Why This is Good

With all of the restrictions, rules and limitations placed on screenwriters, we can often feel stifled and limited. Writing can seem like a mechanical, boiled down process that is there only to convey information in the precise way that screenwriting demands.

Despite the fact that your script is not the final product or meant to be read, it is still possible, and necessary, that you make your script an enjoyable read. Don’t neglect your reader and imagine only how the script will be used to create something on screen. The reality is, your script will be read, many times, and if you want it to continue to be read and remembered by the people in power to option and produce it, you need to make your writing style impactful, interesting, and fun to read.

Your writing style can still reflect your personality, quirks and sense of humor. And you can and must develop a personalized style. Just because you’re told what margins are needed and how spacing and other elements of format should be done doesn’t mean you can write blandly and ignore injecting colorful, exciting and dynamic prose into your screenplay.

Think of your reader as you go through rewrites. Don’t be afraid to break a rule here and there to make an aside to the reader, put something in a funny or creative way, or break grammatical rules to get a point across more effectively. Short staccato sentences can indicate rapid movement and a quick pace, for example, while longer drawn out run-on sentences can imply a slow, dragging moment in the story. I’ve read scripts by both professionals and amateurs alike where the writer will make humorous observations directed towards the reader, which, when done properly, helps bring them into the story, alleviate their boredom, and make them smile and remember you.

For some examples of well-written, interesting screenplays with writing style that sets them apart, check out scripts by Charlie Kaufman, Shane Black,  William Goldman,  Diablo Cody and Christopher Nolan.

Let’s talk about dialogue, expository dialogue. I have written about it before, but the more I read the more I realize it bears repeating and further discussion.

Expository dialogue is often necessary, as I explained in Necessary Dialogue-Revealing Information. As a screenwriter, you cannot get into your character’s head, or relay information directly to the reader as a novelist or prose writer can. You must convey all information visually, through action description, or verbally, through dialogue. Exposition provides background information about the story-characters, plot, etc.

Because of this, many writers over use expository dialogue. Exposition through dialogue is a valid and useful technique, but when it is done incorrectly it can at the very least elicit an eye roll from your reader or audience, and at the very worst make your story feel poorly written and trite.

What sounds phony, and what you should avoid, is using the dialogue to say something that the characters would not naturally say. When you use the dialogue to tell the audience what the characters would already know, it sounds fake and a savvy reader will recognize that the lines are only there to reveal information to the audience. As you are writing and reviewing your dialogue, look at it objectively, as a viewer or reader eventually will. Ask yourself if each line is something the characters would logically say to each other. Analyze your dialogue to make sure that all of the information contained within it is natural and fits the context of the story, the character, and their relationship to the person with whom they are speaking. If you find your characters saying things simply to reveal information to the audience, rewrite those lines and figure out a more natural way to reveal this information.

First of all I would like to wish my amazing, awesome mother a very happy birthday! She is my inspiration and I am so lucky to have her in my life.

Okay, back to screenwriting. One of the most important, yet difficult to understand screenwriting concepts is that of the active hero. This phrase is tossed around a lot, but not easily understood or implemented in a screenplay. The best way I know to distinguish an active versus a passive hero is that an active hero makes things happen, but things happen to a passive hero.

In the beginning of any given story, something usually happens to the hero to get the story started. There, right at first, it is fine for the hero to be in this passive role. But from then on, the hero must be the one making things happen, changing the course of events and actively pursuing a goal.

An active hero is like a sports team on the offense. The hero is actively driving the ball down the field or the court towards the goal or the basket. Things get in the hero’s way, but he continues to push towards his goal.

A passive hero is like a team playing defense. The hero is reactive, waiting for things to happen to her, and then adjusting her course accordingly. In the defensive, passive role, the hero isn’t making any goals or scoring any points, she is simply reacting to what happens to her, rather than controlling the course of the game the way she did when she was on the offense.

I recently read this article from the Christian Science Monitor about observation and writing what you know, Tips from a master of observation. The article is meant as writing advice for journalists, but I think these two disciplines have many similarities, and any screenwriter could benefit from the advice and insights of Gay Talese.

