suspect #2 from the house.

COP #3
Found this one hiding in a closet.

SUSPECT #2
I’m tellin’ ya, I’m innocent!

Numbering of characters is fine if it’s kept to a bare minimum (a couple times in script—and if the appearance of the character/s is ultra-brief), but try to give them some other moniker.  So, instead of COP #1, he could be GIRZZLED COP or OLDER COP or ROOKIE COP or FAT COP.  Instead of SUSPECT #1, he could be SCUMBAG or CROOK or BADDIE or SLEAZEBALL…or whatever.  Just go light on the numbering.  Thanks.



Characters Discussing What We’ve Just Seen/Are About to See

Before Rhett Butler swept Scarlett off her feet and carried her up those stairs, did he first say, “Scarlett, I’m gonna sweep you off your feet and carry you up those stairs”?  No, of course not—he just did it!  So, if we’ve seen it, or if we’re about to see it, there’s usually no reason to have your characters talk about it.  For instance:

Avoiding the encroaching flow of boiling lava, Jerry leaps from car roof to car roof.  He ultimately jumps onto the apartment balcony. Safe at last!

TOM
Jer!  How’d you get here?

JERRY
I leaped from car hood to car hood and then jumped onto the balcony!


Ending Scenes with Something Boring/Non-Visual

Joe sees the dead body on the floor, blood seeping from a stab wound in the neck.  Joe turns around, picks up his hat, turns off the light and walks out the door.  

Unless there’s a really good reason to show Joe picking up his hat, turning off the light and walking out the door, simply cut the scene on his stunned face as he gazes down at the body.

Less-than-Inspiring “Love” Scenes

I’ve read my fair share of uninspired, lackluster sex/love scenes over the years.  Here’s just one example:

TOM
I love you, Louise.

LOUISE
I love you, Tom.

Tom kisses Louise.  Louise returns his kiss.  They kiss on the lips for a while.  Tom kisses Louise’s face and neck. Louise runs her fingers over Tom’s back.

LOUISE
Ohhhhhhh.

Um, yeah.  You couldn’t turn on a light switch with this stuff.  Go read some “hot” scripts (i.e., The Postman Always Rings Twice, 9 ½ Weeks, or Basic Instinct), and see how it’s done right. 

And, oh yeah, date more.

 

 

 

 

  

Too Many Locations

In the real estate business it’s all about “Location, location, location!” but when writing a screenplay, that’s not necessarily the case.  Many inexperienced screenwriters make the mistake of loading their scripts with a myriad of locations.  I’ve read a number of scripts where there’s a new location on virtually every page.  This means somewhere in the vicinity of 70-80 separate locations in the script!  That’s waaaaaay too many.  Locations cost a production company time.  Time is money.  Lots of money.  Producers don’t like to spend more money than they have to. 



Unrealistic Phone Conversation

Unless you’re writing a whacky comedy, don’t let a character hold BOTH sides of a phone conversation.  Such as:

JOE
(on phone)
What’s that, you’re going on a trip?  But where are you going?  You’re going to Tahiti?  But with who?  You’re going with Rex?


This sort of thing worked great on sitcoms from the 50s, 60s and 70s (i.e., “I Love Lucy,” “The Dick Van Dyke Show” or “The Bob Newhart Show”), but nowadays, for a feature screenplay, it’s fairly ludicrous, especially if you’re writing anything other than a comedy.  Either intercut the conversation with the other character, or let us hear the other character’s voice filtered through the phone, or rework the dialogue so it sounds plausible/realistic.



No Emotion (in an Emotional Scene)

Nothing kills a heart-rending scene faster than characters who display no real emotion.  For example:

 

Jack and Jill stand together on the front steps.

JILL
I wanted it to work between us...but we’re two different people. 

JACK
But I can change.  I know I can.

JILL
It’s too late for that, Jack.  I’m so sorry.

She touches his arm. 

JILL
I should go.  Bye, Jack.

She goes inside the house.  Jack turns and walks back to his car.

