A regular reader got in touch:
"Recently, Anthony Horowitz had an article in the Daily Mail (5th June) about ‘why it’s impossible to create a modern day baddy’. As an example of the problem, he mentions how ‘depressing it is that Herod Sayle, the Lebanese businessman that Alex Rider fought in his first adventure, Stormbreaker, quietly morphed into Darrius Sayle, Californian trailer trash by the time the film came out last summer’.
I realise that this is an incredibly sensitive issue but it’s a genuine problem to the fledgling writer. I realised that issues such as race may be a problem back in 1992 when there was all that fuss over Candyman’s villain being black and so I have always been quite careful, however, I notice that there still seem to be some groups that a writer is allowed to have a go at: particularly Americans (can all 300 million really be evil?) but also yokels especially from the West Country (it seems we’re all thick, say ‘oo-ar’ and chew straw), Catholics or any fervent Christians.
Obviously, anything too controversial will put off potential buyers but how can you tell if something seemingly innocuous might be controversial? In your experience, how big a problem are these issues within the industry? What advice or guidelines would you give to the aspirant writer?"
That's an interesting question! But I wouldn't get too hung up about it. It certainly wouldn't stop me from making a villain out of whoever I choose, whether they be white, black, Irish, American, whatever.
It's always good to avoid the cliché and stereotype by bringing some original or surprising characterisation to the villain, to either justify his/her cause, or make him an engaging multi-dimensional character where you understand their misguided motivations.
That's the key, when the character is convincing; then it doesn't matter who they are or where they're from - it's just part of their characterisation. Maybe Anthony Horowitz's situation was watered down because it's a studio picture, and perhaps some conventional sensibilities came into play.
But, usually, controversy is a good thing. And as a new writer, if you can grab someone's attention with a credible and convincing character, or set-up, then that's going to go a long way. There's nothing taboo anymore, on TV or film. Just go with your instincts and what you want to express. Let people be offended if they want but you've got to stick to your own conviction about your characters and story. Find your original voice. Don't be swayed by naysayers or prudes.
* Boromir, Lord of the Rings, written by Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, Peter Jackson
Rabu, 27 Juni 2007
Senin, 25 Juni 2007
Story Vault: Dramatic Need
Hey, so it's an old post, but there's been a swarm of new readers lately, and it's useful to stick one from the archives on display every now and then. Not everyone uses the links at the side. I usually dip a year back in time, on the same date when possible. Today's blast from the past is about 'Dramatic Need'. Have a gander:-
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There are some scripts that you open up and by page two, you’re really struggling to get into the flow of the piece. And by page fifteen, you’re bored. By page thirty, your attention has wandered to something else entirely unrelated to the story.
There are a host of reasons why a reader doesn’t engage with a story. It could be that the genre doesn’t interest them, or they’re in a bad mood, or they’ve just read something similar, or maybe the writing just stinks, but more often not it’s usually down to one glaring element: dramatic need.
Establishing dramatic need as early as possible is a huge benefit to a script’s opening tone and pace. It gives the story an instantly accessible hook, and the reader’s interest is easily secured on the page. Of course, there are other ways to ensure that a script begins, and continues, in an inviting fashion (good writing style, interesting visuals, intriguing mood etc) but by introducing a character’s dramatic need, it immediately puts their characterisation and story needs at the forefront of the drama.
So what is dramatic need? Basically, it’s what a character wants. But it doesn’t necessarily have to be what the story’s about. There are a few ways to establish dramatic need at the beginning of a script.
1. Dramatic Need of a Scene
Giving a character a basic desire or goal during a scene helps to crystallise and clarify the drama and subtext on offer. There may be a whole bunch of unconnected scenes before the script gets to the ‘inciting incident’ but that doesn’t mean that the story can lapse into indulgent characterisation and moody set-pieces. Every moment on screen is precious and is conveying information/plot to the audience. If the scenes don’t deliver on their basic promise of drama or satisfy the audience’s primary objective to be engaged, then it’s unlikely the scenes justify their inclusion. Adding a dramatic need to the even most innocuous of scenes helps to enrich characterisation, provide humour and/or add a human depth to the proceedings.
2. Dramatic Need of a Sequence
Probably the best opening to a film, ever, is Raiders of the Lost Ark where Indy is trying to locate, and then keep, a cherished idol. It establishes dramatic need - Indy wants the idol - and then gives him a whole set of dangerous obstacles to overcome. These are mini-needs, if you will, where he must use his instincts and knowledge to triumph every challenge (the pit, the light, the stepping stones, the idol, the boulder, the tribe, the villain). The sequence does so, so, so, much more than just give us great adventure. It tells us everything we need to know about our hero in purely visual terms.
Raiders is a great example of how to establish dramatic need for an adventure story but what about if it’s for a thriller, drama or comedy? What do they do? Picking a few titles at random, and if my memory serves correctly: Wedding Crashers establishes Owen Wilson’s dissatisfaction with the wedding circuit. The Godfather establishes Marlon Brando’s sense of family and his willingness to protect them, and his business, at all costs. Memento introduces us to Guy Pearce’s obsessive search for his wife’s killer.
3. Dramatic Need of a Story
Establishing the protagonist’s main dramatic need is sometimes a good way to go. It introduces what the film is about up front (and may be dramatised in a flash-forward or something similar) before going on to detail who the character is, what the other characters are doing and where the film is set. Instant engagement, the story is moving, and the audience is interested. Banzai. Memento (again if my memory serves, I haven’t seen it in a while) is a good example of this as it introduces us to Guy Pearce and what he wants but also adds the intrigue of seemingly telling the story backwards because of his short-term memory loss.
Dramatic need. It’ll keep you up at night. Ultimately it’s about keeping the story moving (pace), interesting and engaging. Establishing the right flow to the proceedings, and using your storytelling ability to ensure that there’s constant drama on the page to keep the audience on their toes.
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There are some scripts that you open up and by page two, you’re really struggling to get into the flow of the piece. And by page fifteen, you’re bored. By page thirty, your attention has wandered to something else entirely unrelated to the story.
There are a host of reasons why a reader doesn’t engage with a story. It could be that the genre doesn’t interest them, or they’re in a bad mood, or they’ve just read something similar, or maybe the writing just stinks, but more often not it’s usually down to one glaring element: dramatic need.
Establishing dramatic need as early as possible is a huge benefit to a script’s opening tone and pace. It gives the story an instantly accessible hook, and the reader’s interest is easily secured on the page. Of course, there are other ways to ensure that a script begins, and continues, in an inviting fashion (good writing style, interesting visuals, intriguing mood etc) but by introducing a character’s dramatic need, it immediately puts their characterisation and story needs at the forefront of the drama.