The main point I drew from the article was that you need to write what you know from your own perspective, write about what you have observed and seen through your eyes, rather than trying to see life through someone else’s. As a screenwriter, that may seem limiting. How can you write a movie about yourself and only what you know? What you know is most likely limited and boring. But what you now is probably what a lot of people know and can relate to. Not all successful films must involve espionage or fantastical jobs and situations no one has ever seen. Think about Office Space, Napoleon Dynamite, Fargo, Little Miss Sunshine and Clerks. All of those films were set in boring towns populated by ordinary people with average lives and jobs. Their experiences and their realistic portrayals of life were what made those films interesting, touching and humorous. You don’t have to know what it’s like to be a billionaire living in Paris and working as an undercover agent to write a good screenplay. Most people will relate to the life of a convenience store clerk more than they will to the Parisian playboy, and if you write your story with the authenticity that your experiences have given you, it will speak to readers and audiences more than a phony attempt to write about something you don’t know or understand.

This doesn’t mean you must write only about what you’ve done so far. If you want to write about something grander, go out and do it. You can experience the things you want to write about (see my article on Experiences Add Authenticity). You can volunteer or get a temporary job doing something your character does that you never have. You can travel and experience other places than where you grew up. It’s important that you know and understand the careers, industries, people and places you wish to write about. While I firmly believe you can and should write beyond what you know, the more you experience and know first-hand, the better.

The Trickster, unlike the Shapeshifter, changes other people, rather than changing himself. The trickster can be evil or benign, an ally, and enemy or a neutral character. The trickster disrupts things, initiates change, and can cause problems but also help reveal things, bring about comic relief, and most importantly, change. The trickster is a rebel, a prank-playing, class-clown joker who relishes making the other characters laugh, change, or see the folly in how they are living their lives.

As with the other archetypes, a character can be a trickster in addition to being something else.  A hero can be a trickster, like Peter Pan, Aladdin, Happy Gilmore or Peter from Office Space. A nemesis or shadow archetype can also be a trickster.  A threshold guardian or herald can be a trickster. The Joker in any of the Batman movies or stories represents a trickster who is also the nemesis.

A trickster relishes chaos and wants to disrupt the normal order. This may be malevolent, as with the Joker, or any number of villains, but it may also be a good think to disrupt what has become a too rigid and overly strict society.  Peter Pan is a trickster because doesn’t want to follow the rules and grow up and be a responsible adult. He prefers to play and have fun and go against the norm. He tricks and torments, Captain Hook, making it seem like a fun game, rather than a serious showdown with a dangerous villain.

The Herald archetype is a seemingly minor character, however they play a major role. Heralds can be anything from main characters who serve the herald function at a certain point in the story, to that news anchor who explains what is going on when the hero just happens to turn on the TV or radio to the exact channel broadcasting critical information at the exact right time (funny how that always works in movies, whenever I turn on my TV it takes a few minutes to get the DVR on and the cable warmed up before I get anything, and it’s usually just a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond or Scubs, rather than breaking news that exactly pertains to me).

The herald is the person who tells the hero important information, makes an announcement about a major invent, or relays a critical new insight to the hero. They are messengers, like the newspaper boys of old who would shout “Extra! Extra! Read all about it!” (I would like to note that I don’t really know if newspaper boys ever did this, I’m just going by what I’ve seen in movies, those same movies that so inaccurately portray TV news broadcasts, so I’ll wait for someone older than me to confirm or deny that those little news boys ever existed.) They get the ball rolling by telling the hero that something needs to be done, starting the hero off on their adventure, and informing them along the way.

Other archetypes can serve as heralds. A mentor can explain the rules or how the nemesis works to the hero as they are being trained, or be the one to let the hero know what is going on and that a quest is required-like Gandalf in The Fellowship of the Rings. A nemesis can impart vital information to the hero, such as “Luke, I am your father!” A threshold guardian often serves as a herald by telling the hero something about the new world they are trying to enter.  There can be multiple heralds and heralds who are just heralds and temporary, minor characters.

