K.I.S.S.: Keep it Simple, Scriptwriter

I spent some time recently talking with my friend Paul, a scriptwriter and film director. He gave me some feedback on a script I was a little too close to. Then I gave him an opinion on a project he was working on. Then we bounced other pet ideas off of each other.

Throughout our discussion, one theme emerged, time and time again – keep it simple!

We both found areas of weakness in the other’s script where the waters were being muddied by Too Much Stuff. Too many characters… Too many things going on… Too much backstory. Just too much.

As Paul reminded me: you have only 90 minutes in a movie to tell your story. It has to be succinct and to the point. So now, I have two options – find the main story I want to tell in my screenplay, cut everything else, and spend the whole movie developing the single thread, OR keep everything, flesh it all out more, and make the screenplay into a novel.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – short stories translate into great movies (see “The Shawshank Redemption,” for instance).

Novels, however, rarely do. There is too much in a book to condense into two hours. Much must be cut, go by the wayside or be ignored in order to make the movie the right length. Often, that means tampering with a book’s structure and internal construction. Which is why great books often make for inferior movies – their stories require more than two hours to tell.

Once you have a work completed, ask yourself how much time will be allotted to it on the audience’s end. In other words – people can spend hours, if not days, with a book. With a movie, however, they invest 90 to 120 minutes of their time. A TV show needs 30 to 60 minutes of commitment (if you’re really compelling and they don’t have a remote handy). Articles require only 5 to 10 minutes to read.

Armed with that knowledge, edit your piece accordingly:

• Find the most important part – the thing you most want to say – then focus only on it. 
• Polish that Thing so it shines for the time allotted according to the medium. 
• Strip out everything that distracts from the story. 
• Erase all deviating  plot lines. 
• Get rid of anything that needs explaining, unless it directly relates to your point. 
• Axe all periphery characters.

Simplify, simplify, simplify. In doing so, not only will you make your story stronger, but you will also crystallize your point – making your future pitches for the project stronger and more focused.

Have any ideas for simplifying your writing and making your story stronger? I'd love to hear them!

Thoughts on Stretch Armstrong and Balls of Various Sizes

I never liked Stretch Armstrong.

I never saw the point in him. To me, he was a flaccid, creepy thing that encouraged toy torture and mutilation. Evidently, little girls weren't Kenner's target market, 'cause for a while Stretch seemed to be the Barbie for those sporting a Y chromosome.  When I was growing up, every boy I knew had a Stretch Armstrong, or a Stretch Monster, or a Stretch Hulk.


Few of my friends actually used Stretch for his intended purpose. Most were overly eager to find out what was inside him (red goo). They quickly discovered that puncturing Stretch's skin compromised his integrity, ruining his stretchability and remanding him to the pile of Cannon Fodder toys that got to die over and over again in epic battles against Godzilla, Transformers, and both the Empire and the Rebel Forces.

To this day, I try to steer clear of Stretch.

I am in the process of turning a completed novella into a novel. The novella began as a screenplay (which I am still in love with), and read like one: visual, action-packed, tight, and to the point.

In my humble opinion, I believe that short stories and novellas make the best screenplays.  The shorter prose format translates well into an hour and a half of screen time. Conversely, screenplays are relatively easy to turn into novellas.

But agents are notoriously *meh* about novellas. Probably because traditional publishers are even less geeked about them.  I really like the story and the characters, so I'm delving into their world more deeply, fleshing things out more and working to turn my sprinter into a distance runner.

What I don't want to do is turn my novella into the literary equivalent of Stretch Armstrong.  I don't want to slavishly adhere to the original story and merely ... st-r-e-t-ch... it... out... beyond... all... recognition... or... use.

If the story is going to merit becoming a novel, it's going to need depth that will support its added length. I can't let the added words pull the plot all out of proportion or distort the story.

In other words, I need to ditch Stretch and think: balls.

(I know what you're thinking. And you're wrong. Bear with me here...)

My story is complete. I spent weeks contemplating its arc, its characters, and their motivations. The B & C stories are also complete. These are all the Big Things that work together to make the story gel.  These are the structural equivalent of basketballs.

When I began writing the novella, I had a specific story space to fill. I filled it with the equivalent of plot-related basketballs. If I move a basketball, I will affect all of the other basketballs in the space. The major pieces of the story are in place. If I  dislodge (or stretch) any one piece, I jeopardize the whole story.

This does not mean, however that the story space has no room left for content. There is plenty of room between basketballs. One or two soccer balls will fit, as may a volleyball or three. The odd bowling ball may also find a place. What this means in practical terms is that my B and C stories have plenty of room for development. So do my characters with regards to their motivation, aspirations, emotional depth, and maturation.

