Current Score

Dr Cynic: 7

Stupid Writing Man: 0

Sigh.

Close the door, or the draft will give you a cold

Stupid Writing Man has just finished writing 'hand notes' on the current revision of the current draft of My Baby. He's now enjoying a dram of Johnny Walker Gold (chilled).

Stupid Writing Man has an interesting process - while he doesn't write scripts in long hand he prefers doing revisions with a hard copy and a pen. If he invents a new scene or dramatically alters one (pun intended), he'll firstly write out the changes in The Big Black Book (which he has collected a few of over the years), then.. if his hand doesn't hurt too much... transcribe them onto the back of the appropriate pages of the script.

While Stupid Writing Man will make structural comments in his handnotes he won't actually shift scenes around - that comes later. Internal Monologue* occasionally mutters that these handnotes amount to shifting deckchairs on the titanic, which perturbs Captain Fragile Ego somewhat... but if Stupid Writing Man is in The Zone™, he can usually keep the Insecurity Rays at bay.

After SWM has done his handnotes - which takes time - he'll sleep on them. Sometimes for one night, sometimes for longer. If he can't think of any more things to revise and he's done enough procrastination AKA mindbleaching**, he'll start the next stage. The next stage is, unsurprisingly, typing these handnotes up into the next revision. Of course, Stupid Writing Man often decides that he's gotten things wrong, and will make additional changes during this transcription process.

When SWM has done transcribing he may, if sufficiently motivated, move onto Structural Work. If he doesn't do so immediately, he'll return to the land of mindbleaching. Said Structural Work involves moving scenes around in Final Draft - following his early notes- and seeing how they read AND feel. Sometimes getting them working requires making even more subtle changes to scene transitions blah.

And this is why Hand Writing is important. On a superficial level, it removes Stupid Writing Man from distractions, but on a deeper level is serves as a permanent and physical record of a certain 'level' of changes (pre-digital). Stupid Writing Man occasionally finds it useful to go over his early revisions/drafts, reading his old notes, and discovering nuggets of wisdom which he, in his infinite stupidity, discarded.

Once a draft is finished, he'll e-mail to himself so there'll always be a copy in the aether of off-site storage (just in case).

Stupid Writing Man also has a habit of using mindbleaching to help his mnid change gears. When he's been spending his days as a mild-mannered VFX Whipcracker, he can often come home with brains full of stuff (like XSL Translation Layers), and mindbleaching is a great way to force him to stop thinking about work. Games are his preferred way of doing this because many of them are essentially non-linguistic - in fact, they're highly reptilian and visceral experiences - and, more importantly, they require concentration and interaction. These latter two things force him to be involved. This differs from watching a movie or tv or a play, where you can be present without being involved. (Digression Boy: "Note he didn't mention books") Games bleach his brains of words... which, rather ironically, is the best way to prepare for writing, he finds.

The real question is when does this current round of revisions (aka a draft) end?

* There are rumours that Internal Monologue is actually Dr. Cynic in disguise (Digression Boy - "Note the uncanny parallel of name-structure with Mr Rational. Could they possibly be the same person? c.f. Dr Jekyll/Mr Hyde. Mr Rational response is: "STFU")

** Which, at this stage, is amounting to playing rounds of International Superstar Soccer Deluxe, writing blog entries, or drinking scotch.

Scenery Chewing

[....]

But I can't seem to stop doing it. Not only do my characters "turn" frequently, they "shrug" and "stop" and "shake their heads" with astonishing regularity. They "frown", "sigh", "puzzle", "react" and do lots of other scenery-chewing actions. My characters are downright twitchy.

I think I know why. They start fidgeting when the scene isn't right; when they are simply exchanging thoughts without strong cause-and-effect.

[...]

If there's something going on under the surface between characters (as there damn well should be), then these futsy little stage directions aren't necessary.

-- Turn Turn Turn via Hollywood Fun Camp.

I almost quoted Scoopy's entire article, but I resisted. Why? Cause its worth reading in full. It certainly made me question what my Internal Monologue has been whispering to my Captain Fragile Ego about My Baby.

Why?