Heralds are vital to most stories because they help not only the hero, but the audience get critical information that helps them understand the story and what is going on off-camera, what the rules of the game are, what another character’s motives, plans, or past may include. The way that the herald reveals information is critical, and it is important to keep in mind the dialogue rules I discussed in my post on Necessary Dialogue-Critical Information,   when writing dialogue for a herald character. They can’t spend too much time talking, they can’t know more than a normal person could possibly know without explaining why (“I know how your nemesis takes his tea because I worked as his personal butler for 20 years.” or “When I broke into Evil Corp’s secret lab last night I found this vital document in the trash on its way out to be shredded.”) They need to sound natural, knowledgeable, and give only what is necessary so that they don’t bog down the story with excess dialogue. As important as a herald and their dialogue can be for getting the story started and telling the hero what he or she needs to know, you’re still writing a motion picture, and as much as possible should be conveyed visually.

I have to take a break from the Archetype discussion to talk about how awesome Inception is. Seriously, Leonardo DiCaprio has really impressed me with his recent roles (I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know that I, Ginger Earle, am impressed with him), and Christopher Nolan has crafted another mind-bending, fascinating, amazing story.

What I most loved about this film was how incredibly complex, intriguing, multi-layered, and unique the story was while still fitting into the story structure model put forth by screenwriting gurus such as Michael Hauge. This film proved that there is infinite room for variety and creativity within the storytelling model that has been proven to work again and again. The structure rules are there because they represent the best way to tell a story. The rules exist because they are modeled around the way we hear and understand story.  They are not there to constrict or stifle, they are there to allow ideas to flow and be understood. The structure rules are not limiting, they are limitless, and allow for completely new and amazing stories to be told without breaking the rules.

Inception does everything right. It is constantly challenging to both the audience and the heroes. There are complex dimensions to the characters and the situations they find themselves in. There is a clear goal, a ticking clock, a wound, and continually increasing difficulty, and of course, life and death stakes. As with Memento, Christopher Nolan plays with our perception of reality and understanding without too far and completely confusing and confounding the viewer. We are challenged, but we can understand what is going on, without having a doctoral degree in quantum mechanics, or having to see the film 19 times. And figuring out what is real, what might be real, what everything meant, is half of the joy of seeing this film. I highly recommend it, I know you will enjoy it!

The Threshold Guardian is an archetype that seemingly doesn’t translate well into modern, non-mythically based stories. Threshold Guardians are obvious in fairy-tale, fantastical films, such as the Sphinxes guarding the Southern Oracles in The Neverending Story, or the gatekeeper that guards the entrance to Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz.

But they do exist in normal, modern stories as well. Threshold Guardians can be gatekeepers that prevent the hero from getting in to see the person they need to see, just like reader/assistant gatekeepers that keep a writer from getting their script to the producer who will surely love it, the heroes of films face Threshold Guardians whose role is to keep them out, keep them away from the nemesis, the goal, or the key they need to solving the mystery, until they have earned the right to cross the threshold.

In a romance or romantic comedy, Threshold Guardians may be an overprotective, skeptical friend or family member, like Grace’s grandfather in Return to Me,  Jamie’s father in A Walk to Remember, Allie’s mother in The Notebook, or Jack Callaghan (the sleeping love interest’s suspicious brother) in While You Were Sleeping. The hero must win the trust and admiration of the Threshold Guardian who is protecting the hero’s love interest from unworthy suitors, or else overcome or circumvent them.

In any action, caper, spy or thriller film, Threshold Guardians can be represented as minions of the nemesis or the company, corporation or entity that the hero is attempting to overcome or infiltrate. They can be anything from nameless security guards, police officers or henchmen, to the nemesis’s second-in-command.

Threshold Guardians can be allies, enemies, or neutral in their alliance, though they are most often enemies working for or with the nemesis. Wherever their loyalties lie, they are necessary parts of the hero’s growth as they force the hero to prove him or herself worthy of taking the next step in the journey, and achieving their goal. Without the Threshold Guardians, things would be too easy for the hero. The hero might attempt to do something before he is really ready and prepared to undertake the challenge. Threshold Guardians force patience, require training, knowledge and proof of merit before the hero can even attempt to accomplish his or her goal.