Boy, now that’s sure a real heart-tugger, ain’t it?  Um, no.  OK, so let’s add a bit of emotion to it.  Something like this:

Jack and Jill stand together on the front steps.  Jill has tears brimming in her eyes.

JILL

I wanted it to work between us...but we’re two different people.

Now tears are brimming in Jack’s eyes.

JACK
But I can change.  I know I can.

JILL
It’s too late for that, Jack.

She looks deep into Jack’s pitiful face, fighting not to completely lose it.  She puts her arms around him, holds him tight.

JILL
(a whisper)
I’m so sorry.

It becomes too much for her –- and she pulls away and rushes into the house, closing the door after her. 

Jack stands there, crushed, utterly lost.

No need to go overboard with these emotional beats.  But give us something to latch onto, something that makes us feel something for your characters.



No Suspense (in a Suspenseful Scene)

In a comedy, you need situations and lines of dialogue that are funny.  In a drama, you need situations and lines of dialogue that are dramatic.  In a thriller, you need to build tension and suspense.  Here’s a fairly incorrect way to do this:

INT. BASEMENT – NIGHT

In the darkness, Eva walks to the door on the other side of the room and opens it.  A body tumbles out.  Steven’s body!  Eva screams and runs from the basement.

Rather dull, ain't it?  So let’s snazz it up a bit.  Maybe something more like this:

INT. BASEMENT – NIGHT

Eva stands in darkness.  Somewhere, water drips, drips, drips rhythmically. 


Slowly, she makes her way across the floor.  Her breathing more ragged with each step she takes. 

She finally reaches a door.  Fumbles for the knob, turns it.  But it won’t open.  She tugs and yanks furiously, frantically. 

The door gives way, swings open wide...and a body tumbles out, falling onto Eva.  Both crumble to the floor. 

Eva now realizes...the body is Steven! 

She wails like a banshee, crying hysterically, trying to get out from under the limp corpse.

Whatever.  Point is, you need to milk those suspenseful beats.  Make us experience those terrifying/suspenseful moments along with your character(s).



Using “CONTINUOUS”/”SAME”

Many writers improperly use “CONTINUOUS” and/or “SAME” in their scene headings.  I personally never use either of them.  But if you do, only use them when you’re moving from one location to an immediately adjacent location. For instance:

 

INT. HALLWAY – NIGHT

Joe comes down the hall, goes through a door and into...

INT. DEN – CONTINUOUS

Joe enters, moves to the desk and takes a seat.

The use of “CONTINUOUS” doesn’t really work when you’re first at an interior locale then at an exterior locale (i.e., walking down the hall, exiting a front door and emerging outside on the front porch).  You could argue that using “CONTINUOUS” or “SAME” is acceptable when used in this manner:

INT. BANK – DAY

Tellers go about their business.  Customers stand in line, fill out deposit slips...

EXT. ALLEY BEHIND BANK – DAY

Two masked gunmen load their assault rifles.

INT. BANK – SAME

All is normal...then BLAM...the masked gunmen barge in.

Sure, you could use “SAME” (or “CONTINUOUS”) in this instance, but to me it just feels a bit sloppy.   If the producers want to put this in their shooting script, let ‘em.  I choose to keep it either “DAY” or “NIGHT.”



Miscellany

Please…know the difference between the words than and then.

INCORRECT: “She is smarter then he is.”
CORRECT: “She is smarter than he is.”

INCORRECT: “Jack sits there much longer then he should.”
CORRECT: “Jack sits there much longer than he should.”

Please…don’t clutter your script by overusing exclamation points!!!!!!  It can be tough reading scenes that looks like this:


JOE
Mary!!!!

MARY
Joe!!!  


JOE
Oh, Mary, I thought you were gone...gone forever!!!!!

MARY
No, my darling, not gone forever...just on vacation!!!!!  

JOE
Vacation????  Without me???!!!

MARY
But, my sweetness, you hate the beach!!! 

So...one exclamation point, one question mark!!!  Okay????  Great, thanks!!!

 

 

 

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