Internal Monologue has been concerned that My Baby has key scenes which are almost entirely dialogue rather than action. He blames Stupid Writing Man for not finding more imaginative locations to stage scenes and for not being... cinematic (fuck). Stupid Writing Man's trusty ally, Mr Rational counters that Internal Monologue should Shut The Fuck Up because well written dialogue is *always* action -- thats what makes it well written (like duh). Despite such counters, Captain Fragile Ego has been whimpering for the last few days as he tries to finish off the current draft of My Baby.

BUT NOW!

Mr Rational embraces this article as ammunition against Internal Monologue because it proves his assertion. If you have 'twitchy' action then its because your dialogue isn't action and thus, sucks (like duh)! Consequently, Mr Rational is trying to convince Captain Fragile Ego that in fact Stupid Writing Man has actually done a good job in these key scenes. A kick ass job, in fact. Evidence by the absence of twitchiness. Unfortunately, Captain Fragile Ego has focused his Insecure Rays on the scenes which HAVE twitchy action... and Internal Monologue has twisted the words of Mr Rational to say: "See all those scenes full of twitchy action? Yeah? THEY BITE ASS. Stupid Writing Man is fucked - he's trying to polish a turd with lipstick. Who cares about these key scenes? They're only key because of the context they're placed in, not because they are approximately 1/3rd of the way through your script. If you're context doesn't work then your key scenes won't work, twitchiness or no twitchness. Oh yeah, by the way, remember how Stupid Writing Man has written entire scenes of twitchy action in his other Works of Lameness? Yeah? Good. No, no, just wondering if you remember."

Meanwhile...

Digression Boy notes that he prefers 'twitchy' action which:

(a) Creates (or reinforces) a relationship, whether it be between two objects, two actors, or an an object and an actor... ; and

(b) Has movement, preferably forward.

e.g. Paul pushes himself against the doorframe; Paul turns away from Scoopy.

Digression Boy continues:

Truly insignificant bits of action have neither movement nor a relationship with anything else... hell, they probably qualify as activities. Just because a character is doing something doesn't mean its action - Mr Rational interjects to stipulate that (and I quote here) 'the danger with the Dialogue isn't Action' theorem is that it creates the corollary assumption that physical activities = always action. "Action" is a special state (like plasma or quantum soup or something) attached to moments / beats which have significance. "

Having been rudely interrupted by Mr Rational, Digression Boy returns to his little pearl of wisdom:

There are often significant bits of small action which are important for the story.

Sometimes this can be a twitchy reaction like 'sigh' or a 'nod', but you need to use them sparingly, otherwise the reader will never understand their imporificance (and thus they'll seem to be the screenwriting equivalent of treading water, aka WASTING OUR FUCKING TIME).

Sometimes they can be what actors call 'business' - tiny bits of action which reveal characterisation (refusing to acknowledge the use of a z in that word) and, eventually, character (if you're good). But you need to embue this business with weight. If a character smokes, why do they smoke? Why do they decide to pull out a cigarette at that particular moment? What if they decide to eat an apple, or drink a beer, or any of that lame shiznit that Stupid Writer Man writes into his Works of Lameness? Don't know the answers to those questions and your business probably isn't business and is just activity. Leave it to the actors and directors to work out in blocking.

Blah blah blah BLah. bLaHH bLAHH. blah.

Working Two Jobs

I always wish a had a real job I hated doing anyway, because then writing would feel like I was cheating instead of homework. All you people out there who despise your jobs don't know how lucky you are.

-- Via Industry Whore

UPDATED:

Wow, the grass is always greener.

I don't think it matters whether you hate the job you're in or love it, you still have to find time to write.... and while writing can be a joy, it can also feel like cheating, and it can also feel like homework.

>Personally, while there is a lot I really love about my job - I also get extremely tetchy if I don't make stuff outside of work (usually writing or composing)* and that tetchiness makes me also kinda pissy at the job I'm in. Its a symbiotic relationship I'm trying to manage, cause I also nee to factor in my need to have dobuggeralltime™, aborsbmediatime™, seefriendstime™, enjoyfamilytime™ and drinkscotchtime™.

Then again, I'm not a TV writer like Industry Whore who is wanting to find time to develop her feature script. I can see why that would be difficult.

* Except when I'm doing 'development' work because ultimately there's the innate satisfaction at having made something.