So what is dramatic need? Basically, it’s what a character wants. But it doesn’t necessarily have to be what the story’s about. There are a few ways to establish dramatic need at the beginning of a script.
1. Dramatic Need of a Scene
Giving a character a basic desire or goal during a scene helps to crystallise and clarify the drama and subtext on offer. There may be a whole bunch of unconnected scenes before the script gets to the ‘inciting incident’ but that doesn’t mean that the story can lapse into indulgent characterisation and moody set-pieces. Every moment on screen is precious and is conveying information/plot to the audience. If the scenes don’t deliver on their basic promise of drama or satisfy the audience’s primary objective to be engaged, then it’s unlikely the scenes justify their inclusion. Adding a dramatic need to the even most innocuous of scenes helps to enrich characterisation, provide humour and/or add a human depth to the proceedings.
2. Dramatic Need of a Sequence
Probably the best opening to a film, ever, is Raiders of the Lost Ark where Indy is trying to locate, and then keep, a cherished idol. It establishes dramatic need - Indy wants the idol - and then gives him a whole set of dangerous obstacles to overcome. These are mini-needs, if you will, where he must use his instincts and knowledge to triumph every challenge (the pit, the light, the stepping stones, the idol, the boulder, the tribe, the villain). The sequence does so, so, so, much more than just give us great adventure. It tells us everything we need to know about our hero in purely visual terms.
Raiders is a great example of how to establish dramatic need for an adventure story but what about if it’s for a thriller, drama or comedy? What do they do? Picking a few titles at random, and if my memory serves correctly: Wedding Crashers establishes Owen Wilson’s dissatisfaction with the wedding circuit. The Godfather establishes Marlon Brando’s sense of family and his willingness to protect them, and his business, at all costs. Memento introduces us to Guy Pearce’s obsessive search for his wife’s killer.
3. Dramatic Need of a Story
Establishing the protagonist’s main dramatic need is sometimes a good way to go. It introduces what the film is about up front (and may be dramatised in a flash-forward or something similar) before going on to detail who the character is, what the other characters are doing and where the film is set. Instant engagement, the story is moving, and the audience is interested. Banzai. Memento (again if my memory serves, I haven’t seen it in a while) is a good example of this as it introduces us to Guy Pearce and what he wants but also adds the intrigue of seemingly telling the story backwards because of his short-term memory loss.
Dramatic need. It’ll keep you up at night. Ultimately it’s about keeping the story moving (pace), interesting and engaging. Establishing the right flow to the proceedings, and using your storytelling ability to ensure that there’s constant drama on the page to keep the audience on their toes.
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Kamis, 21 Juni 2007
Bible Bashing
In TV-land, treatments and outlines are sometimes referred to as ‘series bibles’. This is where you lay out the basic tenets of your proposed new show in a clear and inviting fashion. At this stage of the game, however, they’re not really series bibles. They’re more like proposals/outlines. Proper series bibles go into great length about the world and the characters, and normally take at least a couple of hours to read (series bibles for soaps take an entire weekend to get through). Anyway, the point is, sometimes you may get asked to write a series bible as a pitch for a new show/or you may have the inclination to develop a new series yourself, so this series bible-lite approach is what you’re after.
I’ve always fancied myself as being particularly good at writing these documents. After all, I used to teach ‘how to write series bibles’ for a few years as part of the Leeds MA in Scriptwriting. Like all good pitching and writing documents, series bibles have a reliable (and flexible) structure to express the basic set up and detail of what’s required. So, at first glance, it would seem that writing a series bible isn’t such a difficult task. It’s not. And it is. It’s not difficult to throw down the very basics and have a page count between 5-8 pages in no time (a good length). But it is difficult to get it right. More on that later.
So, what’s the basic structure? Title page, natch, that also states the genre, and maybe a tag line. Strapping down the logline or premise is also useful, but not on the title page, we’re into page one now. Then, what’s the show about? Give us an overview, maybe say a little about the format and slot (6 x 30 sitcom, 8 x 60 drama, primetime ITV/BBC). This may lead into explaining the specific style/tone of the show, and, if it’s particularly relevant, saying something about the setting. You could launch into the episode outlines if you like, or present us with character bios of your main players. Or give an outline of episode one, and episode ideas or examples of the remaining series. It may be important to mention something about structure, it may be not.
At the end, you could give an overview of series two, to show how the series has got legs. Visual realisation (how it’s going to look, feel, basic production values) is sometimes helpful, as is a statement of intent, which is basically a fancy expression for theme. A writer bio of yourself could be useful if no-one’s heard of you. And then, you may want to attach a few sample scenes or even the pilot script itself. Voila, your series bible/proposal is complete.
This structure is good but it’s entirely flexible. Sometimes detailing the visual realisation or theme before you explain who the characters are and what the show is about will be more relevant for one particular show than another. It’s just handy to know the general headings as it helps to bash out the basic details. The main thing you want to avoid is making the document too dry. Sometimes, you can get across important detail and information but it reads too much like an instruction manual. The reader may understand the premise, the show and the characters, but they’re not really connecting with the material because of the lack of emotion, flair or humour.
I’ve been working on four series bibles lately, and I’ve noticed that the most important element to convey is TONE. You really want to riff the style and flavour of the series into the document, and all the description you use. This is extremely difficult. And then, another important consideration: what do you lead with? What’s the best piece of writing and information that should kickstart the whole proposal? It’s a pitching document, after all, so you need to grab your reader’s attention and keep them fixed on what you have to say.
And when does detail become too much detail? On one series bible, I went to 16 pages (not including sample scenes), because I thought the concept and world of the story needed detailed explanation. I felt people would have questions, so I answered them all in the series bible. The result: too much detail, which ultimately generated doubt and confusion, the very thing I was trying to avoid. Their suggestion: could we have a neat two pager, please?
The shifting change of modern media and 21st century storytelling techniques is also having an influence on TV proposals. On another recent bible, I had to include sample webisodes and emails for the interactive element, which the producer then went off and actually made a promotional trailer (haven’t seen it yet). People seem to prefer to read scenes/scripts or watch a trailer/clips rather than sit through dull information about character and setting. Not surprising, really, so getting in a sample scene or two, or attaching a trailer/sample clips, is immensely useful.
This week, I was finding one particular proposal a tough nut to crack. I was having difficulty leading with the right tone and information, and it felt a bit stiff and explanatory. It was fine, but it wasn’t right. And then, a eureka moment. I stuck a sample scene at the start of the bible as an intro to the style and tone of the show, and the main character showed you around the basic set up. Nice! This really helped, and I think I’ve cracked it. I can’t wait to see what the producer thinks (if he hates it, I’ll be gutted).
