If there’s one thing you need to know about me, it’s this: I love process… The way people think… The act of creating something out of nothing. I obsess over it.

I have built a career on being creative. Whether as an artist, architect, writer or designer… I get paid to be creative. If I’m not creative, I don’t get paid. And believe you me, I like getting paid.

The biggest mistake I see newly minted designers make, is that they hopelessly stare at a blank computer screen waiting for an act of divine intervention to save them. This is not only boring, but creative atheist everywhere know you have a better chance of winning the lottery by playing the numbers in your fortune cookie than waiting for god to write your screenplay (creative atheist – hehehehe). A lot of writers fall victim to belief that they should only write when they feel inspired – If that sounds like you, then I hope that you like ramen noodles, because you’re about to embark on the long and noodling road of the starving artist (like what I did there? :).

A QUICK LESSON ON WORK

The best creatives, the ones who make the MOVIE MONEY $$$$, are the ones who seem to drink from an endless well of creativity. It seems as though Goddess herself has blessed them with the gift of creativity. The harsh reality is that these writers work. They work hard, and they work smart. I work HARD! I hear you, but so does a dishwasher, and it ain’t writing a screenplay that’s getting made either. If your story’s not working, you don’t quit for the day and go to the beach, you roll up your sleeves and in the beautiful words of Billy Madison – You get off your ass and you find the f*cking dog!

One of the few lessons from high school that has stuck with me through life is the concept of “work.” My physics teacher was struggling to describe the concept of work (right before lunch no less). Finally, he summarized the lesson: work is the act of moving something. If you’re thinking about something, you’re not working. Work only occurs when your fingers are furiously typing away at the keyboard or jotting ideas down in your notepad. Work is not staring into space, thinking about working.

TOOLS AREN’T FORMULAS

So, you’re typing, but it feels like you’re crapping out words, not crafting a cinematic masterpiece. Then you read your story and realize its incoherent babbling shite. Although I’m glad you opted not to go to the beach, you will regret this on your deathbed, you are one step closer to finishing your screenplay. Once you finish your first draft, it’s time to go to your toolbox.

Story structure not working? Beat it out with the Save The Cat Beat Sheet. Struggling with character development? Map out character arcs by defining their internal and external stakes like McKee suggests. Ending sucks, use Michael Arndt’s mechanics. Notice I didn’t say pick a tool and create a beautiful screenplay. Write, create, but when shit’s broke, go to your tool chest and fix it.

Just to be crystal clear-

There are no formulas for creating great screenplays.

There are no formulas for creating great screenplays.

If you think there are secret formulas for writing screenplays, or that Save The Cat and other books of its kind are formulaic and not process based, then you really don’t understand the craft of writing.

Yes, I’m defending Save The Cat. Yes, I’m attacking its critics. Save The Cat is a tool, attacking it, is akin to akin to attacking a paintbrush for painting a shitty painting. It’s not the fault of the tool, it’s the fault of the tool using it. What tool did he use? Oh, he used a paint brush? Terrific, now I know the secret to becoming the next Dease!

What steps did you take to write Little Miss Sunshine? Okay, I’ll follow those steps and write a screenplay that will lead to money and fame – WRONG! Process is not formulaic. Process is craft, and craft is essential to writing.

I have my own process! Great! Good for you. But why limit your creative potential to a single tool? My brother and I have our own process for creating stories too, but sometimes it doesn’t work. Sometimes the tool you love and know, isn’t the best tool for the job. If you blindly stick to one approach, you’re not maximizing your creative potential! You wouldn’t use explosives to shape rocks into chess pieces, would you Andy Dufresne? Although it would have made for an exciting movie, Andy opted to widdle away at it with a rock hammer, and eventually it set him free!

