What Is It?

After the introduction of Save the Cat, in which Blake Snyder tips us off about the importance of an early scene that will build empathy for our main character, no matter how anti-hero-ish he or she may be, the first chapter asks the deceptively simple question, "What is it?"

What is it that will invite me into a movie theatre, to the rental store or kiosk, to a listing on television or Hulu? Even if I'm not spending any hard-earned cash on the unit of entertainment, what will entice me to spend my time, which is scarce, with a set of characters? What is there about this story that leaps off a page and into my imagination. What will snag my interest? What will make me care?

Here's the real kicker. How is it possible to distill all the delicious stuff--images, sounds, scraps of dialog--swirling in a writer's mind into one solid sentence?

Loglines. Deceptively simple. Good thing Snyder gives us some benchmarks.

Save the Cat

In memory of Blake Snyder.

In the introduction of, Save the Cat, author Blake Snyder explains the origination of the book's title. It's an old Hollywood insider term that names a screen story's essential scene, the scene in which the main character saves a cat, or acts in some other way that endears him or herself to the audience.

No matter how surly or cool or in other ways unlikeable our hero may be, the writer's first task is to build an empathetic connection with the audience. This fundamental principle must be observed. While splashy effects and sexual cool are splashy and sexy, they will NOT sustain an audience for a full-length feature. For a full-length story, we need to care enough to follow our main character anywhere for the better part of two hours.

Examples: SEA OF LOVE, RAISING ARIZONA, THE PROFESSIONAL

Welcome Screenwriters

You've found the right blog.

Next post - I'll share a useful nugget of wisdom--some would say the essential nugget--from Save the Cat by Blake Snyder.

T206 MultiVisions Short Essay Topic

Consider what interests you most? Production, marketing, screenwriting, the business side of the industry?
Find a panelist or a MultiVisions committee member and ask about opportunities in your area of interest. Ask what steps you can take while you're still at IU, to get where you want to go.

2 pages, double-spaced. DUE: Tuesday, April 21st.

note: Use teamwork for the activity. Your essay is a solo effort.

Arguments of Conviction

Dramatic stories revolve around conflict, and I've heard that conflict defined as a moral argument.  I don't like the word "moral" because it seems to imply right and wrong choices, and the most interesting stories include tough choices that aren't easily made.

Even a straight up action-adventure, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade gives the hero an impossible choice.  Should Indy save his father's life by retrieving the Grail, or should he refuse to help the Nazis recover the Grail? For as the story has clearly laid out for us, when Henry lies mortally wounded the only thing that can save him is a drink from the holy cup.  However, we also know that the Grail must not fall into evil hands. 

What I love about this story is more than this one brilliantly crafted moment that puts the hero in that impossibly prickly place.  My friend Jim Fisher calls this "the horns of the dilemma."  I love the thorough way writer Jeff Boam marinated the screenplay with arguments of conviction.  Yesterday I counted a dozen places where characters argue over the significance of the Grail artifact, the object of the quest. (That's a lot of dialog story events between all the chase scenes! And it's likely I missed some.)  

The quest begins with Indy clearly saying he doesn't care about the Grail, only in rescuing his missing father (who not coincidentally disappeared while seeking the location of the Grail). In the following scene Indy asks, "Do you believe the Grail actually exists?" Brody, his intellectual colleague answers, "The search for the Cup of Christ is the search for the divine in all of us." Brody doesn't claim to know if it exists beyond its metaphorical sense, but he clearly gives room for faith in the possibility of a physical cup.

Across Europe Indy argues with Henry about the importance of the finding the Grail first. Henry insists their search is more than archeology, "It's a race against evil." And he means it cannot fall into Nazi hands.  Indy argues with Elsa, beautiful archeologist-turned traitor, that she's aligned herself with the Swastika, implying that he also now believes that the Cup is more than a coveted archeological artifact.

Even side characters argue with conviction.  The bad guy who is financing the Nazi quest for the cup wants eternal life and sees Hitler as a convenient, silent partner in his pursuit for eternal youth. Brody--captured for the map that leads to the secret temple where they find the Grail--warns against, "You are meddling with powers you cannot possibly comprehend."  Vigilantes from a brotherhood sworn to protecting the Grail, die to protect the temple from the Nazi's approach.

These are the arguments that lead up to the final confrontation inside the temple.  The big bad "Nazi stooge" wants everlasting life, yet Indy's been convinced by his father and others that the Grail deserves his protection.  Yet, darn those prickly horns, Indy and Henry have finally begun to mend their estranged relationship.  He needs more time to enjoy his father.  Indy has to save Henry! Can he do it AND keep the Grail from the "unrighteous."

Number IV's due out this summer. Hope it's got the resonance of I & III and is also marinated in theme, laced with arguments of conviction. 

Hibernation

I've been hibernating. Along the way I've kept attention on Green Tara. The best I can do here at the blog is to report my progress.

Today I printed out through page 95 of 159 on this rewrite. (I print when I'm done with the polish.) This last scene was tough for me. Not bad tough. It was a lot of new material, late reveal exposition that I realized is essential for truly engaging with the last half of the adventure.

My tendency is to shy away from a big information dump, but at this point in the story everyone--my audience, as well as the characters--needs to be "sold" on signing up for the rest of the mission.

The ice is finally melting.

Wisdom from Jim Fisher

Monday Jim Fisher visited my class and lead a workshop in which we developed a couple of story ideas. Both students already had concepts, but one of Jim's gifts is to marry dramatic structure to a crisis of choice for the main character. In class we brainstormed what that crisis would be for each of the stories and what elements would be in place to bring the characters to that terrible place. Both students left with juicier stories.

Here's the essence of what Jim, an alumn of Second City and a working writer with numerous credits for both film and television, taught us:

Understand that if we give a fictional character an easy choice, we get: Who cares? But give a fictional character an impossible choice, say between rescuing her mother and saving the Earth, and we get some heat.

About three-quarters of the way through a story--the Act II climax, a.k.a. the Central Ordeal, a.k.a. Plot Point II, for those who like to locate a turning point in dramaturgy terms--Jim says put the hero in a situation that's "the exact opposite of where the character wants to be. . . . on the horns of the dilemma."

Thanks, Jim, for serving as my muse.