Today, I’m about to start another proposal, and I face the same questions/problems: I know the structure and headings, but how do I get across the tone and information so that it’s fun, interesting, inviting, dynamic and unmissable? Yes, it may be “easy” to bash out the basics of premise, characters and plot but the specific content and presentation can be endlessly redefined. Getting a 5-8 page document together doesn’t take too long but getting it right takes forever. Or so it feels like.
But y’know, you’re pitching a TV show, something that a producer and a commissioning editor will potentially want to make, so it’s got to be good. It’s got to be great. So, don’t breeze through the headings or slap down the basics. Take your time. Revise, redraft and restructure. Play with the form but don’t get too gimmicky or jokey. Stick with what’s right for the style and tone of the show, and you won’t go too far wrong.
I’ve always fancied myself as being particularly good at writing these documents. After all, I used to teach ‘how to write series bibles’ for a few years as part of the Leeds MA in Scriptwriting. Like all good pitching and writing documents, series bibles have a reliable (and flexible) structure to express the basic set up and detail of what’s required. So, at first glance, it would seem that writing a series bible isn’t such a difficult task. It’s not. And it is. It’s not difficult to throw down the very basics and have a page count between 5-8 pages in no time (a good length). But it is difficult to get it right. More on that later.
So, what’s the basic structure? Title page, natch, that also states the genre, and maybe a tag line. Strapping down the logline or premise is also useful, but not on the title page, we’re into page one now. Then, what’s the show about? Give us an overview, maybe say a little about the format and slot (6 x 30 sitcom, 8 x 60 drama, primetime ITV/BBC). This may lead into explaining the specific style/tone of the show, and, if it’s particularly relevant, saying something about the setting. You could launch into the episode outlines if you like, or present us with character bios of your main players. Or give an outline of episode one, and episode ideas or examples of the remaining series. It may be important to mention something about structure, it may be not.
At the end, you could give an overview of series two, to show how the series has got legs. Visual realisation (how it’s going to look, feel, basic production values) is sometimes helpful, as is a statement of intent, which is basically a fancy expression for theme. A writer bio of yourself could be useful if no-one’s heard of you. And then, you may want to attach a few sample scenes or even the pilot script itself. Voila, your series bible/proposal is complete.
This structure is good but it’s entirely flexible. Sometimes detailing the visual realisation or theme before you explain who the characters are and what the show is about will be more relevant for one particular show than another. It’s just handy to know the general headings as it helps to bash out the basic details. The main thing you want to avoid is making the document too dry. Sometimes, you can get across important detail and information but it reads too much like an instruction manual. The reader may understand the premise, the show and the characters, but they’re not really connecting with the material because of the lack of emotion, flair or humour.
I’ve been working on four series bibles lately, and I’ve noticed that the most important element to convey is TONE. You really want to riff the style and flavour of the series into the document, and all the description you use. This is extremely difficult. And then, another important consideration: what do you lead with? What’s the best piece of writing and information that should kickstart the whole proposal? It’s a pitching document, after all, so you need to grab your reader’s attention and keep them fixed on what you have to say.
And when does detail become too much detail? On one series bible, I went to 16 pages (not including sample scenes), because I thought the concept and world of the story needed detailed explanation. I felt people would have questions, so I answered them all in the series bible. The result: too much detail, which ultimately generated doubt and confusion, the very thing I was trying to avoid. Their suggestion: could we have a neat two pager, please?
The shifting change of modern media and 21st century storytelling techniques is also having an influence on TV proposals. On another recent bible, I had to include sample webisodes and emails for the interactive element, which the producer then went off and actually made a promotional trailer (haven’t seen it yet). People seem to prefer to read scenes/scripts or watch a trailer/clips rather than sit through dull information about character and setting. Not surprising, really, so getting in a sample scene or two, or attaching a trailer/sample clips, is immensely useful.
This week, I was finding one particular proposal a tough nut to crack. I was having difficulty leading with the right tone and information, and it felt a bit stiff and explanatory. It was fine, but it wasn’t right. And then, a eureka moment. I stuck a sample scene at the start of the bible as an intro to the style and tone of the show, and the main character showed you around the basic set up. Nice! This really helped, and I think I’ve cracked it. I can’t wait to see what the producer thinks (if he hates it, I’ll be gutted).
Today, I’m about to start another proposal, and I face the same questions/problems: I know the structure and headings, but how do I get across the tone and information so that it’s fun, interesting, inviting, dynamic and unmissable? Yes, it may be “easy” to bash out the basics of premise, characters and plot but the specific content and presentation can be endlessly redefined. Getting a 5-8 page document together doesn’t take too long but getting it right takes forever. Or so it feels like.
But y’know, you’re pitching a TV show, something that a producer and a commissioning editor will potentially want to make, so it’s got to be good. It’s got to be great. So, don’t breeze through the headings or slap down the basics. Take your time. Revise, redraft and restructure. Play with the form but don’t get too gimmicky or jokey. Stick with what’s right for the style and tone of the show, and you won’t go too far wrong.
Senin, 18 Juni 2007
Whatever It Takes
“I've finally decided to take the plunge and give writing a go full-time. But the sheer enormity of the task ahead is making my head hurt and, writing aside, I just don't know what are the very first steps I should take - aside from the writing, of course. Any sage advice for a writing toddler would be very welcome.”
Three Ps. Practical. Proactive. Professional.
Practical
A writing career doesn’t happen overnight. If you’ve decided to take the plunge and live the dream, then that’s great, it’s very exciting. It’s also horrendously daunting, especially if you’ve severed normal job ties, and have nothing lined up to pay the bills.
So, look at your practical options. How am I going to make money while I build my writing portfolio to such a standard that I earn money from writing itself? Do I take a part-time job (likely) or can I get an industry related part-time job like script reading or script editing (preferable, but harder to achieve)?
Domestic issues will vary from person to person (married, kids, illness, disability etc) but you should ask yourself “what is the very basic income I need to survive? How am I going to achieve that?” Once these essential concerns are dealt with, then all effort can be focused on writing. But make sure you’re applying your energy in the right areas, like: new writing opportunities, Doctors, short films, and using all relevant contacts to nab potential writing gigs (corporate, commercial, internet).
Proactive
A lot of writing opportunities will emerge not because of what you know and the quality of your writing, but who you know and the broad appeal of your personality. Get out there. Attend industry events. Make contacts. Start a blog or a MySpace page, or get a Facebook profile. Be friendly, supportive and positive. Don’t expect opportunities to come to your door. Go out and find them yourself.
Professional
Take responsibility for your writing. It’s not ‘them’, it’s ‘you’. The system doesn’t suck. The system exists for itself. In the process, professional courtesies may fall between the cracks. Sometimes, it may be understandable, occasionally it will be rude while other times it may be plain unforgivable. Get on with it. Let off steam with friends and fellow writers, but don’t burn bridges. Don’t take rejections personally. Take criticism on board but keep it in perspective. Stick to your conviction. Be assured about what you want to say. Develop your original voice. Realise the strengths of your writing and try to understand the weaker areas so that you can develop a balanced critique of your own material. Keep writing. Get your work out there. You never know what’s going to stick - where and with whom. Now, how much do you want it? Really? What are you prepared to do? Then do it.