When my brother and I run into story or character problems, the conversation might go something like this:

This conversation will last for about an hour (because that’s how long it takes for me to drive to work). At the end of the call we finally agree to work through our story using any number of approaches to help identify our story problems. Not all of these tasks are going to lead to a solution, but more than likely one of them will:

1. STC Beat Sheet
2. Arndt Diagram
3. Analyze the beats of the scene using McKee’s method of analysis outlined in Dialogue
4. Are we Setting-it-up and Paying-it-off? (another article)
5. Are we turning the scene?

What the hell is an Arndt Diagram? Good question, and I’ll answer it after a quick side tangent.

For the record, we LOVE us some Michael Arndt. The biggest compliment I ever received was when a fellow writer described 2 Men & A Pig as Little Miss Sunshine meets Nebraska. Seriously, print that on a poster and I can die a happy man. Better yet, put it on my tombstone.

When we were struggling to resolve some pretty major structural problems with our first screenplay, we stumbled upon a lecture by Michael Arndt at the Austin Film Festival. We didn’t know what to expect but figured the genius behind Little Miss Sunshine probably has a few knowledge bombs to drop on us, and boy did he ever.

He freely and very generously lifted the metaphorical hood on some of our most beloved films and explained (to a packed house) the mechanics of how the endings to Little Miss Sunshine, Star Wars and The Graduate worked. I had read dozens of books on the process of storytelling, and for whatever reason, this was the tool we needed to fix our story. The lecture had such an impact on me, that I immediately went home and created, what we call, The Arndt Diagram.

The Arndt Diagram is a graphic representation of Michael Arndt’s theory of story mechanics for the above-mentioned films. I highly suggest you view his online videos on Beginnings and Endings.

Now that you understand that these “formulas” are not shortcuts to success, but are essential tools for any writer that hopes to craft an insanely beautiful story. Go forth and write!

Download Arndt Diagram (last updated 2019.01.14)

If you want to piss me off, make me watch a mediocre movie longer than two hours. If you really want to piss me off, send me a script that’s longer than 100 pages… And if you want me to burn your screenplay in front of you as I manically laugh, name a character UNIMPORTANT GUY #3.

I dare you.

New screenwriters tend to think more is, well… more. I’m here to tell you it’s not. Eat too much ice cream, you get sick. Snort too much coke, you die. If those two examples aren’t proof enough that excess is bad, then you’re probably about to die from an ice cream overdose.

A spec screenplay should be 90 pages or less, not 91, not 92, 90 or less.

But I’m special, I have something really important to say! No- You don’t. Don’t make the mistake of thinking your views of the world are so original and important that I need to dedicate an evening of my life reading your 120 page script. Nobody watches 2001: A Space odyssey and says – “Wow, I really wish Kubrick made longer movies.”

If there are two screenplays of the same quality, about the same story, but one is shorter- Guess which one is getting made? The shortest one. Screenwriters write screenplays, a screenplay is a plan for making a movie, the job of the screenwriter is to create the most succinct plan for making a movie.

The good thing is, unlike most men, UNIMPORTANT GUY #3 can be improved. With a little creativity, UNIMPORTANT GUY #3 could be the thing that distinguishes your script from the wolf pack.

To illustrate this point, I’ve included an excerpt from one of my screenplays:

Sorry, you’ll have to wait for the punchline…

Every time we read her name: BUBBLE GUM STRIPPER, we get it, the image is clear. STRIPPER #3 leaves the playing field wide open, but BUBBLE GUM STRIPPER carries a lot of visual baggage, while leaving room for the reader to fill in the blanks. If her name were Stripper, I have questions…. Is she one of those sad middle-aged strippers trying to make ends meet until social security kicks in? Is she from a trailer park? Or does she do it for the art of stripping?

The reality is that these characters exist on the page for only a moment, but they can leave a lasting impression when crafted carefully.

What if I name UNIMPORTANT GUY #3 Dave?

That’s not better, that’s worse! I’m sure Dave is a great guy, but if Dave only has one line, and appears in a single scene, he is just as forgettable as UNIMPORTANT GUY #3. In fact, he’s worse, because it tricks the reader into thinking this character plays a more important role in the future, but he doesn’t, because he’s not important.