After that, there will still be room in the story space for the literary equivalent of softballs, pool balls, tennis balls, racquet balls, and ping pong balls.  Heck, when those have filled in their gaps, I can toss in a whole mess of marbles just for the fun of seeing the sun glint off their pretty colors.

During this process, all I have to do is remember why I always distrusted Stretch. I never want to run the risk of stretching the story or plot beyond all recognition. I just want to fill the allotted story space with enough balls that there's something to engage the attention of everyone who is willing to read it and take me up on a game of one-on-one.

Do you have a favorite technique for adding depth (or word count)? Share it below! I'd love to hear it.

Fiction's Fatal Flaw: The Missing Deadline

Ready?  BEGIN!

This post is short. You should be able to read it in a minute.  Minute and a half at the most.

That in itself may be incentive to keep reading. (Ah well, I can spare 90 seconds while waiting to see who RT'd my latest tweet.) But imagine that I promised to give $5000 to everyone who finished reading it in under 90 seconds...

OR that your life depended upon your reading and understanding every word before the counter hits 90.

Suddenly, this little post takes on a whole new persona. It becomes alive.  It affects the reader on a personal level.  It means something to you.  Your relationship with the words on the page is now imbued with tension, conflict, and drama.

Such is the power of the deadline.

Last summer, the fabulous and amazing uberagent Conrad Williams graciously read and critiqued one of my screenplays. The script is my go-to contest entry: it consistently places well and, at the time I screwed up the courage to request Mr. Williams' opinion, it was as good as I could make it.

His comments were insightful and gracious (and overwhelmingly positive, which was a relief since it took me 3 days before I could find the guts to read what he said).  Hands down, however, his most useful note was the one where he zeroed in on my story's fatal flaw:

No deadline.

See, throughout the script stuff happens. Lots of stuff: swords and sorcery, intrigue and mystery. But there is no clear root-for-the-hero-before-time-runs-out deadline.

As soon as he pointed the flaw out to me, I saw it.  (More difficult to see, it pains me to admit, is how to fix the flaw without making it appear contrived. Truth be told, I'm still working on it.) I had an ah-ha epiphany: So THAT'S what's been missing. And I could have kicked myself for not noticing the problem sooner.

Deadlines are critical to getting your audience invested in the outcome of your story.  (How you doin' with the time, there? Think you'd get those 5 Gs?)

Imagine the original "Star Wars" if all the rebel forces had to do was take out the Death Star. Good, but not great.  Factor in the added threat that they have to neutralize the Empire's newest weapon before it destroys the planet with Leia & the rebels on it, and the deadline bumps the story's "Gotcha Quotient (GQ)" into the stratosphere.

Deadlines anchor a story and its characters in time ("If I don't have the money by noon tomorrow, your career is over!").  They give the audience something specific to root for ("I've got to be in Fresno before 6 for my wedding!).  The audience also understands - and fears - the consequences that will ensue should our hero miss the deadline ("Without that medicine in the next 24 hours, my little boy is dead!").

Deadlines serve another critical function: They force the story to move.  Ever read something that wasn't poorly written per se, but that just didn't grab you? Bet it was missing a few deadlines!

Want to keep your readers hanging on every word? Let them sink their teeth into a deadline.

88...89...90...

BOOM!

Surprise Me!

One of the best things you can do as a writer is to keep your reader guessing. Guessing readers turn pages to see if their suspicions are correct. Readers who have all the answers spoonfed to them close the book, turn out the light, and go to sleep. Then, it's anyone's guess as to whether the book will ever see the light of day again...

Last night, at the Novel Writing Practicum, I suggested that writers think of their narrative as a game:
• Too predictable = too easy. Reader grows bored and stops.
• Too unpredictable = impossible to win. Reader grows frustrated and stops.
• Establish the playing field & the rules early.
• Adhere to the rules you set.

Part of establishing the "playing field" involves clearly placing your book in a particular, recognizable genre. Another aspect of the "rules" has to do with the decisions you make about things like reality and narration (First or third person? Omniscient or narrow? Biased or objective?).

The readers’ fun is in thinking they know more than you.
Your fun is in surprising the readers AND keeping them turning pages.

The writer's toolkit of surprises includes such gems as:
• Narrative sleight of hand and misdirection.

• Unexpected emotions or actions. (Think Scarlett in "Gone with the Wind." Any vulnerability comes a a surprise, which brings added depth to the moment.)

• Reveal of previously hidden information.