And now, a fourth ‘P’. Patience. It’s going to take time. There’s going to be a lot of rejection and frustration that, hopefully, will be worth it for one or two moments of elation or validation, which will kickstart a writing career. But it doesn’t get easier. It gets harder. Competition is fierce. Opportunities are few and far between. Don’t get complacent or bitter. Stay focused. Keep writing. Take inspiration from your favourite films & TV shows, and the success stories of your peers. Be wary of writer envy. Everyone finds their own way to success; they don’t imitate others. There is no right way to go about it except by writing consistently good material. That’s what it’s all about. Your unique talent. Hopefully that will be enough to earn you a living, and, Disney time, give you the foothold to make all your dreams come true.
Three Ps. Practical. Proactive. Professional.
Practical
A writing career doesn’t happen overnight. If you’ve decided to take the plunge and live the dream, then that’s great, it’s very exciting. It’s also horrendously daunting, especially if you’ve severed normal job ties, and have nothing lined up to pay the bills.
So, look at your practical options. How am I going to make money while I build my writing portfolio to such a standard that I earn money from writing itself? Do I take a part-time job (likely) or can I get an industry related part-time job like script reading or script editing (preferable, but harder to achieve)?
Domestic issues will vary from person to person (married, kids, illness, disability etc) but you should ask yourself “what is the very basic income I need to survive? How am I going to achieve that?” Once these essential concerns are dealt with, then all effort can be focused on writing. But make sure you’re applying your energy in the right areas, like: new writing opportunities, Doctors, short films, and using all relevant contacts to nab potential writing gigs (corporate, commercial, internet).
Proactive
A lot of writing opportunities will emerge not because of what you know and the quality of your writing, but who you know and the broad appeal of your personality. Get out there. Attend industry events. Make contacts. Start a blog or a MySpace page, or get a Facebook profile. Be friendly, supportive and positive. Don’t expect opportunities to come to your door. Go out and find them yourself.
Professional
Take responsibility for your writing. It’s not ‘them’, it’s ‘you’. The system doesn’t suck. The system exists for itself. In the process, professional courtesies may fall between the cracks. Sometimes, it may be understandable, occasionally it will be rude while other times it may be plain unforgivable. Get on with it. Let off steam with friends and fellow writers, but don’t burn bridges. Don’t take rejections personally. Take criticism on board but keep it in perspective. Stick to your conviction. Be assured about what you want to say. Develop your original voice. Realise the strengths of your writing and try to understand the weaker areas so that you can develop a balanced critique of your own material. Keep writing. Get your work out there. You never know what’s going to stick - where and with whom. Now, how much do you want it? Really? What are you prepared to do? Then do it.
And now, a fourth ‘P’. Patience. It’s going to take time. There’s going to be a lot of rejection and frustration that, hopefully, will be worth it for one or two moments of elation or validation, which will kickstart a writing career. But it doesn’t get easier. It gets harder. Competition is fierce. Opportunities are few and far between. Don’t get complacent or bitter. Stay focused. Keep writing. Take inspiration from your favourite films & TV shows, and the success stories of your peers. Be wary of writer envy. Everyone finds their own way to success; they don’t imitate others. There is no right way to go about it except by writing consistently good material. That’s what it’s all about. Your unique talent. Hopefully that will be enough to earn you a living, and, Disney time, give you the foothold to make all your dreams come true.
Rabu, 13 Juni 2007
Story Vault: Writing a Synopsis
"Making your way in the world today, takes everything you got. Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot. Wouldn't you like to get away?"
Currently enjoying a mini-break (nnnnice), so here's a post from the vault, this time last year, about 'writing a synopsis'. See y'all next week for more news and info about the writing competition etc.
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"Ask any script reader what they dislike about script reading and they will reply, hands down every time: writing the synopsis. This part of the process slows the reader down the most in preparing and finishing his/her coverage.
Reading the script and generating an instinctive response to its flaws and merits isn’t a problem. Doing the front cover of the report is a doddle - although the logline can be tricky if the story’s a true dud. But before the reader can let fly with his comments, he needs to write a one page synopsis of the story before he can go any further. This can be demotivating and frustrating because the story may not be easily summed up in one go, or it could be just too dull to even want to revisit the content and express it in its pure form.
However, after a while, after a few hundred scripts have been digested and covered, and neatly transcribed into a one page synopsis, the reader develops a knack for summarising a story’s key essentials into the bare bones of a page. And after a few thousand scripts have been covered in this manner, writing a synopsis develops into a second nature because the brain immediately goes to the salient details of the story and puts them down on paper.
Writers sometimes complain that they can’t easily summarise their story into one page. It’s not that they don’t have the talent to do so, it’s because they’re so attached to the story and know every beat that they don’t know what to leave out. Alternatively, they don’t know (or subconsciously resist) how to suitably lasso thirty pages of script into two or three lines of synopsis. It’s tricky but in essence, it’s not difficult at all.
Here are some top tips for writing a one page synopsis:
Keep it simple.
Keep it clear.
The journalistic principle of “Who, What, Where, When and How” is particularly useful in trying to get across the key details.
“Who?” - Who’s the main character? And what does he want? What’s he doing? Is there anybody else involved?
“What?” - What’s the conflict? Who’s stopping the protagonist? What’s in his way?
“Where?” - Where’s it set?
“When?” - And in what period?
“How?” - How does the protagonist try to get what he wants, what happens and how does it end?
These are broad headings - no synopsis reads exactly like this run down - but it can be quite handy in jotting down notes before hand to crystallise exactly what’s going on and what the reader needs to know over a one page duration.
You don’t want to go into too much detail but you want to give a sense that the story goes through enough interesting twists and turns, and has a length that justifies its structure, to make the reader feel like the story really is a movie and definitely needs to be seen on the big screen.
Revealing the ending is a debatable point but the synopsis needs to come to some sort of a resolution even it’s an enigmatic: “and when Johnny finally opens the door, what stands in front of him takes his breath away”. If it’s a mystery thriller, then it’s probably best not to give away the ending but you want to entice the reader into thinking: “wow, this is a great idea, I have to know what happens, where’s the script?”
An alternate but effective way of writing a one page synopsis is jotting down a series of self-generated questions and answers:
What’s it about? It’s about a young farmhand on a distant planet who joins the battle against the universe’s evil forces but doesn’t realise that his family’s dark secret will have serious repercussions for him and his friends.
Sounds familiar, where have I heard that before? This is a space adventure like no other. This is a film that will knock your socks off. This is Space Invaders: The Movie.