Depending on the story, the hero, and the task being undertaken, the hero will be required to do different things to pass the Threshold Guardian. If strength is required, simply defeating, killing, or incapacitating the Threshold Guardian will suffice. But often, in more complex stories, the Threshold Guardian will need to be convinced of the hero’s worthiness by being turned into an ally. The hero will be tested by the Threshold Guardian, who may be checking the hero’s sincerity, pureness, kindness, allegiance, intelligence, cunning or worthiness. Simply killing the Threshold Guardian may not be enough. The hero might be given a task to perform or a smaller quest to complete before they are allowed to continue past the gatekeeper.

The Shapeshifter represents change, and is usually an enemy of the hero. The Shapeshifter will often appear as an ally, but turn out to be a false friend and lead the hero off their course by giving them bad information, tricking them, or turning out not to be who they said they were. Like the Mentor, the Shapeshifter archetype is one that may be present, but may not be in every story.

Shapeshifters can be literal transformers, such as superheroes, Terminators, wizards, witches, werewolves, vampires, X-Men, the Beast in Beauty and the Beast, or you know, actual Transformers. The Shapeshifter archetype is typically represented by someone who changes throughout the course of the film.

Shapeshifters are often backstabbing, evil characters, like Jenna’s manipulative frenemy Lucy in 13 Going on 30, but they don’t always go from good to bad. As with Snape in Harry Potter or Sandra Bullock’s character Margaret in The Proposal, they often change from bad to good, or simply reveal their true colors to the hero as the story progresses. A love interest can often be a Shapeshifter because as the hero gets to know the person, their true self is shown, and what the hero thought and imagined they were at the start of the romance turns out not to be true, as with Willoughby in Sense and Sensibility, who shifts from seemingly perfect to flawed.

A nemesis can act as a Shapeshifter, as in both The Devil’s Advocate and The Devil Wears Prada (it’s interesting that both Shapeshifter characters are the ones referred to as the Devil in the title). [SPOILER ALERT]  In The Devil’s Advocate, Al Pacino’s character, John Milton seems an ally at first, helping Keanu Reeves’s character, Kevin by getting him an amazing job with incredible perks. But when he learns more about who his boss is and what is going on, Kevin realizes that Milton is evil and must be defeated.

In The Devil Wears Prada, Meryl Streep as Miranda Priestly, (also a boss) seems to be the incarnation of pure evil as she steps all over poor Andy, controlling her completely and making her life a living hell. By the end of the story, Andy has glimpsed Miranda’s vulnerability and humanity, gained something from the experience, and realized that Miranda has no power over her and that she is in charge of her own career, life and happiness.

The mentor archetype is a common character in all types of films. They can appear and disappear as needed, usually helping the hero in the beginning, and then letting them do the hard part on their own.  The mentor helps train, prepare, encourage and guide the hero. They are obvious in some films-Mr. Miyagi in The Karate Kid, Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings, Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio, Obi-Wan, and later Yoda in the original Star Wars trilogy and Red in The Shawshank Redemption.

There is usually some reason why the mentor must leave the hero on their own in the end, letting the hero face the greatest obstacles in the climax all alone, with only the things the mentor has taught them to rely on. This has to happen because the hero must face their nemesis in the climax alone. They can have help and some assistance up to that point, but the final battle should involve the hero overcoming the nemesis, and it should be as difficult as possible for the hero. The mentor can guide, teach, train and help but he or she cannot do anything for the hero or make the hero’s journey too easy. The archetypes must never break the rule that things must be constantly and increasingly difficult for the hero throughout the story.

It’s important to remember that a mentor is an ally, but not all allies are mentors. There are also sidekicks and other characters that may help the hero, but not act as true mentors because they don’t teach and train and prepare the hero for his or her journey or quest.  Not all stories have mentors. All films will have at least one hero and a nemesis or force opposing the hero, but the other archetypes are not required and not always present.