• Characters acting in ways contrary to their nature. (In a wonderful scene in Being Julia, the main character -- a diva -- goes out of her way during practice to allow the ingenue to shine. The entire scene is memorable because it includes one surprise after another. What makes it even more effective is when the diva allows her true nature to shine -- in a scene that is also rife with surprises.)

• Previously introduced but now forgotten element takes center stage.

• Unexpected alliances or feuds.

• “One fact short of understanding.” (Excellently played out in thrillers -- Shattered (or "Butterfly on a Wheel") and The Illusionist are two films that use this method very well.


“Let the audience add up two plus two. They’ll love you forever.” Billy Wilder gave his mentor Ernst Lubitsch credit for emphasizing surprise in the game of storytelling.

It should come as no surprise, however, that the more you engage your readers and give them a puzzle they can sink their teeth into, the sooner they'll come back to you for more!

Plot Spots

Last Tuesday, in my Writer's Workshop, we discussed Plot. Now -- I'm not one of those who believes that a story is either plot-driven or character-driven. No: I happen to believe that all stories are inextricably tied to the characters within them (even if the only character is the narrator...).

However, I also believe in the Plot Spot. The Plot Spot, as I explained to my students, is the Thing that impacts a character's life and forces that character to make a choice. The resulting story, then, hinges upon the character's choice. For instance:

A major early Plot Spot in Wanted, is the Store Shootout. It establishes every major plot point that drives the next 30 minutes of the film, and it presents Wesley, the main character, with a choice that will impact the rest of his life.

A significant Plot Spot in Happy Feet occurs where Memphis loses the egg that has been entrusted to his care. Though he recovers it, he blames that incident for damaging his son and making him "different."

Some stories have many Plot Spots -- many crossroads that force their characters to make life-changing, long-term, significant decisions. The story line of such works eventually looks like a dot-to-dot of possible turning points, connected by a single line of choices.

Other stories have very few Plot Spots. One could argue that Twilight only has two. If Edward didn't save Bella in the high school parking lot, she wouldn't even know to ask about his special powers. And if James wasn't such a tracker, there would be no reason for Bella to run to Phoenix. (Of course, that's overly simplifying the story -- but the point is that some story lines are heavily reliant on Plot Spots. Others are not.)

After examining what constitutes a Plot Spot, I challenged my students to examine their current projects in the light of "What Happens?" One way to do that is to practice Playing God with a particular scene. For instance:

Underline, or otherwise identify key plot points in your scene. For each one, articulate:

• How will this point pay off later?
• Why is it important for the reader to remember this?
• How will this affect the character’s choices / life?

• (brainstorming option) Identify at least 5 reasonable, logical choices the character could make as a result of each plot point. Follow each choice a short distance to see where that “plot road” takes you.

o Look for ways to work in these “alternate paths” in other characters, to illustrate to the reader the validity of your lead character’s actions.

o KNOW, beyond any doubt, why the story unfolds the way it does. The lead CANNOT a passive victim of chance. Know the consequences your lead unleashes.

o Explore dark alleys. (This is especially effective in ascertaining that you, the writer, are not being Too Nice to your main character. Let him or her fall into some difficult places. Beware of treating your characters with kid gloves. Remember: how we handle hardship is what defines us.)

My students are to bring their re-worked scenes, complete with Plot Spots, to class this week. I'm always amazed and inspired at how a hard look at What Happens can make one's writing SOOoo much more interesting.

Update

My friend, Trudy Morgan-Cole, had a very successful online book launch for her latest work, By the Rivers of Brooklyn. In fact, she actually charted in the Top 10 of the Canadian online bookseller that she used to do the launch. I'm so proud of her! Yay, Trudy!

I donated a complete "Character Building Practicum" as a bonus prize to a lucky winning writer who participated in the online launch. I'm always happy to help my friends with their marketing efforts. And I'm looking forward to working with the writer who claimed the prize.

I've just finished a manuscript edit of an inspirational memoir written by an author I've been mentoring for the past year. It's quite good, I must say. She is attending the Grand Rapids Christian Writer's Workshop with me later this week. With luck, she'll be able to bring the project to the attention of a good agent or publisher who can get it in print in a timely manner.

The Marathon Man screenplay edit continues, and should (God willing) be finished this week. This is great, because Ryan has promised me that he will have his edits and additional content ready for me by the end of the month.

I hope to also finish the sample chapter for the Marathon Man book proposal by the end of this week. Not only will it be good to be able to send it off to the agent who has requested it, but it will free me up to work on two personal projects that are clamoring for attention.

Never a dull moment. If someone were to chart the Plot Points in my life, I wonder what sort of story would be taking shape...