Riiight. Tell me more. Well, the story kicks off with our hero who’s a whiz on his play station and when he hits an all time score of 5 kerjillion on Space Invader 3000, it sends a message to the distant planet of Gobshite who are desperate for some help in defending their home.
You get the idea. Even though the Q&A is pre-made, the reader sees it like it’s questions that he’s asking, or wants to know the answers to, and it can make for an effective pitching document.
It’s understandable for writers to struggle or resist distilling their stories into a one page form but it’s a craft and skill of its own, and is the most common document that the industry will ask for and will expect to see before they agree to see your script. Keep it simple, keep it clear. Subplots and secondary characters are fine as long as they don’t impede the flow and duration of the synopsis. Stay focused on the story, why we’re going to see the movie, and the rest will follow."
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Currently enjoying a mini-break (nnnnice), so here's a post from the vault, this time last year, about 'writing a synopsis'. See y'all next week for more news and info about the writing competition etc.
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"Ask any script reader what they dislike about script reading and they will reply, hands down every time: writing the synopsis. This part of the process slows the reader down the most in preparing and finishing his/her coverage.
Reading the script and generating an instinctive response to its flaws and merits isn’t a problem. Doing the front cover of the report is a doddle - although the logline can be tricky if the story’s a true dud. But before the reader can let fly with his comments, he needs to write a one page synopsis of the story before he can go any further. This can be demotivating and frustrating because the story may not be easily summed up in one go, or it could be just too dull to even want to revisit the content and express it in its pure form.
However, after a while, after a few hundred scripts have been digested and covered, and neatly transcribed into a one page synopsis, the reader develops a knack for summarising a story’s key essentials into the bare bones of a page. And after a few thousand scripts have been covered in this manner, writing a synopsis develops into a second nature because the brain immediately goes to the salient details of the story and puts them down on paper.
Writers sometimes complain that they can’t easily summarise their story into one page. It’s not that they don’t have the talent to do so, it’s because they’re so attached to the story and know every beat that they don’t know what to leave out. Alternatively, they don’t know (or subconsciously resist) how to suitably lasso thirty pages of script into two or three lines of synopsis. It’s tricky but in essence, it’s not difficult at all.
Here are some top tips for writing a one page synopsis:
Keep it simple.
Keep it clear.
The journalistic principle of “Who, What, Where, When and How” is particularly useful in trying to get across the key details.
“Who?” - Who’s the main character? And what does he want? What’s he doing? Is there anybody else involved?
“What?” - What’s the conflict? Who’s stopping the protagonist? What’s in his way?
“Where?” - Where’s it set?
“When?” - And in what period?
“How?” - How does the protagonist try to get what he wants, what happens and how does it end?
These are broad headings - no synopsis reads exactly like this run down - but it can be quite handy in jotting down notes before hand to crystallise exactly what’s going on and what the reader needs to know over a one page duration.
You don’t want to go into too much detail but you want to give a sense that the story goes through enough interesting twists and turns, and has a length that justifies its structure, to make the reader feel like the story really is a movie and definitely needs to be seen on the big screen.
Revealing the ending is a debatable point but the synopsis needs to come to some sort of a resolution even it’s an enigmatic: “and when Johnny finally opens the door, what stands in front of him takes his breath away”. If it’s a mystery thriller, then it’s probably best not to give away the ending but you want to entice the reader into thinking: “wow, this is a great idea, I have to know what happens, where’s the script?”
An alternate but effective way of writing a one page synopsis is jotting down a series of self-generated questions and answers:
What’s it about? It’s about a young farmhand on a distant planet who joins the battle against the universe’s evil forces but doesn’t realise that his family’s dark secret will have serious repercussions for him and his friends.
Sounds familiar, where have I heard that before? This is a space adventure like no other. This is a film that will knock your socks off. This is Space Invaders: The Movie.
Riiight. Tell me more. Well, the story kicks off with our hero who’s a whiz on his play station and when he hits an all time score of 5 kerjillion on Space Invader 3000, it sends a message to the distant planet of Gobshite who are desperate for some help in defending their home.
You get the idea. Even though the Q&A is pre-made, the reader sees it like it’s questions that he’s asking, or wants to know the answers to, and it can make for an effective pitching document.
It’s understandable for writers to struggle or resist distilling their stories into a one page form but it’s a craft and skill of its own, and is the most common document that the industry will ask for and will expect to see before they agree to see your script. Keep it simple, keep it clear. Subplots and secondary characters are fine as long as they don’t impede the flow and duration of the synopsis. Stay focused on the story, why we’re going to see the movie, and the rest will follow."
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Kamis, 07 Juni 2007
One Agent or Less
Apparently, there was a debate on Shooting People recently about the UK Film Council’s 25 Words or Less Scheme, and whether or not it’s fair that they exclude writers who don’t have agents. Lucy blogged about it, here, and it provoked a variety of comments in response. Here’s my view: non-repped writers can apply to the UK Film Council at any time they like for the Development Fund, and you get the same prize - £10k. The 25 Words or Less scheme is to develop a genre script for commercial cinema, so for some reason, whether they're right or not, they want writers who have an agent. The rules for eligibility may be frustrating for some, but there are similar opportunities open to all at the same organisation.
In other words: get over it. Get on with it. Don’t spend your time whinging about not being allowed to enter a competition when you can apply for the same dough at the same organisation on a different scheme.
But, in the comments’ section of Lucy’s post, Potdoll mentioned that agents might be willing to endorse writers specifically for the 25 words scheme, as a potential one-off. (She also mentioned that Janet Fillingham might do it as part of their "bespoke services").
Then, a few days later, someone emailed me and specifically asked: “are some agents receptive about being asked to rep someone for the purposes of entering [the 25 words or less]? And if so, how the heck do I find them? Is it a trial and error, go down the list job, or are there any likelihoods - eg smaller agencies more willing? Any tips on how to put my best foot forward? Phone, or email?”
It certainly SEEMS like a good idea to me to ask an agent to rep you for the 25 words or less scheme but I honestly don't know what agents are willing to do this. However, further investigation was obviously needed, so I contacted a few agents to see what they thought.
In their response, the general consensus was that they would be unwilling to represent a writer for the 25 words scheme alone. Most agents want to take on a writer having read full scripts, and if they like the writer’s style. They’re going to be less likely to take someone on just for one specific project, especially on the basis of their application to the 25 words or less.
Another agent suggested that it would be easy for them to say ‘yeah sure, you can put our name on it’ but they certainly wouldn’t do it, and doubted that most reputable agents would, either. They won’t attach their name to anything they haven’t read, and if they like the writer’s work, then they would want to represent them across the board, not for just one project.
