The Screenwriter's Problem Solver

There are symptoms that can be identified if you know what to look for, and they usually give a pretty good indication of what the problem is, whether the script is slow and heavy, or too long, or all the characters sound the same. If that’s the case, then how do you fix it, or shape it, transform it from a “bad read” into a “good read”?
For example, if your dramatic premise seems weak and not clearly articulated and defined within the first ten pages, then the chances are that the Set-Up is weak and the material is going to wander around in different directions and lack a dramatic focus. That’s a symptom; let it go on too long and you’ve got a dull screenplay; just as a scratchy irritation in the throat is sometimes the symptom of a cold or flu. Symptoms reveal things, and in the “art” of medicine, if you read the symptoms correctly, then you can find the cause, and heal the disease, whatever it might be. At least, in theory.
In screenwriting you cure the problem by knowing and understanding its symptoms. For example, suppose a writer wants to create a strong action line and, in so doing, sets up the story so fast, he or she simply skims over, or omits, necessary and essential character information? It won’t take the writer long to realize the character’s been sacrificed for action.
We can identify this because the character will be so busy reacting to the events or the situation that we don’t have an opportunity to learn anything about him or her. That’s a symptom. And it always seems to lead to a dull and boring read. When I see a script unfolding like this, with the character simply reacting to his or her situation, I’ll give the writer thirty pages to see whether it works or not. If it doesn’t, I’ll stop read

If you wanted to examine “the stuff” that makes dull writing, what would you say? What is the nature of dull? What does it look like? What does it taste like, and what is its essence, the seed that sprouts into the tree?

story, through the characters and events, is one of those simple, basic “truths” of all writing, whether it be novel, play, or screenplay.
In my seminars and workshops, no matter what the language or culture, I find that many screenwriters do not understand the importance of conflict in their stories. And their screenplays reflect that. So many times the characters seem listless, the scenes slow, taking too much time to develop; there is little or no direction, and it boils down to a screenplay that is dull and boring to read.
So what is conflict? If you look at the word it means to be “in opposition”; and the hub of any dramatic scene is having the character or characters be in opposition to someone, or something. Conflict can be anything, a struggle or a quarrel, a battle or a chase scene, internal or external, any kind of confrontation or obstacle, and it really doesn’t matter whether it’s emotional, physical, or mental.
Conflict must be at the very hub of your story, because it is the core of strong action and strong character. If

Go through your own experience and check it out.
In the long run, whether you’ve fallen into the pit of “dull and boring” is something you’re going to have to determine for yourself. You might have to admit the possibility that you’ve written something that needs to be more active, more dynamic, something that will keep the reader turning pages. Because that’s what good writing is all about—keeping the reader turning pages.
So, what are some of those qualities that make up good screenwriting?
Several things: perhaps the most important is to understand that the foundation of all good dramatic writing is conflict. All drama is conflict; without conflict you have no character; without character you have no action; without action you have no story. And without story you have no screenplay.
Dramatic conflict can either be internal or external; an emotional story like How to Make an American Quilt, or Sense and Sensibility has internal (and external) conflict. External conflict is a story where the conflict is outside the character, and the characters face physical (and of course, emotional) obstacles, such as Apollo 13 or Jurassic Park (Michael Crichton and David Koepp). Creating conflict within the sto

Strong action and strong characters. That’s what makes good screenwriting.

what you write, this is what your critic is going to be telling you. It stinks, it’s no good, you should be doing something else.
That’s the nature of the mind, to judge, to criticize, to evaluate. The mind can either be our best friend or our worst enemy. It’s so easy to get plugged into judgments of right or wrong, good or bad.
Now, it could be that what the critic says is accurate. Maybe the pages are terrible, the characters are thin and one-dimensional, and you’re going around in circles. So what? Confusion is the first step toward clarity. What you try that doesn’t work always shows you what does work. As you struggle through any problem area, just get something down on paper. Just write shitty pages. You’ll always be able to go back and make them better. That’s the process all writers go through. So what if you’ve “hit a wall” and are going around in circles, dazed, lost, and confused?

No wonder it’s called “Writer’s Block.”
If you’re in this particular dilemma, and your creative voice is smothered by this blanket of doubt and negativity, then it’s time to give the critic a voice. That means giving that judgmental, critical, and negative voice that’s roaming around inside your head the opportunity to speak his or her mind.
First, go to your screenplay pages—it doesn’t matter whether you’re writing on computer, typewriter, pad, or paper. Then take out a separate piece of paper and label it The Critic’s Page. As you start writing, every time you become aware of a negative comment or judgment coming up, write it down on The Critic’s Page. Number the comments, label them, just as if you were making a shopping list. For example, you might become aware that “these pages are terrible,” or “I don’t really know what I’m doing,” or “This isn’t working,” or “Maybe somebody else should finish it for me.” Maybe “These characters all sound the same,” and it’s apparent that “I’ve lost my vision,” and so on. Whatever your thoughts and comments are about your pages, just lay them down; 1,2,3,4,5….
The first day you’re doing The Critic’s Page, you may write two pages of screenplay, and four pages of the critic. On the second day maybe you’ll write three pages of screenplay and two or more pages of the critic. The third day maybe four or five pages of screenplay and a page or two of the critic.
At that point, stop writing. Take The Critic’s pages, put them in order, and just read them; day one, day two, day three. As you think about these comments, mull them over in your mind. You’ll discover something very interesting; the critic always says the same thing. It doesn’t matter what kind of a scene it is, or who the characters are, or what you write, whether it’s the pages from day one, two, or three, or whether it’s a dialogue scene or an action scene, the critic says the same thing—the same words, the same phrases, the same expressions. It’s all the same. No matter

These emotional questions needed to be answered and clearly defined before my student could go back into the story and confidently dig more deeply into the character.

What’s going on with her relationships? Is she in a relationship?

Questions, questions, questions.
We started from the character’s emotional state at the time the story begins. What is she feeling when she leaves her home in the city to return for her grandfather’s funeral? What’s going on in her life? In her professional life with her career, and in her personal life, with her relationships, and then in her private life—what she does for herself, and how she feels about herself.