Here’s a story about the famous artist Picasso – one you may have heard before:
A stranger interrupted Picasso at his evening meal. Producing a napkin from his pocket, the man asked: “Could you sketch something for me? I’ll pay you for it. Name your price.”
Picasso grabbed a charcoal pencil, and rapidly sketched a goat. It took only a few strokes, yet was unmistakably a Picasso. The man reached for the napkin, but Picasso pulled it back. “You owe me $100,000”.
The man was outraged. “$100,000? Why? That took no more than 30 seconds to draw!”
Picasso threw the drawing away. “You are wrong,” he replied. “It took me 40 years.”
Whether something as epic as that actually happened, it’s still a funny tale. And a story worth reflecting on: a profound commentary on the level of skill needed to create true art: no matter how deceptively simplistic the result.
If you’ve been a screenwriter for a while, you’ll know it’s true for us, as well.
Because – like any decent videogame – scriptwriting is a multi-level art.
On Level 1: That’s the getting-to-know you round. Learn the fundamentals of formatting. How many pages can your script be? How do you construct a slug-line that really works? What software is best to use, and when/where does one write in CAPS? Folks, that’s a whole mountain of information to absorb.
And when you attain Level 2 –there’s more!
Level 2: That magic moment when scriptwriting morphs from Passing Fancy to Serious Hobby – when you unexpectedly care about the results. It’s that awkward phase of learning the nuts and bolts, and exploring the nuances of one’s craft: Understanding three act structure. Incorporating a universal theme into one’s work. Planning character arcs, writing organic dialog - and making damned sure your script has something novel and unique to say.
Whew! Did you actually make it through Level 2 and survive? Really? Wow, congrats! Your script will surely sell itself!
Um, kinda – but not quite. Because here’s the cold hard lesson for us yarn-spinning wonks: Content isn’t everything. Sure – much like birthdays – it’s the “gift that counts.” But in the real world of pen, ink and PC pixels: the box and wrapping are part of the package, too.
No, I’m not talking about dodging typos. That’s a no-brainer, right? But when you sit down and type “Fade In”, Level Three is that phase of game and life when a seasoned screenwriter realizes they’ve got a whole army of literary tools to juggle. Ones that will ultimately make the difference between Your Big Break, and a Sad, Quiet Death in the Slush Pile.
Generically, those tools are an X-Factor known as Writer’s Voice. In more pragmatic terms, you’ve got a combination of tricks to learn:
- Getting into a scene as late as possible – and jumping out just as quick.
- Throwing in asides here and there. Whatever you do, don’t club a reader over the head with your opinion: Show it, Don’t Tell It is a valid rule of thumb. But once you’ve been around the writing block a few times, you’ll realize it’s not only ok but preferable to throw in a touch of style.
- Match Cuts are Your Friend. Say a character lights a match in Scene 1. Then the sun beats down on his head. Voila - Scene 2! Such visual bridges won’t always be noticed by readers, but even subconsciously, that continuity creates a magical, organic flow
- No matter the genre, make sure every scene has a dedicated purpose. Whether that’s emotion, physical danger or a plot twist doesn’t matter that much. But ENSURE the urgency is there.
- Make every verb active instead of passive (for instance, sits vs. sitting.) And verbs gotta be dynamic as well. Why have a character sit when they can perch, slouch, fidget, etc? You’re a writer, dammit. Your words should be colorful and passionate; that’s exactly why they’re there.
- And not redundant, either. If you mentioned “door” in the last sentence – switch it up. Gate, entrance, opening – prove you’ve got a vocabulary that would make Shakespeare proud.
- Not to mention efficient. When asked how he completed the sculpture of David, the sculptor Michelangelo reputedly quipped: “Easy. I just chip away everything that isn’t him.” Whether or not that classic comment actually fell from Mikey’s lips: like Picasso, he had a point. As a scriptwriter, your descriptions should be just enough to evoke a desired image, or convey just enough exposition download. Say your fearful Protagonist waits in the kitchen for a visitor… then suddenly hears a BANG! Do you need to mention him getting out of his seat, pushing his chair back, standing, opening the cupboard, and reading the label of every box he sees? If it’s not crucial to story – don’t. Remember: page space is inherently valuable. And a huge portion of your scene can be implied.
- But to the extent you do pen a description, make it rich in every way. Alliteration is fun. Lights should glint. Textures should feel buttery, smooth, velvet, or sandpaper rough. And remember that auditory example from before? Every sound should strike your audience like a HISS or BANG! No, that’s not a license to “overwrite.” But make sure every word you wield counts.
- And then there’s Prosody: a word the majority of us don’t even know. But for writers, it’s an essential concept to learn. Its definition: “the stress and intonation in a language.” IE: the ebb and flow of words. Prosody may not be in most folks’ vocabulary, but it’s an aspect of communication everyone instinctively knows. Prosody’s the difference between poetry and an instruction manual. The distinction between screaming and Song. On “Level Three” of scriptwriting you’ll discover sentence structure is actually just as crucial as Act Pacing; the difference between a script that rivets one to the page, or drives readers away in droves, bored. Like music, Prosody may be difficult to officially define – but just pay attention to how you balance and weight your sentences. You’ll just know when you hit gold.
As for Level 4? That’s clinching the option, script sale and beyond. Level 4’s a wondrous mountain we all want to climb someday.
But in the meantime, stop to check out the inherent pleasures of Level 3. Explore them. Experiment. Play with Possibilities; look around.
‘Cause whether you’re Picasso, Michelangelo or Shakespeare – that experience is what Art’s really for!