In addition (and this is the interesting bit), they said that the 25 words or less scheme is a nightmare contract to negotiate, and this round is for LOW BUDGET films, so no agent would be making much money out of it.
However, all were in agreement that there are no hard and fast rules, so it’s a matter of choice whether an agent wants to take a punt on a new writer who’s got a bit of style and savvy. From this, I think that it’s probably not a realistic idea to ask an agent to rep you for the 25 words or less scheme. But I do think that if you have the right attitude and approach, then you could certainly get an agent’s interest, and they might read something of yours, and like it, and may agree to put their name to your application, and see how things pan out. And perhaps the smaller agencies who encourage new writers might be more willing to support such an approach. It should be pointed out that it all comes down to YOU and your WRITING; that’s what an agent is going to be interested in, not a quick sale on the 25 words or less, or any fast track notions of representation.
Remember, you can apply to the UK Film Council with your genre script or treatment on any day of the week, whether you’re represented or not, so if you can’t apply for the 25 words or less, don’t sweat it. If you really think you’ve got a great idea, then put a proposal together, and take your chances with the Development Fund. They want your good scripts and genre ideas. The 25 words or less scheme is not the be all and end all (and to date, I don’t think there’s been any real successes i.e. actual films made, but a few have been optioned). I suppose the argument comes down to public money, and that the general public should be allowed to apply. But again, the general public can apply to the Development Fund, so there’s no reason to complain. They may be right, they may be wrong. It doesn’t really matter. That’s the way it is. Let’s get on with it.
I’m on system shut down for a few days, so see you later. In the meantime, be good, be kind and be careful. Most of all - be inspired! Corny send off there…so shoot me, maybe it’s the holiday vibe.
In other words: get over it. Get on with it. Don’t spend your time whinging about not being allowed to enter a competition when you can apply for the same dough at the same organisation on a different scheme.
But, in the comments’ section of Lucy’s post, Potdoll mentioned that agents might be willing to endorse writers specifically for the 25 words scheme, as a potential one-off. (She also mentioned that Janet Fillingham might do it as part of their "bespoke services").
Then, a few days later, someone emailed me and specifically asked: “are some agents receptive about being asked to rep someone for the purposes of entering [the 25 words or less]? And if so, how the heck do I find them? Is it a trial and error, go down the list job, or are there any likelihoods - eg smaller agencies more willing? Any tips on how to put my best foot forward? Phone, or email?”
It certainly SEEMS like a good idea to me to ask an agent to rep you for the 25 words or less scheme but I honestly don't know what agents are willing to do this. However, further investigation was obviously needed, so I contacted a few agents to see what they thought.
In their response, the general consensus was that they would be unwilling to represent a writer for the 25 words scheme alone. Most agents want to take on a writer having read full scripts, and if they like the writer’s style. They’re going to be less likely to take someone on just for one specific project, especially on the basis of their application to the 25 words or less.
Another agent suggested that it would be easy for them to say ‘yeah sure, you can put our name on it’ but they certainly wouldn’t do it, and doubted that most reputable agents would, either. They won’t attach their name to anything they haven’t read, and if they like the writer’s work, then they would want to represent them across the board, not for just one project.
In addition (and this is the interesting bit), they said that the 25 words or less scheme is a nightmare contract to negotiate, and this round is for LOW BUDGET films, so no agent would be making much money out of it.
However, all were in agreement that there are no hard and fast rules, so it’s a matter of choice whether an agent wants to take a punt on a new writer who’s got a bit of style and savvy. From this, I think that it’s probably not a realistic idea to ask an agent to rep you for the 25 words or less scheme. But I do think that if you have the right attitude and approach, then you could certainly get an agent’s interest, and they might read something of yours, and like it, and may agree to put their name to your application, and see how things pan out. And perhaps the smaller agencies who encourage new writers might be more willing to support such an approach. It should be pointed out that it all comes down to YOU and your WRITING; that’s what an agent is going to be interested in, not a quick sale on the 25 words or less, or any fast track notions of representation.
Remember, you can apply to the UK Film Council with your genre script or treatment on any day of the week, whether you’re represented or not, so if you can’t apply for the 25 words or less, don’t sweat it. If you really think you’ve got a great idea, then put a proposal together, and take your chances with the Development Fund. They want your good scripts and genre ideas. The 25 words or less scheme is not the be all and end all (and to date, I don’t think there’s been any real successes i.e. actual films made, but a few have been optioned). I suppose the argument comes down to public money, and that the general public should be allowed to apply. But again, the general public can apply to the Development Fund, so there’s no reason to complain. They may be right, they may be wrong. It doesn’t really matter. That’s the way it is. Let’s get on with it.
I’m on system shut down for a few days, so see you later. In the meantime, be good, be kind and be careful. Most of all - be inspired! Corny send off there…so shoot me, maybe it’s the holiday vibe.
Selasa, 05 Juni 2007
A Life in the Day
Seems a lot of people are on holiday or are just plain lying low, which is cool, always good to take a bit of respite from the old blog and chain. A writer’s routine can vary enormously depending on whether there’s a commission or if you’re just tinkering on spec. When there’s a commission, there’s no better feeling than the pressure of expectation and deadline, and this helps to keep a writer energised and focused. It’s like going a goal down in a football match; the fever pitch to get the right result just comes easily. When you don’t have this urge, sometimes it’s difficult to summon up the required spark to get the creative fires burning.
Here’s what I did today:-
Got up, turned on computer. Received a cheque in the post, hurrah! Think about last night’s Heroes a lot, which was truly magnificent. Also, mull over Gavin & Stacey, which I’m enjoying a great deal because of its characters and lowkey humour (sitcom is turning into comedy drama these days, which I’m all for), although many don’t like it for these very reasons.
While eating brekkie, watch an episode of Coupling from Paramount Channel 2 (Sky Plus! ‘mazing) as the style and tone is similar to something I’m working on at the moment. Also, Steven Moffat is a god, so there. Sneak a peak at E! News and The Daily 10, my guilty pleasures (the presenters are great and the snappy tongue-in-cheek style is infectious). Then, to the computer. Surf my bookmarks, check my bloglines, pour over email, read the news, sport & entertainment headlines. Did some revisions on actual paid work, amended the accompanying development document, and tweaked a treatment, just in time for lunch.
First, walk to the bank to lodge my script reading millions. Nice sunny day so stroll with my iPod and listen to Mark Kermode’s film reviews, only it’s James King (the Kermode's on holiday), which isn’t as good. On way back, stop off in Co-op for some food and ‘ting. Have lunch. Back to the office. Check email, and go over the morning’s work. Think it’s all good, so send to the producer. Start to check email every ten seconds, so get away from the computer, and read a script. It’s 128 pages long. There’s some fun and invention there but the writing is over stylised, and the story’s a mess. At the end, I'm confused but it’s ambitious and genre-bending, so it does have some merits.
Come back to the computer. Two emails. One from agent just confirming something I asked about, and one telling me I’ve got a place on the 4 Talent ‘Making it Big’ event at Channel 4. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to attend - boo! - as I’m taking next week off, yay! Surf the net, and look up the writer of the script I’ve just read as his name is familiar, in a vague sort of way. He’s got a listing on IMDB and has done a lot of short films, which leads me to his website, and this helpfully fills the blanks on who he is and what he’s all about. He’s got some talent but his script won’t be recommended.
Check messages. Expecting about six different emails about various projects and stuff. Nothing. Actually, one bit of spam. Time to make dinner and log off, for now.
Ah, the writer’s life, isn’t a gas?
Here’s what I did today:-
Got up, turned on computer. Received a cheque in the post, hurrah! Think about last night’s Heroes a lot, which was truly magnificent. Also, mull over Gavin & Stacey, which I’m enjoying a great deal because of its characters and lowkey humour (sitcom is turning into comedy drama these days, which I’m all for), although many don’t like it for these very reasons.
While eating brekkie, watch an episode of Coupling from Paramount Channel 2 (Sky Plus! ‘mazing) as the style and tone is similar to something I’m working on at the moment. Also, Steven Moffat is a god, so there. Sneak a peak at E! News and The Daily 10, my guilty pleasures (the presenters are great and the snappy tongue-in-cheek style is infectious). Then, to the computer. Surf my bookmarks, check my bloglines, pour over email, read the news, sport & entertainment headlines. Did some revisions on actual paid work, amended the accompanying development document, and tweaked a treatment, just in time for lunch.
First, walk to the bank to lodge my script reading millions. Nice sunny day so stroll with my iPod and listen to Mark Kermode’s film reviews, only it’s James King (the Kermode's on holiday), which isn’t as good. On way back, stop off in Co-op for some food and ‘ting. Have lunch. Back to the office. Check email, and go over the morning’s work. Think it’s all good, so send to the producer. Start to check email every ten seconds, so get away from the computer, and read a script. It’s 128 pages long. There’s some fun and invention there but the writing is over stylised, and the story’s a mess. At the end, I'm confused but it’s ambitious and genre-bending, so it does have some merits.
Come back to the computer. Two emails. One from agent just confirming something I asked about, and one telling me I’ve got a place on the 4 Talent ‘Making it Big’ event at Channel 4. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to attend - boo! - as I’m taking next week off, yay! Surf the net, and look up the writer of the script I’ve just read as his name is familiar, in a vague sort of way. He’s got a listing on IMDB and has done a lot of short films, which leads me to his website, and this helpfully fills the blanks on who he is and what he’s all about. He’s got some talent but his script won’t be recommended.
Check messages. Expecting about six different emails about various projects and stuff. Nothing. Actually, one bit of spam. Time to make dinner and log off, for now.
Ah, the writer’s life, isn’t a gas?
Senin, 04 Juni 2007
Pitching Follow Up
Like with any good pitch you make, there'll be a section at the end where you'll be asked questions about what you've said. This will help clarify aspects of the characters or plot that your audience didn't quite grasp. Sometimes, the queries will completely throw you because they may demand further justification about the whole logic of the piece: "so how's the space/time salt shaker going to work, I don't get it?" And if they're not convinced by your explanation, then the final moments of the pitch can feel uncomfortable. Still, the final Q&A is a useful time where you can be more relaxed (hard part's over) and hopefully wrap up the pitch in a positive fashion.
And, in a similar style to a pitch, I received a few follow-up questions about Friday's post:
- Elliot and Rossio mention pitches usually last 10-20 min but I had been left with the impression that UK pitching was far shorter (2-10 min.). What is the 'norm' in the UK?
I don't think there is a 'norm' for how long pitches are, but they do usually last for at least 5 mins (that would be short) and probably peak at 20 mins. My pitch on Thursday lasted 15 mins of me talking but I was there for 45 mins, or close to an hour, in total.
- What do the people being pitched to actually want to hear about: character 'journey' or plot or 'other'? (delete as applicable?)
People want to hear your story, so you decide how best to pitch it; what you want to get across. This will usually be the idea, the characters involved and a broad description of the plot, but you tell them whatever they need to know.
- What is your advice for those, like me, who are pathologically nervous? I make those red panda fellers look like extroverts. After the few test pitches I've done I was advised by a senior tutor that if I can't pitch face to face then not only should I not pitch but I should actually quit screenwriting altogether as this is the real world!
Being nervous is ok, it can sometimes work in your favour, but you don't want to be so nervous that it ruins the pitch. People want to like you and your story so they're rooting for you before they even meet you. If you can't hold it together while pitching your story, then they're gonna be turned off, but if you're nervous, and you still manage to get across your story, and they like it, then sweet!
- How does pitching to 1, 2 or 3 people compare to pitching to 4 disparate industry people in front of an audience of your peers, previous graduates and a menagerie of tutors? Is it easier, harder, more nerve-racking?
As I said in the post, each pitch has a unique vibe depending on who (and how many) people you're pitching to; if they're strangers, friends, peers, students etc. It's gonna have a psychological effect, and what makes someone nervous will vary from person to person. For example, someone could feel confident pitching to total strangers but could buckle pitching to their friends. I didn't enjoy pitching when I first started but you gain experience at each pitch, and so the best thing to do is to keep at it, practice and if you have a story to tell, don't be afraid to pitch it to people when they ask.
Anybody got a pitching experience or tips they'd like to share?
And, in a similar style to a pitch, I received a few follow-up questions about Friday's post:
- Elliot and Rossio mention pitches usually last 10-20 min but I had been left with the impression that UK pitching was far shorter (2-10 min.). What is the 'norm' in the UK?
I don't think there is a 'norm' for how long pitches are, but they do usually last for at least 5 mins (that would be short) and probably peak at 20 mins. My pitch on Thursday lasted 15 mins of me talking but I was there for 45 mins, or close to an hour, in total.
- What do the people being pitched to actually want to hear about: character 'journey' or plot or 'other'? (delete as applicable?)
People want to hear your story, so you decide how best to pitch it; what you want to get across. This will usually be the idea, the characters involved and a broad description of the plot, but you tell them whatever they need to know.
- What is your advice for those, like me, who are pathologically nervous? I make those red panda fellers look like extroverts. After the few test pitches I've done I was advised by a senior tutor that if I can't pitch face to face then not only should I not pitch but I should actually quit screenwriting altogether as this is the real world!
Being nervous is ok, it can sometimes work in your favour, but you don't want to be so nervous that it ruins the pitch. People want to like you and your story so they're rooting for you before they even meet you. If you can't hold it together while pitching your story, then they're gonna be turned off, but if you're nervous, and you still manage to get across your story, and they like it, then sweet!
- How does pitching to 1, 2 or 3 people compare to pitching to 4 disparate industry people in front of an audience of your peers, previous graduates and a menagerie of tutors? Is it easier, harder, more nerve-racking?
As I said in the post, each pitch has a unique vibe depending on who (and how many) people you're pitching to; if they're strangers, friends, peers, students etc. It's gonna have a psychological effect, and what makes someone nervous will vary from person to person. For example, someone could feel confident pitching to total strangers but could buckle pitching to their friends. I didn't enjoy pitching when I first started but you gain experience at each pitch, and so the best thing to do is to keep at it, practice and if you have a story to tell, don't be afraid to pitch it to people when they ask.
Anybody got a pitching experience or tips they'd like to share?
Jumat, 01 Juni 2007
Pitch Perfect
There’s lots of great advice on pitching all over the internet. I took my lead from the wise words of Elliot & Rossio, and followed their pitching strategy for a presentation I had to make to Working Title a couple of years ago. This approach really worked, and although I didn’t get the gig, I was complimented on the style of the pitch.
Prior to this, I had the usual pitch meetings with execs, chatting to fellow writers or boring your friends down the pub. The Elliot & Rossio approach made me more aware of preparation and presentation, and gave me added confidence in my overall technique.
Last year, before going to Cannes, me, Tim Clague and Suki Singh practiced our pitches with each other. This was only the second time I had met Tim, and my first time meeting Suki, so the experience was weird, and I nervously stuttered through my pitch. However, it helped me focus on where the key details of the pitch needed to improve, and once we were in Cannes, I relaxed into a more calm and confident manner to present the story.
Basically, I think you learn something new and useful with every pitch you attend. Each pitch is individual because of who you’re pitching to, where it’s being held and what kind of response you get while you pitch. This visual response, or ‘vibe’, can be disconcerting or invigorating, depending on how your panicked mind decides to read the situation.
If it’s a one-on-one situation, usually the person will give you his/her full attention; nod, grunt and laugh in order to encourage you along in the pitch. If it’s to two or three people, then you may get a variety of encouragement, flat face response or head down taking notes. The flat face response can be disconcerting and damaging to your confidence. If someone takes notes, well at least they’re paying attention and writing something down.
The flat face response is a killer, though. It’s only natural to think that the pitch is going down the toilet when the person’s expression registers absolutely no emotion whatsoever. And when they don’t respond to a joke or a lighthearted remark, oh boy: eject, eject, eject!
Yesterday, I had to pitch to a committee of six people. I hadn’t pitched to this large a number before so it was an interesting experience. Afterwards, I felt that the pitch had not gone well because I received a lot of ‘flat face responses’, and the vibe was not good. However, later I was told that the pitch was well received, and that I got a 9/10 marking from each committee member. This led me to think about the individual psychology of the people sitting there as they listened to my pitch. Perhaps the ‘flat face response’ was more in evidence because there was six of them, so they didn’t have to make the effort of making me feel encouraged or whatever.
There were two members that showed more interest than the others, and naturally, these were the people that I made the most eye contact with. I always try to include everyone in the pitch and make eye contact throughout but when the others have their head down or give you the dead eye stare, then it’s only human to seek out a more friendly face.
The only bit of advice about pitching I can offer is that preparation is the key. I lay out what I want to say, and practice saying that over and over, until the structure and content is jammed into my head. When you’re pitching, the vibe can throw you in different ways, so you’re always going to forget something or skip a small piece of detail but that’s okay because it’s good to improvise and keep it fresh whilst still remembering the key details of what the pitch is all about. There’s usually a Q&A at the end anyway, so you have the chance to cover the cracks.
So, I learned a lot yesterday. The pitch is not yet in the bag, it has to go to a second stage (sheesh!) but feedback has been good, and so the worst is over. By the way, this opportunity came about because they had found my website, and liked what they saw, so invited me in to pitch for their project. Nice!
Prior to this, I had the usual pitch meetings with execs, chatting to fellow writers or boring your friends down the pub. The Elliot & Rossio approach made me more aware of preparation and presentation, and gave me added confidence in my overall technique.
Last year, before going to Cannes, me, Tim Clague and Suki Singh practiced our pitches with each other. This was only the second time I had met Tim, and my first time meeting Suki, so the experience was weird, and I nervously stuttered through my pitch. However, it helped me focus on where the key details of the pitch needed to improve, and once we were in Cannes, I relaxed into a more calm and confident manner to present the story.
Basically, I think you learn something new and useful with every pitch you attend. Each pitch is individual because of who you’re pitching to, where it’s being held and what kind of response you get while you pitch. This visual response, or ‘vibe’, can be disconcerting or invigorating, depending on how your panicked mind decides to read the situation.
If it’s a one-on-one situation, usually the person will give you his/her full attention; nod, grunt and laugh in order to encourage you along in the pitch. If it’s to two or three people, then you may get a variety of encouragement, flat face response or head down taking notes. The flat face response can be disconcerting and damaging to your confidence. If someone takes notes, well at least they’re paying attention and writing something down.
The flat face response is a killer, though. It’s only natural to think that the pitch is going down the toilet when the person’s expression registers absolutely no emotion whatsoever. And when they don’t respond to a joke or a lighthearted remark, oh boy: eject, eject, eject!
Yesterday, I had to pitch to a committee of six people. I hadn’t pitched to this large a number before so it was an interesting experience. Afterwards, I felt that the pitch had not gone well because I received a lot of ‘flat face responses’, and the vibe was not good. However, later I was told that the pitch was well received, and that I got a 9/10 marking from each committee member. This led me to think about the individual psychology of the people sitting there as they listened to my pitch. Perhaps the ‘flat face response’ was more in evidence because there was six of them, so they didn’t have to make the effort of making me feel encouraged or whatever.
There were two members that showed more interest than the others, and naturally, these were the people that I made the most eye contact with. I always try to include everyone in the pitch and make eye contact throughout but when the others have their head down or give you the dead eye stare, then it’s only human to seek out a more friendly face.
The only bit of advice about pitching I can offer is that preparation is the key. I lay out what I want to say, and practice saying that over and over, until the structure and content is jammed into my head. When you’re pitching, the vibe can throw you in different ways, so you’re always going to forget something or skip a small piece of detail but that’s okay because it’s good to improvise and keep it fresh whilst still remembering the key details of what the pitch is all about. There’s usually a Q&A at the end anyway, so you have the chance to cover the cracks.
So, I learned a lot yesterday. The pitch is not yet in the bag, it has to go to a second stage (sheesh!) but feedback has been good, and so the worst is over. By the way, this opportunity came about because they had found my website, and liked what they saw, so invited me in to pitch for their project. Nice!
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